Chapter One
“When the heart is right, the mind and the body will follow.”
—Coretta Scott King
“Hi Ben!”
“Hi Agnes. Did you get your gutter properly cleaned? I think that’s the root cause of your leaks. All that melted snow and rain accumulating where it shouldn’t.”
“I sure did. Worked like a charm! Thanks for the advice,” the elderly woman crinkled her eyes at Ben until they disappeared into her round, ruddy cheeks.
“So knowledgeable for someone so young,” she cooed, looking him up and down. “And handsome to boot! When are you gonna settle down with a lucky girl, Ben? You know my niece—”
“I’m glad to hear the problem is fixed,” Ben hastily cut her off, lengthening his strides to walk (run) away at the mere mention of setting him up.
“I need to get to this thing,” he explained vaguely. “Mama Bear’s waiting for me at the diner.”
She was and she wasn’t. But the half truth didn’t hurt anyone.
Mama Bear, aka Estelle Martin to humans, aka Ishtar Anshar to Ben and his family and Immortal friends, was actually his biological grandmother.
Who was also an immortal Dark Princess who’d been born thousands of years ago. She had the ability to shapeshift into three forms—a plump, elderly, grandmotherly woman who loved cooking and baking in particular, her real preternaturally youthful form, and a snow leopard, both giant when she was feeling aggressive or protective, and the miniature kitty version when she was feeling cuddly and playful.
She was the resident baker of Drink of Me café a few days a week to supply the restaurant with heavenly smelling and tasting pastries. If he didn’t get there before nine, especially on a Friday, he might not get any until the next batch was ready. They always sold out literally minutes after they came out of the oven.
“Well, say hi to Estelle for me, honey! Bye!” Agnes called to his retreating back.
He waved over his shoulder without looking behind him. But he hadn’t walked two steps before another voice reached him.
“Oh, hi Ben!” a woman hailed as she was crossing the main street that cut through the tiny town.
It would be rude to break into a jog to avoid her, so Ben slowed his steps and let her catch up to him.
She stopped right in front of him as if she meant to block his path. He almost expected her to widen her stance and extend her arms akimbo for that very purpose, acting as a human stop sign.
“I-I was wondering if I can come by later to pick up s-some firewood. It always s-surprises me how cold it can get at night, even when we’re not in w-winter. I-I’m running low and—”
“Of course, Meredith,” he answered agreeably, before the blush went any higher on her cheeks.
Meredith was one of the more recent transplants to the Yukon valley, an English teacher at the only school in town, which covered all grades, pre-K to twelve. She lived alone in a small house Ben’s friends helped build. She was mostly self-sufficient, but occasionally she needed help with things that required hard labor, like making sure she had enough firewood to keep warm eleven months out of the year.
Ben chopped wood every morning out of habit and as a form of exercise. It supplied his grandfather’s woodshop as well as enough firewood to stock a good portion of the village. People stopped by the homestead to pick up what they needed for free all the time.
“I’m going to be out and about all day. Just go on back and take what you need,” he added, lest she planned her visit in hopes of seeing him.
Meredith was shy, but he’d have to be blind and stupid to miss her interest. She always turned the color of lobster if she engaged in conversation with him for more than five seconds. Between the blush, the stutter and the holding of breath, Ben made sure he removed himself from her immediate vicinity at the earliest possible moment.
And while Ben was often accused of being clueless by his best friend Annie when it came to interactions with the opposite sex, he really wasn’t. He just chose not to catch any of the hints or amorous lobs thrown his way.
He gave Meredith a small friendly smile, which froze her effectively where she stood, and deftly sidestepped around her to continue toward the café two blocks down.
He was an old pro by now at avoiding the well-meaning folk of the Yukon valley trying to pair him off with their friends and relatives, or in Meredith’s case, snare him for themselves. It was important to divert and distract with other topics the moment a hint of dating came into a conversation. And then, if that didn’t work, beat a speedy retreat. Finally, during the whole operation, one must avoid eye contact if at all possible.
He made the mistake of looking into the eyes of a giddy match-maker before, and the effect was akin to a prized buck caught in a hunter’s headlights. He couldn’t recall the ready excuses on the tip of his tongue, and was promptly ambushed into a blind date.
Although, they weren’t really “blind,” given he knew every single inhabitant in the territory his family and the rest of their Immortal friends had settled almost two decades ago now.
He grew up here. This was home.
