“You made her angry, boy. Whether or not you know it, that was the best thing you could do for her. A blessing in disguise. No one seeks power when they are happy—but anger motivates a person to travel great lengths. I hoped that you would have enough sense not interfere in the girl’s dedication until she had finished achieving the heightened level of strength she seeks.”
“So what you’re saying is that you didn’t want me to propose to her so that she would stay angry at me?” Thornton asked in disbelief.
“Precisely.”
“Don’t you care about my life, Father? Don’t you care that her anger is directed at me? Don’t you care that it’s killing me to be separated from her?”
“Not really.”
Thornton shook his head incredulously. “You can’t just manipulate me like some emotionless pawn. You can’t play with our lives like this!”
“You did this to yourself, son. I wasn’t the one who put my dick in another woman.” Vincent was turning to leave when he noticed the death-glare that Rose was sending him. Realizing how callous he sounded, he tried to soften his expression and tone of voice. He glanced back at his son. “If you want to know the truth, Thorn—she’s going to agree to marry you. She’ll be yours in the end regardless of how much she tries to resist.”
“Why do you say that, Father?”
“It’s in her blood to choose the strongest available mate. In addition to that, she’s been emotionally attached to you since her birth. Pax may be the strongest woman on earth—she may able to shoot minor volcanic eruptions out of her mouth—but she doesn’t have the emotional strength to let go of you, regardless of what you put her through and how you hurt her. Deep down you already knew this, and that’s why you took advantage of the situation.”
“You’re wrong,” Thornton said with a frown. “I never meant to do that. You don’t even understand how fragile this situation is—it’s all black and white to you. You forget that Pax and I are mostly human. There are more important things than physical strength—like honor, honesty, and respect…”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “Rubbish. We are all physical creatures at the end of the day. Every species works this way. She will choose you based on the mere power of your bloodline—your supremacy is unmatched.”
“Father,” Thornton asked through gritted teeth. “What did you tell Pax when you spoke to her alone?”
“That is confidential.”
“Did you tell her to refuse me?” Thornton demanded desperately.
“It is none of your concern.”
Chapter 2: After Room One
Pseudosphere, Month Five
My handwriting is a mess. I doubt I’ll ever be able to read any of these notes again. I’d like to blame it on med school and say that I had to take notes so fast that my script became an indiscernible scrawl, but the fact is that I took most of my notes on my laptop. I can’t even remember the last time I used a pen and paper, and there is a decidedly antiquarian vibe to it. It’s comforting. I am not writing for the purpose of re-reading these notes later, but just to engage in the motion of writing. After spending five months in a place that makes hell look like Disneyland, each stroke of my pen is therapeutic.
Time here feels different. I knew it would be different, but I never considered how it would feel. Everything blends into one continuous circle gyrating around us. I no longer have any concept of yesterday, today, or tomorrow. I feel a sense of urgency to hang on to the human parts of me. I am filled with the fear that I am changing into something unrecognizable. I realize that’s the whole point of this—to grow more familiar with my goddess heritage—but I didn’t know that I would need to lose so much of my humanity in order to do so.
It’s harder for Amara than it is for me. She can’t even give up eyeliner.
I believe we’ve been in this place for five months. I wonder how much time has passed on the outside? A few minutes, or several hours? I wonder if everyone is still just as we left them. Maybe Thorn is still standing around outside and yelling at his dad.
The pen hovered within a leather-gloved hand for a moment, suspended above the page. Pax Burnson allowed her lips to curl into a subtle smile at the thought of the blonde man. She could not believe it had been five months since she had seen him, for he still occupied every recess of her mind.
