by Rosalie Redd
“Your aura is in the palm of my hand. I could crush you—I should crush you, ending your miserable existence for all time.”
Ram’s essence quivered.
“For failing me…twice, you will suffer in a unique way.” Zedron’s steady voice was worse than if he’d laughed. “I’m returning you to Earth to live in a broken human body. From whence you came, you shall return.”
The light blinked out, and Ram descended into his new hell.
Pain exploded in his arms, legs, chest, and knee, all pounding in a misery he’d never experienced before. He’d often got a kick out of little bits of pain, enjoying the twinges and pulls on his muscles and tendons. He’d been so wrong. Real pain, the kind that knocked you on your ass…that hurt.
A loud buzzing noise circled his head. He focused on the sound, trying to use it to distract himself from the agony. As he homed in, his own scream beat into his psyche.
Someone’s warm fingers touched his throat. He opened his eyes. A man wearing a yellow hardhat came into focus.
“Medic! Here. This man needs help.”
Ram’s throat was raw from his screams, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
“You! Get the jaws of life.”
Nooooo! They were going to kill him, but then, maybe the pain would stop. For a brief moment, he wished that were true.
A man appeared in Ram’s line of sight. He leaned in, his gaze observant. “I’m a paramedic. I’m giving you morphine for the pain.”
A small pin-prick in Ram’s arm, and the initial dose of morphine burst into his bloodstream, providing a small measure of relief. He hadn’t had a hit of any drug since the last time he was human. His scream transformed into a bizarre laugh. How he’d longed for this high, just not under these circumstances. The absurdity wasn’t lost on him.
As the drug took hold, his laughter ceased. He peered around. His legs were pinned underneath the car’s steering wheel. The pillow of an air bag lay against his chest. Shards of broken glass were everywhere, on the dash—or what was left of it—on the empty seat next to him, and embedded in his arm. Oh, yeah, this was a doozy.
A loud screech, then the ting of metal against metal permeated the air.
“Right here, yes. He hit a tree, you’ll have to pry the roof off to extract him.”
Someone ran a finger over his brow. “Hey buddy, you with us?”
Ram glanced at the paramedic, the same one who’d given him the drug. In Ram’s messed up mind, the man’s eyes blurred together and melded with his nose.
A strange light exploded behind Ram’s eyes and his vision pinpointed into a white dot until even that blinked out.
* * *
The rhythmic squeak of a cart wheel in desperate need of some oil and the quiet murmur of voices filtered into Ram’s mind, waking him from his recurring nightmare. He was in his new home, the Columbia Rehabilitation Center. As he inhaled, the astringent scent of rubbing alcohol invaded his senses, reminding him of what he used to be—a Gossum. Ram held his breath. His rib cage expanded and a new bout of pain raced along his nerves. The ache was nothing new. He’d experienced much agony and torture over his beleaguered life, but nothing compared to the soul-deep misery he experienced in his new body thanks to Zedron.
The meds the humans pumped into his bloodstream tempered some of the pain, but not enough. That was okay. He deserved the torture after what he’d done, and what he’d wanted to do.
He hadn’t asked to be a part of this war, but sometimes, fate found you. Back when he’d been an ignorant human, a couple of Gossum had indeed found him. He’d been bitten, scooped up like dirty kitty litter, and thrown into the back of a van. Welcome, young Gossum, have we got a job for you. His missions—to win the war for his god, Zedron, enslave the humans, and begin the long process of transporting water back to Lemuria. He closed his eyes. I failed.
During the latest episode, he’d been in a battle with a couple of Alora’s warriors—Demir, the Panthera leader and his second in command, Aramie. In his arrogance, he’d thought he could control them both, only to realize his mistake a tad too late. A throwing star in the eye was so not a brave way to go.
He gripped the sheet, the fingers on his right hand squeezing until his arm shook from the force. His energy depleted rapidly and he couldn’t maintain his hold. As his fingers relaxed, he sighed.
Soft footsteps approached. He opened his eyes.
