by Gaja J. Kos
Their energies entwined—his translucent with her golden light, each touch beneath them sizzling—and with a groan, the god spilled inside her, Rose echoing the scream as she drowned in the endless universe of her own pleasure.
The soft scent of pine wove through the window, and steady strokes of Veles’ fingers down Rose’s back gently lulled her to sleep. She smiled and purred into the mattress, shifting her body just a little closer to the god. He laughed—a deep, pleasing sound—and placed a kiss on the top of her sex-tousled curls.
“This is the kind of eternity I can envision,” he whispered, brushing his nose against the soft strands of her hair.
“Huh?” She turned around and propped herself on one elbow.
His eyes dropped down to her nude body appreciatively before he met her gaze.
“Eternity. With you,” the god said slowly, making every word painfully clear with a playful hint of that typical arrogance of his seeping through.
She scowled and poked his side, using just a little bit of claw. “I know what you meant. But you do know that I am mortal?”
He gave her a look one would give an ignorant child. Actually, the god almost rolled his eyes at her.
That alone told her more than any words could.
But still, in his usual manner, he went on. “You do know that you are not mortal.”
She pulled herself up and crossed her arms. “Vedmaks have a longer life expectancy than most humans or werewolves, but I’m still born from two mortal parents.”
“Ah.” He clicked his tongue, clearly enjoying his upper hand. “Mortal, yes. Ordinary, no.”
She scowled at him, wanting nothing more than to wipe that arrogance off his face with a kiss. Or a well-positioned flick of her tongue.
Oblivious to it all, he continued. “You did turn out to be a goddess, after all.”
She went perfectly still.
“I’m immortal?”
He nodded.
“Shit.”
The god cocked his head to the side, a shadow of fear hidden beneath the playfulness. “You don’t want it?”
“I never thought about it,” she replied quietly, though it was only half true.
Immortality had never crossed her mind because she hadn’t allowed it to. Because in his proximity, the fugitive years of her lifespan bore down on her shoulders, and she would have gone mad, trying to find a way to cheat time.
A lifetime with him would never be enough.
But it seemed that the bombs just kept on dropping.
She steadied her heartbeat, actually afraid to ask the question that was thrashing in those sealed-away depths.
Only she couldn’t.
Not when the answer might not be the one she longed for.
Despite everything pointing otherwise, she was scared. It was foolish and irrational. But when it came to the god, her usual defenses never seemed to work as she had designed them to.
Picking up on her emotion, or perhaps on the light fluttering of her energy, he placed his finger beneath her chin, gently lifting it up.
Beautiful green eyes looked at her, the love in them stealing her breath.
“You’re immortal. And you’re mine. And if you wish so, Rosalind, my eternity is yours.”
Chapter 34
Rose stared at the god, tears welling in her eyes. She held back a sniffle and laughed.
The pain. The separation. It all seemed so minuscule compared to what his words promised. If those months were a prerequisite to truly be able to be with the god, every heart-wrecking detail she had gone through had been worth it.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I fucking wish so.”
His lips were on hers before the last syllable spread through the air, the weight of his body pressing her into the soft mattress beneath. Her wolfish chuckle mixed with the kisses, the tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. As well as his.
His hands traveled down her naked body, the touch as light as the rays of sun that streamed through the window. And it was that gentleness that unraveled her completely. She opened her mouth, accepting more of him, her fingers gripping his back to pull the god closer.
No amount of physical touch was enough.
She wanted to drown in him.
For eternity.
A knock sounded on the door of the bedroom, shattering the cocoon of surreal intimacy. The snarl leaving Veles’ lips promised death to the intruder, but Rose smelled the goddess standing on the other side. She sighed and eased out of his embrace, pulling the thin cover over her exposed breasts.
The god rolled his eyes as she gave him a pointed stare, but slid beneath the sheet nonetheless and leaned back on the high pile of pillows.
“Yes?” he said, the annoyance in his voice echoing through the room.
“What is it, Morana?” Rose asked almost at the same time, her gentle tone combatting Veles’ violence.
Morana burst into the room, holding Rose’s cellphone in her hand. “This was screeching on the table.”
The phone was now silent, but the chilling rumble of a warning rolled through Rose’s energy and clawed at her temples.
Being inside the residence, being with Veles, combined with her run-in with the Vedmak and Morana’s sudden appearance in this realm had left her more than a little muddled. She’d forgotten about the meeting she had been on her way to attend as well as the rule everybody agreed on that first day she returned to Ljubljana—they needed to be available at all times. The only exception was if you were stuck right in the middle of a fight.
But Rose’s mind had been a mess when she arrived here, and that small part of her that had still been functional fell apart completely at the prospect of being alone with Veles.
Stupidly, she had left her phone in the kitchen when she went to pour herself a much-needed glass of wine, and had stalked to the bedroom without it in her hands or thoughts. Though the pack could have contacted her via mind link if there was an emergency, there was still Katja—
She looked at the screen when Morana handed her the phone, dread spreading through her limbs.
