Dark Stranger Immortal (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Series Book 3)

by I. T. Lucas

  It seemed that, unfortunately, the cabin was self-sufficient and off the grid. The chances of anyone being able to follow her trail to this remote and isolated place were slim to none, and so were her opportunities to run or get help.

  It took Dalhu no more than a few seconds to manipulate the lock and open the door. By the time she climbed the two steps leading up to the porch, he was already inside, flipping the light switch on.

  The downstairs was only one room with an ugly L-shaped kitchen and a narrow wooden staircase leading up to an open loft-style bedroom. Both were sparsely furnished with old, worn out furniture that was covered with a thick layer of dust and decorated with an appalling number of spider webs.

  Ugh, so disgusting.

  Standing by the entry, she clutched her twenty-thousand-plus-dollar purse close to her body, keeping it away from the grime, and glanced around in search of the bathroom. There was only one door in the whole place that looked like it could lead to another room, and it was upstairs in the loft bedroom.

  She imagined the bathroom was just as dirty and disgusting as the rest of the place, but nature was calling, and crouching behind some bush in the middle of the night was not happening. “I’m going to pee and take a shower. In the meantime, you’d better start cleaning. The place is filthy.” Amanda took the stairs up to the loft and strode into the bathroom.

  She made sure to lock the door behind her.

  Not that she had any illusions that it could keep Dalhu out if he decided he wanted in. But she hoped he would have the decency to get a clue and stay out. Until now, the Doomer had proven to be surprisingly courteous and civil, for a kidnaper, that is, and a Doomer. She was expecting him to behave like a gentleman. Which probably meant that Dalhu wasn’t the only one who was delusional here.

  ‘Doomer’ and ‘gentleman’ just didn’t belong in the same sentence.

  “Pampered brat…” she heard him mumble under his nose as she wiped the dusty toilet seat with tissue paper. Thank heavens she’d found some leftover by the previous occupant because she hadn’t thought to bring it up from the car.

  “I heard that!” she said, flushing it down.

  The gall of the man, calling her a pampered brat. Not that he was wrong, necessarily—she was pampered… and a brat… but as her kidnaper, he had no right to expect her to be considerate.

  Amanda slid a disgusted glance over the dirty tub and sighed. She would have to clean the thing herself. But how? She had never cleaned anything before.

  Maybe filling it with water and then draining it would do the trick.

  The rusty, old faucet made an ominous screeching sound when she forced it to turn, and waiting to see what would come out of it Amanda held her breath. As she’d expected, the water was brown with rust from the old pipes and whatever other nasties. But when after a few seconds it ran clean, Amanda breathed out.

  She flicked the toilet lid closed and sat down. Waiting for the tub to fill, she let her head drop back.

  Oh, dear fates, what am I going to do?

  With her gone, there would be no one to continue her research.

  All her hard work, the long years she’d spent studying and working toward earning her Ph.D. in neuroscience and then carving a position for herself at the university—gone—because of one fateful coincidence. Why were the fates so cruel to her? Just as she had finally found what she’d been searching for, they had taken it away from her.

  The university would probably replace her with another professor who would continue her lab’s formal research. But there would be no one to conduct her unofficial experiments on mortals with paranormal abilities; no one to search for possible Dormant carriers of her people’s immortal genes. Amanda had been so close to finding a solution to her clan members’ lonely existence. The matriarch of their clan, Annani, was the only known surviving full-blooded goddess, but that didn’t mean that some of the immortal female descendants of other goddesses hadn’t survived the cataclysm.

  As long as Amanda was Dalhu’s captive, she wouldn’t know if Syssi and Michael did indeed descend from other goddesses. But if they’d transitioned, at least two members of her clan would gain lifelong partners.

  Amanda sighed. What if she’d been wrong?

  Perhaps she’d been deluding herself.

  Syssi most likely wasn’t a Dormant and neither was Michael. What if Amanda had given Kian false hope, condemning both her brother and Syssi to terrible heartache? Or worse?

