But this danger she exudes, this indestructible veneer she wears as if she's a goddess amongst mortals, is only a facade. An illusion to disguise what she truly is. A human. And no matter how hard she trains, no matter how prepared she may be, no matter what she and Amara may believe, as a human, Lena is and always will be prey.
I grind my teeth as a flash of heat flares within my veins. Clenching my hands into fists, I attempt to control the flames sparking at my fingertips from the memory of her terror that day in the alley. Of the broken devastation on her face when she alluded to her tortured past. In that moment, I have never wished for anything more than to find the males who stole her innocence and slaughter every last one of them. I can't even comprehend how cruel and evil someone must be to attack someone like her. Someone so beautiful and pure, so full of life. She's a human empath, for godssakes! There hasn't been a single instance in recorded history of a human being blessed by the gods. She should be revered and worshiped, coveted for the rare jewel that she is. Instead, they used her soft, weak, human body to fulfill their own perversions. Rape isn’t just a crime to the body, but an assault to the soul. I could see that pain writhing within her amethyst eyes, could feel the jagged scars created from such a vile act.
“His jewels are so dark,” Lena says, jerking me back into the moment. Hands on her hips with her head tilted back, she peers up at the face of the fifteen-span tall crystal statue of Rhaegal, the Shifter God.
Since gods bestow our Gifts along with our jewels, it's not surprising that theirs would manifest quite differently than ours. Rhaegal, for instance, doesn't have any starlight jewels. What he does have are blackish, copper jewels dotting his top eyelid and feathering outward until reaching his hairline. He’s also not limited to four or five Gifts like fae and immortals, but rather he’s Gifted in all. Lust, empath, death, nature, fire, and so on. The one similarity you can find between immortals and the gods is that our colored jewels are a direct reflection of our dominant gift, or for a god, what power they hold dominion over.
“I imagine it's difficult to find jewels the exact shade as the gods’,” I say, knowing Rhaegal’s jewels are dark, but doubting they’re that dark.
“I bet. Soooo, these are your gods.” A crease forms between her brow as she hums to herself, glancing from one statue to the next, scrutinizing them as if learning of them for the first time.
“Do you not know of them?” I ask. She's spoken of the gods before. Not favorably, of course, but I assumed she knew of them. Although that may have just been a vague mention of them. Maybe she's never received a proper education of the divine beings. Every other being throughout Vanyimar has been taught since birth, but I wouldn't be surprised if she was the exception. More often than not, Lena’s knowledge of the world seems to be lacking.
“Oh, I know all about them.” She chuckles bitterly. “I just don't worship them.”
I don’t actively worship them either, but I do believe in them. How could I not? I wouldn’t be where I am today without the Gifts they bestowed on me, and for that I'll be forever grateful. One would think as a human with a god’s Gift, she would be, too. Then again, from what I've surmised about her, her Gifts seem to be more of a hardship than a blessing.
“Who do you worship?”
“Myself.” She laughs, a playful glint to her eyes. “I’m kidding. I don't worship anyone. Why would I?”
“To receive their blessings.”
Her expressions shutters, hardening to steel as she stops before Desdemona’s statue and says in a voice so sinisterly quiet, I’m taken aback by the venom brimming within. “I could strap myself to an altar, offering my very life for their favor and they still wouldn't bless me. No.” She shakes her head, her features relaxing as she turns her back on the Goddess of Death. “I'll make better use of my time.”
Enjoying a companionable silence, neither of us says anything as we stroll past statue after statue. Keyara, the Goddess of Vengeance. Saxon, the God of Mischief. Alura, the Goddess of Lust and Love. Enya, the Goddess of Fire. The ground at their feet overflows with trinkets, presents, and sometimes even food and wine. Occasionally she stops to appraise one more closely than the others, but more often than not, Lena gives them a passing glance and continues on.
“Do you think they look like this?” I ask.
“They don’t,” she replies, sounding sure of herself. She caresses her fingers along the arm of Calix’s statue, smiling softly as she saunters past The God of Protection and Compassion. The very same god who blessed her with his empathic Gifts.
“No gifts for Faith,” she says, her lips turning down into a frown as she stops before the Goddess of Fate. Not a single offering lays at her feet.
“They say she's the cruelest of them all, spinning our fate as she sees fit.” Moving to her side, I brush my finger along hers. My skin hums with the contact as I look up at the face of the Goddess. Her alternating onyx and gold jewels glare against the otherwise opaque crystal.
Lena rolls her eyes. “She decides nothing. She can see and act, but more often than not, she remains neutral. At least she feels, unlike most of the other gods.”
I've heard this before. Some believe the gods to be cold and unfeeling, void of a soul. But they’re usually only spoken of by humans and some fae, followers of the True God.
“What about Uriella?” Flicking my wrist, I gesture towards the statue with the most presents. Piling one atop the other, her offerings burst over the path, spilling onto the grass to circle around her.