Unfortunately for Ben, he possessed the unwanted title of “most eligible bachelor” within two-hundred-thousand square miles. Girls, and occasionally boys, started dogging his heels the moment he hit puberty.
Before that, he was more popular with adults, especially the elderly. He loved hearing stories about the interesting lives they’d lived. Unlike other children his age, he didn’t play team sports, didn’t belong to cliques at school, didn’t obsess over electronic devices and numb his mind with video games.
He was a human with a Pure soul, if Sophia, the Pure Ones’ Queen, was to be believed. He had a very old soul. Perhaps that explained his love of ancient history and his penchant for deep conversations with beings much older than his physical age. Including thousand-year-old Immortals.
Once he hit puberty, all bets were off. Suddenly, hormonally-charged youths became exceedingly interested in him. Well, interested in his looks and his physicality in any case, not in him. Not really. And once he shot past six feet and broadened in the chest and shoulders, it was open season for all ages.
It was most inconvenient.
And aggravating.
And embarrassing, honestly.
But Ben always maintained a pleasant, sunny demeanor and never took for granted the misplaced affection people heaped upon him. It took courage to express one’s desires and feelings for another. He would never spurn these desires thoughtlessly, though his rejections tended to be more blunt and direct when the desires were merely superficial and if the admirer was too aggressive.
As he grew older, now nearing thirty, and especially after he discovered the truth of his past lives, or at least one of them, he became more reticent.
His heart hurt.
His mind felt tormented.
His body ached in ways he didn’t understand.
Oh, he understood the need for sexual release, that’s for sure. In these instant-gratification modern times, an almost-thirty-year-old male virgin was probably one in a billion.
But Ben’s soul was born far, far, before his current physical incarnation. And it was Pure besides.
He wondered whether he was held to the same Cardinal Rules of the Pure Ones, despite still being human—where a person died an excruciating death within thirty days if he or she made love with someone who did not reciprocate their feelings.
“Make love” were the key words, by Ben’s deduction. He didn’t think the Cardinal Rule applied to Pure Ones who simply had sex without deeper emotions involved, but he didn’t know any of that Kind who’d successfully tested the theory.
Besides, using modern terminology, he rather thought that Pure Ones were demisexuals, especially if they’d been born with Pure souls the first time around, rather than reincarnated. Unlike Dark Ones, who were the exact opposite.
For himself, he’d never been sexually attracted to anyone, despite being surrounded by beings who were eternally youthful, with superhuman strength and beauty. He simply wasn’t built that way. Like his father Gabriel, and his grandfather Tal-Telal, he was certain he would only ever want one.
It didn’t matter whether they were male or female, or everything in between. He would only ever desire his soulmate.
He just hadn’t met them yet.
Except…
Lately, his body needed more.
His own hands were not enough. The release he brought himself felt inadequate. Empty. His body only burned hotter afterwards.
Demanding.
Longing.
He was strung so tight these days, he felt ever on the verge of snapping. Breaking. He felt like a pressure cooker about to blow its lid.
“Hey Ben. Your usual back booth is open,” Mike said when he entered the café, pulling him out of his thoughts.
She jerked her head toward the spot, her arms full of used dishes to take to the back.
“Go have a seat, babe. I’ll get your usual started.”
She winked at him flirtatiously before spinning around, and Ben smiled.
Mike looked like a punk-rock Barbie, and she flirted shamelessly with both men and women of all ages. It was part of her charm. Ben knew not to take her seriously.
Despite her vast appreciation of both sexes, according to Maddie, who co-owned the café with her best friends, Mike was very selective about her partners. When she took one, the relationship usually lasted a couple of years. But in all the years he’d known her, she had yet to make any partnership permanent.
To each their own. Ben couldn’t imagine taking one partner, never mind many, over any length of time.
A couple minutes after he sat down at his booth, the server came with his usual hot drink and breakfast proteins.
But it wasn’t Mike.
The woman plunked his extra-large cup of latte down on the table unceremoniously without a word, followed by his plate of scrambled eggs and homemade sausage, and a separate dish with a fresh-out-of-the-oven cinnamon roll.
“Thank you, uh—”
For the life of him, Ben could never recall her name. She’d worked here for three years by now; he saw her regularly when he came to the café. And yet, each time, he had to look at her name tag to recall her name.
“—Eve,” he hastily finished before darting his eyes back to her face to see if she noticed his fumble with her name.
