The in-between place where Jake’s drugs put her were filled with horrifying visions of Cody and other strangers dying while Dr. Czerno screamed at her to return to him in his inhuman computer voice.
And him. Another … thing … had entered her nightmare and taken over. The dark monster sat in a dark corner of her mind and sobbed so loud, she thought them real. Once, she heard him call for help. She’d stepped near him in her dream, until he swiped at her, and she tried to free a scream from her frozen body. He retreated to the corner and sobbed while she fought the effects of the drug. The drug wore off, leaving her in a dark fog, hot and sweating with a different kind of headache, the kind she got after taking a lot of Dr. Mallard’s drugs. Groggily, she couldn’t remember taking drugs. She’d been drinking fruit punch when she felt drowsy.
Jake.
Furious, Sofia pushed off the bed coverings and stood, teetering dangerously before deciding to sit again. Moonlight drifted in through a window, and she stared in confusion. Her window was on the other side of her room. Disoriented, she stood up again and stumbled to the door.
She hated the headaches and feeling like shit! She couldn’t remember the last time she felt halfway decent. Determined first to get rid of her cotton mouth and then to kill Jake, she wrenched open the door, blinded by the hall light she didn’t recall leaving on. She shielded her eyes with one hand and walked down the carpeted hall, stopping when she realized her hallway didn’t have carpet.
Her vision was too blurry for her to see much beyond hazy shapes and colors. The carpet was a deep maroon, soft and cushy, the walls around her brown. She squinted through her fingers and braced herself against one wall to counter the effects the drugs had on her equilibrium as she moved down the long hallway.
“Jake?”
Suddenly, her bracing arm hit air. She tried to balance herself only to find herself toppling over and over and over down a stairwell. She landed hard on a cold floor. Pain roared through her, and she sought both to shield her eyes from a crystal chandelier blinding her and to grab her burning leg. She wore only a long shirt to her knees that twisted to her stomach with her fall.
“Oh, God!” she grated, pushing herself into a sit.
Her blood was a slash of stark red against a white marble floor. The pain in her leg cleared the haze of her mind, and she realized whatever was happening wasn’t a dream. Panic peaked as she looked around her. There was nothing familiar about her surroundings—nothing! Down one hallway, she heard the ring of a phone.
Phone, police, help. Slowly Sofia stood. Her first step was disastrous. She careened into a table and heard glass crashing as the table corner tore a stripe down her forearm. Her eyes hurt too much to make sense of the world around her.
Voices prevented her from losing herself to her pain. They came from the same direction as the phone. Whoever had brought her here was coming for her.
Dr. Czerno. The monster in the corner.
Fear flew through her as she recalled the disjointed dreams. She turned, slammed into something twice her size, and fell backwards. Her hand dropped from her eyes to reveal a furry, fanged monster from a nightmare framed against the light.
Sofia screamed. It swiped at her, and she backpedaled, hopping to her feet. She ran into a blurry wall, shoved herself off, and smashed into another monster. With another scream, she bolted and careened into a door that gave.
The room was dark aside from curtains opened to allow the moon to shine through. She staggered up, cursing the drugs and Jake for her inability to balance, and slammed into several pieces of furniture as the monsters chased her. The lights went on. Blinded, she tripped over a stool and hauled herself into a corner, chest heaving and body slick with sweat and blood.
“What happened?” a muffled voice asked.
She hugged her knees to her chest and peered through her fingers. One of the monsters pulled off its head to reveal a man. She squinted, realizing the two furry brown monsters were men in costumes from Where the Wild Things Are. Several more men entered the library, all staring at her in nothing short of total surprise. Either they were all huge enough to come straight out of an action movie, or her drugs had not yet worn off.
“Gods, are you all right?” one asked finally, moving toward her.
“No!” she shouted. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me!” The last thing she needed was more of the gruesome visions!
“Sofi?” Jake’s stunned tone drew her attention. While surprised to see him there, she was struck by how well Jake fit in with the other men. He was built from the same mold—large and muscular, the kind of man more fitted to military special forces or UFC prizefighting than financial planning.