  Because if Syssi didn’t turn, Kian would be devastated.

  He would blame Amanda.

  And he’d be right.

  Long-term relationships between mortals and immortals weren’t possible not only due to the disparity in lifespans, but also because of the risk of exposure. No one in the mortal world was allowed to know about the existence of immortals, no exceptions. It was an existential necessity.

  Syssi, thank the merciful fates, would be spared the pain because she wouldn’t remember falling in love with Kian. But losing Syssi would destroy Kian.

  At best, Kian and Syssi could have a couple of months together. Any longer and Syssi might suffer an irreversible brain damage from having too many memories suppressed. And even if she was to escape neurological damage, she might be driven insane by the large chunk of time missing from her life and the inevitable surfacing of bits and pieces of confusing memories.

  No!

  This time, Amanda wasn’t wrong. She could feel it in her gut. Syssi would turn, and so would Michael. And if she’d managed to find two potential Dormants just by conducting a few small-scale experiments in her university lab, then there must be many more out there.

  At last she could ensure a better future for her clan and put an end to the lonely existence they had been forced to endure for centuries.

  That’s right, she would earn the respect of her family, transcending the image of a spoiled princess. Amanda’s mood improved considerably. There was just one small obstacle she still had to overcome.

  She had to escape.

  CHAPTER 2: DALHU

  “I heard that!” Amanda called while flushing the toilet.

  “Good!” he answered.

  As he climbed up the rickety stairs with a load of shopping bags in each hand, Dalhu’s full bladder demanded immediate attention. He dropped the bags on the dusty bed cover and waited for Amanda to be done.

  But then, a squeak of an old faucet followed by the sound of water hitting the bottom of a tub made him realize that the selfish woman had started the water for a bath without giving a second thought to the fact that he might need to use the bathroom as well.

  No big deal, he could take care of business outside.

  Once that most pressing need was satisfied, Dalhu finished unloading the supplies he’d pilfered from the general store—well, it wasn’t really pilfering if he’d left money on the counter to cover what he’d taken. After dropping the last load on the kitchen floor, he went back to the Honda and drove it off the driveway. Hiding it in the thicket, he made sure it was well covered with heavy greenery—in case someone thought to make an aerial search for the missing car. The keys went under the floorboards of the porch, safely hidden and out of Amanda’s reach.

  Back in the cabin, Dalhu appraised the thick layer of dust covering every exposed surface and the spider webs hanging from ceiling corners and between furniture legs. The place was indeed filthy, but it was so small that he would have no problem cleaning all of it while the spoiled princess soaked in the tub. And hopefully, by the time he was done, he would manage to work up a little sweat…

  Imagining Amanda’s lustful response to his half-naked, glistening body, he felt a surge of arousal. After she’d admitted to fantasizing about him like that, he planned to exploit her weakness.

  He was one lucky SOB. So lucky that he still had a hard time believing it.

  For a change, the fates had smiled kindly upon him, bringing him to the right place at the right time to snatch the first immortal female he’d ever
encountered. And not any immortal female, but the beautiful professor he’d been lusting after since the first time he’d seen her picture—the one in the autographed magazine article his men had found in the clan programmer’s house.

  The programmer whose assassination Dalhu had ordered.

  But she didn’t have to know this, did she. Not yet anyway. First, he was going to seduce her, then he was going to win her heart, and only after he was sure she was his would he come clean.

  Damn. Maybe he should just keep it from her forever. Who knew how close Amanda had been to that programmer. After all, she’d signed that picture for the guy with a personal dedication. And even if they hadn’t been close, family was still family, and she might not be able to get over that hurdle.

  But he knew in his gut that keeping a secret like that would fester like a human’s malignant wound.

  His best bet was to seduce her and get her addicted to him. He’d heard rumors that the venom was addictive. True, the rumors had only talked about mortal females, but it made sense that the same would hold true for immortal ones. After all, if the venom was indeed addictive, the original purpose must’ve been to get immortal females bound to their mates.

