“There’s every need, and it’s by your own doing that your family’s name will be tarnished.”
“My name,” Tolel’s voice boomed, “is valued throughout the realms. You would do well to remember it.”
The other god stood his ground. “As you would do well to remember our agreement.” He threw a look of contempt at Grayel. “And keep your boy’s wanderlust away from the stench of the mortal realm.”
“We have discussed the marriage and he is set to wed Lucreda at the next double full moon.”
Grayel’s jaw clenched. “You discussed it. I never agreed to it.”
The yellow eyes narrowed. “See? He admits he will dishonor my niece. Who will have her now that she has been used and thrown away by the house of Tolel?”
Grayel stalked closer to the other god, whose peppery-gray head came up to Grayel’s chin, though the man’s bulk was a good deal wider. “If Lucreda is used, it was not by me. And all the more reason not to consent to this farce.”
Malanon’s fists clenched, and a vein stood out on his forehead. “Do not dare besmirch her purity. Unless your family wishes a return to the old ways of settling matters of honor.”
Tolel stepped forward. “We have no wish to cast any ill light upon your niece or your noble family. My son has perhaps been allowed more contact with humans than was prudent. I consider it my failing, not his, and beg your indulgence while we sort out this regrettable matter.”
Malanon grunted, casting another disparaging look at Grayel as though he were something unpleasant found on the bottom of his sandal. “I always thought it was foolish to send the boy off to be raised by mortals. No good ever comes from their influence, and only marginal good from their obedience.”
Tolel grabbed Grayel’s bicep and squeezed it to silence the retort that was forming on his lips. “Perhaps you are right,” his father said. “In any case, it seems we are not quite ready to go forward with the joining of our families.”
“Perhaps my family no longer sees Grayel as a worthy candidate, in light of his shortcomings.”
Grayel saw his father bite down hard. It was one thing for Tolel to verbally trounce on his own son, but quite another for a secondary house to do so in front of him.
“Great.” Grayel pulled away from his father’s grip. “Now that it’s all settled, I’ll be on my way.”
Angry warnings from both his father and Malanon were still ringing in his ears when he plunged through the thick, swirling mists of the portal and stepped out onto the beach on the other side. He approached the balcony railing near the shoreline and entered the gate, half surprised when his father and Malanon didn’t follow. But then, they likely thought they would somehow be tarnished by making the trip to mortal space.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” said a figure standing just inside the balcony.
Lust, a demigod who floated between realms on the business of Eros himself, stood shirtless with his face upturned, as if absorbing rays from the sun. In a gesture of respect that appeared to pain him, the demi bowed his head to a full god.
“I was regrettably delayed.” Grayel followed through two open balcony colonnades that led into a massive suite in the mortal realm.
He looked around the space, impressed by the surroundings in what was essentially a human hotel. But this was no mere tourist spot. Mystical energies unique to the island allowed for the maintenance of paranormal conduits, and various immortals came to the spot to conduct business and pleasure that involved cross-interaction between realms. Here, the veil between worlds was stretched thin, like a membrane that allowed certain molecules of mortal existence to leak into the outer realm, and the supernatural to cross back into the path of mortals. A delicate balance existed here, yet humans and immortals alike could not linger in the misalignment of energy for long and not be affected by it.
Another demigod, whose head was bowed deep in genuine respect, awaited him in a sitting room the size of a small mortal home. “Lord Grayel. Welcome.”
Love was an oddly fitting yang to Lust’s yin. There were similarities, of course. Both were demigods, and as such were exceptionally handsome, defined with well-chiseled features and rippling muscle. Both wore the ethereal almost-shimmer of an immortal, too. Lust had skin that appeared bronzed by the mortal sunlight, with eyes and hair the shade of obsidian. Love’s skin was creamier, and his hair a gleaming gold. His eyes were the pale cerulean of shimmering sea glass. He primarily served the goddess Aphrodite, and bore an energy and manner that felt more reserved and serene than the fiery passion that seemed ready to burst free from just under Lust’s surface.