Ileana.
Her whole body thrummed with the overpowering sense of wrongness.
“Mom?” Rose asked when the were picked up.
The words came over the phone in a thundering wave, Ileana’s voice pressing. Rose felt her claws beginning to grow, her eyes alight with golden energy and hands sleek with cold sweat.
“Shit,” she whispered once the whole message came through, then disconnected the call with barely any goodbye.
Her mood spread through the room as quietly and as quickly as the chill in her bones. Morana was tense where she stood by the bed, Veles already alert, a deadly pulse resonating from him through the room.
Rose clenched her clawed hand and snarled. “We need to get Sebastian here. Now.”
The day was almost mockingly beautiful. Zarja leaned back in her chair, trying not to fidget. Threads of conversation swiveled around her, but for her, they were barely anything more than white noise. Her mind was clawing its way over the massive chunk of information Katja had shared at the meeting, since she had been too busy dealing with her own not-so-little side mission before. Now, the vampire’s words resonated in her thoughts, grouping and realigning themselves into every possible outcome.
The proposition was a step none of the werewolves had counted on—Zarja herself had figured people might be more inclined to join the already large numbers of their enemies than the small group the “extended” pack formed. But if Dragan was right, this kind of alliance might be precisely the thing to turn the tables.
Granted, the weres would alienate themselves even further from the wider supernatural community, but it wasn’t like they weren’t on the outs with them already.
Zarja’s claws prickled beneath her skin.
She was getting more restless by the second, and thoughts of finally gaining the upper hand only fueled her bloodlust. She checked the time. Seven minutes left. If everything went
according to plan.
A snarl grew on her lips, reverberating through her chest as she held it down. The cafe was human—precisely the reason why she had chosen it. It wouldn’t do any good to draw attention now.
Cradling the bottle of beer in her hands, she tipped her head back into the warm rays of sun, calming the anger within her. Discussing the matter would be hard enough. She was well aware that she needed to leash her temper thoroughly before she opened her mouth.
If it had been anybody else, she would have gladly given the job to Evelin or Mark. Even Tim’s silent nature would’ve been a better choice than the burning coals of her spirit. But something about this woman made Zarja protective.
She should have trusted her bloody instincts from the very start.
“Zarja?” a timid voice called out. She opened her eyes to see Mrs. Barle standing by the table, awkwardly clutching her beige handbag. She motioned to the empty chair across the table. “Please, sit down.”
The woman, though skittishly, obliged.
They sat in silence, waiting for the waiter to take Mrs. Barle’s order and return with her cup of coffee. Zarja was glad for the pause; she needed the time to put her thoughts together.
Although she had calmed the urge to immediately hunt down the bastard, the anger within her continued to fight for its voice. None of the things that had crossed her mind on her way from Pri Sojenicah to the cafe were mild enough to be spoken aloud. The last thing the were wanted was to spook the woman.
She let out a breath, meeting Mrs. Barle’s eyes.
“Thank you for seeing me,” she began, wincing at the strain that coated her words. “You have to understand that I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t necessary. But I know that you remember the winter months. And I believe you know that I would never come to you without good reason.”
The woman nodded, the cup in her hands shaking slightly. Zarja noticed her frame had thinned out since she had last seen her, her son’s death still a shadow resting on her lovely face.
Something inside her shifted—it was a kind of compassion, but one built on hate. Mrs. Barle had been through so much, the least she deserved was Zarja’s honesty. And the warning she carried.
“I need you to keep an eye on your husband.” She exhaled. “We have reason to believe he’s in league with the Upirs.”
Rose was dressed in the rose gold kimono gown Veles had provided for her each time they were in his main residence, the midnight blue stitching on the fabric matching the tone of her eyes perfectly. The outfit spoke volumes about her relationship with the god, but in that moment, she didn’t care what Sebastian thought of them reuniting.
As much as it pained her, she knew her friend would have his mind filled with concerns of a different kind sooner than she would like. Who she was sleeping with seemed downright trivial in the light of things.
Morana was sitting on the chair to her right, her white and black hair pulled up in a high ponytail. The goddess had insisted she should be present for the meeting and had outright refused to back down even when both Rose and Veles had opposed. For good reason, too.
The Kresnik knew who Morana was. Rose needed her friend to be clearheaded, not freaking out over the fact that the goddess of death, supposedly exiled, was sitting in Veles’ kitchen, casually sipping her third cup of coffee. But Morana had argued that though it may take her a while to catch up and become accustomed to this world, there were still ways she might be able to help.
Despite her reservations, Rose had to accept the goddess made a valid point. After all, they were far past the times when they had the luxury of turning down offers for help.
Especially if Ileana’s information was correct.
Even the smallest detail Morana would be able to bring to the table might be used to their advantage. And, perhaps, allowing her to sit in on all the conversations would light up a long-buried piece of knowledge in the labyrinth of Morana’s mind. She had been around for much longer than Veles, and if he needed time to dig around the vast tomes of information he kept stored in his memory, it was fair to assume Morana’s process might be even slower without some additional aid.
