by JK Ensley
There he stood, perfection personified, with both mighty hands resting upon the hilt of his sheathed sword. One haughty eyebrow cocked up as if he were thinking… “What in the world is she talking about?” And, of course, I was blabbering away with all my natural smoothness until my first glimpse of him. Then I lost my tongue and began to stutter.
It went something like this… “Fighting side-by-side, close as blood-borne kin, bl-bl-bl—”
“I believe the word you are so eloquently trying to spit out is blue.” His tone was the epitome of arrogance. “And your hair is ye-ye-ye-yellow.”
“Y-y-yes, it is,” I choked out.
“Yes, I know it is. I’m looking right at it. And unlike you, my mouth actually works.”
I couldn’t quit staring at his still raised eyebrow. His still raised blue eyebrow. And those wings, those massive, glistening wings were so black they shone blue in the light, perfectly accenting his gorgeous locks.
“Very well then. This is generally the part where normal people would exchange names and greetings. Do you think you can manage it?”
I could only slightly nod my head. I believe my mouth was hanging open as well. The breathtaking giant extended me his enormous hand, firmly clasping my forearm, and I his. Such was the greeting of my people.
“Hello, tiny maiden. My name is Vindicus,” he announced proudly.
Finally, I found my tongue and tried to act as normal as possible. It was too late.
“Very nice to meet you, Vindicus. My name is Jenevier Embarr.” I couldn’t help but smile. He entranced me.
A velvety voice came from someone behind the mesmerizing statue I was blatantly gawking at. “I have been forced to wait a terribly long time for you, Milady. Please, will you not join me?”
I started to look around the ethereal, sapphire-haired Guardian, trying to get a glimpse of the man who was now addressing me, when Vindicus grabbed the back of my neck, lifting me up on my tiptoes.
His sweet breath was hot against my tingling skin. “This is so that I may have your honored well-being in the foremost of my mind, Maiden.” His smirk was both sensual and condescending. “I must taste your sweet fear. I must delight in rolling your delicious scent over my tongue, letting your enchantment remain always upon my lips.”
Seriously, I nearly swooned. Vindicus’s words were as hypnotizing as they were erotic. This Guardian oozed sexuality, used it as a weapon, a lusciously lethal weapon. I felt his lips part into a smile against my chest. A smile caused more from gloating than from desire. The enormous sentinel licked me from my breastbone to the bottom of my jaw line.
Again, he whispered his lily-scented words into my ringing ear. “Ahh, Maiden. Never have I tasted fear as sweet and desirable as yours. Mmm, this is going to become extremely interesting… for both of us.”
Vindicus lowered me back to my heels. I swayed upon unsteady legs, involuntarily shaking all over, as a kitten fresh out of the bath.
“I-I believe I’ve heard that som-somewhere before.”
The tip of his nose brushed my cheek. “Perhaps you can try working on that little speech problem you seem to have before next we meet. Whattaya say, Maiden? Hmm? Think you can manage it?”
His deep guttural laugh reverberated in my head as he casually walked off, not once glancing back.
Vindicus, my beautiful blue-haired new Guardian brother, left me standing there. I watched him go. I couldn’t help myself. I never thought I would ever meet another man who could rival my old friend Vareilious in sarcasm, smirks, and cockiness. Vindicus definitely could. Perhaps he was worse, if such a thing were even possible. It made me smile.
This place may just turn out to be way too much fun. I shall have to watch myself around that one. He’s dangerous… I like it.
The wicked little thought made me giggle, out loud, no less. Then I heard the slightly uncomfortable noise of someone clearing their throat.
Aww, jeez. I forgot about him. I’m such an idiot, so easily distracted.
Blushing, I turned back to the man who had addressed me earlier, the one who just caught me staring dreamily at the blue Guardian’s backside.
I found myself, red-faced, standing in front of a man that human words will be hard-pressed to describe. Yet, I will try.