“Ah, you’re awake. Hello, Michael. My name is Tammy. Time to change your bag.” A tall nurse stood by his side. The patch of grey at her temple was in stark contrast to her dark hair, but matched the laugh lines around her eyes, giving away her age. She wasn’t Sheri, and a solemn heaviness settled onto his chest.
He tensed and closed his eyes, the humiliation of having his catheter bag emptied by this female was additional insult to injury. Thanks, Zedron, thanks a bunch.
Tammy drew down his sheet, and cool air wafted over his skin. He detected the scent of bacon on her breath and heard the unmistakable pounding of her heart. Seems he’d kept his supernatural Gossum senses. Not that those would help him while he withered away in this bed. He needed a distraction from his torment, and fast.
Sheri…
A sense of weightlessness cascaded over him, bringing a smile to his face. Tight from puffiness, the skin around his mouth pulled, sending a small wave of discomfort through his jaw. Even though Zedron had thrown him into this broken body, maybe the finicky god had done him a favor.
Despite it all, the one thing he’d wanted more than anything was to reunite with his ex-wife, and she was here…with him. How odd he’d ended up in the one rehab center where she worked. Odd, but fortunate. He wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Shoes squeaked against the polished linoleum floor, and he peeked at the nurse. She disappeared into his adjoining bathroom. A few moments later, the toilet’s flush eased around the half-closed door. She tossed the empty urine bag into the red garbage receptacle labeled “medical waste.” Her mouth lifted at the corner.
His pulse quickened. He wanted to growl his displeasure, but only a small gasp escaped his lips.
She patted him on the wrist. “Let me attach a fresh bag and then we can get you some more liquids, maybe even some gelatin.”
He clenched his jaw, and his broken bone sent a lance of pain through his skull. Sweat dampened his forehead. White spots swam in his vision. The pain receded, and the cool sheet swept over his chest once again.
Tammy turned to leave, but glanced back. Her gaze traveled over his features, studying him. “Well, Michael. You’re going to be here for a while. I’m not the day nurse, Sheri is, but I’ll do my best to take care of you when she’s not around.”
Through the jumbled mess of his jaw and his swollen lips and tongue, he uttered a single word. “Shh…Sheri.” Saying her name out loud lightened his mood, and a sense of weightlessness slid through him.
Earlier, when he’d first seen his ex-wife, he’d tried to speak, tell her it was him, but the words wouldn’t come. Good thing, too. What would he have said to her? He couldn’t tell her who he was, that would freak her out, but at least he’d get to spend time with her. His chest expanded. Somehow, someway, he’d figure out a way to prove to her he was worthy and maybe, just maybe, win back her heart.
CHAPTER 5
Blood trickled down the back of Tanen’s arm, wet and warm. Each step through the damp grass reopened the cuts on his back, and a new wave of agony tore through him. Weak from his blood loss, his head pounded. A human female, her arm wrapped around his waist, guided him toward her home. Her linen and lime fragrance worked its way into his senses. As he breathed, he committed her scent to memory.
“This way. Three steps up.” The soothing tone of her voice skated over his nerves. Unbidden, his inner beast stirred. Close to a growl, a low moan burst from his lips.
Each step was an effort in muscle control. His legs shook and white spots formed in his vision. The female pushed open a wooden door. As i
f in protest, a small squeak issued from the metal hinges. She leaned into him, and he couldn’t help but notice the fullness of her breast against the side of his chest. Even through the pain, he responded to her closeness, his heartbeat picking up speed.
As he crossed the threshold into her home, something warm and fast scooted between his legs.
“C’mon, big guy. Let’s get you into—”
A deep-throated growl echoed in the room.
The menacing sound filtered past the pounding in Tanen’s head. He stiffened, forcing the female to stop in her tracks.
“Cooper! Sit!” She took a step forward, pulling him further into her home. “He won’t hurt you. Coop’s a good dog. Aren’t you, buddy?”
Cooper chuffed, but remained tense, his gaze riveted on Tanen. This animal was the source of the barking he’d heard off and on all day. A wolf, yet…not. Lancing pain raced over Tanen’s shoulders and down his back. His vision blurred.