Or maybe he’s already returned to the office. Maybe he’s sitting at that solid mahogany desk of his—in his thinking pose. His elbow on the wooden surface, and his hand lightly pressed against his chin. Maybe he’s absent-mindedly stroking his five o’clock shadow, stressing about how the workday never actually ends for the big-shot CEO of Kalgren Tech. Possibly, he’s staring at his laptop, and trying to work—but he can’t help thinking about me. Just a little. For Sakra’s sake! Why is it that every time I think of home, all I do is imagine Thorn? I hardly think of my dad, I hardly think of Grandma or Uncle Ash. I hardly think of anyone but Thorn, sitting in that ergonomic office chair and polishing his glasses when he gets flustered. I think about whether he could be with another woman right now—on that same mahogany desk. It wouldn’t be the first time. He really is a thorn in my foot. A thorn in my pancreas.
And I think I might marry him.
Pax exhaled a shuddering breath, and the pen snapped in two in her hand. “Shit!” she cursed, as the navy blue ink spilled all over her black glove and the white page, ruining her writing. She had only brought a few pens and a few pairs of gloves with her to the vector zone. She needed to conserve their supplies. She heard a rustling a few feet away in the small cubic room.
“Paxie?” called a groggy voice. “How long was I sleeping?”
“I’m not sure exactly,” Pax answered as she pulled off her gloves. “By my estimation it was something approaching 72 hours. Or the equivalent of whatever that is here.”
Amara groaned, stretching out and entangling her hands in the sheets and pillows. “It sure is good to wake up in a real bed. Have you slept yet since we completed the first trial?”
“Sure,” Pax said, rising to her feet, “but I found it difficult to sleep after Room One. Getting constantly struck by lightning kind of ruined my appetite for sleep.” She gazed at the empty purple wall where a door had previously been—there was now only a small golden plaque in its place with a single word inscribed in the metal: Retribution. She did not understand why this had appeared; she had never heard of decorative tablets appearing in the vector zone.
“Don’t remind me, please.” Amara shuddered violently and wrapped her arms around herself. “I swear I had a nightmare about going to the dermatologist. He told me that my skin had been damaged from exposure to high voltage. I started crying and asked if he could recommend a good night cream so that I wouldn’t get wrinkles prematurely.”
Pax narrowed her eyes, squinting at the blonde woman. “We barely got out of Room One alive. I took most of the lightning for you! And you’re thinking about your skin? Good Sakra, you are such a diva.”
“I’m an heiress!” Amara protested, sitting up and running her fingertips over her cheeks anxiously. “We may be locked in this dimension for a while, but when I get back to the real world, zero time will have passed. I have a responsibility to look good for my family and our company—you know, in case of media coverage and such.”
With a deep sigh, Pax shut her notebook. She began walking toward one of the yellow doors. “Let’s just focus on how we’re going to beat the next five trials. The real world doesn’t matter much in here. Come on, princess.”
“Paxie. What are you doing?” Amara’s voice was tremulous. “Don’t touch that doorknob! I’m not ready to enter Room Two yet!”
“What’s the alternative?” Pax asked, turning to observe her friend with amusement.
“We can just chill out here for a few more days,” Amara suggested, trying to seem casual.
Pax could tell from the way that the woman nervously combed the blonde strands near her ear that she was panicking. It was a habit she shared wit
h her brother. “Chill out?” Pax repeated with a smirk.
“Yes! I mean, look at this cute little cubic room.” Amara gestured around enthusiastically. “Decorated by ancient gods! Rich eggplant-colored wallpaper, and charming amber doors. More importantly, beds. A shower. Snacks, toothbrushes, and…”
“Mara. We need to keep moving forward. It took us about five months to complete the first trial. If we continue at the same rate, we’ll be stuck in the Pseudosphere for another two years.”
Amara swallowed, looking at her friend timidly. “I can’t, Paxie. I can’t do this. That was the most awful experience of my life, and I can’t survive such pain five more times. I’m used to life being easy—and pleasant.” The blonde woman’s pale blue eyes darted around the room to the five doors which remained.
