by I. T. Lucas
Dark Stranger The Dream
The children of the gods book 1
I T Lucas
Contents
The Children Of The Gods
Copyright
PRELUDE: SYSSI
CHAPTER 1: AMANDA
CHAPTER 2: KIAN
CHAPTER 3: ANANDUR
CHAPTER 4: AMANDA
CHAPTER 5: SYSSI
CHAPTER 6: MARK
CHAPTER 7: KIAN
CHAPTER 8: KIAN
CHAPTER 9: KIAN
CHAPTER 10: KIAN
CHAPTER 11: ANANDUR
CHAPTER 12: SYSSI
CHAPTER 13: KIAN
CHAPTER 14: BRUNDAR
CHAPTER 15: SYSSI
CHAPTER 16: KIAN
CHAPTER 17: BRUNDAR
CHAPTER 18: SYSSI
CHAPTER 19: KIAN
CHAPTER 20: ANDREW
CHAPTER 21: KIAN
CHAPTER 22: SYSSI
CHAPTER 23: KIAN
CHAPTER 24: DALHU
CHAPTER 25: SYSSI
CHAPTER 26: AMANDA
CHAPTER 27: KIAN
CHAPTER 28: SYSSI
CHAPTER 29: KIAN
CHAPTER 30: SYSSI
CHAPTER 31: KIAN
CHAPTER 32: SYSSI
CHAPTER 33: KIAN
CHAPTER 34: SYSSI
CHAPTER 35: KIAN
DARK STRANGER REVEALED
CHAPTER 1: SYSSI
CHAPTER 2: DALHU
CHAPTER 3: KIAN
The Children Of The Gods
By I.T. Lucas
Kian & Syssi’s story
Book 1: Dark Stranger The Dream
Book 2: Dark Stranger Revealed
Book 3: Dark Stranger Immortal
•••
Amanda’s story
Book 4: Dark enemy taken
Book 5: Dark Enemy Captive
BOOK 6: Dark Enemy Redeemed
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This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any from by any means—electronic, photocopying, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except as provided by The United States of America copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used factiously. Any similarity to actual persons, organizations and/or events
is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by I. T. Lucas
PRELUDE: SYSSI
Premonitions are tricky.
And although Syssi’d had them for as long as she could remember, she could never predict how they'd come to pass.
Yet in one way or another, they always did.
It was a curse.
Knowing something was coming, but not the when or the how left her perpetually anxious.
Lately, she sensed a dark shadow descending over the world, a malevolence that had an oddly familiar flavor to it. An old and powerful force was on the rise, readying to plunge the world into darkness. Yet again.
It alarmed her.
So much so that she dreaded watching the news or reading a newspaper. To witness global events unfold according to her predictions only fueled their potency. And like one of those biblical prophets of doom, the foreknowledge she was burdened with was too vague to heed—even if anyone cared to listen.
And yet, although the portents were mounting, it seemed as if no one was concerned. Blinded by one trifling thing or another, most of her friends were nonchalant; convinced that recycling with gusto and driving fuel-efficient cars would effectively ensure the planet's bright future.
Right.
As if weapons of mass destruction in the hands of fanatics were not threatening to annihilate the world. And the slaughter of thousands in Africa, and in North Korea, and in other godforsaken dictatorships wasn't happening. Not to mention that hunger was still a serious problem in parts of the globe, and basic human rights were rapidly eroding in those and other parts: specifically, those of women.
It weighed on her.
Being a powerless observer sucked.
There was nothing she could do.
Except, some small part of her had been rebelling against that perceived helplessness, whispering in her mind that she was wrong. It was like an itch, a nagging suspicion that she was forgetting something important, and that just around the corner, a life-altering adventure awaited.
Perhaps it had something to do with that Godawful dream that had been tormenting her for months. Infrequent at first, lately it had been a nightly occurrence, and she would wake up gasping, sweaty, shaky, and with a mean headache.
The dream always began in the midst of a heart-pounding pursuit. Out of breath and desperate, she was running for her life through a dark wood—a pack of vicious wolves on her heels. With the hellhounds' terrible red-glowing-eyes and snarling muzzles never far behind, her panting breaths were the only other sounds to disturb the quiet of the night. Her eyes darted frantically in search of help, but she could see nothing besides the elusive shadows the moon was casting on her path.
Her legs threatening to give out, she was losing hope, when up ahead in the distance she discerned what looked like a silhouette of a man. She couldn't be sure, though. Barely visible below the limbs of a large tree, he might've been just another shadow.
It remained a mystery. She never got to reach him, always waking up before she got close enough to find out if he was real.
Trouble was, Syssi didn't know what to make of the dream. Was the dark stranger friend or foe? Was she supposed to run to him? Or from him?
On that, her premonition remained undecided, churning up a strange mix of contradicting feelings: a sense of trepidation, but also excitement.
Yes, her premonitions were definitely tricky.