“Oh, she's the worst of them all,” Lena says, strolling towards her. “Whereas most of the gods are incapable of truly feeling, she chooses not to.” Lines bracketing her lips, Lena glares up at the statue. “Goddess of Light, Mother of All. She is a mother of nothing.”
“They say she birthed a son from her very loins, the True God.”
Lena snaps her gaze to mine and says in a tone so surprisingly bitter, a knot forms between my brows. “Yet she abandoned him. Spurned him from her body as if an unwanted seed. That doesn't make her a mother. It makes her a broodmare.”
“You really shouldn't say things like that.” Grimacing, I peer up at the cloudless sky, waiting for the goddess to smite me. Or her lover Azazel, the God of Darkness, the Father of Creation. “I imagine Uriella would take offense.”
“I've called her much worse things than that and nothing has ever happened to me. I doubt that’ll change now.” Cocking her head to the side, Lena bites her lips on a laugh. “Are you afraid she'll portal her golden ass down here and strike you down?”
“I'm sure she can do that just fine from her throne in the Gods Realm,” I reply dryly.
Lena tosses her head back and laughs, uninhibited and throaty, her eyes sparkling in glee. “Don't worry. You have nothing to fear from her while I'm near. I’ll protect you.” Eyes crinkling, she shows all her teeth in a blinding smile as a spark of joy hurtles through the bond.
Gods, she really is beautiful. So much so, it physically hurts to look at her. Her smooth skin, her curvaceous body, her blood red, heart-shaped lips. And those eyes. Those brilliant amethyst eyes that seem so ancient, yet so young at the same time. They're like a drug, ensnaring me with just a look, dragging me down into their depths with whispered promises of pleasure and warmth. I've tried to fight their beguilement. To resist her allure, but I don't think I have the strength to do it anymore. Truth be told, I’m not sure I even want to.
I shouldn't be watching her like this. What I should be doing is questioning her about the guard. What the traitor said about her and this so-called Gods Cursed King is concerning, and I have no doubt in my mind that she has information that could prove useful to me. She may even know what that strange diamond power was. But Griffin is right. She doesn't trust me. Not yet, at least, and she won't give up that information easily.
Before I met her, I would've considered her secrecy a betrayal, but after meeting her and learning of her Gifts, as well as the snippets about her abuse, I can no longer fault her over such a thing. I'd do the same if our roles were reversed.
Yet, even though she wants to keep her secrets and has good reason to, I can't leave it at that. I have to press her on it, even if she resists. I came to the market today intending to do exactly that. I even alluded to the others that I planned on forcing her or manipulating her into doing so. But I could never do that to her. She's already had others force her to their will. I'll not become another one. I doubt the others thought I would anyway. If they did, I suspect they would've tried to stop me somehow. I'm not the only one who has become attached to her. Not to mention the attachments they've begun to form with the others.
Griffin and Amara’s weird hate-friendship. Kace and Tristan could be twins, for how similar they are. Even Aurora is in a romantic relationship with Tristan.
Nevertheless, regardless of what friendships or relationships we've begun to build with one another, I still need to discover what Lena knows. Her life, my family's life, this whole kingdom may depend on what secrets she holds, and that I cannot allow.
With a rope wrapped around his hand, a human man, along with his wife and son tow a goat to the foot of Uriella’s statue. Lena steps back to give them more space and bumps into me, aligning her body with mine. I instinctively wrap my arm around her waist and splay my hand on her stomach. At the feel of her bare skin, my heart instantly speeds up. A crackling sensation speeds through me as I drag my thumb in a slow circle, tracing more of those circular scars. So soft, yet firm. Warm. I bury my nose into her silky hair, and the moment I inhale her cinnamon, vanilla, and cherry scent, the warmth within me hurtles into a blistering heat. Cock hardening in an instant, I wrap my other arm around her waist and tug her tighter to my chest.
I’m so lost in the feel of her that it takes a moment to realize that not only is she unresponsive, but her whole body has stiffened and she's staring straight ahead as if trying to ignore my presence. Ice douses the lust within my veins and my cock deflates as I step to her side, searching her face along with the bond. Lena cut it off earlier, but a sliver of her still seeps through. I blow out a relieved breath when I only feel her confusion and concern, and nothing to signify my touch was unwelcome.
“What are they doing?” she asks, her brows bunched in confusion as she watches the father usher the goat forward and crouch before it.
Seeing the humans’ sunken cheeks and rail-thin bodies garbed in tattered linens, I reply, “They’re making a sacrifice to the goddess.”
“The goat?” she asks, her eyes rounded. “They look like they haven't eaten in weeks!”
I purse my lips and breathe in a long breath through my nostrils, wishing we had come at a later time so she didn't have to witness such suffering. “Which is probably why they're sacrificing it. By offering their most prized possession, they’re hoping Uriella will be more likely to grant them her favor.”
