Playing God (Game of Gods Book 3)

by Lana Pecherczyk

I thought back to all the times I’d heard The Others, or had them take over. None of those times were around him. Yes, I’d heard them in Houston, but he’d been away for most of that. Wren had said something similar when she handed Cash the book. I hadn’t forgotten about that conversation and mentally reminded myself to pick it up when Cash and I had some privacy.

  “They’re definitely quieter around him,” I said.

  “Fascinating. What other information can you give me?” she asked.

  I started from the beginning and told her everything. How I could sample energy to strengthen myself, how I could manipulate biology like a witch, how I had the urge to drink someone’s blood and take in everything they had, including their abilities, memories and soul. How if I died, one soul in me would be sacrificed so that I may continue to live. I even told her my father might know how to trigger The Others. When I finished, I felt awful and barbaric.

  “I want them out of me,” I said. “Desperately. But I want my sister separated from the witch. I want to give her soul peace. If I could have that, I’d consider myself healed.”

  “The only way to get rid of them is to kill yourself in a controlled environment until the last one is sacrificed.”

  “But what if it’s me that is sacrificed?”

  “With the hunter close by, I don’t think so.”

  “But I don’t want that. I don’t want Leila gone forever. I want her free to reincarnate, or go to heaven, or wherever human souls go.”

  “I suppose, the souls got into you one way. There must be another way out. And you said the witch fused two souls together. There must be a way to undo that. When a door closes, a window opens.”

  “There might be a way.” Jesop stood forward. All eyes moved to him. “You said you needed their blood to take them in, what if I remove traces of their blood in your body by converting it all to yours?”

  “You would first need to see what her original, untainted blood looked like,” Lena said. “So you had a reference point.”

  “Well, that’s unlikely. It’s not like I keep a vial lying around. And I don’t even know my true identity, so no idea where my Seraphim body is.” I gave Cash a meaningful look. He knew who I was, but kept silent. My head flopped down on the pillow.

  “It’s not your Seraphim body we want. That blood is different to your aging Player body. If we were to transfuse your blood with a Seraphim match, it would convert you to Seraphim, then you’d become one. Immortal. Finding a match is almost impossible without your original body, so we need your Nephilim blood. Otherwise we’d breech the rules of the Game.”

  Throughout our exchange, Cash didn’t mutter a sound, but something was going on behind those big multicolored eyes.

  “Hm,” Lena mused. “Well, until then—I’d like to keep you in for observation over the next twenty-four hours. The poison appears to be gone, but we need to be sure. And you need rest. Nephilim can heal fast, but as Jesop said, you age and die, just like humans. Sometimes you need to rest like them too.”

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done, but I’m feeling much better. I can’t stay.”

  “You’re not going back to your father’s after what he did,” Cash said abruptly.

  “I’m not staying here.” I wanted to get back to the Urser rooms to check that lab book. See if my name had been added. But the thought of stepping into that room with him, to be inches from my father, turned my stomach. What was to stop him triggering The Others again? This time, I could be out for weeks. Months. Maybe never.

  “As long as you rest. I don’t mind where you do it,” Lena said. “And I have to let you know I reported this incident to the Tribunal. Assassination attempts on Ludus soil will not be tolerated. Roo, I’ll go and alert them to where you will stay in case they need you for follow up questioning. And your mentor would like to know, I’m guessing?”

  “No!” I said at the same time Cash said, “I’m her mentor.”

  “If you’re talking about Bruce Urser,” I elaborated. “He’s not my mentor. I have to live there because of my situation, but I want nothing else to do with him.”

  Her head angled towards Cash suggestively. “I could discharge you to another?”

  “I’ll watch her.” Cash’s eyes projected determination. “At my place.”

  “Very well. I’ll recommend that you stay with your mentor until you recover. We’ve come up with a few solutions to your unwanted house guest problems, Roo. I expect you to come back to see me after the trials to pick one of them to investigate further. Jesop, honey, thank you for getting a new bag of saline, but I think we can remove the IVs. We’re sending Roo home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I’M NOT LETTING you go back to him. So get that out of your head in case you were thinking of going to spy. He can go fuck himself.” Cash’s arm around my waist tightened as we walked through the Ludus maze to his apartment.

