But then . . . then . . .
She’d felt violated as Dyletri dug deeper into her mind. Heat had burned her cheeks. She ached to break the connection but couldn’t. It had been too late and she had been too weak. One moment she had been seeing her dismal childhood, the next she was seeing herself in her bed.
With her vibrator. He had seen her god damn birthday present. Worse, he had seen her using it, and found himself reflected back in that memory.
He had snarled then, pulling his lips back to reveal his teeth. He sucked in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, and the look on his face at that moment would forever brand itself in her memory. It was impossible. It couldn’t be, but fuck there was no denying it.
He’d looked hungry.
Starving.
Ismini’s eyes had widened, watching as two of his perfect teeth elongated. His already pointed incisors seemed to grow longer and sharper and vicious. Vicious and sexy. So sexy that, even in her shock, her abdomen had clenched and throbbed.
She should have been afraid, but there was no room in her overheated body for such an emotion. She’d only wanted to get away from him. She hadn’t wanted him to see more of the thoughts flying through her mind—thoughts that all ended with either one or both of them naked. Well, that or her using her new vibrator. And he’d already seen enough of that.
Fucker.
Sweat slid down her face as the memory became too much. She could feel her need for him expanding, demanding him. Again.
She felt sick. Vulnerable. Out of control.
Whatever had been happening to her in the alley magnified to the point of violence. Biting her lip, she held back a whimper as tremors racked her so hard it felt like her bones rattled. Her teeth chattered as she shook.
“Ismini!”
Oh, God. Please. Please touch me. You’ll make it better. Touch me.
She had no idea where those thoughts came from, but she knew they were true. Had she been able to move she would have latched on to him.
Dyletri knelt next to her and wrapped one of his hands around her waist. The other one stroked her face. Her lower lip. His worried voice caressed everything else.
“I moved too fast. Forgive me. Are you all right?” He sounded so genuinely concerned. His tone had grown deeper. Softer. “Ismini, talk to me.” His touch was light, and she felt it seep into her being.
An ache slid into her heart, causing it to do that strange fluttering thing. She inhaled shakily, and tried to control the need gnawing at her insides. Panicked, she pulled at her sweater, desperately trying to rip through it and clutch her chest. “Ianthen! Cyake!”
Ismini cried out as Dyletri picked her up. She blinked and tried to raise her head to look at him.
“Hold on, Ismini. We’re going to help you,” he said, cradling her against his chest.
She was still trembling as he began running, but being so close to him distracted her. He smelled unlike anything she’d experienced. The scent eased her pain even as it worsened her hunger.
Dyletri moved so fast that the world once again became a blur. She fought to stay awake even as she heard several other pairs of footsteps heading their way.
“Cyake! Ianthen! Damn it, I don’t know what’s happening to her. I traveled too fast, I guess, but that’s not all. It started before we left Earth.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I have no idea. She was running from someone when I went for her. She said she was being followed, then she collapsed.” Dyletri shifted her. “Ismini, open your eyes. Look at me.”
She complied, confused. Shit, when had he gotten so close? A lock of his white hair fell over his brow as he leaned toward her. He stared deeper into her eyes, and all Ismini could think was that he was too gorgeous for his own good. Too-full bottom lip, an intricate tattoo that peeked out from the sleeves of his white T-shirt, and strange blue eyes—eyes that had changed and now showed their true color. Silver and blue swirled together around his pupils.
Ismini knew he’d probably disguised his eyes when he had to go into the human world. She’d seen what they really looked like before in her dreams, but the sight of them still stole her breath.
Or the little bit of it that was left.
It was practically nonexistent as he entered her mind again. Distress jolted Ismini, nearly making her forget about what had been happening to her body. She wanted to snap at him and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.
She feared he was after more of her past, or worse, her fantasies of him. But instead, she saw him go straight for the memory of the two “men” who had been following her.
