Divine Destiny- the Divine Chronicles Book 2

by JoAnna Grace

  As it were, this passiveness terrified him. It was wrong in every way. He used his aura to help her relax, but still Avery would have never allowed him such access to her body under normal circumstances. She would have fought back; her southern accent would have deepened with her temper. Not in a million years would she have let him wash her or let him in the bathroom with her, period. Independence defined this woman. He’d seen it in her dealings with customers, the way she handled her friends, in every facet of her life.

  Yet here she lay, nothing more than a shell. The silence was agonizing. No words came to him. What could he say to make any of this better? Nothing. There was nothing he could do but love her and hold her and let her know that he was here.

  For Ryse, this intimacy was foreign. Touch, closeness with another being, it was usually so difficult. A man raised by Thracians didn’t get much coddling. It took all his concentration to process the sensation. Ever since he walked into Avery’s cafe, things had been different. He had been different. Every minute he’d spent with her over the last two days had been heaven—and hell. It broke his heart to lie to her about who and what he was. Bounty hunter, yeah, you could call him that. He chased around criminals all the time; they just happen to be Olympians. The plan for last night had been to tell her the truth and convince her to leave town.

  Ryse had bonded with her. He’d never engaged mentally with a woman until her. Never wanted to. Everything he knew of caring for a woman, she had taught him in two days. In the short days he’d spent in her presence, she’d coaxed laughter from him and even made him grovel—something he wouldn’t have thought impossible. He’d come to care about her café, her friends, the pictures in her home, and her dogs. The stories, rare glimpses of her family and past, were gifts he would treasure forever. They shared laughter, casual touches—things he hardly allowed from anyone. He relished their intimate kisses and longed to be near her, feeling empty without her. She unearthed the part of him he had been missing.

  All his many years of immortal life, much more than she knew, had been devoted to his craft. Born as a Thracian warrior, he had a great responsibility to his people. Most of his existence had been spent training to be the lethal blade that he was. Many hundreds of men had died at his hands. It was his job, his heritage and his birthright as a chosen one to protect his people.

  But there were two sides to his coin. The other part of his birthright was being born the eldest son of earth-bound Deities. One day he would rule the North American Olympian population as his father and his father’s father before him. Avery was his gift from the gods. She was his perfect companion, chosen by the heavens at birth and gifted beyond all others. Avery was his soul mate in a very literal way, the gods had proclaimed it.

  And his soul mate was broken. Ryse had learned long ago that the past was gone and no matter how much we prayed or begged of the gods, it couldn’t change. Oh, how he wished that were not true, though the fact still remained. Now he had to convince Avery to move forward.

  Her body shivered once and he knew that they had been lying in the water too long. It was starting to get cool and she needed to be in bed asleep. “I’ll get a towel for you, baby,” he whispered as she leaned up, letting him get out of the bath.

  Ryse knew that she wasn’t going to turn and look back at him, so he removed the wet briefs. Provisions had been made for them and that included clean clothes. He dressed in clean jeans, not worrying with a shirt.

  Soon, Avery was wrapped in a thick robe with cotton pajamas under it, Ryse combing out her hair. The sun might have been high in the sky outside, but they were getting ready for sleep. A knock tapping at the door startled them both.

  “Hey boss, it’s me. I have the dogs,” came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. Yankee.

  When he opened the door, Ryse was nearly toppled by two German Shepherds. They had scented Avery and were anxious to get to their owner. One of them jumped up beside her and nuzzled his nose under her arm. The other came to sit between her legs on the side of the bed.

  Avery only stared without recognition of them. For a moment, Ryse’s heart stopped. Before he could make a move, Avery grabbed up the dogs and held them both tightly to her chest. New tears streamed down her face as she sobbed. Frank had given her the animals and he’d worked closely with Avery to train them. Castor and Pollux, being the amazing creatures they were, knew that Avery was damaged. Their usual playful nature was replaced with an ominous quiet. They rested against her, completely still, and let her cry into their fur.