CHAPTER 1: AMANDA
"Where the hell is he?" Amanda murmured, taking a quick glance at the time before fixing her gaze back on the lecture hall's door. Watching the incoming throng of her admiring students from up on her podium, it wasn't as if there was a chance she could miss him. At six-foot-four and with two distinct bodyguards at his side, Kian wasn't exactly inconspicuous, or easily overlooked. She was just anxious for him to show up.
At last, her brother—the all-important Regent and head of her clan on the American continent—promised to make the time to come see her teach.
"Unless, he isn't coming after all…" Amanda muttered under her breath. Snatching her phone out of her purse, she turned her back to the class. No way would she let her worshipful audience see her texting with fingers that shook—even if ever so slightly.
Where are you? I have to start in a few minutes, Amanda sent, then waited, tapping her heeled shoe on the podium's hardwood-floor.
Don't get your knickers in a twist. Parking the car. Be there in two.
Exhaling a relieved breath, she smiled and texted back. Knickers? Really? What century are you stuck in? It's a thong now. Get with the times, old man. And unless you can fly, you won't make it in two.
Old man walking as fast as he can while texting. Stop bugging me.
Amanda chuckled, but as she shifted her attention back to the rapidly filling classroom, her eyebrows dipped with worry. At this rate, Kian might not find an empty seat, let alone three, which might provide him with a perfect excuse to leave.
The room, already one of the largest in the department at one hundred and fifty seats, was nearing full capaci
ty. Amanda's class, ‘Mind: The Final Frontier’, was quickly becoming a favorite of the student body. Not that she had any illusions as to why her class was so popular…
It wasn't due to a sudden interest in the philosophy of neuroscience, or appreciation for the title's reference to Star Trek. And sadly, it wasn't due to her fascinating lectures or her amazing teaching skills either. No, the course's popularity had mainly to do with her looks.
"Professor Dokani is so hot. I don't know what she is doing in front of a classroom. With her looks, she should be gracing the runways or the big screen..." Amanda heard one of her few female students whisper. But although for most of her life this exquisite exterior had defined her, lately, it just wasn't enough. She wished to be admired for her skill as a teacher and not the gift of beauty of her unique genetic heritage.
Tall and lean, with dark, glossy, short hair, big blue eyes, and full, sensuous red lips, her beauty bordered on the surreal, as one of her more eloquent admirers gushed. "Just look at her," another breathed, "I thought this kind of beauty existed only in the fantasies of anime illustrators." Nice. But although flattered, she had to disagree. Unlike the nearly naked anime beauties, she was dressed. Impeccably.
Still, at the back of her mind, shoved into a hidden corner that she managed to ignore most of the time, Amanda sometimes felt like an anime character: an exaggerated exterior masking a hollow interior. But then, she covered it up well, projecting a confident attitude and dressing the part.
This morning, she took particular care, choosing an outfit to best fit the role she was playing: a distinguished and respected professor, yet a hot one. The slim-fitting black trousers and modest, blue silk blouse revealed very little skin, leaving the job of accentuating her perfectly curved figure to the exquisite cut of the luxurious fabrics.
Amanda didn't own a single article of clothing that wasn't a top designer label or cost less than most folks' monthly mortgage payments. Not that she could afford that kind of stuff on a professor's salary; that wouldn't have covered her shoe budget alone. But her shares in the clan's extensive holdings ensured she could buy whatever struck her fancy without ever needing to work for it.
The research she was conducting had a higher purpose than earning her income or even prestige.
Still, she liked feeling important for a change. And besides delighting in her students' reactions—amusing and thrilling as they were—she had to admit that she truly enjoyed teaching and was surprisingly good at it.
With a thinly veiled smirk, Amanda watched the young men—some freezing in place, awestruck as they stared at her, others tripping over their own feet as they tried to find a seat without taking their eyes off her. Some tall, some short, some pale, some dark. Most were average looking. A few were worth a second glance.
Sweet, sweet boys. Yummy, so many to choose from.
She loved them all, loved their attention, their lust. Drinking it in, Amanda was in her element: the hunter in a field of ogling prey.
Mortals, with their weak, malleable minds, were easily snared, their memories of the hook-up easily erased, and then just as easily forgotten.
Regrettably, it was modus operandi for her kind.
Thralling partners repeatedly messed with their brains, while hiding her true nature for extended periods of time was tiresome and carried the risk of exposure.
Long-term relationships were simply impossible.
Those of her kin who’d tried got burned; most figuratively, some literally.
Case in point; The Witch-hunts.
In days past, a woman like her might have been called a femme fatale, a succubus, or even a vamp. Nowadays, there was a new term, cougar, which she liked better. It didn't carry such negative connotation and was, in fact, closer to the truth.
Not that anyone would dare think of her as an older woman. Amanda shuddered at the thought.
She was a beautiful, young female.
Her fake birth certificate stated that she was born on the sixth of May, 1984… It got the sixth of May right, but the actual year of her birth was 1773.
Amanda was over two hundred years old.
