Damian's Oracle (13 page)

“We don’t need love. I know you want me.”

At his hesitation and the heated, lustful
look he gave her, Sofia’s mouth dropped open. He shook his head
despite the desire on his face.

“Come, love. We will fight and fuck together.
What else is there?”

She had a damn good point, Sofia admitted,
and hated her for it. She forced herself to peer at them again.
Damian’s gaze was on the door to the bedroom, and she ducked back,
remembering he could hear her thoughts.

If he made a choice, she wanted it to be the
choice he’d make whether or not she was there.

“Not possible,” he said.

She didn’t know if it was meant for her or
the woman sidling up to him. Or both.

“Why not?” Claire purred.

Sofia peeked out. The woman was all over him!
Her boobs were pressed against Damian’s bare chest, and her hands
were on his biceps.

Sofia knew she had no right to claim him,
especially when she just rejected him less than an hour before.
Fuming anyway, she pushed the curtains away from the balcony door
and stepped into the night, winter’s chill taking some of the heat
out of her.

“Stupid men. Always want woman with huge
boobs and nothing between their ears.
Let’s screw, Damian. We’re
good at it, so why not?
”

What in God’s name was wrong with her? Her
balcony was several feet from the edge of his. She looked down to
the bushes several floors down then decided it was worth the risk.
Not wanting to be around to hear Claire get her way, Sofia climbed
onto the edge of Damian’s balcony and stretched upward towards the
ledge running around the mansion.

She yelped as someone grabbed her hips and
pulled her from the edge of the balcony.

“What the hell are you doing?” Damian
demanded, lowering her to the ground and spinning her to face him.
“Are you
jumping
to your balcony?”

She glared at him.

“There’s a door. Use it.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your
reunion.”

His eyes narrowed. His body was warm against
hers, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him.

“God, I’m so stupid!” she growled.

A smile flickered across his face and turned
into a laugh.

“You’re
jealous?”

He hugged her against him.

“No, of course not!” she snapped, pushing at
him.

“Woman, you’re something else!”

“Damn you, Damian!”

“You’re as welcome in my bed as she is!”

A thrill went through her. Embarrassed at the
emotions bubbling within her, she pulled away and folded her arms
across her chest, marching into the living room.

“It’s ok, Damian, really. You can do whatever
with Claire. Just put a sock on the doorknob or something so I
don’t bother you.”

“You are very magnanimous to give me
permission to do whatever the fuck I want in my own house.”

“You’re such an ass, Damian!”

“And you’re fucking naïve.”

Her face flamed red. She marched herself back
to her room, angry and agitated. A breeze flickered her curtain,
and she closed it, certain Claire’s cries of ecstasy would soon
fill the air around the mansion.

Alone, her thoughts returned to the dead man
alone in the dark room. She shook out the sexual energy running
through her and turned on a light, not wanting to be alone in the
dark while the dead man in her thoughts began to sob once more.

A few hours later, she sagged against the
toilet, ignoring Pierre as he tsked her and held her hair. She’d
refused to see Damian for two days, but she’d seen Claire two
million time a day. Everywhere, eating Pop Tarts, eating chocolate,
eating broccoli.

Sofia groaned and held her stomach. Claire
could
eat
! There was no crueler fate in this world than her
own!

“Have you tried crackers?” Pierre asked. “Or
maybe antidepressants?”

She glared at him.

“We’ve eliminated every other type of food,
and the drugs might help you accept that you cannot eat.”

“Bonjour, Pierre.”

At her voice, Sofia wanted to throw up
again.

“What’s this?” Claire asked, pausing in the
door frame of the bathroom. “Hello, love. I’ve seen you around a
lot the past couple of days. Are you one of the help?”

One of the help?!

Sofia bit back a retort and forced herself to
her feet. The pain in her stomach was almost crippling. She
motioned for Pierre to close the door so she could clean up. When
she opened it, Claire gazed at her with a look both guarded and
surprised.

“How … interesting,” she said with a forced
smile, looking at her in reproof. “My how things change.”