  I was dizzy, cold and lethargic, but getting better. My fingers weren’t numb but my teeth still chattered. Before I’d left, they lent me some Corvus House merchandise to dress in, including a hoodie and some sweatpants. Despite the internal fleece of the clothing, the cold wouldn’t leave my bones.

  “I’m done with this nonsense,” Cash continued. “You belong with me where you’ll be safe. That’s what happens with all mentors and their progenies.”

  I wasn’t so sure. After Cygnus, I had the sneaking suspicion that my being near him wasn’t safe for him. Not to mention I was fast becoming an assassination magnet. His abilities were failing him. Even Lena felt hopeless about his prognosis. Yes, he was a skilled warrior, and often instinctively brutal. My crushed neck was a testament to that. But what if the next time he woke him from a nightmare, he couldn’t protect himself? What if I was the nightmare—the one person who knew his weaknesses?

  We arrived at his apartment and while he found his keys to open the door, I stepped back.

  “Cash. I’m too dangerous for you to be around. I should go.”

  “Talk like that again and I’m going to tie you down and lock you away.”

  I gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

  He opened the door and let it swing open. Then he hauled me over his shoulder in a fireman hold and walked into the rooms, kicking the door closed behind him.

  My legs kicked in the air, my arms hung down his back and I smacked him repeatedly. Each strike glanced off uselessly. He tightened his hold around my waist.

  “Don’t test me, Roo,” he growled. “I’m the dangerous one.”

  His immovable mountain of a body didn’t budge, except for his heaving chest with every fast breath. He waited with me dangling.

  Eventually, I stopped fighting. “Fine. I’ll stay. But it’s your funeral.”

  He dumped me on a couch, and when I scrambled to a sitting position, I met his eyes. So many emotions battled in them. He wanted to hit me, scream at me, hug me, love me. Everything was clear one minute, the next, he clammed up and shut his expression down.

  “You’re cold,” he said. “I’ll put the shower on. Stay there. Don’t move.”

  He left me sitting on his couch, hugging myself, and stared at the wilting pot plant on the coffee table. I knew how it felt. I stroked the drooping leaves idly. It didn’t deserve to be neglected and wilted, kept in this underground concrete hideaway. A little buzz of life pulsed out of it, and my heart ached a little for its pain. I made a mental note to take it to the surface later for some natural light. I surveyed the rest of the room. It was decked out in cream, like the Urser apartment, only less opulent. No gold trimming. A flat screen television hung on the wall opposite me, and a dining table that seated four was in a corner. A kitchenette sat to one side, and on the other, the door Cash disappeared down. Must be the bedroom.

  In front of the door was my purple suitcase, sitting proud and tall.

  I teared up. Logically, I knew I shouldn’t be near Cash, but my heart ached to stay. Damned the consequences. Waking at Lena’s to find him waiting for me wa
s the best feeling. He was my home.

  I was falling in love with this man. His brute strength, his broody mood swings, his loyalty and affection—all of it. He was mine. I understood everything. I didn’t need to keep him away and he didn’t need to leave. We could enjoy this for whatever brief moment we had in this life. That’s what life was anyway, a series of moments joined together… right?

  I followed in the direction he went. The soft sound of waves whispering on a shore hit my ears as I entered his bedroom. A large bed sat against the far end. A fake window stretched from wall to wall with a sunset over a beach illuminating the room. The sound of running water grew louder as I heard the faucet turn on.

  When I found him leaning into the shower, holding his hand under the spray to test the temperature, he tensed. He glanced over his shoulder darkly at me. “I told you to stay put.”

  “When do I ever do as I’m told?” I said with a little laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

  He ignored me for a few moments while methodically setting about the room, getting it ready. Towels came out of the cabinet. Soap and shampoo set in the shower caddy. He dropped a foot towel on the floor. With each act, he paused and hesitated, as though he wanted to say something, but never did. By the time he finished, warm steam coated the room and his gray T-shirt clung to his torso.

