Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  Isaiah raised his sword above his head as the flames raced to the tip. He swung out in a big arc and covered the remaining area in his cleansing fire; anything that was touched by evil would be killed. The screams of the Demons were abruptly cut short as they were overtaken by the flames. Isaiah knew what he looked like, knew that anyone who knew anything about his kind would see him for what he truly was. Rage personified. His brothers and he were forged in the heat of battle. He was the product of a Shaitan Demon and the goddess Sekhmet. His brothers were also products of different pairings, each one of them carrying their father’s characteristics and their mother’s traits.

  A Shaitan Demon was also believed to be Satan himself, but Shaitan was created of fire. Some of the Shaitan had converted their ways becoming good, while others stayed on the path of darkness. It was said at one time his father was a great artist and poet, filling the world with beautiful words and sculptures, during the time when humans and spirits walked alongside one another and Demons walked freely between gates. Until the first cleansing, Serb and his family were free to come and go as they pleased, able to interact with humans and sell their wares and baubles. It was a time of peace and understanding. The first God Wars had been unimaginable, covering the world in darkness. That was when the Alliance was formed. Factions of gods, goddesses, Angels, Demons, and others alike all shared in the re-creation of mankind. They had seen to its beauty, and to its dark and deadly ways.

  All things happened for a reason. During the war, Serb and his family had had no choice but to go back beneath the earth. Humans revolted against the Demons and their kin, while worshiping the sky and elemental gods. Asmodeus had been outraged and had taken up arms and united his fellow Demonkind. At first, it had been souls they sought. He gathered the darkest and demented of the earth to recruit into his army. An army that was meant to overthrow the first of the gods who would deny him passage to earth.

  It was during that campaign that Serb had run into Isaiah’s mother. She was casting stones out into the river Nile, watching as the procession of the goddess Isis was taking place. Asmodeus had sent them out as scouts and makers. The scouts were to survey the land, looking for the darkest of souls, while the makers were to rape and breed as many humans as possible, in order to create an army that could move freely in the light, and thrive in the dark, with no harm befalling them. Serb had thought Sekhmet was a human; he’d had no idea that she was the Warrior Goddess of Upper Egypt. The raping had been quick and fierce. To this day, his mother was not right in her ways. She often drifted in and out of lucidity, and if she were ever set free, there would be such chaos not even he and his brothers could stop her. Isis had tried to get her to drink from the river Euphrates, where she would forget her torment. Sekhmet had almost done exactly that when she realized that she was with child, days later. And that was how he’d come to be part of this world.

  Chapter Four

  There was loud, agonized screaming in the clearing up ahead. “Stupid, stupid woman,” Dalila said to no one in particular. She hadn’t stayed in the car like Isaiah asked. Instead, she got out, determined to defend his back, for reasons she didn’t know. He only kissed you. You hardly owe him anything. Yet, she kept walking toward the sound. She noticed a foul stench in the air, an intense smell of burning sulfur. It smelled awful and rank. She couldn’t breathe too deeply for fear it would clog her throat. Dalila walked toward the smell when she noticed Isaiah lying in a blackened hole.

  His wings bent protectively over his body as smoke rose from the ground. The scent was stronger as she approached. She would never get over the massiveness of him or his wings. Isaiah’s breath was shallow, strained. Walking forward, she whispered his name while looking around to see if there was indeed someone more sinister about.

  “Isaiah?”

  Dalila stood frozen, unmoving. Somehow, she discerned he was hurt, and in a bad way, and that they both were ultimately in danger. She accepted it all the way into her soul. She didn’t understand why, but she focused and moved forward. He was lying there, the ground burned black in a circle around him. She smoothed his feathers back to get a better look at him, careful not to touch the ends where she’d read about them being poisonous. “God, this is a nightmare. The guy is a huge massive bird, so not ready for this Barbarella shit.” While stroking his feathers, he began to stir. Dalila moved to give him some room.

  “Isaiah, can you hear me? It’s Dalila, we need to get you up.” Who was she kidding? She was scared shitless, with no idea what movie she currently starred in. She’d stepped out of one nightmare, starring Jared and Bimbo Barbie, into the Twilight Zone of all freak shows. She believed in the supernatural, understood God was real, but she never figured on meeting anything, or anyone, who remotely resembled what Isaiah exhibited. He for damn sure wasn’t what the history books had said about them: in the books she read, they had white wings, and were super cute and sweet. They didn’t have a body of a god like in Greek mythology, and they sure weren’t sex personified. Because that’s exactly what Isaiah was. He was sex, in all its carnal glory.

  “Isaiah, you have to get up now. You don’t expect me to carry you back to the car, do you?” Isaiah didn’t move he lay there taking deep breaths. “I guess I’ll have to drag you back to the car, it’s the only way I’m going to get your big ass there.” Dalila bent to touch his shoulder, trying to roll him over on his back. “I hope this doesn’t hurt your wings.” She struggled as she tried to roll him over. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her down on top of him. She screamed, and his eyes opened. No longer storm gray but silver, there was a new storm brewing beneath his thick, long lashes. Iridescent swirls of silver swam in the center. The most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. His breathing was still heavy and labored as Dalila lay on top of him. “Isaiah, it’s me Dalila, I won’t hurt you. I am trying to help you. Please let me up.”