  He would’ve preferred not to rely on such an underhanded method, but it could become necessary in case he failed for some reason to win Amanda’s heart. She would get hooked on him no matter what. And anyway, it wasn’t as if he could do anything to prevent it. With a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Dalhu took off his shirt and went to work.

  “Game on, Professor.”

  The first thing on his agenda was the dusty mattress. Dalhu climbed the stairs up to the loft and eyed the shopping bags he’d dumped on the bed.

  Well, that hadn’t been smart.

  He took them down to the floor, then removed the bedding and dropped it over the railing down to the ground floor. Carefully, he hefted the mattress and lifted it over his head. It wasn’t heavy, but maneuvering it down the narrow stairs and out the front door without banging into the walls forced him to go slower than he would’ve liked.

  He left the mattress braced against the porch railing and jogged to the kitchen to grab a broom. As he pounded the mattress, he had to shield his nose and mouth with his other hand against the clouds of dust billowing out of it. The whole porch rattled and shook as he kept beating at the thing. Hopefully, the railing was sturdy enough to absorb the force of his strikes. When he was satisfied that no amount of additional pounding would cause the thing to release more dust, he hefted the mattress back up to the loft. But as he dropped it over the box spring, producing a new cloud, Dalhu realized that he should’ve given the box the same treatment as the mattress. No time, though. There was still a lot to clean, and he wanted to be done before Amanda finished her bath.

  With a quick jog down the stairs, he got to the pile of bedding he’d dropped and scooped it up from the floor. He headed toward what he thought was a utility room, but there was no washer in the broom closet next to the kitchen he’d mistaken for one. If there was a washer in the cabin at all, it must’ve been stashed in the bathroom upstairs. He could think of no other place it could’ve been hidden in.

  Maybe it was in the shack outside? He’d check later, but, for now, stuffing it in the broom closet would do. First, though, he had to take out the vacuum cleaner to make room for the bundle.

  He was about to attack the floor with the ancient machine when it crossed his mind that the sofa was probably in no better shape than the mattress.

  It took two more trips out to the porch, and some more pounding with the broom to liberate the heavy layer of dust from the sofa cushions.

  Back to the floors.

  Though not much to look at, the simple vacuum cleaner was doing a decent job—for a little while. Dalhu stopped when the loud engine changed its tune from a drone to a whine and a slight burning scent reached his nose.

  Good that he had or the thing would’ve gone up in smoke. After examining the various components, he found a canister that needed emptying.

  Live and learn.

  Cleaned, the thing worked perfectly again. Once the floors looked passable, Dalhu wiped the rest of the surfaces with a couple of wet rags, then disposed of them the same way he did the bedding—into the broom closet.

  Later, he planned to put everything in the washer. If there was one. If not, he was going to throw the stuff in the trash. As it was, he’d already exceeded his life-long quota of domestic activity. Washing by hand was not going to happen unless the professor volunteered to do it…

  Yeah… hell has a better chance of freezing over…

  The things he was willing to do for a woman. At his home base, Dalhu wouldn’t have been caught dead holding a broom. A warrior carried a rifle or a sword—only servants and trainees carried cleaning implements and did the kinds of job he had done tonight.

  Dalhu rubbed his neck, his hand coming away oily with sweat. He smirked, wiping his palm on his dirty jeans.

  Mission accomplished.

  It was time to present himself to the bathing princess. Except, now that he was done, an insidious doubt drifted through his mind, and his plan suddenly seemed foolish. What if she screamed at him to get out? Or looked at him with disgust in her beautiful blue eyes?

  After all, he’d kidnaped her, drugged her, and had cuffed her to a bed. It was a wonder Amanda was talking to him at all, or looking at him with anything other than fear, or even worse—loathing.

