by J. K. Coi
“Human,” Mastema thundered over the din and echo of the growling monsters around them, all chomping at the bit, itching for a taste of Gray’s blood. “You have failed in your task to bring me the Guardian.”
“You’ll have the Guardian soon enough,” he said unflinchingly, standing his ground and appearing unconcerned. “I admit to a miscalculation. But I’ll have another chance to secure the Guardian again soon.”
Gray recalled his near miss with disgust. When he’d entered the spirit realm Gray had forgotten its first rule, that no corporeal entity can dwell there…at least not without an anchor. Doyle had been his anchor, and he’d let go too early. His eagerness to wrap his hands around the Guardian’s throat had been too irresistible.
At the same time the tips of his fingers had brushed against the Guardian’s robes, Gray’s scarred, glowing hand had let go of Doyle’s soul, immediately repelling him from that plane. A moment later he’d found himself lying on top of the dead Immortal’s husk of a body, in the dirt road where their battle had taken place.
“As you are already aware, I am not known for having a great deal of patience.” Mastema’s long, curved talons drummed relentlessly on the arm of his throne. “I think I would be just as happy to torture you now then send you back where you came from as wait for you to fail yet again.”
Gray realized he had to do some fast talking. “If you do that, you’ll never have another chance at the Guardian, and as long as the Guardian lives, the Immortals will continue to control you. They will keep hunting your demons and force them to the Abyss, forcing you to remain in this isolated cesspool until doomsday—which I just don’t see coming in on the schedule for next week, do you?”
Mastema looked like he was going to pop a gasket.
Fuck. Gray had gone too far, gotten too lippy.
He tried to backtrack and appease the demon. “Mastema. Give me the time to do what I have promised, and I assure you the Guardian will be yours. If he dies, so does his Immortal army, and with them out of the way your demons can run unchecked over the earth, bringing you your freedom that much sooner.”
Mastema was quiet for once, probably assessing the real chances that Gray could succeed. He could only hope that the demon would decide it was worth giving him another chance.
Mastema could see his freedom in the human dog’s eyes. If only the Guardian could be disposed of. If his minions didn’t have to worry about the Immortals, they would be able to bring the wretched human souls to Mastema in much larger quantities, making him that much stronger. Mastema could taste the sweet tang of human corruption on his tongue just thinking about it.
“Go, then,” he said through his clenched jaws and razor teeth.
He really wanted to kill the little worm, but the human had a point. If he actually succeeded, nothing would be able to stop Mastema—he would rule all the realms.
And if the human failed again, Mastema could still torture him later.
“Go, before I change my mind and have you skinned where you stand.”
Chapter Twelve
Amy felt Rhys’ presence in the room before she opened her eyes. It was very dark. The lights had all been dimmed and there were no windows in the room, so it could be any time of day.
Her body felt limp, an over-boiled spaghetti noodle. There was no strength left in her limbs, her eyes were heavy and swollen and her stomach still felt vaguely nauseated. But the intense pain was gone, her mind felt clear.
She tried to take stock of her other body parts. Still two ears, a nose and a mouth. She still had feeling in all the extremities, although none of it good.
She didn’t feel like her body had changed. It was just very, very sore.
Beside her Gideon snored. Loudly.
Amy just smiled. It had been a long time since she’d seen her brother in such a defenseless state. It was cute, even with the snoring. He was usually so boisterous and cocky, a strong and capable man, but Amy remembered the little boy he had been, a boy always trailing after their papa with a pint-sized tool belt around his waist, and she sometimes wondered if that boy were still in there somewhere.
She suddenly realized she could feel the calm of his mind. He was finally sleeping restfully, relieved of the tortured nightmares of the last few…hours? Days?
“Rhys,” she whispered, needing his touch.
At the sound of Amy’s dry and cracked voice, Rhys rose from the chair across the room, where he had been lightly dozing.
“I’m here,” he said, coming to her side.
“Can you help me up please? I don’t want to wake Gideon.”
“Uh, maybe you should stay in bed a while longer. I don’t want you to overdo it.”
“I can’t stand another moment in this bed. I need to get to a shower. Come on, I’m desperate.” Amy was close to begging. “Please, I’m so ripe I could be my own fruit basket.”
Rhys chuckled and finally relented, lifting her under the shoulders and knees to carry her into the bathroom. He looked uncertainly at her then, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with her next.
“I know this was my idea, but I have serious doubts about my ability stand, and my arms are so wobbly I know I’ll have trouble washing my hair without…help.” She gave him a shy look. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”
Rhys groaned at the request. The thought of running soapy hands all over her naked body in the hot, steamy shower made his traitorous body hard with wanting.
“You’re going to kill me, you know that?” he said to her ruefully, sitting her down gently on the lid of the toilet seat. He moved to turn the water on in the walk-in shower so it would have a chance to get nice and hot. After a slight pause, he matter-of-factly began removing her clothes, desperately trying to remain supportive and unaffected.
It wasn’t working.
