by Viola Grace
Dreaming of the perfect man takes a strange turn when she is forced to bring him to life.
Cera enjoys acting as a dispatcher for the Guardians. When five strangers come to her, brandishing an imperial writ that demands her transfer to Haloth, she is taken aback. When they transport her there without any kind of vehicle, she suspects that she is in a less-than-usual situation, and when she is handed over to wake an energy being, she knows it.
Renn has come to physical form over a hundred times, called by a hundred different women. When Cera calls him, there is something new. She knows what she finds attractive, but gives him enough leeway to add a few bonuses of his own to his appearance.
Between her mind and his body, they are going to make a helluva team.
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Finite
Copyright © 2013 Viola Grace
ISBN: 978-1-77111-531-5
Cover art by Martine Jardin
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Finite
A Terran Times Tale
By
Viola Grace
Chapter One
Rhoda read the note again. “An archaeological team working on Haloth wants me to draw the mate of an ancient god.”
Drehl looked at her with surprise. “What?”
“They want me to meet them at my studio to draw the mate of an ancient god of Haloth.”
“When?”
“They are waiting for me in the city. I just have to tell them I am available.” Rhoda smiled as Drehl drew his hand down her hip. She enjoyed doing her correspondence next to him, and since he had just returned from a four-day natural disaster, she was doing it in bed.
“You are not available right now. I need you to keep me warm while I recover from serving our world.” He removed the note from her hand and set it aside while tugging her into the sheets and curling around her.
She sighed and settled in against him. “I am too curious not to draw the portrait, you know.”
He exhaled against her neck while his hands slowly roamed her body. “I know. You have to follow your instincts. They have never steered you wrong.”
She arched into his palms and twisted against him. “You are just saying that because I picked you.”
Drehl rolled her to her back and pinned her between his hands. “You have excellent taste, and I think I need to earn that rest.”
She tried to laugh, but it was lost in a moan, and eventually, he did earn his rest.
The archaeologists came prepared. They had a credit slip with four times her normal fees and a contract that would keep anything she painted for them private. Shrugging, she signed the contract under the agreement that the Guardian acting as bodyguard could remain in the room.
The archaeologists nodded, and when Charm had taken up his position in the corner of the studio, she locked the door to keep any curious passersby from entering. Rhoda nodded. “Show me his image.”
She was handed a file full of pictures ranging from a ball of light to a stone statue of a supernatural being in a warrior pose.
“Why do you want this picture?”
“That is not your business, artist. Simply create the portrait and we will leave.” The man was dressed more like a warrior monk than a researcher. His face was hidden in a cowl, as were the visages of the men with him. They wore sleeveless tunics that exposed muscular arms and Gothically twisted tattoos.
Their trousers were tight and tucked into high black boots, but it was the hoods and the marks that stuck out in her mind.
Shaking her head to clear it, she focussed on the images. “These are all images of the same being?”
“They are.”
Rhoda flicked her hair over her shoulder, faced the blank canvas and picked up her charcoal. Her eyes saw light, her hand lifted and she began to work with a mind gone blind.
A gasp brought her out of her daze, and the secure arms of her husband held her away from the flames engulfing the image.
The representative spoke and inclined his head. “Thank you for your assistance. You will understand if we do not tarry.”
Charm muttered to them. “Get out and do not return to Yacaro again.”
The men filed out with their data pad in their hands.
Rhoda looked at the charred remains of her painting. “What did they do?”
“They scanned the image and then burned it.” He gestured and the flames went out.
Rhoda chuckled and grinned. “Bring the frame, the bits and let’s go home. I have a restoration to do.”
Once secure in Drehl’s palace, Rhoda used what he had taught her and she reassembled the frame, charred remains and immolated pigments. “Oh, my. That’s not good.”
The image was forming slowly—Rhoda’s nanites weren’t as quick as Drehl’s—but the image was showing a Terran in the clutches of something ancient and powerful. Something that was her destiny. Rhoda was beginning to hate that word.
She grabbed Drehl’s hand and ran to the com unit. “The only thing we have going for us is that they are going to Janial first. The mark on her arm would have sent me there too if it wasn’t for one little thing. I know her.”
Drehl blinked, and his eyes widened. “The Weshkinin Guardian dispatcher?”
“Very good, husband. Cera Morrissy.” Rhoda started to key in the code, but her hands were shaking.
“Let me. Relax, Rhoda. As you know, you can’t control what you paint, and I am not bound by your privacy agreement.”
Rhoda sat back and watched as Drehl made the call, and she sighed in relief when the familiar face came on the vid display.
