Damian's Oracle Part 12

"Try what? Sparring?"

s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g and drinking.

His voice was as clear in her mind as if he spoke the words. She sucked in a sharp breath, at once confused and thrilled. Without looking at her, he strode through the doors into the courtyard.

"I do not understand you," she whispered after him. His simple words turned her inside out, and yet, what would he want with a woman like her? If he was what Han claimed king, lord, master of the entire d.a.m.n universe wouldn't he take the supermodel of his choice?

Target of opportunity. Maybe that's what she was.

Sofia shook her head. If she was an oracle, she needed to learn to be one. She retreated to the study and began to search the shelves for books on oracles. Many of the books looked ancient with some were written in different languages. One volume caught her attention.

Oracle, See thyself home.

She collected what she could find and perched in a chair, reading until sundown, when the hunger pangs. .h.i.t her again. They were always worse at night, when Damian's draw was overwhelming. The thought of him without his shirt on, or better yet, naked ...

"No way in h.e.l.l," she breathed.

She gritted her teeth and forced her attention to the stack of books, jotting down notes on her notepad. There appeared to be no such thing as a do-it-yourself manual for seeing the future, but the books had a few good - if bizarre - anecdotal stories that gave her ideas. Armed with her notes, she emerged from the library.

The mansion was quiet, and she roamed until she found where everyone was. The men were at dinner, including Damian. The scents of what looked like pizza night taunted her, and she stood peering through the cracked door at the long dinner table.

Bitterness slithered through her.

She was even different from them. Her reading shed some insight, saying that when an Oracle died, she could be brought back to life by a blood bond. There weren't many details, and she could only guess that this was not the normal case, as some stories mentioned Oracles attending great feasts.

She watched the men eating happily around the table and left the mansion for the gardens. A cold wind comforted her as she sat alone. The moon was covered by clouds, and she crumpled the notes she'd taken. Tears began to spill again, and she began to understand how Darian felt, utterly alone and abandoned in the corner of her mind.

"You should go inside," Damian's voice was soft.

"I don't belong there. I don't belong anywhere."

"You belong here," he said resolutely. "You were forced into a transition without being prepared for it. I'm sorry for that."

"But are you sorry for what I am?"

"Not at all."

He pried the notes from her hand.

"What is this?"

"I'm trying to learn to be an oracle. I read a couple of books today."

He studied it.

"There's no dummies guide," she added. "I think I can teach myself how to keep from seeing deaths whenever I touch someone."

She sneaked a look at his face, surprised to see the warm smile there as he read through her notes.

"Have you tried any of this?"

"No."

"Try it."

She took it back. She wanted to reach out to him, but she was ashamed even to look at him. Would he soon grow tired of her showing up at his door, demanding a meal?

"I don't want to use you," she voiced out loud.

"Pardon?"

"I don't want to use you for ... for your blood. I don't like being dependent on anyone. It'll get old for you one day."

"It won't."

"How could it not? It's just the way things are," she insisted. "I'm an addict. You're the supplier. What if you get a new job someday and stop selling drugs?"

"I never thought of it that way," he admitted, chuckling. "I am what I am, and you are what you are. I don't second guess that."

"I'm not as confident as you. My existence relies on you giving me blood. Sometimes I think you'd rather eat me than talk to me."

She hugged herself and faced him, agitated.

"I don't like being hungry and not being able to go to the kitchen."

"I understand."

By the reserved note in his voice, he did. If she closed her eyes, she would see the black memories crossing through his mind, but she allowed him his privacy.

"I will never make you beg or deny you what you need," he said, gaze dark. "If you're hungry, visit the kitchen. I won't say no."

"I don't want this."

"It's not your choice. You must learn to trust me."

Trust!

She almost laughed. Kidnapping, involuntary resurrection - these were not the foundations trust was built on!

Damian held out his hand to her. She hesitated while her silver eyes swirled with hypnotic slowness. His terrified, brave little oracle was entrancing, the shimmer that caught his attention when they met much stronger with their bond.

She was trying. He never thought something so simple could please him so much. He couldn't flush away the dark memories from his time after the Schism when he'd been enslaved by humans intent on using his G.o.d-powers, but he could protect her from a similar fate. She moved forward, taking refuge from him in his own arms, a reality that amused him.