I wasn’t hallucinating. What the fuck were they? Was one of them really freaking blue?
Dyletri’s nostrils flared, then he froze. A beastlike sound vibrated behind his tense, closed mouth. “Enteax. Lisrn.”
“What did you just say?” one of the other voices asked.
“It was fucking Enteax and Lisrn. They were after her.” Dyletri glared at whoever was standing in front of them.
Ismini wanted to see who he was talking to, but she felt herself growing weaker and weaker. Her eyes locked on Dyletri’s throat, on the pounding she saw there, and her insides cramped again. She cried out, feeling like her midsection had been splashed with acid, and arched in Dyletri’s arms.
“Come. Bring her into the medical wing.”
“I’ll get Vedlyl. He’ll attend to her.”
“Cyake, you get Vedlyl. Ianthen, start a search. If those pieces of shit are showing themselves after so many millennia, it can’t be good. Find them. I want to know what the hell they wanted with her.” Dyletri’s tone left no room for arguments.
Ismini could tell by the timbre of the two new voices that they were also gods. Just like Dyletri’s, there was a slight raspy echo behind their words.
Ismini wanted to listen to them some more, but couldn’t. Darkness called to her, and the heaviness of sleep fell over her. She thought she heard Dyletri asking her to stay awake, but it was futile. Whatever the hell this was, it wasn’t just coming from her body. She was exhausted to the deepest part of her soul.
Chapter 5
Enzyria. Upper level, medical wing
Vedlyl examined Ismini, but he refused to tell Dyletri what he suspected was happening. He said he would monitor her and that he’d be back after he “looked into something”.
Dyletri did what Vedlyl requested. He stayed in that fucking room and watched as hour after hour passed, his fist pressed against his mouth. Each damned second that ticked by seemed to make her worse, and every time the girl whimpered, it felt as if something inside him broke.
What else could explain the pain he felt?
Five hours later, Ismini showed no signs of improving. If anything, she was worse, which really pissed Dyletri off. He’d done everything he could to get her straight to Vedlyl, but even the God of Medicine hadn’t been able to cure her. Apparently she wasn’t suffering from any normal human fever.
No, shit.
Had it been that, something normal, Vedlyl would have been able to reverse it. To heal Ismini. Instead, she remained sweating, bright red, and even to him, her skin was too hot when touched.
He told himself to keep it together and not fling the dresser against the nearest wall. The last thing Ismini needed was to be disturbed by a raving lunatic. But staying in that room and watching as her condition deteriorated was driving him batshit crazy.
Needing to get out for a few, he went to her apartment, intent on bringing back anything he knew was important to her.
Her memories clouded his mind. Every moment she had lived, or endured, had been etched onto his brain. Dyletri rematerialized into Ismini’s room in Enzyria and walked toward the bed. He stared at her.
There was no denying it. He was sick with worry, and a part of him was beginning to feel as ill as she looked.
His teeth ground so hard he feared he might crack one. It would heal instantly, so that wasn’t the issue. Recognizing t
he feelings going through him was the real problem.
“Dyletri.”
Dyletri stiffened before turning and catching sight of Nylicia. She stood outside on the balcony, beckoning him closer.
“I don’t want to disturb her. She needs her rest.”
Dyletri joined her outside, throwing one more glance over his shoulder. “What is happening to her?”
“If it’s what I think it is, then I cannot tell you . . . yet.”
Her reply infuriated him, and he narrowed his eyes. “Then what’s happening to me?”
Her face was stoic, not an ounce of emotion or remorse played across her features. “Same thing.”
“Damn it, Nylicia!”
“You are worried,” she said, interrupting him. Her eyes traveled over his face, warmth flickering behind them. It was almost as if Nylicia was glad that he was worried.
It made him want to hit her. Okay, he would never hit her, but maybe pinch her. Anything that would aggravate her half as much as she was aggravating him. The woman could try the patience of any being in the Universe, of that he had no doubt.