She sashayed away. Sofia looked down at
herself. She looked decent in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. She
wasn’t dressed in skin-tight workout clothes like Claire, who
joined Damian as he trotted down the stairs for their daily
sparring session. Of course, she wasn’t nearly as smokin’ hot as
Claire either. Claire greeted him with a kiss on his cheek and a
look so smoldering it made Sofia blush. Damian glanced at the
redhead and touched her arm in affectionate greeting.

Sofia forced her attention to her list. She
had checked off three of the seven exercises she’d learned from the
books she read. She was so fatigued, she hurt everywhere.

“Pierre, I’m going to lay down. I’ve lost my
will to live today.”

“Very well, Ikira,” he said with his usual
stoicism. “If you decide to live, let me know.”

“I will.”

He followed the group to the courtyard to
spar. Nearly doubled over in pain, Sofia returned to her room. She
clutched her stomach as pain pierced her concentration. Darian was
crying, and her head hurt.

“Pierre
recommended
I see you. You are
so damn stubborn,” Damian snapped, pushing her door open. “What’s
the purpose of starving yourself? Jealousy?”

He closed the door and moved the laptop
Pierre had brought her to supplement her oracle research. He sat on
the bed beside her and pushed her onto her back. She strained, but
he planted one heavy hand on her chest.

“I’m not sleeping with her, Sofia,” he said
and sliced his wrist.

The scent of his blood overwhelmed any
objection she could make, and she snatched his arm. She drank
heavily and opened her eyes, surprised to see his eyes open and the
gold swirling within them. The tick in his jaw belied how tightly
his teeth were clamped.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“And?”

“And what?”

“I said I’m not sleeping with her.”

“Good for you.”

“Stubborn, infuriating woman.”

She gazed at him, completely aroused and
angry at the same time.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Bullshit.”

She rolled onto her stomach away from him,
blood flying with desire and heat.

“Gods, woman. In a different time,” he
muttered then swore. “When the common sense fairy smacks you upside
the head, you know where to find me.”

He left, as pissed as she was. She sighed. It
was getting harder and harder to deny what she felt towards him. In
the long silence that followed, she heard Darian’s sobs. She held
her head in her hands, tormented by his pain without understanding
how she was supposed to help a dead man.

“Please stop,” she whispered, wondering if
oracles could go crazy, too.

Unable to be alone with the man in her head,
she went to her library. Pierre returned a couple of hours later as
she as she checked off the fourth box on her list of oracle
self-training. He smelled of soap, and his hair was wet.

“You know the French are the kings and queens
of love,” he said and sat in his chair by the door. “I can help
you.”

“That’s the last thing I need.”

“You would be more pleasant if you fucked him
every once in awhile.”

“Wow, Pierre, that’s the most inappropriate
thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Forgive me, Ikira.”

By his tone, he didn’t give a damn what she
thought.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We
Europeans enjoy a more liberal form of commitment than you
Americans.”

“You sleep around.”

“Yes, and it’s very relaxing.”

“I don’t want to sleep with a bunch of
men.”

“
You
wouldn’t be permitted that
freedom, Ikira,” he almost scoffed. “But you have one man you can
sleep around with.”

“He wants Claire and probably has a private
brothel in town. Pierre, I’m some sort of monster killed by a
psychopath and resurrected that can’t eat real food,” she said
bitterly. “The last thing I need is to complicate things more.”

“It’s not that bad. Claire?” he tsked. “I
would not sleep with her. Damaged goods.”

“Pierre, you can sleep with whomever you
want, really.”

“I know. Why do you not ask him?”

“To sleep with me?”

“Oui.”

Because he would agree.
She mulled his
proposition and forced her gaze to the paper again.

5. Test ability to control skill on new
target.

There was one person she wanted to know more
about.

“Do you know where Claire is?”

“Oui.”

“Let’s go.”

He led her from the library, across the
courtyard, and into the far wing of the mansion she’d not yet
explored. It was a barracks for the Guardians, most of whom greeted
her with a quiet
good day, Ikira
as she passed. The wing
housed an indoor basketball court, indoor pool, a small game room,
and a huge theatre room where music blared from some action movie.
Claire sat beside another Guardian, watching the movie. Sofia
didn’t have time to plot how to approach her.