With her free hand, the female pulled a wooden chair away from a table. Stacks of paper were strewn across the top and even through the fog in his brain, the disorder beat against his psyche. The tension in his shoulders tightened, and a sour taste formed in his mouth. If he were capable, he’d straighten the mess. He gripped the back of the chair as the female helped ease him onto the seat.
A bead of sweat rolled over his brow and down his cheek. He couldn’t control the shiver that raced over his skin. A burning desire to gaze upon his savior coursed through his veins.
Her fine features came into focus—a pair of hazel eyes surrounded by dark lashes, a pert little nose, and lips so plump, they begged to be kissed. Long strands of blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, enticing him with their soft appeal. Mesmerized, he couldn’t look away.
She left him for a moment, and a sense of loneliness bore down on him. Even in his weakened state, he understood there was something wrong about that. He shouldn’t, no—couldn’t be attracted to her. She was human. He needed to leave…find Mauree…bring her back to the Keep. With great effort, he pushed against the armrests, forcing his battered body to stand.
Her warm hands pressed against his chest, holding him in place with unexpected strength. “No you don’t. Stay here.” In his fogged mind, her command reminded him of his time in the warrior training program, when he’d followed orders without thought. He relaxed, giving in to her demand.
A short, predatory bark came from the female’s companion.
“Coop, go! Sit in your bed!” Her stern voice must’ve done the trick for the clicking of clawed toes echoed against the floor.
A brightness in the room burned into his sensitive eyes, and he squinted at the orb in the center of the ceiling. The light provided a minimum amount of heat, but didn’t compare to the sunstones lining the Keep’s walls. His headache beat against his skull. Would he ever see his home again?
The female returned to his side. She pulled a chair next to him. The concern etched in her brow burrowed into him and took up residence. A pang hit him in the chest and he stiffened, riding the wave of pain until it subsided.
“Tell me where you’re injured.” Her words were forceful, yet gentle.
“My back.” With each breath he took, air wheezed from his lungs. His Lemurian blood would heal his wounds. All he needed was rest and a little time, but he couldn’t tell her that.
“And your arm, your face. Let’s get this coat off you so I can take a look.” She eased his jacket from his shoulders and tossed the garment over a nearby chair. With attentive care, she removed his shirt. A quick gasp escaped her lips.
Her gaze traveled from his back to his shoulders and down his chest. She focused on the three dark teardrop shapes over his heart. His marking…one each for honesty, prudence, and tenacity. She bit her lip. The sudden urge to do the same raced through his mind.
“Were you attacked by a bear?”
No, something far worse. He couldn’t tell her that. To do so would break the rules…informing a human about the Lemurians. If she found out he wasn’t human, he’d have to change her, make her a part of the game. No Stiyaha in recent memory had ever tried to turn a human, and Tanen wasn’t about to break that tradition. He needed to keep everything about himself a secret. The lie came easier than he thought it would.
“Y…yes, a bear.” His marking for honesty pulsed, and he placed his hand over his heart. He didn’t want her to see the mark fade. Let her think the symbols were a tattoo.
“I have a first aid kit, but you really should go to the hospital. You may have broken ribs and internal bleeding—”
He placed two fingers against her lips, silencing her.
Her eyes widened, but he’d achieved the desired result.
The softness of her skin tingled his fingers. He longed to do more, but instead, he pulled back. “I’ll be…fine. Just need…” …to rest.
She stood. Her fingers traveled over her mouth and her gaze met his. The deafening silence stretched on for several seconds. Placing her hands on her hip, she focused on him. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”
As she left the room, Coop roused from his bed. His dark eyes focused on Tanen, but he didn’t move. A soft bark, a warning, burst from his mouth.
Tanen gritted his teeth and ignored her companion. Now open to the air, the wounds on his back flared anew. Warmth radiated from the cuts, pounding in a rhythm to match his heartbeats. The heatwave rushed over his shoulders and down his back. He shivered, and a clammy sheen of sweat covered his arms.