  He came to stand in front of me. “Strip,” he said.

  I gaped.

  “You’re weak, Roo. I don’t want you slipping in the shower, so I’m going to help you.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not. You have no idea how close you came. When you were lying there at Lena’s, you had so much oxygen in your blood that your skin went cherry red. Like this—” His finger twisted around a lock of my long hair. A flutter low in my stomach. “The steam and warm water will lift your core temperature. Let me help you. Strip.”

  Still, I hesitated. Nervous.

  His finger trailed from my hair, to my jaw, then along my collarbone and down, exploring my body over my clothes, efficiently checking—as if he didn’t believe his eyes, as if he needed to feel the reality. I was safe. Whole. His other hand joined in and soon, all I could feel was his touch. It was through a layer of fleece, but my skin sang in his wake. My heartbeat accelerated. Then he dropped his hands altogether, stepping back, frowning. Our eyes clashed.

  “Roo, why do you doubt me so much?” Hurt flashed in his eyes. “Not just in this, but you keep wanting to go back to Urser. He’s abandoned you more than once, auctioned you off as a bride, caused you so much pain—physical and mental—yet you would rather be there than with me. Are you afraid of me? Have I ruined things so much between us?”

  “Cash, it’s not you.”

  “Is it because I won’t tell you who you really are? I know I said I want nothing between us—no lies, no secrets—but your identity is not my secret to tell. You have to trust me on that. Marc will be back soon, and… just hold on a little longer. Please. Ask me anything else and I’ll tell you the truth.”

  I placed my palms on either side of his face. His lashes fluttered and he leaned in to my touch. I hated this wall of uncertainty dividing us.

  “I can wait for Marc. I trust you. I want nothing between us, too.” I said. “So, I need to tell you something.”

  He gripped my wrists and met my eyes with a steel gaze. “What is it?”

  “The other night, when I blacked out for a few days, it was because The Others took over.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that.”

  “What I didn’t tell you was that Urser said something to trigger it. He made me drink some of Cygnus’s blood and soul. He found a way to control me.”

  “So why would you want to go back there?” He pulled my hands from his face with a frown.

  “Because your name was on the list.”

  He didn’t respond. The silence stretched. I squeezed my stinging eyes shut, too afraid to face reality. When bravery opened them for me, I gasped at his intensity. Fists pumped at his side. Veins writhed up his muscled arms. Redness coated his face as he attempted to stifle his anger.

  “I’m going to kill him,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Don’t you get it, Cash? He’s not the danger. I am. What if I am the catalyst for their experiments? What if I am the one who is turning people into monsters?”

  Something snapped in him; his expression softened. “No. You would never hurt anyone.”

  “It’s completely possible. I know how to change people at a molecular level. I can—”

  “Stop.” He shook me gently. “It’s not you. I know.”

  I didn’t want to be evil. “How?”

  “I was there at the beginning. I saw the serum created. It’s him. It’s the prince. It’s Urser. It’s not you. I know you. Trust me, Roo. I would never lie to you about this.” He crushed me to his chest.

  With his strength surrounding me on all sides, my inner walls crumbled. I wept in his arms and he didn’t let go. He had no idea how much I needed this contact. The touch. His confidence in me. I pulled him to me as tightly as I could. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. I needed more of him. The heat of his body not only soothed my cold bones, but connected with a part of my soul. That recognition glimmered between us, beckoning, enticing. More. Two halves of a whole, he’d once said. Soulmates. In that moment, I believed it.

  I pulled the hoodie over my head, leaving me exposed with nothing underneath.

  His breath hitched and he stared at me, trying desperately to keep his eyes on my face. A second ticked by. Then another. His lashes lowered. To my lips. My neck. My chest. His thumb traced his lower lip, naked desire fueling his stare. His eyes hooded. It was the sexiest damn thing I’d ever seen, and it gave me the confidence to hook my thumbs on the waistband of my pants and inch them over my hips. His gaze kept lowering, following the movement of my hands. When I was done, I stepped out of the pooled clothes, naked, trembling.