He had no issues remembering everyone else’s name. He’d always been good with names and faces, and possessed a nearly photographic memory.
Eve was such a simple name. Why couldn’t he ever recall it in relation to this particular woman?
She didn’t deign to reply, her face blank of emotion and interest. Half a second later, she was gone again, heading back to the counter where other orders needed fulfilling.
For a brief flash, Ben’s brain captured an image of her face and figure:
Nondescript features framed by plain brown hair in a pale face. Not ivory, not milky, not alabaster. Just pale. And just brown. A relatively small-boned figure with thin arms, spindly neck and no discernable curves in the front or back. The apron she had on was loosely tied, so he couldn’t gage the nip of her waist or the flare of her hips.
And then, just like that, the image was gone again. As if he hadn’t just seen her a second ago.
What was it about her that always made him forget?
It didn’t help that she never stuck around for more than the requisite time to do her duties. She rarely spoke to him, and when she did, it was always in a monotone, forgettable voice.
It was almost as if she wasn’t really there. A mere impression of a person. A shadow of the real thing.
But she made the best hot drinks, according to Ben’s Uncle Ere, especially if there was foam to decorate with.
Reminded of his hunger, Ben looked down at his hearty breakfast. He noticed that his eggs and sausage were arranged in the semblance of a happy face, with roasted potato chunks for hair. And in the thick foam of his latte was the intricate drawing of a cat.
He squinted and took a closer look.
No, it wasn’t a cat.
It was the face of a mighty tiger.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
“You’re a weird one, friend.”
Eve wasn’t particularly surprised or bothered by this out-of-the-blue observation.
Mike tended to make similar comments about her regularly. They’d been acquaintances and coworkers for three years now, yet Mike continued to find her odd. Eve empathized. She continued to find humans odd as well.
She didn’t respond. Didn’t think one was required. It was only the truth, after all.
“I’ve seen pretty much every resident of this valley come through this café,” Mike went on. “And every single one of them can’t help but smile and light up when they see Ben. Even if it’s just from afar. He’s special, ya know?”
They stood side by side behind the front counter, leaning against it, as they spent the few minutes of a rare lull during their busiest time of the morning to simply take things in and people watch. One of Eve’s favorite activities.
People watching was infinitely better than watching the second-hand TV in her small apartment upstairs. It was why she used to spend all of her idle time in the Celestial Realm looking into the Mirror Pond, to watch the lives of mortals unfold across distance and time.
Reality, if not “better” than fiction, was always more fascinating to her. You never knew what might happen. The future wasn’t written. Even if Fate and Destiny guided people, their will was their own.
And every once in a while, people surprised her.
Eve hummed noncommittally, which was all the encouragement Mike needed to further expound.
“Been that way ever since he was a boy.”
Hmm. So they were still on the topic of that human.
“Probably born that way,” Mike murmured thoughtfully. “There’s something about him that awes and attracts, don’t you think? Even if you don’t want to shag him.”
Eve slid a questioning glance toward one of her best acquaintances. She didn’t exactly have friends. In order to have those, one would have to be…well…friendly.
Mike quirked a corner of her mouth mockingly.
“Well, everyone wants to shag him if they thought they had a snowball’s chance in hell, but I think even the most amorous admirers know where they stand with him.”
Eve arched a brow, and Mike understood her question perfectly. She absolutely adored Mike’s perceptiveness.
“Who, me? Nah. I’ve never been attracted in that way. I’ve known him since he was ten years old. I’m old enough to be his mother.”
As if realizing that she was impugning her own sexual prowess, she straightened slightly and added, “Not that age has anything to do with attraction between two people. But I’ve always felt protective of him. We all do—me, Maddie, Yaz. We consider ourselves his fairy godmothers. We just want nothing but good for our Ben. The very best.”
Eve gave a nod of understanding.
Ben had that effect on people. Either they wanted to be with him, bask in his light, or they wanted to protect him. From what, it wasn’t clear. After all, the six-and-a-half-feet leanly muscular warrior looked like he was more than capable of handling himself.
In fact, she knew exactly how capable he was. He successfully completed every mission she’d sent him on thus far. Despite being a human without Gifts.
“He attracts and repels at the same time,” Mike went on, gazing at their object of interest consideringly.
“Almost sheepishly, he does that. Like—‘I’m sorry I’m so hot you can’t help but get horny around me, and I’m also sorry anything physical between us will never happen. It’s not you, it’s me. Let’s be friends instead.’”