Alone for the moment, he glanced at his surroundings. Not far away, the hallway opened into a large room. A sock, a pair of pants, and an odd assortment of clothes were strewn across a couch. Atop a nearby table, an empty food carton lay on its side. An orange sauce had dribbled onto the wood, along with some rice. Neat, she was not. The clutter beat against his need for order, and despite the pain in his chest and back, he had the sudden urge to sweep the spilled contents into the container. He fisted his hand.
On the far wall, a large shelf overflowed with books. Some lay flat, others were tilted at an angle. His mouth went dry. In his pain-induced mind, the sudden urge to touch them, caress the fine leather, and smell the familiar scent of inked paper was a call he couldn’t ignore. He stood and blood raced south. His vision blurred. Wavering on unsteady legs, he gripped the chair’s armrest.
Soft footsteps padded down the hall.
He sat before he fell over.
She returned with a small white box emblazoned with a red cross.
“Here we go.” She perched in the chair next to him and opened the container. “From what I could tell, the cuts on your back are the worst. Can you turn so I can take a look?”
Sweat beaded on his lip. The pain had reached an all new level of torment, radiating from his back into his legs. To twist would be horrific, but he wouldn’t show suffering, not to her. He nodded.
Steeling himself, he twisted in the chair and faced the far wall. His teeth clamped together so hard, his jaw popped. Bits of white light flitted across his vision. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out. He swallowed. Cooper eyed him from his bed.
She audibly inhaled. “How are you able to move at all?”
He peered at her over his shoulder. With his skin stretched taut, the pain resurfaced full force. He couldn’t respond even if he’d wanted to.
She shook her head. “Th…these are bad. You need to go to a hospital.”
He exhaled, letting out the breath he’d been holding. “No.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry. You don’t have a choice.” She pulled a small, flat box from her back pocket. A small light lit up the screen. With care, she tapped her finger against the smooth surface.
“What are you doing?” he croaked.
“Calling an ambulance to take you to the hospital.”
Nooooo! He couldn’t go to a human infirmary. They’d find out what he was. A surge of fear rushed energy to his muscles. With the quickness of his kind, he stood, wrapped his arms arou
nd her, and trapped her against the nearby wall.
The small box fell from her fingers and bounced on the wooden floor. A loud clatter tore through the air.
The reserve energy he’d used pumped through his veins, staving off the pain. Instead, awareness of this female’s body pressed against him, molding to him, reawakened his beast.
CHAPTER 6
Saar twirled the toothpick between his lips. The smooth wood tickled the inside of his mouth, but the routine motion calmed his nerves, at least for the moment. He stood outside Noeh’s Throne room. His feet were heavy, rooting him in place.
A low growl started in his chest. His beast wanted to shred something, preferably his enemy, but at this point even a good fight with one of his warriors would do. He hadn’t been able to find Tanen or Mauree. His failure stuck in his craw.
He must admit to Noeh the two of them were still at large. A tic started in his jaw, and he clamped down on his inner beast. Time to get it over with. He raised his fist and knocked on the door.
The large double doors glided open, pulling in a draft of air. Jax looked up at Saar, his curly red hair bobbing around his ears. The lines around his eyes creased and a smile bloomed on his face.
“Ooh, Saar, welcome. Good to see you, yes, indeed.” The small Jixie turned his head and peered into the room. “Your Majesty, Saar is here. He is, he is!”
The little male stepped back, allowing Saar access to the king’s private chamber. Saar raised his chin and entered the room. The doors closed behind him with a soft whoosh.
Noeh sat on his throne, one hand resting on his knee, the other entwined with Melissa’s, his queen. He caught Saar’s gaze and his smile faded. With deliberate intent, he rose from his seat. “What news do you bring?”
“Nothing that will bring you any peace.” Saar removed the toothpick from his mouth, approached his king and bowed low. When Noeh didn’t respond, his stomach tightened.
“Saar, please rise. Your formality is appreciated, but isn’t necessary.” Noeh’s voice held a tinge of sadness.