  “Master,” Yankee whispered. “Can I do anything?” He was talking to Ryse, but looking at his Princess solemnly.

  Ryse grasped his shoulder. “You have done well, brother. Go rest and I will call for you later.”

  “You got it, boss.” Yankee nodded and left. He knew. All the men knew that Avery was devastated and only time would heal her deepest wounds.

  When he walked back into the bedroom, Avery was in the bed curled up with a dog on either side of her, sound asleep. Castor, the bigger of the two, was behind her with his head resting on her waist. Pollux was in front of her, under her arm. Ryse turned off the lights and lay down on the other side of Castor. He said a prayer of thanks for all of their lives as he rubbed the back of the dog until he fell asleep.

  WHEN AVERY WOKE, there was nothing to indicate the time or how long she had been out. The only light came from the living area. Castor and Pollux were both walking around sniffing. Avery could hear the sound of feet pacing in the next room. Quietly she rose and went to use the bathroom. She could hear Ryse on the phone, so she peeked around the corner.

  “I know, this is the worst case scenario, but she is too fragile right now. I know, I know, I miss you, too. I’m ready to be home and put this behind us. Okay, I will call you soon. I love you, too.”

  He clicked the phone off, then looked at it for a moment, a smile teasing his lips.

  His voice had been low and intimate. It reminded her of their first conversation in her café.

  When he had looked up with his chocolate eyes and dazzling shy smile, Avery was sure she’d never seen such a handsome man. She wanted to stroke the black hair hanging around his cheekbones. No man should have such thick hair. He’d teased her about her sense of Southern hospitality and deep accent. She’d teased back about not being from Texas.

  The next day, at her house, they’d shared conversation and kisses that curled her toes. He joined her later at Marshall’s bar with her friends, where they danced close and he whispered that he wanted to spend the night.

  A revelation hit Avery and knocked her heart into her throat. She found it hard to swallow.

  Ryse was on a mission. Getting to her was nothing more than a job. Frank had often talked about the police officers in big cities who went undercover and did anything and everything to achieve their goals. Was Ryse going undercover with her? Perhaps it was a good thing all hell had broken loose before she’d made the mistake of sleeping with him.

  Everything that she had ever been told had been a lie. Her parents began lying to her years ago. If they knew that Avery was…different and never told her, wasn’t that a lie? A lie they were murdered over. Jerry, who was supposed to be one of her close friends, had been nothing but an actor for the two years that she had known him. He’d been a very believable one. Not once in their relationship had she ever doubted anything he’d said. He’d integrated himself into the friendship she and Frank had developed since grade school.

  Then there was Ryse.

  The moment he walked into her café, she’d been wildly attracted. His presence rendered her brainless and when he kissed her, hot damn. Her insides melted like ice cream in the Texas summer. There had never been a man who made her body sizzle the way Ryse did.

  And now she doubted any of it was real for him.

  “Avery?” His voice broke through her thoughts. She’d been standing in the middle of the hallway by the door to the bathroom. “What are you doing, baby?” T
he gentleness of his voice was alluring. But she was not going to be fooled. He’d also been talking to someone else with that alluring voice. “Do you need something?”

  The last two words he’d spoken to a closed door. Avery sat on the toilet seat and buried her head in her hands. Last night, or this morning, or whenever it was—ugh, she was disoriented—Ryse had not only seen her naked, but had also bathed her. Bathed her! His hands had been all over, washing and scrubbing her. How could she let him do that? How could she allow someone to lay in a tub with her, dry her, and then put on her clothing? It was the cherry on her nightmare sundae. Acid rolled in her stomach and her skin grew warm with blush.

  There was no denying now that Ryse had a very intimate look at her body. And, she remembered with utter humiliation, so had his men. She’d been naked after catching on fire. An entire room full of men had witnessed it, their eyes wide with shock but their gazes averted. She shook her head, feeling the blood pool in her cheeks. This only kept getting worse.