They moved into the lounge area, where Grayel was offered a seat on an oversized club chair. All the furnishings here were large scale and lush by human standards. There was marble, crystal, and silver wherever one turned, everything white save a trio of large, odd-shaped black rugs made from a fur he recognized. It did not exist in the earth realm, and served a very specific purpose in others. The aphrodisiac quality of the silken fur and unique friction when rubbed was highly sought after for use during sex. Grayel didn’t need a god’s intuition to guess which of the two demis was responsible for this touch to the decor.
He turned down an offer of imported, spiced brandy and gestured for the others to sit. Love sat on a couch to one side, while Lust lounged with one leg hanging over the arm of a club chair facing Grayel. He wore nothing but a pair of white linen drawstring trousers that left little of his impressive male attributes to the imagination, including the fact that his cock was currently—or possibly always—in a state of semi-arousal.
“Your message suggested you required service of us,” Lust said, “but not what that service would be.” The smile he flashed was undeniably erotic, and the very air around the being shimmered with sexual energy. He undoubtedly had no trouble slaking his carnal needs with beings from a variety of realms and genders. “Unless you merely wished to borrow our portal.”
Lust’s posture, tone, and casual manner were obviously being used to bait Grayel. Perhaps he wanted to subdue him with an uncomfortable awkwardness. Or maybe he sought to ply Grayel with a desire many men no doubt succumbed to in his presence, whether they’d been previously inclined to bed another male or not. He gave Lust a relaxed smile. Grayel was not intimidated by a demigod’s games, regardless of what they were. He, too, could play.
He draped an arm over the back of his chair. “I require your bodies,” he said, holding Lust’s smoldering gaze with his own. “One of them, at least. For a ritual of the utmost importance.”
The slight widening in Lust’s eyes betrayed a momentary surprise that he stowed quickly. The outright hunger, however, he could not disguise. Yes. A god could definitely play a half-blood’s game.
Love’s eyes were fastened intently on Grayel. “Which ritual?” he asked.
He waited a beat, glancing at both men before replying. “The Fere-theo.”
“Ah.” Lust’s expression all but simmered with a molten glow. “You seek a Shah-Hai ‘Na.”
Love arched a brow at him. “You know of this rite?”
He nodded, eyes raking over Grayel as though he were a particularly tasty fly and Lust a half-starved spider. “I’m surprised you don’t. It is exceedingly rare, but typically done in matters of love.”
Love shook his head. “I’ve not heard of it. What is the purpose?”
“He wants to make a god.”
Love’s eyes shifted to Grayel. “I want to take a mate,” he corrected. “A human mate.”
The blond man appeared confused. “But as a full god, you cannot consummate a union with a mortal. To do so would be—”
“Most unfortunate,” Lust finished. “For the human.”
“Yes. I’m afraid my energy would not allow it. A human cannot survive a direct mating with a full god.”
Love nodded. “So I assume the Fere-theo is meant to alter your intended so you can successfully mate her.”
Grayel smiled. “It will trans
form her into an immortal.”
“You would make her a goddess,” Love said, almost in a reverent tone. He started to rise, but seemed to realize the full god was still seated. He sat back down in a show of proper protocol. “What is it that you need us to do?”
Grayel flicked a look at Lust, and gestured at him in permission to answer.
“He must use a Shah-Hai ‘Na, or in-between one, to perform the ritual.”
“In-between one.” Love shifted in his seat. “Between human and god? A demigod?”
Lust nodded. “We can freely mate with gods or humans. He cannot.”
The words stabbed at Grayel in irritation. Seemed he couldn’t escape references to his shortcomings.
The blond’s biceps flexed as he folded his arms. “What would be our part of the ritual, exactly?”
“Love, your education has been severely shortchanged,” Lust said. “You’ve not existed until you’ve experienced a Fere-theo.”
Grayel raised a brow. “You have performed this ritual?”
Ebony eyes flashed. “I have witnessed, but not been the proxy. Until now.”
Grayel smiled at him. “I require only one of you as proxy.” He turned his gaze on Love, who still wore an expression of uncertainty.