Amy lifted her arms so he could pull off her shirt. It took a little more maneuvering to get the rest of her clothes off because he didn’t want her trying to stand on her own, but they managed.
He sighed. It was pointless to try to hide the fact that he was as stiff and hard as a flag pole, especially when she sat there watching him with wide eyes while he removed his own clothes.
The shower enclosure was made of clear tempered glass, the inside lined with black marble tiles. Rhys had done all of the drywall, ceramic, electrical and plumbing work himself when he took over the warehouse. When you were Immortal and you killed things for your job, it was important to find a hobby, and he’d always been good with his hands.
He lifted Amy in his arms and helped her to the marble bench built into the shower stall, where she promptly sagged like a well-loved sack doll. After a moment she turned her face up to the steaming water and groaned with pleasure as the droplets ran in rivulets down her face. Rhys’ gut wrenched and his heart tugged as he stood watching her. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was plastered against her head, but she had never been more beautiful to him.
Kneeling before her on the hard marble tile, for a moment he simply gazed into her eyes. She smiled and trailed her fingers over his brow. He took her hand and brought those fingers to his mouth, reverently kissing each one.
“Amy, I—” He didn’t know what to say. His throat was thick with the fear that had been his constant companion the last few days. Even the relief he felt now that she’d come through the transition safely… He laid his head on her naked thighs and they sat there for a long moment, not saying anything. The hot cleansing water continued to rain down on them both and Amy softly brushed her fingers through his hair.
When he lifted his head, their eyes locked. He reached for the thick bar of soap and lathered his hands with it, then slowly began to soap her shoulders. He rubbed her muscles hard at the juncture of her neck and collarbone.
Amy moaned softly, closing her eyes. She let the water rush over her, washing everything away, let Rhys massage the aches and pains from her muscles. She savored the blissful sensations as he continued down her arms, touching every inch of he
r skin along the way. When he reached her hands, he pressed and rubbed her fingers, dug his thumb into her palms and the insides of her wrists in small circles. It was heaven.
When Rhys’ warm, soapy hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs brushed her sensitive nipples, Amy raised her head and stared into his bright eyes, lost in the fire that burned there. For her. Even if she hadn’t been able to see firsthand the physical proof of his arousal, she couldn’t have missed the force of the passion that whirled through his mind. She felt his emotions, so potent and passionate, yet his touch was gentle, tender. It was a powerfully erotic feeling. Her blood was heating just as passionately in response.
“If you keep thinking like that, I’m going to have to try out this newfound immortal strength of mine and tackle you to the floor,” she said to him teasingly, only half joking. The truth was, Immortal powers or no, Amy didn’t have the strength to stand on her own right now, much less engage in vigorous, mind-blowing sex with him.
Her eyes roamed over his glorious body. It would definitely be worth a try.
She reached for him, parting her legs so he could kneel between the cradle of her thighs.
“Amy,” he warned with a worried frown. The hot water sluiced over them both. It felt fantastic, and the way he looked at her felt fantastic. She could almost forget about everything that had happened.
“Shh.” She smiled and pressed her aching breasts against his chest. “Be gentle with me and we’ll be just fine.”
Her heart leaped when he took her mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. She clutched his shoulders and opened her mouth, taking in water along with the delicious penetration of his tongue. His kiss turned more insistent and soon he pressed her shoulders back against the cool tiled wall and leaned over her.
He teased and pulled at her nipples, then placed kisses on her belly, all the way down. He shifted back and gripped her waist to inch her butt closer to the edge of the marble bench. Then he pushed her thighs wider and lowered his head.
The press of his mouth to her wet, heated flesh was heaven. She felt every stroke of his tongue as if he caressed bare nerve endings. The stimulation was so intense, so different, she couldn’t sit still. “Rhys,” she gasped. “It’s too…too intense. What’s happening?”
He raised his head. “As an Immortal, all your senses are heightened. Even sex is going to be fiercer.” He paused. “Perhaps it’s too soon, and we should stop.”
She squeezed her knees and clutched a hank of his wet hair to keep him from moving away. “Don’t you dare.”
He smiled and lifted her off the bench, laying her on the floor of the shower and coming down over her. He raised her legs and rested them over his shoulders. “Just relax, then. Let the feelings wash through you. If you fight them, it’ll start to hurt.”
She nodded as he licked her pussy, drawing his tongue from her puckered back hole to the vibrating nub of her clit. She watched, looking down the length of her body at his dark head between her thighs. The sensations he pulled from her were stronger than anything she’d felt before. The water falling down from above felt like tiny little needles on her breasts and belly, adding to the intensity. She started thrashing beneath him and he reached up, holding her gently to keep her from hurting herself even as his tongue relentlessly stabbed her pussy and flicked at her clit.
Her orgasm came fast. Hard and fast.
When she was limp and spent, he rose up and kissed her. She tasted herself on his lips and groaned, reaching for his cock. It was so hard. He needed release too.
He gently removed her hand. She tried to pull him over her and lifted her leg up to his waist, but he stopped her. “No. That was for you,” he said. “You need rest. You can’t handle more than this right now.”
“Want to bet?”