Rose heard the footsteps a full minute before Veles and Sebastian walked through the door. She gave Morana a heads-up and issued a few breaths to wade past her own discomfort.
The Kresnik was clearly less than pleased when he took in Rose’s attire, but once his gaze fell on her face, the immortal’s whole demeanor changed. He didn’t even seem to notice the goddess by her side.
Silently, Veles glided over to Rose’s seat and leaned on the backrest with one hand, his fingers brushing her shoulders in silent support.
Sebastian’s breath was loud to her sensitive hearing and his heartbeat wild enough to let on that the Kresnik sensed the graveness of the situation. Blowing out a breath, she leaned over and placed her hands on the table.
“You might want to sit down for this,” she said softly, a plea swirling in the midnight blue of her eyes.
Stiffly, Sebastian obliged, throwing himself down on the chair hard enough to make the wood squeak. “What is it?”
There was no way to sugarcoat this.
She exhaled. “Your people are working with the Upirs, Seb.”
Chapter 35
Sander hadn’t been this far south in a long time. Yet memories of the life he had briefly led here lingered, etched in the streets and in the green trees that covered the gently curved slopes of the surrounding low hills. He had roamed it all once, in search of something that had done absolutely nothing in the end, except drove him back to the circle.
The thought still carried a bitter taste—a resilient companion that knew how to remain silent but failed to truly disappear.
He could never erase what had been, but maybe he could influence what was yet to come.
He parked the jeep he had borrowed from one of his outside acquaintances in Slovenia and parked it near Sava Lake. Keeping to the bank across from the golf course, he walked down the path, what little nature remained in this urban area instinctively entwining with his magic.
There weren’t many people out on a workday, and that suited his purposes just fine. Though he figured the man he was meeting with would have preferred more of an audience. He was wired like that, his life’s motto to dazzle as many people as he could with that polished smile of his.
Then again, Sander hadn’t met a Perelesnyk that wasn’t.
Their incubus nature almost trumped the dragon part, possibly because it was the prevailing form the beings took. They had learned their lessons in the past, when an increase in dragon sightings had led them to be hunted with vicious determination and a whole lot of fear to fuel it.
Dragons weren’t invincible, merely hard to kill. They had lost enough of their brethren in those times to make even their arrogant asses cautious.
Yet Sander was fully aware just how much hiding half of their nature pissed the Perelesnyks off. It was similar to him having to quench his own power if he wanted to interact with humans without giving himself away in the process. The state was unnatural, but even more so, it was infuriating. The suppressed parts called out to you, taunting you with how much better everything would be if you only stopped fighting and tapped into them instead.
Luckily, those situations didn’t happen very often. Glamor worked just fine if Sander had to walk among the crowds.
But today, he kept his magic swirling beneath his skin.
He was hungry, and while in Serbia, there was something he simply couldn’t refuse.
The downside was that indulging in it called for interaction. But for this, even suppressing his essential self for a while was a small price to pay.
He strolled up to the round-shaped restaurant that overlooked the lake and ordered a portion of čevapčiči with kaymak in flatbread, and a large pitcher of beer to go along with it. The alcohol did little to his system, but it certainly made the meal even more delicious—though that was almost impossible to believe.
With the Kolduny’s aversion to the outside world and the inkling to eat the fruit and vegetables nature provided for them, meat was a luxury. And it was one he intended to gorge on for the length of his trip.
He bit into the bread, the taste spreading through his mouth like a dream. He groaned as he swallowed, thinking the wolf’s idea of reaching out to the dragon incubi was spectacular in more ways than one.
The bastards—if they managed to unite, scattered as they were right now—would contribute to a group whose power rivaled that of the wolves. As much as he hated to admit it, the pack made a formidable force. They did have a god on their side, after all, as well as the powerful, familiar-smelling female that was boning him. Like it or not, they had the strength to face an army.
Still, he would have sneered at the thought of Veles, but the food was just too damn good to waste even a second of it on anything as distasteful as the god.
He took another bite, the corner of his lips tugging upward in silent amusement. No, the idea was solid. The Perelesnyks had been shunned for centuries, the Keepers out for their heads in a quest to maintain some sort of crack-ass order their minds had spewed out.
Besides, the request gave him something to work on away from the Kolduny. And it gave him the chance to enjoy a decent meal after bloody decades had passed.
“Koliada, who let you out of your fucking cage?” a smooth voice called from his left.
Biting into the flatbread once again, Sander gave the Perelesnyk an unpleasant smile.
But the man only grinned. “I’ll be right back.”
He walked to the restaurant proper, returning with a pitcher of cold beer in his hands.
“What,” Sander began, “the meat not up to your posh standards?”
The Perelesnyk mused. “You know I prefer live dishes.”
Sander nearly choked on his own food as rumbling laughter burst from his chest. “Good to see you.”
“Same,” the incubus replied, the wicked smile on his lips showing off his blindingly white teeth. “So, to what do I owe the honor of your delicious bronze presence?”