Chapter 10
Vybius
(VYE-bee-us)
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Every layer has a saying similar to this one. If you’ve read my story, you may share my opinions on beauty and you may not. Yet the man standing before me now, his ethereal beauty transcends description. I know not from which layer you hail, Reader, but never have I seen a creature such as this man.
I can only adequately describe the Vanir as a race of living statues. I mean they are sculpted, perfect beauty. But not the kind of beauty which would necessarily make one think lewd thoughts, per se. Not just by looking at them. Their beauty is regal, awe-inspiring. Beholding one from the Guardian race is more like looking at a famous painting, a pristine work of art, a rare jewel. Basically, they were… heavenly, heavenly beauty.
Not this man before me now. He is definitely, undeniably… sexy. I don’t believe I’ve ever said that before, Reader—that I thought someone was sexy. Perhaps I called Alzeen sexy. I can’t remember. I know I thought it, whether I said it aloud or not. Besides, I have always loved what it was people carried within them, on the inside. I love the soul, not necessarily the body. I can obviously tell if a being’s wrapper is physically attractive or not. Yet that’s never been why I loved them, never been why they captured a piece of my heart.
But this man… oooh this man, he made my mouth water. Seriously, I felt dirty inside just looking at him. My explicit carnal thoughts surprised me. Never have I behaved thusly. I didn’t even realize such things were in my mind. But they were, oh boy, were they ever.
“Welcome, Vashti. The wait has been long, but it was worth every moment. You are a thousand times lovelier in person than you were in my dreams. Vandermil is honored by your presence. I am honored by your presence.”
The regal Vanir bowed low to the ground with a graceful sweep of his arms. And there he remained, prostrate before me.
Now, I speak this only to you, Reader. I have lived very nearly as a hermit upon layer eight for over four years, as I’ve been told. And my natural speech is rusty from lack of conversation and tainted by the eighth layer’s influence. No longer did I carry the melodious tones of Ashgard or the angelic accent of the Vanir. So, what did I do? Yet again, I stuttered.
“I-I’m n-not Vashti.”
He slowly raised his head, those entrancing eyes fixed firmly upon me. I felt naked before him. I even had to stop my arms from instinctively moving to cover myself.
“Apologies,” he said.
“No, no… I only meant, I am no longer Vashti.”
His strange, piercing eyes remained fixed on me. They were as magical magnets. I couldn’t look away from them.
“I’m only Jenevier now. I’m no longer blessed with my mask.”
His expression was almost comical. He tilted his head to the side and scrunched his eyebrows together, appearing deep in thought. “Truly?”
I almost giggled, but forced myself to stop at a smile. “Yes, sir, truly. I am sorry to disappoint you. Alas, I have proven myself unworthy of such heavenly grace.”
I tried real hard to look away from him, avert my eyes in any other direction, seriously. It simply wasn’t possible.
He laughed. “Truly? Unworthy of grace? Can there be such a thing?”
“Yes, Milord. I was witnessed, judged, and executed for my sins.”
Hard as I may try, I honestly could not stop my mouth from just blurting out every single word that popped in my head. If I thought it, I spoke it. It was infuriatingly maddening, and completely uncontrollable.
“Executed?” He half laughed when he said the word.
“Yes, Milord, by God’s own hand.”
Then, he laughed for real
. I wanted to be offended, but his laugh was like the warm sun on a cool day. It enveloped me, caressed me, it held me. I felt, for lack of a better word, cherished.
“Come, my child. There is much we need to discuss.”
His smile was as warm as his laugh and almost as mesmerizing as those beautiful amethyst eyes. When he approached me, gently placing his arm around my shoulders, leading me into the city proper, I realized he was almost the size of a normal man. He was obviously Vanir, yet diminutive by comparison. He was in no way small—perhaps six foot four or five—yet much shorter than all other Vanir I’ve been privileged to meet. His frame was smaller as well. This enticing Angel could have easily passed for a man. Well, except for his glowing skin, piercing purple eyes, bright silver pupils, and that gorgeous silver hair falling down to brush the backs of his strong thighs. When that thought crossed my mind, an involuntary chuckle escaped. I quickly clamped my hand over my disrespectful mouth.