"Damian, I'm a monster, even in your world," her heartbreak was in her voice, and he squeezed her closer to him. He didn't think he'd ever met a human or Guardian as honest as this one.

"At least you're a cute monster," he replied.

She pulled away, her anger rippling through him. He didn't know how something so innocuous could p.i.s.s her off, but then again, thousands of years hadn't given him much insight into a woman's mind.

"You're a jerk, Damian!" she said, glaring at him before running away.

"You better run, little girl," he growled, irritated by her response.

His gaze followed her until she disappeared into the house, and he shook his head. He let her get away with so much! She had no idea how his world operated! He didn't understand the ins and outs of their blood bond, but he knew how much she rocked his world when she drank from him earlier.

In a different time, he'd simply command her to take her place at his side and in his bed as his mate and slake his heated blood whenever he felt the need. The ancient kings - his father and brother included - had regularly taken oracles as their queens. He began to understand why and couldn't help but feel frustrated at having to find a way to win her instead of command her.

His phone dinged.

Ikir, may I enter your home?

He gazed at the message, puzzled, before he realized who it was.

At your risk, Watcher.

"I knocked this time, ikir."

He turned to see the small man with bright green eyes that glowed in the moonlight. Damian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall around the trickling fountain at his back.

"I admit, this technology makes it much easier for me to communicate," the Watcher said, gazing at his phone.

Damian raised an eyebrow, not about to humor the otherworldly harbinger of bad news.

"I hope you don't spend enough time here to learn to use too much technology," he said pointedly. "Whatsup, Watcher?"

"The Grey G.o.d is coming."

"The what?"

"I had to wait until you found your oracle to tell you. I do apologize," the Watcher said. "If you hadn't found her, he wouldn't come. But now he will."

"What the f.u.c.k does that mean?"

"To contain the uh, coaching being done, the Original Beings are ordaining a new G.o.d to act as a sort of referee here on earth who will have the ability to bridge the physical and divine worlds."

"Y'all p.i.s.sed really them off this time, didn't you?"

"Yes, Ikir, I think we did."

"What is this Grey G.o.d?"

"I can't tell you, but you must be on the lookout for him. You have to protect him."

"Didn't your Original friends give him G.o.d-powers?"

"It's hard to explain."

Damian waited. The Watcher returned his gaze to his phone, reading a text.

"Fascinating," he murmured.

"You gonna try to explain?" Damian prompted.

"No, ikir."

He studied the small man infatuated with his phone. He'd hoped never to see the Watcher again.

"I've a.s.signed you a ringtone," the Watcher said in satisfaction.

"Didn't think you Watchers liked us lesser beings contacting you."

"In an emergency."

"Is that your way of saying something bad's gonna happen, and I'll need to call you?"

"No, ikir," the Watcher said, looking up. "But in case it does ..."

"Right," Damian said, not amused by the cryptic responses.

"Will you tell your team captains I may visit them?"

Despite his suspicion, he chuckled.

"You can stop with the basketball a.n.a.logies," he said. "You mean Dusty and Jule?"

"My apologies, ikir. I wanted to explain things to you in a way you'd be able to understand."

"Yeah, we're all idiots here on planet earth."

The Watcher smiled in response, and Damian knew well enough his kind truly thought themselves superior.

"I'll tell them not to kill you on sight, if that's what you're asking," he continued. "But I'll warn you as well: if you speak in riddles to Dusty, he'll cut your heart out. And Jule may smile at you, but you better disappear fast if you tell him something he doesn't like."

"I understand," the Watcher said. "I want only the opportunity to speak to Dusty, if needed. Jule's still on what you might call the otherworldly s.h.i.tlist."

Damian straightened, at his limit with the cryptic nonsense.

"Anything else you wanna avoid telling me?" he snapped.

"No, ikir."

"Walk yourself out."

He strode away. He felt the Watcher's presence disappear as he entered the mansion. His phone dinged again, and he glanced down.

Thank u, ikir.

"Just when things were complicated enough ... " he muttered and retreated to his study for his evening telecon with Dusty and Jule.