The man approaching her had nearly reached her, and she huddled into a tighter ball.
“Han, don’t!” Jake called. “Leave her be.”
“She’s bleeding to death!”
“Trust me. She’ll go ape shit.”
Sofia wanted to pound Jake’s face in. Her heart raced to the point of pain, and she felt sick enough to puke.
“Go get D,” the man called Han said. He squatted near her. “You okay?”
Her gaze cleared, and she focused on her surroundings. Her first impression was confirmed—the men in the room were UFC material, all well over six feet and solid. They were all dressed for a white tie party in expensive tuxedos.
“I gave you enough drugs that you should be asleep until next week,” Jake said, joining Han. He was also dressed for the exclusive party. Seeing him well rested and well dressed pissed her off even more.
“Can I help you up?” Han asked, extending his hand as if approaching a wounded animal. His brown gaze was friendly but cautious.
The others fanned out, and she suddenly felt like a lamb surrounded by a wolf pack trying to decide what to do with her. She didn’t know these men, but her instincts told her they were 100 percent predators. They moved in tandem without looking at each other, their movements controlled and efficient. If she flinched, they’d snap in unison.
“What did you do to me, Jake?” she demanded.
“We’ll wait on that,” Jake responded. “There’s a lot of blood. You okay?”
“You drugged me.”
He rubbed his mouth.
“She’s little, pick her up before D sees the blood all over the floors,” another of the men urged.
“Don’t touch me!” she warned again.
Despite being able to bench press two of her, the men actually listened.
“What happened to my floors?” a new voice demanded.
If the men around her were predators, the man who entered next was their alpha. Unlike the others dressed for a white tie event, he was dressed in leather pants with a tight black Pearl Jam T-shirt, his hair braided, a chain from his spiked belt to his wallet, and heavy black boots. She didn’t miss the way the others moved out of his way or the way the aura of command around him filled up the room. His gaze swept around the room methodically, coming to rest on her. He approached with a slow, steady gait, like a predator inspecting its disabled prey before going for the kill.
She tightened into her ball. He was as large as the others, with olive skin, long white-blond hair, and golden eyes the unusual color of honey. His features were firm and chiseled. He was not a pretty boy but a man with rugged, bad-boy beauty and a slow sensuality about his movement that made her heart skip a beat despite her pain.
“You got blood all over my floors,” he told her, his golden eyes taking her in. He knelt beside Han. She tensed.
“You can blame the Wild Things, D,” Han said. “They scared the shit outta her.”
D reached out to her, and she recoiled, pushing herself farther into the corner.
“Sofi, you shouldn’t—” Jake started, eyes going nervously to the newcomer.
“Not gonna hurt you, okay?” D said, holding up his hands.
A sense of power swirled around him that scared her. She felt it circle her, prod her, and retreat. His honey gaze was similar to Han’s: warm but wary. She ducked her head and braced herself as he reached for her again. His large hand was warm against her arm. No visions pierced her thoughts.
“See?” he said.
She looked up at him, surprised. By the look of understanding on his face, he knew what she expected to feel. Relief flooded her, and she flung her arms around his neck. She’d never known the power of a single touch until everyone who touched her hurt her!
“Sofi!” Jake exclaimed. He touched her arm to pull her free, and she jerked as dark visions crossed her thoughts. She wrenched away from both men and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to stop the visions. D touched her, and the visions fled as if at his command. The warmth of his hand drifted up her arm and through her, comforting her.
“She’s … special, isn’t she?” Han asked D.
“Very,” D replied. “Nobody touches her.”
His command was quiet and firm, but Sofia knew no man in the room would disobey a man like him. His hand lingered on her arm, and she rested her forehead against his fingers, comforted for the first time in months.
“Jake, clean up the floors,” D ordered. “Let’s get you upstairs,” he said to Sofia.
He lifted her and carried her down the hall and up the stairs. Sofia’s heart fluttered as she tried to take in the world of blinding lights and blurry colors. He turned the lights in her room on low and set her down on the trunk at the bottom of her bed. She drew her legs up, feeling vulnerable and scared in the strange place.