“Did you think this was a game? Did you think we’d come in here and hang out for years and just automatically come out better beings?” Pax’s dark eyes seemed to be more shadowy than usual. “I have bad news for you, Amara Kalgren. The trials are supposed to get more and more challenging. Two years is the generous estimate—that’s if we continue at this rate. If we slack off, it could be five or ten years. If you stop trying altogether, we could never go home.”
“Ash was right,” Amara moaned, putting both hands in her hair and massaging her scalp with frustration. “He knows me so well. He knew I wasn’t tough enough. That must be why he left me.”
Pax clamped her eyelids shut in disgust. She clenched her fists, and ground her teeth together roughly. “Okay. Then come with me and prove my stupid uncle wrong.”
“No. Please, Paxie…”
Growing exhausted with her friend’s sniveling, Pax reached out and turned the doorknob, yanking open the amber door. She gazed inside with a combination of fear and excitement. “Every day we waste resting is a day we could have spent getting stronger and improving ourselves.”
Amara bolted out of bed and pushed the door closed, putting her body between Pax and the portal. “What’s the rush?” she asked, holding up both hands in a gesture of peace. She tried to cover her terror with forced cheerfulness. “The trials aren’t going anywhere. Let’s gloat about how hilarious it was that Thorn and Ash never knew that we were joined together to be Para—let’s plan what we’re going to do when we get back. For example, what if the guys ask us for her last name? What are we going to call her—Medea what? And what about her childhood? We need to create a backstory for her so that she is a convincingly real person to fool them…”
“This isn’t the time for that,” Pax said softly.
“Please,” Amara begged. “Let’s just hang out and talk about boys for a bit. Like we used to when we were little girls.”
“Mara.” Pax glared at her friend. A hot wave of red energy swept around her body to signify her growing anger. “That is the last thing I want to do. I came here seeking life-threatening danger because it is the only thing that will keep my head clear. I need to be absorbed with staying alive so that I don’t have time to think about your brother. If we stop going forward for a minute, my mind starts to wander. I can’t afford to let that happen right now.”
“Why not? We just had a huge accomplishment and deserve to unwind. Okay, let’s talk about Thorn! Let’s make a pros-and-cons list about whether you should marry him! Pro number one, you get to be my sister-in-law forever. Con number one, well, there’s the whole thing about redheads in his office…”
“Shut up,” Pax said quietly. “If I get angry and screw up when we’re inside, you’ll get killed.”
Amara wanted to make an arrogant retort, but she knew it was true. She was completely dependent on the strength of the dark-haired woman. Feeling the need to attack her friend in some way, she placed one hand on her hip and used the other to point at Pax’s hand. “If you don’t want to think about my brother, why are you wearing his ring?”
Pax glanced down at the lump under her black leather gloves. She could visualize the beautiful orange diamond just beneath the fabric. “Just a little something to remind me of home when things get tough. To give me a reason to keep fighting.”
“So you prefer not to think about Thorn—yet when your back is against the wall, you use him to keep yourself strong. Explain this logic to me, honey.” Amara’s grin was cocky and teasing. Although Pax knew it was good-natured, she could not help growing upset.
“There is no logic,” Pax admitted. She felt as though the ring on her left hand was suddenly choking her finger and cutting off her circulation. “Thorn Kalgren turns me into a brainless fool—and if anyone could understand what that man does to me, it’s you.”
Amara’s smile disappeared. “I’m sorry. There’s no one else to talk to in this godforsaken place! I miss arguing with people. I miss teasing and complaining and acting superior. But you know, my situation is different than yours. If Ash had proposed to me, I would have agreed without reservation!”
“I think I will agree. I’m not sure.” Pax smiled sadly, fingering the ring through the worn material of her glove. “This little piece of metal somehow has the power to make me feel that everything’s going to be okay.”
Amara nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay!” she breathed with determination. “I’m ready for Room Two.”
“Really?” Pax’s eyes lit up. “Do you want to join our bodies together first so that you can share my strength?”
