Damian's Oracle Part 7

The images in her mind were too real to be imagined. Nothing like that could be true!

By the look on Damian's face, he wasn't happy. She wondered if he knew what she saw. She s.n.a.t.c.hed her jacket and pulled it on as she raced down the stairwell and down the hall to the front door. She jerked it open only to have it pushed shut by an olive hand planted above her head. She cringed at the thick forearm brus.h.i.+ng her ear.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately.

"For what?"

His tone was measured. His scent drove her body wild, the mix of sweat, darkness, and man.

"I don't know."

His hand dropped, and she faced him. He stood before as he had in the sparring ring, sans any clothing but judo pants. She felt dwarfed and delicate next to the ma.s.s of roped muscle and taut skin.

Heat rose to her face as she stared openly. His chiseled features were unreadable and hard. The sword was still clenched in one hand. The honey eyes were intent, his face flushed from exertion. She'd had never felt overwhelmed by a man before, and she'd certainly never been a woman who felt weak-kneed!

She leaned back against the door, mouth dry and legs shaky.

"I'm not angry at you," he said at last, taking a step back. "You have a rare ability among our kind. I didn't realize you were as ... capable as you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not going to eat you, so you can stop looking at me like that," he said with a bitter edge that was lost on her.

She looked down, near tears again.

"That didn't come out quite right," he said.

"Han said you're moody."

"Did he?"

She nodded.

"He's usually right. C'mon. We'll talk."

She trailed him up the stairs, taking in every inch of his perfectly round b.u.t.t to his slender hips and thick back. She'd never seen a man so strong, and she couldn't imagine talking to him without remembering how beautiful that body was. Thoughts of his sweaty body poised above hers made her want to swoon for the first time in her life, and her core ached so much from the vision that she gripped the handrail.

"My G.o.d, I'm a man," she whispered.

"A what?"

"Nothing."

He led her to his private suite, which took up half of one wing. She sat in the living room as masculine as he, surrounded by wood, wool and leather in dark colors. The window to a balcony was open, allowing in a cool night breeze that made the fire in the hearth dance. She pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small and vulnerable once more.

When he rejoined her, he'd put on a t-s.h.i.+rt and sandals. He leaned back in a chair across from her with muscular, feline grace, managing to appear both at ease and ready to pounce. They gazed at each other until she felt red creep up her neck. She looked towards the fire.

"Why can't I touch anyone else but you without seeing ... horrible things?" she asked as the silence grew uncomfortable.

"In my world, you'd be called an oracle, one who can see a person's future by touching them."

She stared at him.

"It's a rare gift, trust me," he said. "And a treasured one. You'll eventually be able to see other things besides their deaths. Death is the only definite, and so it's the first vision you see until you hone your skills."

Her throat tightened.

"As for me, well ... " he trailed off. "That s.h.i.+t doesn't work on me. We'll leave it at that for now."

"I saw you ... I saw ... " she didn't know how to say what she'd seen without seeming like the craziest person in the world.

"That is what we have to talk about," he said, leaning towards her. "You will see my past. You will say nothing to anyone about what you see about me."

"I'm not doing it on purpose," she whispered, distraught. "I don't even know what I'm doing."

"I know. However, there are boundaries to your gift that I must give you now. It's better you learn them from the beginning. One, no matter what you See, you are forbidden from telling the person exactly what you see. If you are asked, you can give them insight into their future, so long as you do not reveal everything. Two, don't f.u.c.k with fate."

"I can't keep such horrible things to myself."

"Three, you can't save the world," he replied. "You can tell me what you see, if you need to talk about it. Does that work?"

She frowned, unconvinced. He rattled off more rules, and she listened without registering any of them. What the h.e.l.l was an oracle anyway? How did one just morph into one? Maybe it was the mercury in the tuna she ate or the excessive amounts of chocolate. Could eating fake sweetener turn her into something like this? If so, what would hard water do to a person?

She laughed.

Damian stared at her.

"Sorry. I was thinking ... it's stupid," she said. "I'm overwhelmed. One day I'm a boring financial planner, and the next day, I can't go out in sunlight and I see the future."

"You'll be able to go outside once you transform."

"What does that mean? Transform into what?"

