Immortally Yours, An Urban Fantasy Romance (Monster MASH, Book 1) (31 page)

He tugged me to a sitting position, and I followed him out to the kitchen. "That's right. I forgot the number one reason why I'm here."
 

We both knew I was lying through my teeth. We were barely out of bed and I already wanted him again.
 

He opened the fridge to reveal shelves full of meat, cheese, and fruit.
 

"Ooh...sliced pineapple," I said, nudging past him.
 

"We could have fun with that fruit fixation of yours," he said drily. He stood with his hip braced against the counter. God, he was beautiful. I felt him down to my toes.
 

I popped a slice of fresh, tart pineapple into my mouth, enjoying this playful side of him. "At ease, soldier."
 

He closed the space between us. "Just so you know, you're the first person ever—mortal or immortal—to take me prisoner."
 

"Sorry about that."
 

"No, you're not," he said, stealing a slice of pineapple.
 

I fed him another slice, the sticky juice running down my arm as he sucked at my fingers. "Jeffe said you'd be out for a three days at least."
 

He laughed. "Jeffe underestimated me."
 

No kidding.
 

"Did it hurt?" I asked. I'd never intended to cause him pain.
 

"It was strange," he said, examining the skin at the back of one very perfectly sculpted shin. "I was dizzy, I tried to take a step, then—nothing."
 

Wait. That was unheard of for an immortal. "You didn't feel them moving you?" It was actually good, because Jeffe might have dropped his head a few times. "You didn't dream?"
 

He searched his memory. "No," he said, surprised.
 

"Amazing," I said, leaned against the counter, my mind going a mile a minute.
 

"Don't act so happy," he said, brows furrowed as he commandeered my fruit bowl.
 

"Do you know what this means?" I asked, ideas tumbling over and over in my mind. "We might be able to develop an anesthetic that works on you people."
 

I opened the lid on the trash container in the corner, looking for my discarded medical jacket to see if it had a pocket light. "What is this? An incinerator?"
 

"Yes."
 

Lovely. We had a junkyard and the VIPs had incinerators.
 

I pointed a finger at his bare chest. "I want you in the clinic tomorrow."
 

"No problem." He looked at me with enough admiration to make me blush. "It would be amazing if you discovered an anesthetic."
 

"I'd like to discover an end to the war."
 

He nodded, his mouth twisting. "You didn't need to knock me out."
 

"You were going to follow me," I pointed out. I appreciated his need to be involved with the people around him, but, "you could have influenced the prophecy." It was a fine line, one I didn't intend to cross.
 

He frowned. "What's with you and this fear?"
 

I sighed, the burden of it weighing me down.
 

"Tell me," he said. It was more of a plea than a demand. He wanted to understand.
 

So did I.
 

"I didn't... It..." I couldn't form the words. My voice cracked as I tried in vain to say some thing coherent. Letting out a heavy breath, I gave it another shot. "Look, I tried to stop this war," I said, my voice thick as lead. God, I could barely look at him. How could I explain how horribly I'd failed? "A few months after I arrived here, after I saw the death and destruction, I tried to be the one." It had sounded so damn simple.
A healer whose hands can touch the dead will receive a bronze dagger.
"I could see the dead. I figured that was close enough. All I needed was a dagger."
 

"So you tried to get one?" Galen asked.
 

I crossed my arms over my chest, embarrassed. "I ordered a bronze dagger off eBay."
 

He barked out a laugh.
 

"What?" I shot back. "You can find anything on eBay."
 

He couldn't seem to argue that.
 

"You don't know how hard it was," I said, staring at a pile of purple and gold pillows on the other side of the counter. "I spent a year's salary to bribe an operator at computer command central."
 

"You're lucky you didn't get caught," he said. Computer access was restricted to approved personnel only. I could have gone to prison.
 

It had been a gamble on so many levels. "The day it arrived in camp, disaster struck." I closed my eyes, trying to block the pain of it. "My home in New Orleans was wiped away, my father was killed, and the rest of the city was chewed up and spit out by a hurricane."
 

He touched my uninjured shoulder. "I'm sorry."
 

Me, too.
 

"I'd heard that messing with a prophecy might have consequences. I never imagined how terrible they could be." I shook my head and pulled back. "I don't want to make the same mistake again."
 

He leaned closer. "Listen to me—"
 

But I was beyond hearing at that point. "I caused a failure. I killed thousands of people, including my own father. And I'm not about to let you or anyone else tell me I should push this."
 

I was Catholic. I'd confessed to Father McArio. He'd taken the knife and forgiven me. But I didn't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself.
 

Galen was quiet for a long moment. "It wasn't the right time."
 

"I know that. And I know this could be the right time. But I'm not going to force anything." I took his arm and held on. "This has to happen naturally."
 

He nodded. "I understand. We'll wait. We'll be strategic." I knew what it cost him to hold back, which made me appreciate it even more.
 

"We'll listen to the next prophecy no matter what," I vowed. If we played it right, we could have everything.
 

"We will," he said, drawing close. "No matter what."
 

He nibbled at my ear. I couldn't think with him doing that. Then again, maybe that was the idea.
 

"Trust me," he said, trailing kisses down to my collarbone.
 

His touch undid me. "I do," I murmured, catching him in a searing kiss. The thrill of it slapped through me, the intensity of what I'd finally admitted and what this man meant to me.
 

Hands everywhere, we tried to make it back to the bedroom and made it as far as the couch. He was so powerful, so amazing. I cupped his perfect ass and rubbed against him. God, he felt so good. Having him here like this made everything worth it.
 