Lust dropped the leg hanging over the chair to the floor and sat forward. “You require a proxy with the utmost skill in timing and delivering pleasure, among other things. Few can boast my experience.”
Nothing the demigod said lacked truth, and Grayel knew it. Yet something unsettling glittered in the being’s eyes. Dangerous. He didn’t trust it.
“Love shall be the Shah-Hai ‘Na,” Grayel said. “If he will consent. I require you to bear witness.”
“I am always willing to assist where possible,” Love stressed the final word, “in matters of the heart. However, I need to know exactly what is being asked of me.”
“Of course.” Grayel ignored the jagged stare coming from Lust’s direction. “You would be part of the mating ritual that will permit me to join with her safely. If done right, the process will render her immortal.”
“I see,” Love said, though clearly he didn’t. “Am I to bed her in your place, then? After you’ve imbued me with some of your powers?”
Lust laughed. “Oh, he imbues you, all right.”
“It is a three-way mating,” Grayel explained. “Similar to what humans call a ménage a trois. It will take place here, of course, where I can avoid being out in the open and where the curtain between our worlds is thin. That should increase the chances that our energies will meld properly to effect her transformation. However, she of course must be shielded from direct contact with me. You would be that shield during the mating, as a tool of—”
Lust cut him off. “Tool is the perfect word for him.” Ignoring protocol, he stood up before the god and went over to sit beside Love. “You get to be a big, supernatural condom,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “He fucks you, you fuck her, and everyone gets an immortal orgasm. It’s a whole fucking thing, which is generally my department. Only this time I will be stuck with your normal role,” Lust’s hand slid down to grope his partly erect member through his trousers, “which is to stand around watching while I stroke my harp.”
He shot a glare at Grayel, who despite the borderline insult couldn’t help but smirk. Love, too, was now smiling at Lust’s obvious irritation.
Lust seemed disinclined to share their mirth. “Think you can handle that, harpie?”
“I’m sure Love will be more than adequate for the task,” Grayel said, unable to hide amusement from his tone. “He is, after all, what makes the world go round.”
Lust snorted, though cut it short when Grayel stood. Grayel caught Love’s gaze and held it while he walked over to where he was seated. Love started to stand as well, but Grayel raised a hand to stop him. “Sit.”
Energy all but arced through the air while their gazes held, and Love’s impossibly blue eyes began to churn in a maelstrom of color. “I hope you’ll consider my request,” Grayel said. He bent down, his eyes focusing on the demigod’s lips. “I would be grateful for your assistance.”
The kiss he pressed to Love’s mouth was gentle, but he felt the small jump in the other immortal’s pulse. He heard Love sigh, and his hot, pliable lips opened. Stirrings of desire fluttered in Grayel’s pelvis as well. He was not here to indulge a quick dalliance with a demigod. His blood pounded for the woman he desired. Nevertheless, he needed to test Love’s compatibility firsthand. Hot chemistry was essential to help ensure the ritual’s success.
He dipped his tongue briefly into the man’s willing mouth and felt a stab of pleasure. His cock twitched with definite interest. When he pulled away, Love’s face had flushed and his flickering eyes had darkened.
“Yes,” Grayel said. “Love will make an excellent Shah-Hai ‘Na.”
“So it would seem,” Lust said, and rather than the irritation Grayel expected, the demi’s tone was infused with aroused appreciation.
Grayel turned to him. “My intended is already here on the island, though she does not yet know her true destiny. It is my wish to change that as soon as possible.”
Love stood up and bowed his head. “Consider it done.” He shot a sideways glance at Lust, who also rose.
“Of course,” Lust said. “Do you require anything else of us?”
“Only that her comfort is seen to in my absence. I’ll have some things brought over for her, for use in the ritual and beforehand. Her name is Lex Ann Porter. If you could ensure she is well settled, I would be indebted.”
Love frowned. “You’ll not be staying until the ritual?”
Grayel sighed. “Alas, no. It was my intention to greet her myself, but my delay has made that problematic. I must return to attend matters in the other realm, including preparations that must be made before her arrival.”