  After a long twenty minutes, Avery decided she couldn’t hide in the bathroom all day. She opened the door to find Ryse leaning up against the wall, his hands in his pockets. He stood up when she came out, gazing at her with those chocolate eyes. They held such concern her heart dropped in her chest.

  Avery looked away and tightened her robe around herself. Laid out on the bed were a pair of jeans and a red sweatshirt that looked about her size. She found her toothbrush and hairbrush in a brown leather bag. Personal belongings were so few now. It surprised her how much she longed to be home, even with everything that had happened. Dorothy had it right; there was no place like it.

  Except she didn’t have a home anymore; that she remembered. Her home had gone up in flames—flames that been released from her body.

  “Would you like to get dressed?” He’d been standing right behind her, but she barely recognized that Ryse was in the room. “There is food. Are you hungry?”

  She felt something deep within her begin to bubble up. No one had been honest with her—not her parents, not Jerry, not even Ryse. Even now her trust waivered. Every kind word, every touch—was all nothing but a lie? Only Frank had ever been truthful, and he was dead. Hot tears streamed down her face. Her breath came hard and fast.

  Ryse touched the side of her neck, his eyes searching hers. “Avery? Baby?”

  Baby? Baby! How dare he call her his baby! She didn’t belong to him. This deceptive man had no right to endearments. With all she had, Avery slapped him. It barely moved his head, but a bright red handprint began to appear on his cheek. His face became full of anger and then…understanding?

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  To hell with his pity. She slapped him again.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  She hauled back to hit him again because it had felt good. He caught her right hand firmly in his own, so she tried with her left hand. He caught that, too.

  “I know you are angry with me,” he said, holding her hands tight. “But you have to understand that I never meant to hurt you. You can’t possibly hate me as much as I hate myself for letting that bastard get to you, for not being able to stop him from killing Frank. Nothing was supposed to happen to you. We were there to keep you safe.”

  “You failed.”

  FRAGILE MY ASS, he thought as those words bit into his heart. Yes, he’d failed her. He’d failed at keeping her safe, failed at keeping Frank alive, failed at protecting her from the evils of his world until she was ready to handle them. The man inside wanted to pull Avery into his arms, beg for forgiveness, make love to her until she had no doubts left that he cared. But that wouldn’t happen. He dropped her hands and stepped back. Not able to meet her eyes, he turned and walked away.

  Before he opened the door to leave, he called over his shoulder. “Get dressed. We leave in a couple hours.” He left her in the tiny apartment and went to find someone to spar with. Hammon would fight with him. That would burn off some of these emotions. They were too raw and he didn’t like them a damn bit.

  Avery jumped when she heard the knock. She cracked open the door to see a man with curly black hair and hazel eyes. He nodded to her and removed a cigarette from his lips.

  “Principessa, I collect your bag and dogs.” His thick Italian accent evoked the memory of the first time she’d seen him. This man had touched her fire-consumed hand and absorbed the heat of her flames. His hazel eyes had turned white in that moment and his smile told her he gained some sort of pleasure from the act. Right now, he stared at her as an addict would look at a syringe.

  “You—you did something to me. How did you put out the fire like that?”

  “I am Elementalist. I control il fuoco, the fire. I take from you.”

  “Did it hurt?” Avery asked, hugging her chest, afraid she might have caused another person pain.

  “No. It is,” he said as he tilted his head in search of the right English word, “is fine. Is okay.”

  Avery’s curiosity pushed more questions from her lips. She could have asked Ryse, but he was intimidating where this man was not. “Do you control other things?”

  “Si, air.” He waved his cigarette holding hand. “Winds. Uh, dirt. Gaia.”

  “The earth?”

  “Si, si. And l’acqua, water.”

  “Fire, wind, water, and earth.” Avery nodded slowly. What a combination. This man could do scary and amazing things. “What is your name?”

  “Philippe, signora. I serve Master, I serve you.” Nodding once he took another puff on his cigarette. “Come, cani.” He took her bag and patted his leg to summon the dogs.

