Immortal Essence Box Set: Aligned, Exiled, Beguiled

by RaShelle Workman

  She peered back at the seemingly calm horse. “I like you more already.” Venus slowly slid her hand up the soft fur to the tuft of sable brown hair, watching the horse’s eyes. “So, tell me, what’s your story?” The horse leaned her head down, pushing her nose into Venus’s chest. She scratched between the furry ears, pressed her cheek against the horse’s head. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I had a best friend, her name was Sadraden. She died.”

  The horse stomped a hoof and tried to move closer to Venus. She let out a grunt and blew into Venus’s hair. “In a way you remind me of her. My irrihunter was strong, like you. Didn’t like many to touch her either.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. She contemplated how Sadraden died, who’d done it and why. The horse snorted again, shook her head. Venus lifted her face, wiped her eyes.

  “Irrihunters are different. They’re black, with violet eyes.” She scratched the horse’s head. The horse blinked. “Sadraden stood taller than you are, but don’t let that bother you. She was huge. Scared most everyone.” Venus stroked the horses’ neck with both hands. “They can fly; look a lot like the black panthers on this planet, but with gigantic wings, like a bat. One thing that’s the same, they have a mane, like you, but shiny black.

  Want to know what’s totally different about irrihunters? When a male irrihunter wants to mate, his black coat changes into what looks like a million little rainbows. He’s glorious. Struts around. Reminds me of male peacocks. Sadraden found a gorgeous male. She was pregnant when she died.” Venus sniffed. The horse rubbed her nose against her cheek. “Thank you. You’ve helped a lot. I wish I could return the favor.” Venus patted her neck.

  “V, what’re you doing? That horse is dangerous. You shouldn’t go near her.” Cheverly had her hands full, but came forward. The horse moved away, neighing in anger and rearing up on her hind legs.

  “Cheverly, would you mind?” Venus pushed her back. Zaren helped. “What’s her name?”

  The word tumbled out. “Ishtar.”

  “Ah.” Venus moved back over to the horse. “Ishtar. Named after a Goddess of Love as well.” Ishtar stamped and shook her head up and down, but came back over to Venus. “It’ll be all right.” She stuck her hand out for Ishtar to come. The horse placed her forehead into Venus’s palm. “If I had more time . . .”

  “Shall we, Venus?” Zaren asked.

  “I guess. See you around, girl.”

  “Zaren was right; you do have a way with animals.” Chev gave her a look. “Here, I brought you one of my coats, some gloves and a hat.”

  “Thanks.” Venus switched into a brown puffer jacket, a purple scarf with purple gloves and a tan cowgirl hat. “This is much better. Sorry I wasn’t more prepared.”

  “No problem. I know you’re not from around here. Oh, and Michael called, said he’d be late and to go on without him. Let’s go.” Cheverly had already picked out horses for them. A smaller cream-colored female had been saddled for Venus. “Betsy’s glossy coat matches your hair.” That’s what Chev used as the reason for giving her the horse. Betsy had a sweet demeanor, but was a little too docile for Venus’s tastes.

  Zaren rode a tall dark chocolate male named Thor. The horse matched his name—strong, dominant. Cheverly had an obedient male chestnut, a couple of hands taller than Venus’s.

  Zaren gave her arm a squeeze. His way of apologizing for the mount Cheverly had chosen. She shrugged. Cheverly hardly knew her. If Chev had known Venus, she would’ve realized Ishtar was the perfect mount. Animals with a lot of spirit—they were what she liked. Since she’d come to this polluted planet, she’d been weak though, and that’s what Chev saw.

  With a sigh, she rode in silence behind the two of them. It gave her a chance to think.

  She’d allowed Zaren into her mind and he’d shown her the love story of their Gods. It’d been as though real time had stopped and she and Zaren had become Ith and Aetha. As though they’d gone back in time and lived the Gods lives. It’d been an amazing experience. One she’d never forget. The Gods love was true and everlasting. Their story full of adventure, intrigue and deceit. Parts of their memories shocked Venus. It surprised her how strong their love for each other was. That Ith and Aetha’s love had endured. She’d never realized before that moment, with Zaren, that anything so intimate existed. Experiencing love through their Gods had allowed Venus to better understand the difference between undying love and physical attraction.