The funny thing was, for a near-immortal she truly was young. Kian was four years shy of two thousand… the old goat. Compared to the lifespans of mortals, though…
Well, what they didn't know didn't hurt them. She was what she was—what biology and her kin's traditions made her—a lustful, hedonistic, near-immortal.
Amanda liked who she was, and she loved her life… most of it anyway….
At last, as the classroom began to settle down, Amanda spotted Kian, flanked by his trusted sidekicks—number one and number two as she nicknamed Brundar and Anandur. The three headed for the back row, where seats immediately became available, vacated by their occupants who scurried to find a place elsewhere.
Good.
Amanda would never admit it, but Kian's approval meant a lot to her. Being that much older, he fulfilled both the roles of the father she never had and a big brother.
Lately, as the clan's holdings kept increasing at a staggering pace, managing their family's extensive affairs was taking up most of his waking time. It had taken relentless nagging to pry him away for a couple of hours.
Now that he was here, she could begin.
Okay girl, time to rock and roll.
CHAPTER 2: KIAN
The lecture ending with a lively discussion concerning freewill took Kian by surprise. Enchanted by Amanda's rendition of the mysterious nature of consciousness and the brain's uncharted neural pathways, he had lost track of time just like the rest of her students. Even Brundar and Anandur, who expected to be bored out of their minds, sat riveted throughout the entire class.
"It's time to go," Kian whispered, motioning for them to follow as he pushed to his feet. Leaving Amanda's mesmerized audience behind, they sneaked out of the lecture hall unnoticed, which in itself served as another testament to her skill. More often than not, the three of them attracted a lot of unwanted attention; be it admiration from the females, or apprehension from the males.
Then again, establishing their headquarters in a big city that was home to the film and music industry had its perks. On the streets of Los Angeles—with all of its actors, musicians, and wannabes of the same—a bunch of tall, good-looking men wasn't an unusual sight.
Once outside, Kian squinted at the glaring sun and pulled on his custom-made, heavy-duty sunglasses. Unlike his native Scotland, it rarely got cloudy enough here for him to forgo the shades. And at this time of year in particular the bright orb's glare was brutal on his over-sensitive eyes….
Not that it got significantly better during what passed for winter in Southern California...
As his black SUV with its dark-tinted windows pulled up to the curb, it attracted the interest of the few people on the street. Thankfully, no one lingered to gawk.
"She's really good. Even I got it," Anandur said, opening the passenger door for Kian.
With a slight nod, Brundar seconded his brother's opinion.
"I still hate the idea of her being so publicly exposed. It's risky. All it will take is for some nosy reporter to go digging into her fake dossier, and all hell will break loose." His temper on the rise, Kian slammed the SUV's door.
He had to admit, though, Amanda had her students spellbound. Some of it was no doubt due to her beauty, and some due to her special ability to influence. But as he was immune to both and still found the lecture fascinating, he had to give her the credit she was due.
"Where to, master?" his driver asked, easing into traffic.
"We are having lunch at Gino's."
Mindful of the amount of work still waiting for him, Kian pulled out his phone and began scrolling through the avalanche of emails and texts that had managed to accumulate during the two-hour class. He barely got through a fraction of them when the SUV pulled in front of Amanda's favorite place for lunch.
Gino's was close enough to the campus for her to grab a quick bite, and yet fa
r enough that the risk of her bumping into her students there was low. Amanda had discovered it two years ago when she got her first job at the university.
With a generous grant from one of the clan's subsidiary corporations, Kian ensured Amanda had free rein to test her ideas. But, even though he provided the funding for it, Kian didn't put much stock in her finding what she was looking for. Still, even if her research failed to find anything useful for the clan, it could potentially benefit humanity, which, of course, was the ultimate goal and justified the substantial monetary investment.
"Is it we, as in you and Amanda, or are we invited as well?" Anandur asked as they stepped out of the vehicle.
"No. You guys will salivate while Amanda and I eat… Really, Andu, sometimes I wonder if it's part of your act or are you really that thick."
Brundar chuckled, a jab directed at his obnoxious brother never failing to bring a rare smile to his austere face.
"What I meant, ladies… are we all sitting together as one big happy family, auntie and uncle with their beloved nephews? Or Amanda and you upstairs, while we guard from a safe distance—out of hearing range—downstairs?" Anandur arched his bushy red brows.
"I don't know. It's up to Amanda. I'm not sure what she has in mind." Kian frowned, remembering she mentioned there was something she wanted to talk to him about.
"Aha, you don't know… So I'm not so thick, am I?" Anandur smirked.
Kian shook his head but smiled despite himself. Anandur liked to act the big brainless oaf. At almost six and a half feet tall and about two hundred fifty pounds of muscle, he looked like a pro wrestler. Add to that a head full of crinkly red hair, a bushy red beard and mustache, and he could play as an extra in a Viking movie.
In contrast, Brundar looked almost feminine. A little over six feet, he wasn't exactly short, but his lean build, pretty angelic face, and the girly hairdo of stick-straight, pale-blond, waist-long hair, made him look delicate. Metrosexual.