He outlined the situation as briskly as he could. It would take the strange party several days to get to Weshkinin, so Cera had time to hide.
Cera looked out at them and shook her head. “I am not hiding. This is my home and nothing is going to take me from it that I don’t agree to.”
Drehl frowned. “If they have an imperial writ, they can make you go.”
She nodded. “I will have to see it first. Personally, I think Rhoda has it wrong. Perhaps she was thinking of me and put me in the painting by accident.”
Rhoda leaned over Drehl’s shoulder. “That is possible, Cera. Still, keep your eyes open for any weird priestly archaeologists that look like they bench press small cars.”
Cera widened her eyes. “Very specific description. Thanks. I will tell my Guardians to keep their senses open for me as well. It can’t hurt.”
Drehl nodded. “That is the safest method, good luck, Cera.”
The perky brunette disconnected the call, and Drehl pulled Rhoda down into his lap. She sighed and rubbed her forehead with sooty fingers. “She isn’t going to take this seriously, is she?”
Drehl rubbed her spine. “I doubt it. Come on, let’s see if you can get that freaky brain of yo
urs to cough out any more details. Even something small could help.”
It was a sound idea, so she literally returned to the drawing board, hoping that she could bring something to light that would explain the peculiar circumstances taking place.
* * * *
Cera turned slowly to face the men who had transported directly into her office and held her at blaster point. “Fine. As agreed. No consequences or mention of the portrait done on Yacaro.”
The leader of the gathering nodded and placed the imperial writ giving them possession of Cera on the com station. She would be gone before any of her Guardians came back to the base.
“Can I pack a bag?”
“All will be provided for you. Stand in the circle.” He didn’t brook argument. With swift moves, they closed the link around her, and men who bore a shocking resemblance to living weapons surrounded her.
They chanted rapidly, and in a jerk and a flash of light, she went from Weshkinin to Haloth. When they arrived, she was fairly sure that her stomach had been left behind.
They reappeared in a huge room covered with archways and sealed doors. The interior was filled with statues, podiums with books and small pools of light that focussed on nothing at all.
Yacaro was safe from whatever these men could do. “So, gentlemen. Why am I here?”
“You are needed to wake the god of Haloth. We have been seeking the right sacrifice for decades. You are the closest to what we have looked for, but he is due to rise, and we have run out of options.”
Cera felt the amusement that rippled up in that statement. She was the best choice in an ugly contest, or the last choice in a beauty contest. “What do you need me to do?”
They didn’t answer her. They filed out and closed the single door behind them. She was alone in the room with the statues, and she had no idea what they needed her to do.
She was fairly sure that she had been sitting in the room for two hours when a beam of light struck the wall. Words appeared, and to her surprise, they seemed to form a language she was very familiar with. English.
Wake me with love, wake me with lust, wake me with tears, and wake me with blood. Hold me close, and give up your heart.
It sounded like a poem, but there was that part about giving up her heart. She had the peculiar idea that it was a literal offering.
She reached up and touched the words, and a sharp edge cut her finger.
Wake me with blood.
Cera whirled and looked around. There was no one in the room with her, but she had definitely heard a voice. She put her cut finger in her mouth and walked away from the wall, heading to the tallest statue.
The features were generically masculine. Nothing fancy, nothing special, just male. Muscles, bone, tendons, nothing stood out as spectacular even though the pose was designed to call attention to masculinity.
She walked down the hall and looked at the face of each statue before letting her gaze wander lower. Several statues were nude and aroused, but something about them didn’t sit well with her.
“Not you. Too hairy for something made of stone. Too long, not long enough.” She spoke out loud, quite confident that she was completely alone aside from the strange voice in her mind.
A shadow cloaked a figure, and as she approached, that strange light cascaded over it. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She wanted to reach out and touch the face hewn in stone, but she curled her fingers into fists at her sides.
Pointed ears, lazy cascades of long hair, he was an image of the Admaryn warrior Cethnu, and she had had a crush on that face since she had first seen the file. The features were beautiful to the point of elegance, and she held her breath as she watched the stone figure as he sat quietly, waiting throughout eternity.
Wake me with lust.
The voice jerked her out of her hormonal stupor and she ran away from the statue as fast as she could. Her heart was pounding and her skin felt too hot, but she came to a halt next to a bier with a slumbering giant on it.
She sat on the floor and tried to calm herself. Two of the criteria had already been met. Love was not something she was going to allow herself. Was she?
Chapter Two
She was tired, but there was nowhere to lie but on the floor. Cera looked up at the sleeping giant on the bier and shrugged. There was enough room next to him to curl up, and his arm was far enough from his body to hold her in place.