"One of us. Our kind tend to live much longer than the average human. You'll finish transforming soon and will be like a human, just with a very, very long and extended life. Except ... " he trailed off, giving her a considering look.

"Except what?" she demanded, panicking. "I have three eyes instead of two? I grow a tail?"

The corner of his lips curved up in amus.e.m.e.nt once more.

"Nothing like that. One day, I'll tell you. You'll eventually have additional requirements to sustaining your body."

"When can I go outside?" she asked again.

"Soon."

They gazed at each other again, and she tried her d.a.m.ndest not to look away. A slow, languid smile crossed his features, one that made her body flush and ache for him. The vision of him on top of her protruded into her thoughts again. She looked away.

"I'll always win that game," he warned.

You have no idea, she mused. There were a great many things she'd let him do to her to win the game in her head.

"Like what?"

She jerked, eyes returning to him.

"You really can read minds," she whispered, stricken.

"d.a.m.n straight. I'm willing if you're willing," he said with a lazy smile that set her blood alight. He clasped his hands behind his head, giving her an un.o.bstructed view of his body.

"I'm not some sort of floozy," she snapped, though she couldn't help wis.h.i.+ng she was. "I don't sleep with random men, especially those who aren't ... you're not even human, are you?"

"Nope."

His response chilled her ardor.

"You're not?"

"Nope."

"What are you?"

"I guess you could say I'm a divine spirit of sorts."

"A ghost?"

"Not that kind of spirit."

He didn't expand, and she was too afraid to ask.

"Good-bye," she said, standing and all but bolting out of his suite.

Her head hurt again, this time from trying to digest what he was telling her. She could see the future and he was a ... what the h.e.l.l was he?

He could read minds.

It made no sense, but neither did the sudden craving for peanut b.u.t.ter that dragged her to the kitchen, where yet another man she wanted to avoid was lounging. She snagged a jar of peanut b.u.t.ter and a spoon, retreating to her library. Jake followed, and Han was already waiting for her.

"What are you doing?" Jake asked.

Irritated he continued to disturb her peace, she leveled a glare on him.

"Transforming. Can't you tell?"

He stalked off, and Han glanced down from his bored stare at the ceiling. She didn't care if he was miserable or not - she didn't order him to babysit her.

"Is it dark yet?" she asked him again.

"Yes."

Jake returned with a jug of water.

"Your s.h.i.+ft," Han said and rose.

Sofia rose and retreated to her room. During her day, she'd found quite a few treasures, to include a dusty backpack, a flashlight, and Jake's wallet, which happened to have a credit card she used to book a flight from Tucson to Virginia.

"I want to go out," she said.

"Great," Jake said, rising from his seat in the library with more enthusiasm than she'd seen all day.

"To the airport."

His smile faded.

"That's a no-go, Sofi."

She pulled out a set of keys and walked down the hall to the front door.

"Sofia," Jake called, trailing.

"You're not allowed to touch me," she reminded him.

"D is."

"D's in town. Remember?"

He frowned but followed her into the cool evening towards the garage. Damian had a lot of cars, and she found the black BMW whose lights flashed when she clicked the keyfob. Jake slid into the pa.s.senger seat beside her, pulling out his cell as he did.

He dialed and spoke in a different language to the man on the other end. Her grip tightened on the wheel, and she a.s.sumed he spoke to Damian. He didn't appear out of thin air to stop her, and she made it to the airport terminal, where she stopped in front of the Delta sign and handed Jake the keys.

If she failed to make it on the plane, she didn't doubt D would drag her back. She was pretty sure he would find her no matter where she tried to go.

d.a.m.n them all.

She strode into the airport and checked in, very careful not to brush up against anyone for fear of the jarring visions. She didn't relax until her plane was in the air, and only then was she able to relax only when she sat pressed against the window to prevent her elbow from touching the man beside her.

Several hours later, just as dawn was breaking, she entered the disaster that was her apartment. Sofia dropped her backpack onto the kitchen counter, taking in the damage.

"h.e.l.lo, Sofia."

She froze at the familiar voice.

"I was worried when you didn't show for your appointment."

She turned, startled to find the man in front her of the same make and mold as Damian's men. The doctor's eyes were the color of cold steel, his face stoic and large form tense. His hair was silvered.

"Dr. Czerno?" she managed. "You're not a doctor, are you?"

"No, Sofia."