He stopped walking, took me by my shoulders, and turned me to face him proper. I felt like I’d been caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
His magical eyes held my gaze—simply would not let me look away. Believe me. I tried.
“Tell me what you were thinking just now.”
“Nothing important. I did not mean to offend you.”
“You, Jenevier, could only ever offend me by withholding the truth. Now, tell me. What were you thinking?”
His smile was dazzling and his silver pupils grew to nearly drown out the deep amethyst iris.
Someone, I know not whom, passed by us, drawing his attention for a fraction of a second. But it was long enough to break the spell he’d cast over me. He still held fast to my shoulders, but I managed to tear my gaze away long enough to take in his angelic form.
His robe only covered half his chest as it hung from but one sinewy shoulder. The enticing ripples and indentations of his abdomen proved to accentuate his ribcage, effortlessly pulling my eyes down to that glorious chiseled V shape. It started just above his hip bone and ran down to hide beneath the brass studded belt loosely clasped just below his narrow waist. Ah, that lovely V was always my undoing, my kryptonite. I giggled inside upon recalling the sight of Superman melting in front of that oddly glowing stone. Perhaps I watched too much television during my exile... Nah. Then, I snickered aloud.
I struggled to force my eyes back up to meet his curious stare. My visual exploration was completely improper, beyond intrusive. I was almost ashamed of my thoughts concerning this elegant man. Well, almost.
When my gaze once more found his charming face, I was met with a knowing smirk. Those spellbinding eyes caught me again.
“Jenevier, lovely Angel, speak to me your every thought. Withhold nothing, little one.”
I tried, unsuccessfully, to hold still my loosened tongue. “I was thinking how enchanting you are. I’ve never seen anyone quite like you before. You are obviously Vanir, yet, not like the Vanir I know. Your look alone has produced wicked thoughts within me. I continually feel as if I need to apologize to you for my mental violations concerning your being.”
Oh god, I can’t believe I just said that.
He pressed his lips together like he was desperately trying to hold in his laughter. “Is that all? Were your thoughts on admiration alone? Nothing else troubles you?”
“You mean, my type of admiration doesn’t offend you?”
“Not at all.” He gave my shoulders a tiny squeeze. “How could any man take offense to being admired by a creature as rare as you? I am flattered and humbled, Milady. Now, were dark desires and inappropriate admiration your only thoughts?” He winked, playfully.
“No, that wasn’t all,” I admitted. “I was also thinking how you were made more as a man, and how I cannot turn away from your beautiful eyes… even when I try. They look as rare gemstones. Not to mention the fact I cannot hold my tongue when you look at me. My mind keeps screaming at me to stop blathering away like a mindless fool. But my mouth just opens right up… and everything falls out of its own accord.”
He didn’t speak, only smiled.
I couldn’t quit talking. “Your smile is different as well. It’s warm and safe, I believe. But on top of all your immaculate beauty, I love your hair the most.” Without asking or even thinking, I reached out, touching the ethereal strands, running my fingers through the silken length. “It feels exactly as I thought it would. The Vanir in Vanahirdem have silver hair just like this. Yet yours, the color here in front, the enchanting strands framing your perfect face…” I paused a moment, completely entranced. “These rare locks look like a lovely amethyst, my absolute favorite color. It proves only to make the purple in your eyes all the more breathtaking.” I mindlessly fingered the luxurious locks, my thoughts drifted. “Varick has hair like this. Except his is gold where yours is purple, yet it feels the same. I loved his crowning angelic glory. I would spend hours brushing and braiding it. He looked so regal, ever was he regal. That glorious man always managed to take my breath away. He didn’t even have to try. Never have I been loved as Varick loved me. I didn’t deserve it. I proved the truth of that in the end, I suppose.”