  Still lying on top of him, she squirmed trying to get up. His hold tightened on her waist, one hand smoothed down her back until his hand rested on her ass. He gently squeezed, letting out a low, grating growl. “I told you not to get out of the fucking car.” His voice rough, almost primitive; she couldn’t understand what he was talking about. She was too busy acknowledging his hand roaming over her ass, enjoying the harshness of his voice vibrate through her chest as it traveled through her entire body. She hadn’t realized it, but she was grinding her body into his warmth, testing the firm length of his cock. Damn, he was hard.

  “I can feel you, Dalila, all of you.” His voice touched a place deep inside of her and if he kept talking like he was, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to control her own actions. Why am I so drawn to this man? Isaiah squeezed her tighter, burying his head in the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath to inhale her scent. His lips caressed her, heating her skin, boiling her blood. That was all it took for her body to melt into his.

  “Okay, you feel me, I feel you, but we have to move now,” she groaned in a breathless tone.

  Maybe this wasn’t the time to ask him questions, especially when being in his arms felt right. She needed to get him to the car, and as quickly as possible. They were both vulnerable out in the open.

  “We’ll talk later, Dalila,” he whispered into her ear, rubbing his lips across her lobe, taking it between his teeth to nibble. “Just help me stand, get me back to the farmhouse as fast as you can.”

  Well, today she was Barbarella, only Barbarella got sexed up by a winged man, not a dangerous Warrior.

  Ω Ω Ω

  “You need to do that thing where your wings go away, I can’t drive around with you in the car looking like this, and where are your clothes? Why are you dressed that way?” Dalila asked.

  He didn’t answer her, just hoisted himself up onto his knees, and then waited for her to get under his arm so that she could attempt to lift him. It was a bit of a struggle at first, but she eventually got him standing. Slowly they made the trek back to the car, with Isaiah looking around, taking in everyth
ing as he passed. His eyes were scanning every inch of the forest, looking for the possible threat that Dalila knew was out there. He was dressed differently, in linen pants, and there was a sword strapped to his back. The sword and its scabbard nestled perfectly between his shoulder blades. Again, she was amazed during what seemed to be a day for amazing shit to happen. She felt Isaiah tighten his hold on her shoulder and looked over to see him staring at her, eyes filled with pain, and something else she couldn’t place.

  Their eyes locked for what seemed like forever, until finally she broke the spell and looked away. Isaiah and his eyes had a way of stripping her to the barest and basest of thoughts. He was not something she could tangle with. Ever.

  Getting him to the car was the easy part; getting him in the car was another task in itself. The man was stubborn as an ox. He never said a word as she helped him into the car, only a series of grunts and moans. When she finally got him in the car, she noticed he’d abruptly passed out. His wings were being squished by the sheer size of him and her small compact car.

  “Dammit!” Dalila screamed

  Dalila hurried to her side of the car and quickly jumped in. Not wasting any more time, she started the car and headed toward the farmhouse, saying a prayer on the way.

  When she finally made it to the farmhouse, Raz was outside, standing in front of the house as if he was waiting for them to come. The moment the car stopped, he wrenched the passenger side door from its hinges and pulled Isaiah from the car. Raz moved with sure strides as Grey held the front door open for him. Dalila walked behind him. As she went in, she noticed that Grey moved quickly out of her path and back toward the kitchen while Raz headed toward the bedroom.

  “Hit the shower, Grey,” Raz yelled back toward them. “I’m going to see if I can get someone down here to tend to him.”

  “There is no fucking way that anyone can come tend him, not here, not in this realm and fuck.” He tugged the ends of his hair. “We can’t take him back because of her.” Grey shot her a murderous stare. Did all of them have to sound like sex and sin? Even when they were being assholes.

  “Well, someone needs to tend him, and I’m sure as hell not getting in the shower with his ass. He gets way too touchy when he’s out like this, man, and my ship only sails one way: Pussy Island.”

  Dalila looked between the both and decided to speak up.

  “What’s wrong with him? Why is he passed out like that? He was lucid for a moment before I got him to the car. I can tend to him. If you tell me what he needs, I can do it.” Both brothers looked to her and then back at Isaiah, who was now thrashing back and forth on the bed. The sheets began to smoke as if he was burning right through to the mattress. Dalila held back a gasp, as Raz and Grey seemed to be having a silent argument between them. Finally, the both seemed to come to some agreement, and Raz stalked toward her, so close their noses almost touched. Between gritted teeth he spoke.

  “You will tend to him, but with your clothes on, do you understand? He needs the water to cool off, and it he needs it now, before he burns the house down. Why the hell didn’t you burn up when he touched you, or the car for that matter? You should be dead, mortal.”