  They walked out to the balcony that overlooked into the barn. Metal clanging against metal reverberated off the walls. Avery froze, dropping into a crouch to grab her dogs’ necks. The tinny, violent sounds spiraled her back to the night of the attack. She flinched at each strike.

  “Signora?” Philippe looked at her in question. He reached out to touch her, then stopped and nodded. “Is okay.”

  Philippe walked over to the end of the row of rooms and peered over the balcony into a roping arena. He took a puff of the cigarette and leaned against the wall.

  In the middle of the raked dirt were three shirtless men. Ryse was in the middle of two men—a tall black giant and a smaller Asian. They took fast, swift blows from their swords. For a moment, the scene slowed. Then Ryse gave some sort of command and the choreography sped up.

  The three of them were a blur of movements and sparks when their swords clashed. There was no separating the men as individuals. Even though they were of different skin colors, they mixed together in a swirl of vanilla, cream, and coffee. Dust from the arena flew about them in a tornado.

  When it cleared, the Asian man lay on the dirt floor, Ryse’s foot on his neck. The man was without his sword and trying to push off Ryse’s foot. He didn’t succeed. Ryse’s sword pointed at the black man’s neck, indenting the skin, but not breaking it. For the briefest second, their faces were somber, and Avery knew Ryse could have killed them both. Was that what they waited for? Did they fear their master would end their lives as quickly as he did the men who attacked her?

  Just as Avery felt her heart shrivel up like a raisin, the three of them laughed. She released the breath she’d been holding and loosened the death grip she had on her two dogs.

  “Breathe, signora,” Philippe said with a smile, blowing smoke out his mouth. “Is fun. Si? Hammon.” He pointed to the black man, then the other. “Cutter.”

  She looked down at Ryse, who now stood, gazing up at her. Their eyes met and she didn’t try to hide her wide-eyed fear. He was so strong, frightening. Ryse’s lips pinched and he scowled. He nodded a dismissal to his men and strode towards the staircase she stood in front of.

  Back on solid feet, the other two men bowed respectfully. They were quite the opposite; Hammon had to be around seven feet while the Asian man, Cutter, was about her height, a mere five and half feet. Both wore placid expressions of calm focu
s, not smiling or frowning, but their eyes held her attention.

  “If you don’t mind, I would shower before we leave?” Ryse asked kindly. It meant something to her that he asked not ordered. Her head bobbed once in agreement, as if she would dare tell him no after a display like that.

  She watched him disappear into a room. Something clicked in her. The way he was acting, the strength he exuded—it was such a far cry from the sweet man she’d gotten to know and it pissed her off. Who was this guy, anyway? Why should she go anywhere with him?

  “Hold the dogs, please.” She threw the leashes at the Philippe. He fumbled with his cigarette before grabbing them. “Those things’ll kill you.” She motioned to the stick hanging from his lips.

  “Not likely,” he smirked. Philippe took the dogs and walked them down the stairs without question.

  Avery barreled into the room after Ryse and shut the door. It didn’t hinder her one bit that the shower was running. He would give her answers. She threw back the shower curtain and nearly forgot what she was doing. The steam hit her face right along with her blush and she tried to keep her eyes off the exquisitely sculpted body standing under the hot water. If she let her mind go there, she’d never keep up her nerve. Instead, she pierced his shocked, wide brown eyes with her stare.

  “Who are you? I want the truth this time.” Her arms were rigid at her side, her hands in fists, her whole body shaking.

  Ryse let out a long breath and grabbed the bottle of shampoo, squirting a quarter-sized amount in his hands and running it through his hair. Ryse rinsed the shampoo away. The complete control and calmness he kept made her blood boil in her veins.

  “Who. Are. You?”

  He took his time answering, turning off the water and drying off first. “My men and I are sons of Ares. We are warriors devoted to protecting the descendents of the gods on earth. It was my job to locate you, protect you, and see you safely to the Haven where you will be taken care of.”