“Claire,” Pierre said, stooping to kiss her
cheek.

“Bonjour, mon amour,” she purred in
response.

“Ikira wanted to meet you.”

Claire rose, the smile freezing on her face
as she faced Sofia. She forced her own smile, noticing how Claire’s
gaze swept over her as if she were an uninvited insect in her
bedroom.

Claire.
Darian said again.

“Hello, Claire,” she said, extending a hand.
“I wasn’t able to meet you the other day when you stopped by. I’m …
“

Claire shook her hand, and the visions that
protruded into her thoughts floored her.

Czerno.

“… I’m Sofia,” she choked out. “I wanted to
welcome you.”

“Enchantee, Sofia. It’s my pleasure,” Claire
said. “Pierre will defend you well. Damian couldn’t have chosen a
better guard.”

“Babysitter,” Pierre corrected her.

“Exactly,” she agreed. “I didn’t have a
choice.”

“If you must be with a man, it’s good that
he’s French,” Claire said with a wink at Pierre. “Please excuse
me.”

Sofia stepped out of her way, trying hard to
digest what she’d seen.

Claire and Czerno in bed together.

“Sofi!” Damian’s call pulled her from the
vision replaying in her head. “C’mon!”

He waved her out of the theatre and led her
towards the mansion. She sensed his excitement and trailed,
troubled.

“Heya, Dust-man!”

Three men stood in the main foyer, two in the
same shade of brown as her bodyguard and a striking man in designer
jeans and an expensive sweater. He shook hands with Damian, a small
smile on his chiseled features. Dustin was lean and handsome with
clear, cool blue eyes and sharp, angular features. His hair was
sandy blonde, his skin golden. His noble features and cold, aloof
air gave her the impression of an ancient Greek prince.

“Good to see you, bro,” Damian said with
warmth she hadn’t seen him display towards anyone else.

“Better circumstances this time around,”
Dustin said with a glance at her.

“Hold the salt, Dust-man,” Damian warned.
“Sofia, this is Dustin, the commander of the western hemisphere. He
helped me rescue you from Czerno.”

Her face felt warm at the look both gave
her.

“It’s a pleasure, Ikira,” Dustin said and
held out his hand to her, palm up.

She looked at it curiously, then at
Damian.

“You haven’t taught her shit, have you?”
Dustin asked Damian.

“Not the traditional greeting.”

“Ikira, in our time, an oracle greeted all
visitors to the king’s palace to assess their loyalties to her
king. Visitors held out their hands like this,” he said, indicating
his outstretched hand. “It’s a sign of the ultimate respect. The
visitor is giving you an open invitation to his soul. You have the
option to touch me or not.”

She braced herself and placed her palm
against his. His memories were much like Damian’s: fuzzy home
videos with no sense of his future. She removed her hand. Dustin
assessed her in silence for a few seconds, and she had the feeling
his sharp gaze missed nothing.

“You’re better off than when I saw you last,”
he said at last and turned to Damian. “You got time to talk,
BFF?”

Sofia hid a smile at the term of endearment
issued from one rock of a man to another.

“Yep. Before we do, I need to discuss
something with both of you. Come.”

He motioned them both down the hall and into
his private study.

“Pierre, stay.”

Pierre obeyed and closed the doors behind
him.

“How’s Florida?” Damian asked, crossing to
his desk.

“Good. Looking forward to Christmas.”

“Don’t expect anything from Jule. He’ll never
remember Christmas. I already ordered your present.”

“That’s why I like you better.”

“Dusty likes presents,” Damian explained,
glancing at her.

“
Good
presents,” Dustin clarified.
“None of that shit you gave me last year.”

“You don’t get to pick. A present’s a
present.”

Sofia sat in one of the plush chairs, legs
pulled to her chest, and watched their brotherly exchange. Dustin
didn’t look like the kind of man who would like anything, let alone
presents. She glanced towards the door, mind on what she’d learned
earlier.