“I’m not just worried. You know there’s more happening to me. And why are you here if not to help?”
A breeze blew through her transparent form, lifting her long, dark bangs as if she were a solid entity.
Her big eyes somehow got even bigger as she looked up at him. “Are those her things?”
Dyletri had a hard time holding her gaze. She was freaking him the hell out. He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at the back of his neck. His skin heated up, and with shock he realized he was on the verge of blushing.
No, not on the verge. That shit was actually happening!
“Oh, Dy!” Nylicia clapped her hands together.
He scowled. “Nylicia, shut it.”
Nylicia murmured unintelligible words, and her smile was almost frightening as she jumped from one foot to the other. She rubbed her palms together, looking like some sort of mad scientist plotting a scheme.
Forget that. This was Nylicia. The mad little scientist was definitely up to something.
“Woman, you will explain to me right now what is going on. Why am I having these symptoms?”
Nylicia deflated, her shoulders falling as she stared up at him with a childishly forlorn expression. “They’re called feelings, Dy. I mean, really . . . Symptoms?”
He growled at her, baring his teeth like an animal. A sound behind them had him looking over his shoulder.
“I’d love to stick around and explain. Really, I would. But Ismini is going to wake soon, and she needs you to talk to her, even though she probably—no, she definitely—won’t remember this conversation.”
By the time Dy glanced back, she was already running down the length of the balcony, her skirt flowing around her legs. Odd. Most the time, she just disappeared from view.
“Oh!” Nylicia appeared before him. “She’s going to need her friend here as her companion. The black-haired one. Another pretty little thing I named Evesse. Send Zeniel for her.” Then she ran from him again.
“Why Zeniel?”
“Because it has to be him. Don’t fuck with Destiny, my confused, little sex-addict in denial. Toodle-oo!”
Sex-addict in denial? Who the fuck does she think she is?
Dyletri seethed as he watched her wave over her shoulder. What he wouldn’t give to have her solid for a minute or two—so he could wrap his fingers around her neck.
She was insanity incarnate. He didn’t know how old she was, but she was going fucking senile. No one would convince him otherwise. Whatever mental illnesses were out there must reside in her head. All of them. Hell, they might have even originally sprung from there.
Dyletri sighed and made his way back into the room, pushing Nylicia from his mind and focusing solely on Ismini.
Which, disturbingly, wasn’t a hard thing to do. Not at all.
Dyletri knelt down beside Ismini’s bed, careful not to disturb her.
“Ismini?”
She shifted toward him, caught up in some dream or another. Her skin was still an angry, sweltering red. She showed no signs of waking soon, and he wondered what she was seeing behind her tightly closed eyelids.
“What is wrong with you?” he whispered.
Her brow furrowed. “Dy-Dyletri?”
Could she hear him? “Ismini?”
She whimpered, her little face scrunching up in agony. She tried to speak, but her voice came out raspy and dry.
“What do you need?” He leaned closer, wondering if he should call Vedlyl.
Ismini trembled. She curled into herself, and his chest ached. Impotent rage clawed at him, and in turn, he was damned close to clawing at himself. Just as he was about to call out for the God of Medicine, she spoke.
“C—cold. So cold.”
Cold? How the hell was that possible? She was bright red, sweating, and her skin was abnormally hot to the touch. He’d believed these were all the earmarks of a normal human fever, but what did he know? He’d never been susceptible to human illness. Was it normal to feel cold even when your body temperature was sky high?
“Ismini, what is it? Want me to get Vedlyl?” Dyletri stood, ready to go and find him.
She reached out, eyes still closed. Her delicate hand caught his attention. He watched as she seemed to search for something.
Then she wrapped her hand around his wrist.
He jerked back, about to pull his wrist out of her grasp, but Ismini’s breathing steadied. She sighed, and her hand tightened around him.
“Please . . .” She pulled on his arm, trying to bring him closer. “More . . . you . . .”