Mike snorted at her own assessment, which was kind of on point.
“Who can resist?”
Eve assumed the question was rhetorical, because clearly the answer was: no one could resist Benjamin Larkin D’Angelo.
He was a local legend. A human with a godly presence. An open book full of secrets. A hot-blooded man who didn’t fuck (at least according to all the gossips), didn’t fight (unless it was called for), and who was the epitome of masculine grace.
Oh yes, Eve had had three years to do nothing but observe the living puzzle that was Ben. Not a lot of things intrigued her. She’d seen and done it all.
And yet…
“But not you,” Mike said abruptly, spearing Eve with her sharp, cat-like eyes.
“I’ve seen dozens of times when Ben tries to engage you in conversation, but you always give him the cold shoulder. You’re, like, the only person in the world who isn’t gaga over our most eligible bachelor. You might just be his kryptonite. What’s wrong with you, doll?”
That couldn’t have been a serious question at the end. Because the answer would take days—years—to detail out.
There were innumerable things wrong with Eve. Starting with the fact that she was a god stripped of her powers stuck in three separate human forms.
After all these mortal years, she still didn’t know why this was her lot in life. It was an extremely tedious punishment to endure.
Was this how her Twin felt when she’d been cursed into being a fox spirit?
But her other half only wore people’s skins. She’d never truly been one of them. Eve was sure her current purgatory was worse.
She shrugged in response.
“Just not interested, I guess,” she muttered.
“Really?” Mike persisted, arching her own brows in astonishment.
As if magically drawn to the focal point of their observation, they watched a man and a woman, married, by the looks of them, approach Ben’s booth for some small talk.
Ben readily paused in the methodical demolishment of his food to chitchat, looking unsurprised by the interruption, as if he got this all the time (which he did), and smiled at the couple engagingly.
When he smiled, Eve took note, as she was wont to do—mesmerizing lines radiated from the corners of his eyes, and the grooves that were normally invisible in his lean cheeks deepened around his mouth. They weren’t dimples exactly. They weren’t deep enough. But they highlighted the height of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips, not plump by any means, nothing like that. Just…generous.
Everything about Ben was generous.
His strength, his beauty, his compassion, his patience, his intelligence and humor. He was fundamentally unselfish. He gave freely, just because someone needed something he could give.
He was Eve’s exact opposite.
Gods were created selfish. They were gods, for fuck’s sake. Even when they did something that benefited others, it was only because they selfishly desired it. One way or another, every action and decision they took ultimately benefited themselves.
“Really?” Mike asked again, stressing her disbelief, as she watched Eve unblinkingly watch Ben.
“It’s time to bring him his juice,” she said, not acknowledging Mike’s dubious stare.
Ben always had a tall glass of fresh grapefruit juice at the end of his breakfast. She prepared it the moment he came through the door.
As she approached his booth, the couple was just leaving, happy smiles on both their faces. Ben seemed to have that effect on people.
She wordlessly plunked down the glass with a thunk and turned to leave.
“Wait,” he called out to her half-turned back.
“Uh…Eve.”
She frowned reflexively at his inability to recall her name. Was this human form so utterly unmemorable? Then she immediately thought—why would she care?
She smoothed her expression before turning to face him with her usual blank look.
“Thanks for making such a great latte…”
He winced as if reflecting on his words as he said them and finding them lacking.
She merely stared.
“How did you manage to draw that tiger with such intricacy?” he added.
“It’s a skill,” she intoned.
He was nodding already.
“You are very talented.”
She lifted one shoulder in a barely-there shrug and turned to leave again.
“Uh-Eve…” Ben began again, stalling her departure.
And it sounded like he muttered beneath his breath, why the hell does my brain freeze on her name.
What he said out loud was, “We’re having a friends and family cookout at my parents’ place this evening. Mike, Maddie and Yaz are invited, as well as all of the staff here. I hope you can make it too.”
Her gaze shifted to the strong, corded column of his throat—he had a very attractive throat. When he spoke, she could almost see the deep, smooth sounds moving through him. His voice had a husky, resonant quality to it. Somewhere between a bass and a baritone. She rather thought that if he hummed against a person’s skin, they would feel him everywhere.
Such were the strange, random thoughts she had of this perplexing human.