  Zaren.

  He turned and beamed, his smile dazzling.

  Venus and Zaren had been through a lot today, including the creation of a plan to help Michael realize his true love—Cheverly. Before they left Dervinias’s house, Zaren showed her how to enter Cheverly and Michael’s mind at will. It was different than what Vinny and Zaren did so effortlessly. They “heard” everything a person thought, if they wanted to. With her she could see images and memories, dreams and desires.

  That was the first and most important part of their plan, getting into their daydreams as well as their dreams. Then, once within, she’d plant specific reminders and notions there, as often as possible. Cheverly daydreamed a lot. Michael not so much, but some.

  Step two. Locate the fantasies inside their minds and then create romantic situations for the two of them.

  Step three. Make sure they spent as much time together as possible.

  The plan seemed paltry, but those were the options she had to work with. Venus hoped the three steps would work and fast. Time was running out.

  She’d entered Michael’s mind on the drive over and placed affectionate ideas inside. Things like: he had to come out to the ranch. Cheverly needed him. Cheverly loved him. She was the most important person in the world. He had to see her today.

  Then Venus entered Cheverly’s daydreams. From her fantasies, Venus gathered that Chev’s strongest feelings were toward Michael. She also sensed a block, purposefully in place. It hid more . . . someone else. Venus wasn’t sure what that meant or how Chev did it. Venus also saw a daydream involving Zaren. As she witnessed Cheverly and Zaren kissing, their bodies intertwined, she fought back a building rage.

  Zaren had touched Venus softly, stroking her arm, telling her it was okay. The visions she saw were only Chev’s desires and nothing to do with him. Venus had tried to calm down, but it was clear Chev had a thing for Zaren.

  Secretly, that worried Venus. If Chev thought about herself with Zaren, what did that say about her feelings for Michael? Shaking it off, Venus stoked Chev’s other daydreams, the ones she had of Michael, filling them out and making them more real.

  A crackling fire. Smoke rising into the dark night. The smell of burning wood, roasting marshmallows, laughing, flirting . . . And, Chev and Michael kissing under a blanket of stars.

  Those were the desires Venus wanted Chev to focus on. Those were the daydreams Venus injected with passion. She’d make sure the events in Chev’s mind came to fruition. Regardless of any leftover, weird feelings she had for Michael. Venus figured it had to do with the bond, which had been placed between them. She told herself the feelings weren’t real.

  Loud laughter shook her out of her reverie. Venus decided she’d had enough of turtle-crawling Betsy. Leaning down, she patted the side of Betsy’s neck. “Hey girl. Are you ready for a run?” She clicked her tongue and pressed her knees into Betsy’s sides, pushing her body forward at the same time. Betsy responded by increasing her speed to a trot. When Venus reached Zaren and Chev, she said, “I’m going to see how fast this sweet creature can move.”

  They were travelling on a well-worn, dirt trail. Snow lined most of the path. It contained muddied tracks and the occasional patch of grass. She knew it’d be easy to follow and she needed to run. “I’ll meet you at the halfway point? It’ll have picnic tables, right?”

  Cheverly nodded. “Good luck, though. No one can get Betsy to go very fast. She’s kind of—”

  Venus clicked her tongue again, pressed her knees harder and leaned further forward into the saddle. “Run girl.” Betsy took
off like she’d been anxiously awaiting some action for a decade. After a few more clicks of the tongue, Venus didn’t need any more encouragement and ran faster. Venus put her head down next to Betsy’s; hoping the hat Chev lent her wouldn’t blow off.

  Thankfully, it didn’t.

  One thing she hadn’t considered was how out of breath she’d be by the time she reached the halfway point. Breathing heavily, she climbed off Betsy, patted her neck, loosened the horse’s saddle, tethered her to a rail, and headed toward a table. The ground was slick, though, and she fell onto her hands and knees.

  “Cret!”