Cera wedged herself in place and put one hand on the stone chest. She looked around before she closed her eyes and a tear slid down one cheek.
Wake me with tears.
“Okay, cut that out!” She scowled and wiped her cheek. There was a sensation of amusement in the air.
She returned to her nap and focussed on sleeping. If the men who brought her here thought she was going to give this room her love, they were mistaken.
The stone under her cheek was surprisingly warm, and it helped her get some much-needed rest.
Time didn’t exist in this place. The light was always the same unless the weird beam was in action. She sat on the giant’s bier and played tick-tack-toe with herself and some pebbles she had found against one wall.
She was hungry, thirsty and still tired, but as long as she could keep herself entertained, she would be fine. She hoped.
The image of the giant was interesting. His face had been sculpted to appear as if a drape was over his head, leaving only his lips and jawline exposed. Those lips were very tempting.
She looked left and right, the smacked herself in the face. “What am I thinking?”
She had honestly been considering pressing her lips to that perfectly chiselled stone mouth.
The sting from her slap kept her concentrating on her game for a minute until her gaze strayed over to those lips once again.
There wasn’t anyone watching, so she crept over and stroked the lips with one finger.
Wake me with love.
“Whoa! Hold it. I didn’t wake anyone with love. Love was never mentioned. I am quite sure that love was not a factor.”
The silent laughter ran through the room once again. Hold me close, and give me your heart.
“Wait, I know I didn’t do that. I mean, all I did was sleep on this…oh damn.”
A beam of light struck and swirled against the wall, opening a portal that showed her a figure rapidly approaching the sealed room.
Cera blushed as the features of Cethnu were quite clearly stamped on the features of the man approaching her. Silky burgundy hair swayed with every step, dark gold catlike eyes were under winged brows and the lips she had just touched were featured on his elegant face. High cheekbones and a strong jaw gave him an intense expression that kept her riveted.
He was dressed like the men outside, but his arms were covered with tattoos, and the man in front of her was taller by half a head at least.
She froze, straddling the giant on the bier. The newcomer stopped inches from her, and he casually lifted her from the bier before setting her on her feet.
“Thank you for waking me.”
Cera grimaced. “It wasn’t my choice. I was jammed in here and tricked into meeting the conditions.”
He smiled and stroked her cheek with the pads of his fingers. “All but one. You find this form pleasing?”
Cera fought the shiver that ran through her. “I do, but that is still cheating. You ran through my thoughts.”
“I needed a form you would accept. The criteria are used to determine your true desires.”
“The blood?”
“My body must not harm yours.”
Whoa. “Why would my body be in danger?” She backed away from him. “And why was I hauled here?”
“The brotherhood needed me to wake, and so they had to bring me a mate. My time on this world is measured by your days.” He stepped forward.
“But what are you?”
“Pieces of stars, worlds, anything that passed and left a bit of themselves on Haloth. My true kind is lost to history, but I remain.”
“Renn. Lord of Haloth and master of the brotherhood.” He bowed low, and when he straightened, he took her hand. “Thank you for your presence, Cera Morrissy. Now, let’s go see what my priests need.”
They walked to the door, and it swung open suddenly, causing the priests kneeling outside to jerk in shock.
Cera had to admit that the image was satisfying, but she was too tired to really enjoy it. Renn’s hand was tight on hers. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Instead of the handful of priests, there were dozens kneeling on the ground outside the chamber. Cera touched her hair and then decided that if they wanted her to look neat and tidy, there would have been somewhere to fix her hair in that chamber.
The brotherhood bowed low and waited.
“I have woken, and I now walk among you. Cera is both the tool and the sole means to my awakening. Respect her and treat her as you would me.” Renn waited and then said, “You may rise.”
The brotherhood got to their feet, and the man who had spoken to her when they were holding her at blaster point came forward. “Lady. I apologize for the means with which you were brought here. The Yacaro artist was correct, this was your destiny.”
Cera noticed that every hooded face was aimed toward her. “I will reserve acceptance of the apology for when I am rested, fed and watered. A bath would be nice too, if it is not too much trouble.”
One of the brotherhood stepped forward. “I will take you to the rooms we have prepared while Lord Renn is briefed on the current situation.”
Cera was curious as to what was going on, but she was also exhausted. It took a little effort to get her hand out of Renn’s though. “Please excuse me, Lord Renn. I really need a bit of a break.”
His lips tightened and his neck corded with tension, but he nodded. “Of course. I will see you shortly.”