In response to his invitation, she shrugged the other shoulder before turning fully and walking away.
She could feel him staring after her. She could even sense his confusion, as if she was an enigma to him too.
For the rest of her morning shift, Eve didn’t look at Ben again. She knew when he left the café (and would have known even without Mike elbowing her in the ribs). She continued to people watch while she worked and wondered why no one else intrigued her as much as Benjamin Larkin D’Angelo.
Now there was a unique name.
She quite liked his name and used every opportunity to draw out all of it. Every syllable. The wealth of historical meaning embedded in that name matched its owner. She felt like she was invoking all of the grandeur and potential his name contained whenever she spoke it, even if it was in her own mind.
At noon, her workday was done. She had the rest of Friday and the weekend free. Mike reminded her of the cookout before she shuffled upstairs to her apartment. Eve didn’t bother giving a firm answer one way or the other. She liked to keep her options open.
Ben’s family hosted these social gatherings about two or three times a year. Both Immortals and humans were invited, though the folk of the Yukon valley remained blessedly unaware of their supernatural neighbors. Both indigenous and visiting humans simply thought there was something special in the water to produce such tall, good-looking, healthy and strong people, with wonderful anti-aging genes.
In truth, several of the Immortals possessed the Gift of cloaking. Moreover, all dragons had this power. It was why humans across history never knew they existed. Yet, they always dreamed and fantasized about these supposedly mythical creatures. Those who were touched by magic and possessed more open minds simply believed.
Back to the invitation, Eve rarely went to these social activities. And when she did, she usually found a secluded spot away from the crowd to observe the goings-on undetected and unbothered. Besides, her afternoon and evening form was Michael, as well as most of the weekend. She only took Eve’s form again late at night. She couldn’t always be sure she’d be in the right form to accept invitations.
There was a pattern to the forms Seven took in terms of a predetermined schedule, but it varied sometimes. Ruth, for example, normally popped up on weekends too, but once in a while she made an appearance on weekdays. Eve was her most regular form, which was a good thing, because Eve was her working form. She couldn’t hold a job properly if she couldn’t predictably take this form.
She hadn’t figured out yet what all this meant. But if Papa Jade enforced this unpleasantness upon her, then there was a specific reason for it.
The best theory she could come up with was that her heart, mind and soul had been split into three separate entities. It kind of made sense when she thought it through in her head. And she thought about it aplenty, though no one could ever be sure about the intentions of the all-powerful deity.
The theory was this:
Michael was the mind. He was definitely the most inquisitive and cerebral of the three. Ruth was the soul. When she was Ruth, she felt most herself, most in tune with her memories and experiences.
Eve was the heart. And given she didn’t have much of one, metaphorically, though the muscle beat doggedly in her chest, maybe that was why Eve was such a blank space, with no personality and no desires.
Just a strange sort of curiosity.
If her theory proved true, then the key to freedom from this mortal hell was to somehow put all three parts of herself back together. From there, perhaps she would recover her celestial form. If not her most powerful presence, then at least some version of it.
Anything was better than this.
Eve didn’t bother to change into more comfortable clothes after she crossed her apartment’s threshold, locked the door behind her and took off her shoes. Usually, when she got home, she immediately took a hot shower, then puttered about braless in an oversized T-shirt and a fresh pair of cotton underwear.
This time, she hadn’t yet decided whether she would stay or go, so she didn’t want to get too comfortable lest she was heading back out in a few hours. By then, she’d change into Michael anyway, and he wasn’t nearly as picky about cleanliness as Eve.
On that thought, she decided to wash up after all. It wouldn’t hurt for Michael to have nice-smelling hair and, most importantly, freshly scrubbed pits and crotch when he went out in society.
Strangely, Ben had no issues remembering and conversing with Michael and Ruth. Seven felt even more drawn to him when she took these forms.
Especially Michael, who apprenticed at Tal-Telal’s woodshop a couple days a week when Eve wasn’t working. His favorite hobby was to watch Ben chop wood in the very early mornings.
Most invigorating.
And stimulating.
And…arousing.
Seven rarely took male forms even when she possessed all of her powers. That sex was so unwieldy. So obvious.
As Michael, she couldn’t quite hide her physical attraction to Ben, and she didn’t particularly want to.
As Michael, she wanted to see how far she could push Ben. She felt it. A meeting of minds, as well as an animal magnetism.
What were the odds that Ben felt it too?
She decided to find out.