  Like a fish out of water, she gasped, struggling to get enough air in her lungs. The quick breaths helped, until a tickle in her chest forced her to cough. And cough. Her body shook, whether from weakness or adrenaline, she didn’t know.

  Blood misted the snow like spray paint, a reminder of her mortality. A reminder of how far from home she’d been taken. And, a reminder that she didn’t have much time. She closed her eyes against the truth. Didn’t want to face it. In fact, she wanted to lie down and curl into a ball. Pretend none of this was happening. She’d about decided too when the crunch crunch of footsteps interrupted. Probably Dervinias. Come to help, or, more likely, gloat.

  “For someone who has people bow before her or die, you seem to spend a lot of time on the ground.”

  How’d Michael get here?

  Venus tried to stand. Of course, if she looked at the situation from his point of view, she understood his sarcasm. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been on the floor. “I—you’re right.” She tried to laugh it off, but coughed again. “It must be like opposite week or something.”

  Embarrassed and frustrated, she scooped a handful of snow over the blood. On shaking limbs, she went to stand, but fell back onto all fours.

  “Wretched! Infuriating! Cold, stuff,” she said through chattering teeth.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Michael moved so that his booted feet were inches from her nose. Placing his hands under her arms, he helped her up.

  “Now there’s a loaded question.” She laughed as she pushed him away.

  He didn’t join in with her fake merriment, but grabbed a portion of his t-shirt, exposing leather-belted jeans, and a part of his hip bone and chiseled stomach.

  She couldn’t help but notice a small line of dark hair that began under his belly button and disappeared into his pants. Flushing, she looked away. He hesitated a moment before he turned her face back to him. Using the t-shirt like a cloth, he gently dabbed her lips.

  The sun etched his outline, making his eye lashes glow gold. His eyes were so intent on her lips, they quivered. Venus fought against the ache in her belly at his nearness. The Gods obviously picked the wrong kelarian for this job. “I just ran the horse too hard. All of the exercise—”

  “And your excuse for yesterday?”

  “Crazy red-head. She kicked me. Ringing any bells?” She pursed her lips.

  He dropped his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. “I meant . . . forget it.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  Wobbly, like a colt on new legs, she started over to a table. “Chev should be here in a few—” She slipped, sailing backward into his outstretched arms.

  “You’re a mess.” He wrapped his arms around her. Held her tight. For a second, she sank into him. Allowed herself to give in. Glazed pears. He smelled good enough to eat. To kiss . . . Her heart started beating faster.

  What’s wrong with me? Why does his nearness affect me so much?

  “Let me go,” Venus said, hoarsely. The words had come out with less harshness than she’d planned. To make up for the lack of severity, she turned and pushed his chest with her hands. She wanted him to fall back, show some weakness.

  He remained upright and Venus fell against a table. He moved toward her, as though to help, but must’ve changed his mind.

  “So tell me, your highness, how did you know my mother’s name?” The egotistical anger was back. That was better than concern, or worry, or . . . any of his other stunning looks.

  “I think Cheverly or Dervinias told me.” Holding onto the table, she moved around and sat on the cold, snow-covered bench.

  “Michael,” Cheverly called, cheerfully as she and Zaren rode up. “You made it.”

  Zaren and Chev slid off their horses, tethered them and walked over to Venus and Michael.

  “Hey Chev.” Michael waved slightly and then stuck his un-gloved hands in his pockets.

  Venus scanned the area, unsure what she was searching for, but something felt off. The halfway point consisted of a hefty concrete slab surrounded on all sides by a two-railed wooden fence. Five picnic-styled tables were interspersed around a firepit. A fine layer of snow glazed the landscape like sparkling diamonds.

  Venus peered up at the sky. It went on and on—a clear blue—without a cloud in sight. The smell of pine swirled on the wind. A horse whinnied. She looked in its direction and it wasn’t something but someone she searched for. There were five horses and only four of them.

  “Michael. Is that horse yours?” She pointed at a tall, gray with dark freckles and knew it had to be his. Which meant Dervinias was missing. “Anyone see Der-Vinny?”