He smiled. “We’ll have time.”
“You can’t leave it like that,” she insisted.
He groaned. “I’ll just have to take care of it myself later.”
Her eyes widened. “Now. Do it right now, here with me. I want to watch.”
She leaned back on her elbows, thrusting her breasts upward, and spread her legs on either side of his hips. His gaze narrowed as he knelt between her thighs with his own knees planted shoulder width apart and let it roam over every inch of her very naked body.
He closed his fist over the reddened head of his cock and dragged his palm down the length.
Her mouth went dry even as the still-hot water pelted down on her sensitive skin. “You’re magnificent,” she whispered, wanting to reach out and touch him almost as much as she wanted to watch him touch himself.
His movements started slow. Long pulls. A twist of his wrist. He cupped and squeezed his balls for her. But when Amy started fingering herself because her need had risen to an explosive level just watching him and she couldn’t keep still, he started working himself faster.
His gaze alternated between her open thighs and her heaving breasts and when she went off again, he groaned. “Fuck, Amy. I can’t—”
He moved to turn away from her, but she cried out. “No, Rhys. Right here. I want it. Cover me with it.”
His fist pumped harder, faster. Finally, he called her name. He stiffened and leaned over her, and he was coming, thick creamy ropes splashing over her breasts and belly.
She rubbed it into her skin before the water could wash it all away, and then she licked her fingers clean, all the while keeping her gaze locked on the masculine beauty of him.
Rhys helped Amy back into a sitting position on the bench. He saw the bone-deep weariness that her teasing smile tried to hide as he finished washing her.
While she lay unconscious in his bed, he’d tried to work everything out in his mind, telling himself that when she was through the transition, he would have to look on her as he would any other Immortal under his training, and put aside their sexual history to do what was best for her.
He was going to have to try a lot harder than this if he really intended to do it.
Could he, or was he deluding himself and it was already too late for that?
Once her long hair had been lathered and rinsed, he pulled her out of the shower and wrapped her up in a huge terrycloth towel. “I’m impressed,” she said.
He raised a brow. “With what?”
“With the size of your…” She gave him a cheeky smile. “Hot water tank.”
He grinned. “I like long showers.”
“I can see why.”
They both chuckled as he picked her up and carried her back to his room.
Gideon was sitting up in the bed as they came in, shooting Rhys a dirty look.
“Gideon,” Amy said, “I know exactly what you’re thinking and you can just stuff it right where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Gideon turned his gaze to Amy and she cocked her head as if she were listening intently to something Rhys couldn’t hear.
After a moment Gideon shook his head and leaned forward, swinging his legs out from under the covers. Rhys put Amy down in the chair across the room then went to push a button on the wall beside the door. After a moment, Baron knocked on the door before opening it and poking his head inside.
“What’s up?” he asked Rhys.
“Can you give Gideon a hand getting to a shower, and see what you can find in the way of some fresh clothes?”
“I don’t need any help,” Gideon argued grumpily as he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled toward the door.
“Of course you don’t,” Baron replied, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “I’ll bet you always walk around like an eighty-year-old man that just fell out of his wheelchair.” He came forward, taking Gideon’s arm. “Come on, I won’t tell the ladies you needed help pulling your boxers on and brushing your teeth.”
Gideon shot Rhys a pained look of exasperation, but assented to being half-carried out of the room with his arm around Baron’s neck.
When they were alone, Amy joked, “I hope we aren’t going to have to play referee with those two.”
“God forbid.” He feigned an exaggerated shudder of horror, enjoying the comfortable intimacy that had grown between them—enjoying it too much in fact.
Her soft chuckle cut off abruptly and he looked to see what was wrong. She had a look of surprise on her face, and he guessed she was as startled by the easy intimacy of the moment as he was.
“Thank you for staying with me,” she said softly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did,” he replied, turning to his closet where he pulled out a robe that Baron had brought from her apartment.
“How did all of this happen, Rhys?” Amy turned serious. “I mean, where does this power come from and why did you get it? Why did I get it? Who decides something like that?”
Rhys helped her to stand and unwrapped the towel, then assisted her in putting on the robe, being careful not to touch her warm, naked skin too much. He already felt guilty for letting things get carried away in the shower, when she was still tired and sore.
Her legs wobbled and she swayed into him. “Sit down and I’ll tell you everything,” he ordered. She did, with a heavy sigh.
“There’s a being called the Guardian. I don’t know where he comes from, or how he came to be in charge of those decisions, but mortals have very little choice in the process.”
“I assume that all of this happened to you at some point. Will you tell me about it?” she asked.
He groaned. More sharing. Okay, if that was what she needed, he could do it. He left to ditch the wet towel. When he returned he lifted her into his arms and took her spot in the chair, then settled her back down in his lap. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Even after so long, I still think of my existence in two phases—life and…after,” Rhys started. “The life part I’ve already told you. The after part began with Graydon’s death. I never actually met him in person, but I knew him. In my mind, I saw him die. I felt it—like you did with Doyle.” Amy nodded in solemn understanding.