He drew back and we both watched his hands as they smoothed up my sides, his thumbs caressing my breasts. He stared at me with raw intensity, as if he couldn't quite believe we were here, at last—together.
 

This was the man who believed in the impossible. He'd made me believe, too.
 

I pulled him toward me as he shoved us both back down on the couch. Hands searching, bodies sliding, I poured all my desire and love and fear into that moment, sharing it with him. Being with him.
 

It felt so good, so right. I drew my hand down between us until I found the full length of him. I remembered the feel of him inside me, of touching him as he made love to me. I rolled my hips against him. He shuddered and groaned against my mouth.
 

His attention wandered south and it was my turn to tremble. Molten pleasure wound through me as I worked his cock, reveling in the feel of him kissing my breasts.
 

A banging on the tent post made me open my eyes. "Knock knock!" Horace called. "Is Petra in there?"
 

I buried my head against Galen's crisp, clipped hair. "No."
 

"Go away," he groaned.
 

"Kosta needs her," Horace said. "It's urgent."
 

So was this. "I'll be out in a minute," I called to Horace.
 

Galen kissed my shoulder, his warm breath sending a new wave of lust though me. "Tell Kosta to make it quick."
 

We sat up, still entwined, my breasts rubbing against his bare chest. Whoa boy.
 

I threw my head back. "Oh frick. I don't have any clothes."
 

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" Galen unwound himself from me. "Hold on a minute," he said, heading for the bedroom.
 

He came back with clean clothes—a pair of his fatigue pants and a black undershirt.
 

"Thanks," I said, standing.
 

His eyes caught on the blue swirling Fleur-de-Z tattoo on my hip.
 

I slipped into the pants. His fatigues were huge. Didn't matter. Once I had them on, I pulled on the shirt.
 

Meanwhile the pants fell down. They had adjustable waist tabs, so I ratcheted those in as far as they'd go. With that done, I was the proud owner of a pair of special ops hip huggers.
 

"All dressed," I said, trying to tuck in his massive T-shirt.
 

"Now, that is damn sexy." Humor glinted in his eyes.
 

Yeah, yeah, the shirt was more like a nightgown. I gave up and tied the excess material into a low knot at my waist.
 

He watched me as I tightened the knot on the shirt. "God, you're beautiful."
 

"I love a man who's biased." It felt good to smile again. "Don't go anywhere, soldier."
 

He walked toward the door, flattening me against it with a searing kiss. "Don't be too long."
 

Chapter Twenty-One

Horace hovered next to me, bobbing up and down as if to hurry me along. "Kosta is very upset."
 

"He can join the party," I said, tugging up Galen's pants while walking. I'd been about to have a lot of fun.
 

A burst of laughter echoed from the officers' club down the way.
 

At least they were holed up in there and not watching our little parade.
 

Horace's golden eyebrows speared downward, as if he were chewing on a thought. "I'm glad you're alive," he said, as if he wasn't quite at home with the sentiment.
 

"Thanks, bud." I still owed him those pennies.
 

He zipped in front of me, sprinkling a fine gold dust. His pointy ears were drawn back. "Wait," he said, blocking the way, "while we're alone, I must tell you to watch your step." He glanced behind him. "Thaïs thinks you died. He told Kosta you were attacked."
 

I stared at Horace. He nodded vigorously as the truth sank in.
 

"Unbelievable." I fought the urge to punch something. After all Thaïs just put me through. I wanted to scream. "He nearly killed everyone. Now he's trying to play the victim?"
 

Because he thought there were no witnesses.
 

The world had gone to hell and left me holding the bag.
 

Horace gave a half shrug, half wince. "He
is
the son of Caerus," he said, as if that answered everything.
 

"Oh well, there you go." I threw my hands up in the air. I wanted out. If I could walk back home I would. And I'd take Galen with me. To Hades with the immortal army.
 

Horace just flittered there and watched.
 

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Who in the hell is Caerus?" I could never keep track of the thousands of gods.
 

"God of opportunity." Horace glanced across the road toward Kosta's office. "Come on."
 

Oh yeah, sure. No sense keeping the immortals waiting. I shoved my fists in my pockets and started walking. "That lying, stinking..."
 

"Asshole," Horace added.
 

Yeah, he could say it, but he didn't mean it. My gut clenched. In the end, it was the immortals versus the mortals. Always had been, always would be. The gods thought they could do whatever the hell they wanted, screw the consequences.
 

It was what was wrong with this world and this war and well, hell, my entire life.
 

I gritted my teeth. "God damned gods."
 

"Don't go bringing the rest of us into it." Horace fluttered beside me on golden wings. He planted his hands on his hips. "You have to admit Thaïs made a valid assumption. No mortal should have survived a direct assault by an armed enemy unit."
 

I sent him a withering snarl as the truth of it settled over me. Thaïs never planned on me making it out of there alive.
 

"This day's just getting better and better." I was a mortal, which meant expendable to a lot of these gods. It was yet another reason why I wanted away from this place and out of this war.
 

"Now you're Kosta's surprise for Thaïs." Horace halted outside the door to Kosta's outer offices and pumped a fist, as if that was some kind of a victory.
 

Jesus Christ on a biscuit. "Is that what this war is for you people? Entertainment?"
 

He didn't even have the decency to look shamed.
 

I banged inside.
 

"Petra!" Shirley whipped her chair away from a desk littered with at least half a dozen coffee cups.
 

She rushed over to us, giving me a giant hug and a mouth full of hair. I gave her a pat on the back as I got a huge whiff of cigarettes and coffee.