Love eyed him. “We could have her summoned here right now, before you return. Shall I arrange it?”
In truth, he would have loved to do just that. Were it not for thoughts that his father, Malanon, or even an entire convoy from the realm were about to step through the portal at any moment, he would jump at the chance to finally see her face to face. The thought of the holy hell his father could raise here, however, changed all that. He couldn’t risk the drama going on in the other realm coming over here now. It could ruin everything. As much as he hated to leave with the woman of his dreams so near, he had to get back and do some damage control first.
He sighed. “That won’t be possible, I’m afraid. I will appear to her tonight in the only way I’ve ever been able to. While she sleeps.”
Love’s eyes widened. “She’s never seen you outside of the dream bond?”
“As you know, simply popping into a mortal city in my otherworldly form would be problematic. That is why I have beckoned her here near a portal, so I can remedy this and finally claim her as my mate.”
Love nodded in understanding.
“Those must have been some dreams,” Lust said, his eyes skimming Grayel’s contours in an appreciative light, “to get her to fly all the way to a ridiculously expensive resort for someone she doesn’t even know is real, let alone a god.”
“She knows.” Grayel turned and started toward the seaside balcony. “Believe me. Love makes beings that are meant to be together go to great lengths to see it through.”
Chapter Three
“Twelve dollars for a package of six?”
The clerk nodded, her face impassive as Lexie sighed and signed the charge slip. She’d abused her poor credit card so badly that by the time her little detour into psychosis was finished, she wouldn’t be allowed to so much as touch a piece of plastic ever again.
“Have a great day and visit again,” the salesgirl said in a super-sweet voice.
Not bloody likely, Lexie thought. She grabbed the bag containing an over-the-counter version of the allergy medication she hadn’t thought to bring and stalked out of the sundries shop. He
r mood instantly improved when she emerged into the bright tropical wonder of the lobby. Maybe they misted some kind of happy drug into the air to soften the blow of their astronomical prices.
She wandered over to a hospitality table near the front entrance, where she set her purchase down and grabbed a pitcher of papaya juice. After swallowing two of the pills with the drink, she wandered over to one of the wicker seating areas and sat down to enjoy the fiery brilliance of a gleaming island sunset. She dropped her tote bag on the floor beside her and fished in one of the front pockets of her sundress for a tissue to blow her nose for the millionth time.
Wandering the grounds without taking allergy precautions had been profoundly idiotic, though idiocy seemed to be a lifestyle choice she was embracing wholeheartedly of late. Her reward came in the form of swollen, itchy eyes that streamed water like the falls across the lobby, not to mention a nose that probably resembled Rudolph on Christmas Eve. This morning she hadn’t gotten out of bed for breakfast, and only in part because of the sticker shock over her dinner bill the night before.
She’d spent hours wandering the Amante del Mar the previous night, after dining out on the pier. She hadn’t spotted him, and wondered now why on earth she believed she would. Dreams didn’t pop out and land in real life in the middle of an island paradise. Yet there was still a maddening nudge at the back of her mind, the hope that had driven her to pack her bag and cross an ocean to find the answer to almost a year’s worth of mystery visits in her dreams. It was a feeling that if she could only make it here, he would be waiting in living flesh ready to sweep her off her feet.
The dreams had started innocently enough. She was in the middle of a particularly frustrating dream about her retail job at Fashion Valley when he appeared out of nowhere and stroked her face with a gentle hand. His eyes were forged from a brilliant emerald flame while he whispered to her that things would be okay. Later, he appeared other places—lush green fields or shining beaches—and they would talk about themselves. Well, they would talk about her, mostly. He never told her who he was, where he was from, or why they were together. At first the dreams came once a week or so, but progressed to where he starred in her after-hours life almost every night. The subject matter of those dreams had progressed, too, from walks along the beach and gentle caresses to the feel of his lips roaming over her skin, branding her with every kiss. Finally, he consummated the dream affair by claiming her fully, with his magnificent, thick cock taking her in passionate strokes.
Allister, J. Rose - Immortal Menage [Immortal Paradise 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) Page 2