“It’s always easier being Para,” Amara said with hesitation, “but I need to stop depending on you to carry me. I’ll try to do this in my own body, and if I can’t take it, we’ll coalesce.”
Pax gripped the doorknob again, and Amara stepped aside shakily. As the slender woman’s black-gloved hand turned on the doorknob, Amara began to panic.
“Wait!” Amara shouted. “Before we go in there, can you at least tell me what my dad said to you? You know, way back before we entered the Pseudosphere?”
Pax smiled. “It’s not important.”
“Everything my dad says is important. He’s the King of Devas.”
Pax flung the door fully open. “Don’t you want to see what’s inside Room Two?”
Amara had been dreading this moment for months. She had heard stories about the brutalities of the vector zone, but she had never believed they could be true. While most stories were exaggerated, she now knew that her brother and ex-boyfriend had understated their tales about the nastiness of this place. “Oh, Sakra,” Amara whispered when she peered beyond the door. She shivered. “It looks like a fucking ocean of liquid nitrogen!”
“What does your dermatologist say about frostbite?” Pax asked.
“That’s seriously not funny,” Amara scolded, but her sternness was interrupted as her friend tossed her forward into the foggy white room. The blond woman screamed at the top of her lungs as her skin hit the subzero liquid. “Pax!”
Pax shrugged lightly as she moved forward into the room. “Maybe there’s a face cream for that.” When she inhaled, the freezing air choked her and prickled her lungs like shards of glass. She turned around and watched as the yellow doorway closed behind them and disappeared. They would be stuck in Room Two until they had completed the trial. Glancing at her blonde companion, she scowled as the other woman tearfully struggled to levitate above the liquid. Tears began to pour down Amara’s cheeks as she hastily rubbed her skin to avoid getting frostbite. Pax was somehow filled with the conviction that Vincent’s spoiled daughter was much more powerful than she had ever allowed herself to believe.
Chapter 3: Goats or Leopards
Thornton stood at the very edge of the temple, contemplating the rest of the mountain range below. Most of the scenery was obscured by a thin film of clouds that wafted far below Sakra’s point. His parents and the Burnsons had just left via the portal created by Sakra himself.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to America?” the mystical little Indian man asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I should wait for her,” Thornton insisted. “Besides, you need someo
ne to guard the temple.”
Now, dusk was falling and he was growing more and more worried. He kept going over his vague memories of the vector zone. It had been about thirty years since he had stepped into that place as a young boy, with his best friend Asher. The two had considered it something of a funhouse at first, excited to see what lay behind the different doors, but they quickly found that it could more easily be deemed a haunted house on steroids. Nonetheless, their fathers had forced them to go through the trials as a rite-of-passage for young devas. It had been expected of them before they could be considered men. That had been years before Pax and Amara had even been born.
A boulder slammed into Thornton’s back, knocking the breath out of him along with his thoughts. He lost his footing and tumbled forward off the edge of the temple and into the abyss below. After a few seconds of falling, he righted himself, and concentrated to levitate and slow his descent. He heard a familiar chuckle of laughter above. Crossing his arms and fixing his face with a sour expression, Thornton levitated back up to the platform.
“Not cool, Ash.”
The dark-haired man scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, bro. So… you got flat-out rejected, huh?”
“She said she was going to think about it,” Thornton corrected. Even though his voice was angry, he was relieved to see that his friend had stayed behind.
“Yeah. You know what that means.” Asher sent his friend a sad smile. “Seriously, man—I told you to lay off my niece. She’s probably the only woman alive who wouldn’t agree to marry you instantaneously for a chance at that sweet Kalgren fortune.”
“Pax knows that I’d give her anything she needed, whether or not we’re together,” Thornton said calmly. Then he cursed under his breath. “Fuck! Not that she would ever ask for my help. She didn’t even care about money before she received the fortune her mom left her. I wish she was greedy!”
Paramount Page 32