  I didn’t need to kiss him to know what he was feeling. I could see it on every part of his body. His eyes glazed, his chest heaved, his jeans grew tight at the crotch. The sheen of sweat over his forehead was not from the steam.

  I slipped my fingers underneath the hem of his shirt to feel his bare skin. Yes. Warm, hard, soft. Living velvet. Exactly what I needed. My cold touch drew a sharp hiss from him, but I didn’t stop, and he didn’t make me. I kept my fingers light as I trailed up his front, starting at the ridges of his abdomen then up to his broad, firm chest. When I got to the neck hole of the shirt, I slid my fingers through and continued up the strong column of his neck. Powerful. Hot. Mine. His shirt bunched to make way for my reach and I stepped into him, flattening myself against his now exposed torso. Skin to skin. Sighing, my fingers slipped behind his neck. I rested my thumb on his racing pulse and listened to his ragged breath. He wanted me. But he waited.

  The sound of the ocean crashed from the fake window. It almost felt like Margaret River back home. The shower streamed rhythmically, lulling me, calming me. Slowly, I thawed.

  All the while, he watched, silently assessing, respectfully never touching. Letting me use his body to infuse warmth into me.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed on a swallow and I cupped his jaw between my palms. Stubble scraped my skin, rough and raw. I used my thumb to trace his bottom lip, just as he had done to himself a moment ago. He opened his mouth to me and I slid in, wetting my thumb on his tongue. When he sucked, I gasped, heat pooling at my core. My nipples pebbled against his chest and he growled. He caught my wrists in a vice and yanked them from his face, then he pulled them out of his shirt. The fabric dropped to cover his body, separating us. A crime.

  Rejection welled through me. It burned.

  “I’m sorry,” he ground out. “I shouldn’t encourage you. You need to take it easy.”

  “More,” I said. My ability to construct coherent thought was fast escaping me.

  “You need to rest,” he said, gaze relaxing. “I almost lost you.”

  “T
ouching you makes me stronger. Nothing between us,” I croaked, pleading. “I need you.” Crave you. Have to have you.

  What was he thinking? What was going through that complex mind of his? Cash closed his pained eyes. Long lashes fanned against his cheeks. When he opened them, I knew I had won. The naked desire pouring out was an avalanche of emotion so powerful, I had to step backwards. He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift motion and dropped it.

  Exhilarated at the predatory challenge in his eyes, I backed away, toward the shower. My butt hit the glass screen. He kept coming, eyes locked on my body, drinking me in. I watched as he undid his belt buckle, then the button, then the fly. He pulled his jeans down and let them fall. He stepped out of them and kicked them wantonly to the side. He braced his arms on either side of my head, boxing me in. Naked.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Yes,” he said and brought his mouth to mine, crushing my lips with a kiss.

  I moaned as the onslaught of his hidden essence slammed into me, lifting me, kindling me, consuming me. It flowed towards mine; a river to the sea. This was something that couldn’t lie, no matter what walls were between us. He needed me too, desperately. I gave back and we were long lost lovers dancing around each other. Breathless. Weightless. Lena was right. We were made for each other. A magnificent avalanche of rightness surged through me, and I knew he felt it too, because he sighed with his body. He relaxed into me all the way, deepening the kiss. He tasted salty, sweet, heady. He took my hands in his and lifted them over my head so he could flatten himself against me.

  “There’s no going back,” he whispered. “No running away, Roo.”

  “Yes,” I repeated, panting.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, more. Yes, you. Everything.”

  He smiled. I melted against him. “I feel the same way,” he said.

  “I can tell.” I nudged his erection with my hips. He gave a pained moan. “Now”—I trailed a teasing finger down his neck, to his chest, lower—“if you keep talking, I’m going to go mad.”

  “I’ll show you mad.” He playfully nipped my bottom lip with his teeth and then hitched me up by the waist.