Dyletri’s eyes widened. Ismini groaned, pulling his arm harder. What did she want from him? He noticed the way her body shook beneath the covers, and a sense of foreboding went through him.
Fuck. Did she need body heat?
Ismini whimpered again, and his decision was made.
If body heat was what she needed, then he’d give it to her. Even if he ended up going to hell in the process. Crius would be happy to have me there anyway.
Dyletri eased himself onto the bed, careful to remain above the covers. He raised his energy level, causing his blood and skin to heat up. Once he was sure his body temperature was high enough, he moved closer to Ismini. His heart thundered in time with each and every wretched centimeter.
Ismini responded immediately, all but crawling on top of him. Her head ended up on his chest, her arm around his waist, and the length of her body pressed against his.
Every muscle in his body tensed. So much that he was sure he pulled a few. Dyletri forced himself to stop breathing and fixed his gaze on the ceiling.
Sighing, Ismini rubbed her face into his chest. His T-shirt, insignificant thing that it was, did nothing to hold back the heat of her skin.
Just helping her. I’m just helping her. Just . . . ah, fuck. Ismini moved her leg, and the motion tugged at the covers where they curled over his hip.
Way too close.
Don’t move, Dy. Don’t be an asshole.
Not that it fucking mattered. She was moving enough for the both of them. Getting comfortable. Sliding an arm up his chest. Nuzzling her cheek against an already taut nipple.
Dyletri’s body went into riot mode, adrenaline rushing through energy-coated veins. His heart—ten times more powerful than a human’s—raced, each beat sending chaos barreling into his brain. He couldn’t begin to sift through all the different impulses shooting off at light speed.
He felt his hand itch with the need to grab her, lift her higher, move her closer. Common sense railed at him, demanding that he get the fuck off that bed. But Ismini seemed to be getting what she needed. His body heat must have been helping somehow, because she gave another sigh, one full of content.
His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Dyletri slowly looked down at the girl. He tried to ignore the curve of her cheek, the length of those eyelashes, the way her little nose turned up at the end.
You have an issue on your hands, Dy.
No shit.
His hips ached to move. His cock practically begged him to press against her. He had no right to want that, though. Not after all she’d been through because of his failures. All she would still have to endure because of him.
Despite his inner-scolding, he couldn’t pull his gaze away. Her body was hotter than it should have been, and it both scared and tempted him. Skin that hot would feel amazing wrapped around him.
There’s no way he could stay put another second. He had to try to wake her and see what else would help her. Because Illion knew he couldn’t keep doing this.
“Ismini, can you hear me?”
Like a content little kitten, the girl smiled and rubbed her face into his chest. “Mm-hmm . . .”
By the gods, Dyletri could almost imagine her purring for him. An image flashed through his mind. Those plump lips of hers pressed to his ear, her purr vibrating against his skin as she straddled his hips.
A forceful swallow stretched his throat muscles. “Are you still cold?”
Ismini squeezed her arm and leg around him, her thigh inching too fucking close to his dick. His aching, raging, desperate dick.
Punishment, he thought. This has to be some form of sick punishment.
“Ismi—”
“You make it better.” Her hand fisted around the material of his shirt, making him feel like a caged beast.
She’d intertwined herself so thoroughly around him that if he made any sudden moves, he’d risk jostling her. Or worse, hurting her by flinging her off the bed.
You make it better.
Great. Well, at least she felt better.
His cock was so hard he could feel it pounding rhythm with his heart. He was barely comfortable in jeans when he wasn’t hard. Now the blood-filled fucker between his thighs was enlarged to its full length, and he was damn near close to finding out if it was possible for it to rip through the fabric. The sensitive flesh pressed into the zipper, making him groan under his breath as another pulse shot through his dick.
She’s right there. Just slide into her. Ease the ache.
Blood Flows Deep in the Empire Page 4