For a brief moment, I wondered why his smile had faded and a crease now furrowed his brow. Then, he tenderly wiped the tears from my cheeks. Tears I didn’t even realize were streaming, unabated, down my face.
“That’s enough now.” He placed a gentle finger to my lips. “Shhh, please, do not go on. You are the most honest being I have ever met. Yet, the unfathomable pain is so clear in your eyes, I cannot bear it.”
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to—”
“Shhh, no more words today. I will see you to your room. There, you may rest and wash away those most sorrowful memories. No one will bother you and I will attend to your every need myself.”
“No, please. Don’t put yourself out for someone such as me.”
“Never repeat such nonsense within my hearing.” He moved his face closer to mine. “You are my most honored of guests and I will not rest until you are comforted.”
We made our way to one of the familiar dome-shaped dwellings. My heart ached for home.
He reached for the crystal knob. “Jenevier, welcome to my humble abode.”
Chapter 11
Jenevier
(ZHEN-ah-veer)
I numbly entered the open door, barely managing to hold myself together long enough to hear the click of the closing latch. Then I stopped trying.
Wretched, debilitating grief racked my whole body. I fell to my knees.
I’d only just accepted my new life—my new destiny upon layer eight—simply to be winged away to another realm. I would never get to hug Sarah again. I would never get to stand up and cheer at her graduation. Never be able to tell her how beautiful she looked on her wedding day, or how proud I was of her when she became a warrior for the FBI. I wanted to hold her babies and grandbabies and great-grandbabies. As it was, I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
Now, my new home… well, it was like a giant slap in the face. Deserved? Probably. Expected? Definitely not. How am I going to be able to walk these streets, commune with these people, live amongst them daily, when every single thing about this place reminds me of home? My home, the home I was banned from. The only place I ever wanted to see again, the only city where my heart and soul truly lived. It was too awful.
I felt like someone had run up to me, smiling brightly, and announced… You have just won your very own paradise! You will find it is fully stocked with all your favorite foods, there are numerous homes for all your favorite people, and everyone you love is but a breath away. You’ve suffered long enough. Congratulations! Enjoy your just reward! Then, they handed me a mere picture of said reward and politely walked away. Hopes and dreams lifted to the highest heavens—rug jerked from under my feet. Gut-wrenching and spirit-shattering. Alas, that would have been so much easier to accept than what was actually happening. This ethereal city was nothing more than a vicious copy, a miserable t
easing replica of all my fondest dreams.
Why does this place and why do these people have to be so much like my lost life? Did someone look into my mind and build this world? Has the last four years been only a waiting game? Waiting until this wretched place was ready, waiting until the cruelest joke imaginable was put together. Did I simply roam about the eighth layer, invisible, wishing for my true end… until my own personal hell was ready to swing wide its doors, allowing entrance only to the pathetically shattered, horribly fallen, Death Angel of God.
I felt bile rising up in the back of my throat.
The man who had graciously welcomed me into his home was a perfectly blended facsimile of my absent love. Everything about him was a wickedly brewed concoction of Varick and Alzeen. His lovely hair was as Varick’s but highlighted with my favorite color, purple. His enchanting eyes were dual colored, as was Alzeen’s, and were as magical as were Varick’s. His comfortable stature and knee-weakening physique caused the same reaction within me as Alzeen’s always would. His tender response to my pain and emphatic need for my joy and comfort, everything was there. Some twisted puppet master snuck into my sleeping mind and fiendishly created a physical being to embody everything I held dear about my lost love, my lost husband. Some devil had taken everything I found desirous, everything I treasured the most, and covered him in my preferred wrapping. He was the most gloriously evil gift imaginable, deliciously torturous. I would definitely have to steer clear of this man, always.