“Han, get me some warm water and washcloths. I’ll clean her up.”
She didn’t miss the surprised look on Han’s face. He obeyed. D disappeared into the bathroom adjoining her room and washed his hands. When he returned, he pulled a chair from the wall nearer her and dipped one cloth in water, tugging her arm away from her.
“I can do it,” she said, resisting.
He gave her a look that said he didn’t have all the patience in the world then pulled her arm free again.
“Han, bring up some food,” he said without turning to look at the blond man in the doorway.
Han disappeared.
Sofia was afraid to ask where she was, who the man was before her. Instead, she watched a man many, many times her strength gently clean the blood from her arm in unhurried, methodical strokes. His touch sent a tremor of fire through her, and she was embarrassed to feel her hormones stir.
Here she sat, covered in blood, drugged, one day from being all out crazy, then kidnapped—and the sight of the man before her turned her on. What was wrong with her?
He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen, and the swirling aura of command only amplified his physical appeal. It didn’t take much for her to imagine what the body beneath the tight shirt was like. Wide shoulders, chiseled chest, rippling abs … even his scent—of pure man mixed with the mystery of night—lured her like an animal falling for a hunter’s bait. His attraction was inhuman.
“You okay?” he asked, his quiet, gravelly voice making her heart quicken. He glanced up at her, amusement in the upturned corner of his full lips.
She met his gaze with a nod, and they looked at each other until her face flushed. She cleared her throat and looked down. The wound on her arm was gone. She pulled her arm from his grip and stared at it, twisting it left and right before lowering it.
In fact, she felt no pain at all, anywhere. She kicked out her wounded leg. It, too, was healed. All that was left was to clean the blood.
“I’m going crazy,” she said, voice tightening. “Oh God, I’m going crazy!” Her vision blurred with tears, and she stood precariously.
“You’re not so good on your feet yet,” D said.
She felt his arms around her and leaned into him, surprised at how natural it felt to be held against a complete stranger who made her want to flee for the hills and strip naked at the same time.
“You’re not going crazy,” he assured her. “When you’re well, we’ll talk.”
“You know what’s wrong with me.”
“Yes.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Damian Bylun. If I’m not mistaken, you called me for help.” His warm chest vibrated against her cheek as he chuckled.
Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she wanted his help. Damian Bylun was not a doctor. Hell, she had serious doubts he was even human. She didn’t know what he was, and she had a feeling he’d welcomed her into a world that belonged solely to him.
God help me.
***
Damian wasn’t sure how someone going from the second to first floor had managed to get bloody enough to look like she crawled through a war zone. Most women were too intimidated to go near him, let alone get close enough to throw their arms around him. This one clung to him as if he were the only thing preventing her from being swept overboard. He’d watched her thoughts of him naked, flattered and turned on. It’d been too long since a normal woman overcame his first impression.
Of course, this was no normal woman. He reflected on the images in her mind when Jake touched her. The instincts of the newly minted spy were dead on. She was the greatest find since he’d taken over the war from his slain brother.
He tried to move away, unaccustomed to anyone touching him. She tightened her grip around him, and he was amused to think of himself as any sort of comfort to anyone, let alone a little human like her. He hadn’t held a woman in too long, and he’d never held one for the sole purpose of comforting her. She needed him. He was surprised to realize he liked the feeling.
Damian breathed in her scent, brutally aware that all that lay between her tight little body and him was a long T-shirt. He’d never been mistaken for a gentleman, but the woman shimmered with a sweet, pure aura that made him feel obliged to behave. Her turquoise eyes had been so lost and confused, he couldn’t help but take pity on her.
Her eyes shimmered with more than tears—they swirled with silver, the way the eyes of ancient Oracles did. He hadn’t seen anything like her since he sat in his father’s court as a child.
“You’re safe,” he told her.
She sighed. With her large, two-toned eyes, flawless skin, and long, straw-colored hair, she resembled a doll. Hers was a cool beauty, and her gaze bespoke intelligence. That she was an Oracle was fantastic. A sexy Oracle? Nothing short of miraculous!