  The hell if she knew. She saw him lying in the clearing and just immediately went to his aid. “I don’t know,” Dalila whispered. “Maybe he toned it down, maybe that’s why he passed out. Does this normally happen with your kind?”

  Raz backed her up against the wall, crowding her, as his eyes bored into hers. Death was what she could see in their depths; he was threatening her. She understood now that these men were close-knit, and that if anything happened to Isaiah, she would pay with her life. She swallowed tightly. His breath fanned her cheek, and she felt as if there was an ice storm slashing her from the inside out. Squeezing her eyes tight, she stood there as the burning coldness built to freezing degrees. Her flesh was ripping, and she could feel blood well up where her skin had cracked. The scream that tore from her lips was a sound she would never forget in all her life. Just as quickly as she was bleeding, it all abruptly stopped. Seconds ticked by before she opened her eyes again. She looked down at her hands and touched her lips. Smooth.

  “That is only a taste of what I can do to you, mortal, if you so much as cause one small injury to my brother. Get your ass in that restroom and tend my brother. You will need to make sure the water is cool. Otherwise, he will burn a hole in the floor. Go now!” Raz roared.

  She didn’t need to be told twice, Dalila quickly walked into the restroom, where the shower was already going. It was cold, and she was glad she was able to keep her clothes on. Way over my head, she thought again. The phrase ‘in the thick of it’ didn’t even amount to the kind of shit she was walking through. She stepped into the icy spray and shivered. She stood near the corner and waited for Raz to bring Isaiah into the bathroom.

  He entered, holding Isaiah up and speaking to him in a language she’d never heard of. His voice was soft and reassuring, and Isaiah only grunted in response. Raz shot Dalila another warning glare and then opened the shower door. He didn’t step in; he had Isaiah hold on to the sides of the wall and rudely gave Dalila instructions on how to tend his brother.

  “Let the water soak him and stay clear of the wings, allow them their room as well. Don’t step on a single feather. Once the steam is done, then you can wash him off and call one of us to come and get him. He will mumble a lot and seem out of it, but just ignore him and make sure there is no more steam coming off his body before you touch him. Otherwise, you may die this time. Once the steam is done, you will need to remove his wrap. There is a symbol in the shape of a spitting cobra on his left thigh; watch it—gauge it. If it turns red, just holler for me or my brother and we will take care of the rest. You should survive this, as long as you do exactly as I said.” Raz looked her up and down, grinning, the playful face was once again back.” And, Dalila…” he looked her straight in the eyes and smiled, “…nice tits.”

  Raz shut the door, and the moment he did, Isaiah dipped to the floor on one knee. A spitting cobra? Why in the hell did she need to watch if a spitting cobra turned red? Unhappy about the ‘tending duty,’ which should have been called ‘death duty,’ Dalila sat there dumbfounded. Perversely, she wondered what lie beneath his wrap. The water hit Isaiah’s back in sheets, six nozzles sprayed constant streams of water, and as they did, steam rose up in great puffs heating the entire enclosure. It was so foggy from the steam Dalila could scarcely see her own hand. She felt for the walls and tried to back herself into the farthest corner, waiting for the steam to dissipate. She could hear Isaiah grunting and moaning. It seemed to last forever until the sounds stopped and his breathing increased. He began taking big gulps of air, and the steam, although not as thick as before, continued to rise from his body. How was it she didn’t get burned by him the first time? Especially if what Raz said was true. Where his hands braced himself and his knees touched the tile, there were burn marks clearly scorched. There was no other explanation: he must have somehow protected her from it. Her car was safe too, but not the sheets in the house. Somehow, he must have shielded her from the worst part.

  Dalila thought back to when she saw him in the clearing. She’d smell that horrid stench of burning flesh and sulphur. She now knew that sound she heard must have been screams. But from who? The ground was indeed burnt, she’d catalogued it all, but never paid it any attention; her only concern was that she got to Isaiah and helped him. Dalila had always had a very detailed, organized memory. It was part of the reason she did so well in school. Everything was easy for her to pick up on. Lost in thought, she waited for the steam to clear. Soaked and only mildly freezing, she threw a silent prayer up to the heavens, just in case someone was up there listening.

  Isaiah’s hand reached out through the steam, and before she could stop it, he hauled her to his body, plastering her flush to his skin. She hadn’t even seen him move. Hard body met soft skin and Dalila sucked in a harsh breath. He once again buried his head into her ne
ck and took immeasurable breaths and began to shudder. Dalila flattened the palms of her hands on his chest and gently eased back. He only let her move a little before his grip tightened. There wasn’t a scar marring his chest, but the steam still rolled from him. She tensed again when he began speaking in a low rumble, a melodic sound that hypnotized. His language was beautiful. His mouth closed over her shoulder, and he bit down, not hard, but firm. She was in his grip and he began to pull her closer, making her arms and legs become jelly. Should she speak while he was like this? She didn’t know. The water from the spray was cooling her on the outside, while the closeness of him burned her on the inside. The dual sensations were driving her mad. Then he spoke so she could understand him, not only with his words, but with his body.