  They turned in different directions to look for him. He wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  “Cheese, the guy’s a nut. He probably rode further on. Or went back on a different trail. It wouldn’t be the first time.” She gave an indifferent shrug. “Who wants hot chocolate?”

  31. Cult Of Personality

  Dervinias walked determinedly down Michael’s street. When he reached the bus stop, he sat next to a nervous old woman. He gave her a smile. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, my dear, it sure is.”

  He turned away, done with niceties. He had a lot to think about. The Humieri Project hadn’t been moving along as planned. Still, as a scientist, he continued his work—testing and reevaluating. Patience was the key in any scientific experiment. And he had time. An eternity.

  His next live test would be to inject a female human with eggs fertilized by a combination of kelarian and human DNA. He’d already tried mating with human females. Though he didn’t mind the physical experience, the copulation proved lethal. Several had died during the process. One had become pregnant; at least he’d thought so, until a paternity test proved the child belonged to another human.

  Over the last several months he’d made some headway. He knew he was close. And when he succeeded, he’d be a God. The author of a new race. Creator over a species that respected the gift of immortality. Humieri’s would be his masterpiece. Like an artist, he used humans as his canvas and the DNA of kelarians as his brushes.

  Kelarians and their obedient worship of Ith and Aetha disgusted him and his followers. The blinded kels were like bees in a hive—working, mating, existing without question.

  Immortality wasn’t to be given freely. Yet the unthinking kels received the ultimate endowment—and for what? Some were Discoverers, sure. Others were given the right to be Formytians. But immortality should only be awarded to leaders, those who’d proved themselves worthy of eternity.

  Creating a new race would be the perfect solution, Earth and its similarities to Kelari, the perfect worldly candidate.

  A kelarian/human hybrid—able to heal more quickly and live longer, as kels did, yet inhabited with the humanity the humans possessed. He’d chosen the girl—the vessel—the one who’d be the mother to his new race. Cheverly.

  The theory would be tested on her.

  And then there was Michael’s mother. Whoa! She’d been a total surprise. He’d intended to kill her as a means of separating Venus and Michael. During the process, he’d discovered the woman had many, many secrets. Through her, he was able to see just how far reaching The Order’s tentacles went. Images of the crusty old Thomas Jefferson and his interest in Native Americans . . . There’d also been something to do with an illegitimate chil
d . . . But the more juicy tidbits were blocked away from him. It’d been frustrating that, even with torture, he couldn’t break her. The skill had to be taught. He knew of one other kelvieri, before Zaren, who knew a human’s mind could be read and probed.

  He had a feeling Catherine knew more about his planet and kelarians than any human he’d ever met. In fact, Dervinias had a feeling she knew more about him than most.

  Her death left him with more questions than answers. Two pieces of information he was able to extract: The man Michael knew as his father was also the leader of A.L.T. and, on top of that, he wasn’t even his real father. Who his father was . . . he’d been unable to ascertain.

  It seemed likely, though, that his hypothesis had already been tested and proven. What exactly was Michael?

  He looked forward to finding out the truth.

  It occurred to him that the Gods had specifically chosen Michael as the boy Venus had to help find love. They never commanded anything without a reason.

  Yet, before Zaren contacted their Gods, Dervinias was sure no one outside his group knew The Order planned to kill Venus. But the Gods had taken the development—that Venus had been sent to Earth—and used it to their advantage. Or had they somehow instigated it? Were they behind the supposed screw-up? Why should they care about the boy?

  It freaked him out to realize they might even know about The Order, and were using The Orders’ plans to perpetuate their own. That perhaps the Gods wanted her to succeed.

  From the beginning he’d thought the idea of her helping a human find love preposterous. It was hardly a consequence at all. Real consequences for what she’d been accused of would’ve meant disowning her as a member of kelarian royalty, condemning her to spend eternity in Helker, or death.

  Venus had to die! His life depended on it. As did his work.

  The Order had determined she die because of a prophecy they’d uncovered years ago. It specified that a female warrior would destroy all who rebelled against the Gods, and restore peace to Kelari.