  Dalhu sighed. It was what it was. He would do his best with the cards fate had dealt him—the good and the bad, and there was no place for doubts or second thoughts if he wanted to win the most important game of his life.

  Winners didn’t cower before a challenge.

  They embraced it.

  Amanda was going to be his.

  Climbing the wooden stairs, he made sure to stomp his feet and make his approach as loud as possible. What little sense of propriety he possessed demanded that he at least let Amanda know he was coming and give the female a chance to cover herself before he barged in on her.

  With his hand on the bathroom door’s handle, Dalhu hesitated for a fraction of a moment before plastering a confident though totally fake grin on his face and forcing his way in. “Hello, princess,” he said, the words he’d prepared on his way up.

  It was good that he spoke as soon as he had because the sight of Amanda’s perfect body laid out in the bathtub in all its naked glory had rendered him speechless.

  And the way she was looking at him, basking in the knowledge of the effect she had on him…

  There was no shame in her eyes, no attempt to cover her perfect breasts with her hands. If anything, the woman seemed to feed off his stunned stupor.

  “Dalhu, darling, as soon as you’re done drooling, could you please bring me the toiletries and a towel? Don’t forget the conditioner…”

  He barely heard the words coming out of that gorgeous mouth.

  What did she say? Soap and towel?

  Damn, Dalhu swallowed, his brain short-circuiting from all the visual stimuli. Fully clothed, Amanda was stunning; naked, she was like a stroke of lightning—awe-inspiring and deadly. Because if he were mortal, his heart would have surely stopped.

  Dalhu wiped a shaky hand over his mouth. Dimly aware that he had a plan coming up here and forcing his way into the bathroom, he struggled to remember what it was, but with most of his neurons misfiring it was hard to concentrate.

  There was something that was supposed to turn her on…

  Yeah… and I’m doing such a great job of it… as if gawking and drooling is going to do it for her…

  Fuck! What a splendid personification of masculinity he was displaying…

  Pull yourself together, you idiot!

  Showing weakness wouldn’t do with a woman like her…

  Not a woman—a fucking goddess…

  He’d better pull his shit together and project strength and confidence before he lost her respect…

>   If he’d ever had it to begin with.

  At first, when he’d grabbed her in that jewelry store, she’d been terrified of him. But then, after he’d bitten her, overloading her system with his venom, she’d begged him to fuck her like a common slut. But that was the venom’s doing; she’d been high on its aphrodisiac properties. He had no doubt that she would’ve never acted like that when sober. And that’s why, as hard as it had been, he’d refused her pleas. In his mind, to oblige her would’ve been akin to rape.

  Trouble was, the way she’d cussed at him for refusing her, Dalhu doubted his restraint had been appreciated. He wondered whether by treating her honorably he’d gained her respect or had lost it altogether.

  Perhaps he’d been stupid for wanting her sober consent, but this was not about an easy lay. This woman was his future, and he’d be damned if he screwed it up by taking advantage of her in a compromised state.

  Hopefully, once she’d sobered up and remembered, she’d appreciated his gallantry.

  Except, one could never know with women…

  Still, even if she found his behavior gallant, it didn’t mean she thought highly of him. Most likely, Amanda considered him beneath her.

  Not nearly good enough.

  And he wasn’t—not by a long shot.

  He was aware that Amanda found him attractive, but that was about it—his only redeeming quality. She was a professor while he was an uneducated mercenary, she was rich and he wasn’t. Not to mention the little issue of him kidnaping her and holding her prisoner with no intention of ever letting her go…

  Or being her family’s sworn enemy…

  “The toiletries, Dalhu? And the towel?” she repeated, her eyes twinkling with amusement. The woman knew she had him by the balls… and not just figuratively…

  “Coming right up, princess.” Dalhu forced a smile before tearing his eyes away.

  Damn. Now he was sweating worse than he had from the physical work he’d done before. Thank Mortdh, he’d been already covered in sweat when he’d came in… maybe she wouldn’t notice it had gotten worse… because of her…