“She okay?” Han asked from the doorway. Damian heard the amusement in his voice. None of his men had ever seen a human woman throw herself into his arms. His own Guardians stayed out of arm’s reach of him, and humans picked up and ran.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said, drawing away. To his surprise, she’d passed out. He scooped her up and placed her on the bed, his gaze sweeping over her tiny, shapely frame. He felt unusually protective of the vulnerable human on the bed before him. Not sure what to make of her or what he felt, he led Han out and closed the door.
“I think I know the answer, but do we have any records that survived the Schism?” Damian asked, moving away from the door.
“Is she okay?” Jake asked anxiously.
“Kid, back off,” Han warned.
Jake obeyed and darted to the bottom of the stairs, pacing.
“Not that I know of,” Han answered. “There aren’t any living Oracles to mentor her, either. Claire was the closest thing, but she never received the training because her power was too weak.”
“That could be an issue,” Damian said, gaze returning to the door he’d just left. “I don’t know shit about training Oracles.”
“I don’t think anyone living does, except maybe Czerno. He knew enough to find her and plot to bind her to him.”
The idea of something so sweet in Czerno’s depraved hold irked him. He wouldn’t let someone like her get stuck in the middle of their war.
“Most Oracles don’t live long enough to be of use,” Han added. “Or they’re terrible.”
Not this one. He felt it in his bones, just as he’d felt a soul-deep connection to her the moment he’d touched her. He pulled out his cell to text his confidants.
U still online? he typed.
Both Dusty and Jule responded with smiley faces.
B on in a sec.
“Han, until I let you go back to war, you’ll be her bodyguard. She knows Jake. If he doesn’t drive her as crazy as he does me, divvy up shifts with him,” he said. “She’s gonna have a rough time ahead of her.”
“Most Naturals get a little more notice before transforming. I think she’s already started?”
“Yeah, and she knows shit about us or what she is.” Damian felt the unusual urge to look in on her again, to feel her soft skin against him once more and make sure she was safe. Shaking his head, he retreated to his office. He picked up the headphone-mic combo. “Either of you know anything about Oracles?”
Fuck no, typed Dusty.
“Nope,” Jule seconded. “We were just discussing HQ. You having any issues?”
“You mean, like an influx of vamps to Tucson?”
Bingo.
“Yeah. If Dusty doesn’t object, I might reorganize the southwest sectors. Something is up.”
Do whatever you want. You always do, Dusty typed with another string of angry emoticons.
“Damn, Dusty, you’re a jackass today,” Jule said, amused. “You sure you don’t have a woman plaguing you?”
Damian smiled, waiting for Dusty’s response. He could guess what Dusty was pissed about, and it didn’t have anything to do with women or rearranging his sectors.
Today’s my birthday, dick. You forgot again.
“Oooooooohhh,” Jule breathed. “Another birthday? Not sure why you’d count at this point.”
“I remembered,” Damian said promptly. “You’d think after oh, a few thousand years, you’d remember, Jule.”
“I’m sorry, Dusty. I owe you one,” Jule said, chagrined.
No, you owe me about thirty. Thousand. It’s not every day your little brother turns 300K.
“I forgot you’re still a baby. I passed that mark a few hundred thousand years ago. I’ll send you this video game I’m addicted to,” Jule offered. “You might like it.”
If you love me, you’ll send me the blu-ray versions of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour.
“Ah, my love, your wish is my command.”
Damian chuckled. At more than double both their ages, Jule was as old as the Watchers, exiled to earth after pissing off someone somewhere in the immortal world just before the Schism. He’d never said why, and Damian didn’t ask.
“You happy, Dust-man?” he asked.
Yes.
Han knocked, and he looked up.
“Rainy from the Tucson Sector is here. They’re having issues,” Han said.
“Gotta go, boys,” Damian said. “We’ll chat tomorrow.”
He pulled off the headphone-mic combo and rose. Ruling an empire wasn’t getting any easier; he rarely had a minute to himself anymore.
“Let’s go,” he said to Han.