Chapter Nine
“Sarcasm: the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded.”
—Fyodor Dostoevsky
Ben did not consider himself a coward. Nor was he an asshole. But his behavior over the last three weeks might qualify him as both.
He wouldn’t say that he purposely avoided the two people who supposedly were versions of one former god, but he decided to take another business trip right after running into Ruth, then Michael, on that mind-blowing day.
No matter that he’d just gotten home. No matter that, until that afternoon, he’d missed being home.
He needed the escape. He didn’t want to see or speak to anyone who knew him. Most of all he couldn’t stand to be mired in his own memories, bombarding him from all sides. Coming out of the muck of his mind like zombies reaching for fresh meat.
Okay, so he was in a macabre mood. Sue him.
Thus, he chose the farthest location he could think of out of the available options at his immediate disposal.
Thailand.
To say that bustling Bangkok would remind him not at all of his cabin in the Yukon was a gross understatement. And that’s exactly what he needed.
Or so he thought.
There was a two-week archeological expedition through the historic city of Ayutthaya, across sites that were blocked from the public. Following that, he attended a three-day conference in Bangkok city, where like-minded scholars gathered from all around Southeast Asia. Westerners like Ben were welcome as well, but an understanding of Asian languages would help. Fortunately for Ben, he was a master of languages. Even if he didn’t speak fluently, he understood. And for the most part, he could read and write.
Thus, for the past three weeks, he escaped. At least physically.
The assholish part came in when he drank himself to oblivion every night at the local bars while in Bangkok, which sold cheap but effective liquor to foreign tourists. He always made sure they were within walking distance to his hotel, so that he could totter back without too much trouble, pass out on his bed, fully clothed, entirely unconscious. Even his dreams were dulled to murky images, and the voices in his head became muffled white noise.
Gotta live a little, right?
Ben had it on good authority (from Annie, at least) that men his age—hell—men a lot younger than him did this all the time. At least during their college heydays if not sooner.
Got drunk. Fucked strangers. Made total asses of themselves. Got it out of their system and hopefully moved on from that infantile indulgence.
He’d never done these things. Never even thought of doing these things. He saw no point to it. Time was precious. Life was even more precious. Why waste both with meaningless debauchery?
(Lord, he needed a mental adjustment. When did he start to sound so old and sexless? Even in his own mind?)
Anyway, on the day he was supposed to fly home, he completely missed his plane. It probably had to do with waking up well into the afternoon when his flight was ten in the morning.
Hungover with a splitting headache.
And not alone in bed.
“Sawatdee tohn yen. Good evening, mistah,” a female voice said from somewhere nearby.
Ben bolted into a sitting position and immediately regretted it when his brain sloshed around in his skull.
“You need suppah? I orduh room suvice.”
“No,” he croaked, digging his heels into his eye sockets, trying to open the bleary bastards.
“You thusty? I get watah.”
He might have thanked her. He probably just grunted. Thankfully, she understood, for soon, a cold glass damp with condensation was pressed into his hand.
He gulped down the life-giving fluid and felt incrementally restored. Finally, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes fully, taking a good look at his savior.
She was a small, pretty thing, exquisitely made up, intricately adorned. She looked all of fifteen, if that. And every girlish curve was on indecent display with the provocative outfit she wore—a tank top that ended just below her small, pert breasts, a tiny skirt that barely reached mid-thigh.
She smiled encouragingly at him while he sat there gawping. He was bare-chested but still wore his jeans. But those jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped. Was he wearing underwear? Surely…
“You pay now oh pay latah?”
“Uh…”
Shit!
He was an asshole! He was a stupid, cock-led, blockheaded asshole!
Did he take precautions? He didn’t carry protection. He never bothered with it because he’d never met anyone he’d ever thought about taking on a date much less take the intimacy further. He—
“Since you fell asleep I not chuge full price for last night,” she said all-business-like, as if she wasn’t sitting on the corner of his hotel bed looking like a slutty yet angelic and exotic high-school cheerleader.
“But I add tip for keeping yah pockets safe and helping you walk to hotel. Lots of thieves at night. You not in fighting condition. I shooed them away. They not take yah wallet.”
“Thank you,” he croaked, shuddering with relief that “last night” had apparently not happened. Other than him losing consciousness, for which he was now grateful.
She eyed him speculatively, slowly giving him a once-over.
“You look good but not too good.”
If she had sleeves, he thought she might be rolling them up.
With a determined press of her rosebud mouth she declared, “I must do wuk to get you up. That cost double. Then I—”
“No getting me up!” Ben choked out.
Hastily, he reached into his wallet, which was left unmolested on his bedside table, and retrieved all of the cash he’d exchanged at the airport. He handed the bills over gladly.
“Here. Take it. It’s all I have. I hope that covers the…hospitality you provided. Thanks for making sure I didn’t get robbed. You’re free to go.”
She counted the money with practiced efficiency and gave half of the bills back.
“I not rob you,” she said solemnly with a straight back.
“You good man.”
“No I’m not,” Ben muttered, raking a hand through his tousled, unwashed hair. He could smell the stench of cigarettes and alcohol on his clothes, his skin.
This wasn’t him.
He wasn’t a coward who ran from challenges, no matter how big. He wasn’t an asshole who randomly hooked up with strangers. Or in this case, he suspected it would be preying on underage kids.
She touched his hand, the one fisted in the covers as if it was clawing onto a lifeline.
“You good man,” she repeated gently and waited for him to look into her eyes.
Almost affectionately, she patted his hand and got off the bed.
“I go now. You stay. Drink watah. Eat. Don’t be sad. This big wuld.” She opened her arms wide to express the words she spoke.
“Get lost. Enjoy.”
With that, she showed herself out, and the automatic door clicked shut behind her.
Leaving Ben alone again with his dizzying thoughts.
He thumped his head against the wall as he leaned against it. His eyelids grew heavy, wanting to close again. Coaxing him to enter those haunting dreams.
With considerable effort, he wrenched them open, needing to stay awake. To find some lucidity and balance. To find his center again.
He had enough forethought to call the front desk of the hotel and extend his stay. When they asked how long, he threw out a random number—one more week. He could well afford it, and he had no pressing commitments at the moment. It was the benefit of being able to pick and choose what engagements to take on. His professional schedule was fully in his own control.
On the personal side, he sent some brief voice messages home instead of calling. He wasn’t ready yet to speak with anyone directly. He simply let his parents, Ere, Tal and Ishtar know that he was alive and safe. He tried to inject some enthusiasm into his words, tried to convey how much he was enjoying this sudden trip on a different continent. He probably fooled no one, but hopefully they wouldn’t worry and let him figure this funk out by himself.
Responsibilities taken care of, he stripped off his day-old clothes and got into the shower, turning the spray all the way to cold.
The water still wasn’t as ice cold as it could be in his cabin at this time of year, but it was enough of a contrast with his own raised body temperature that he felt the intended clarifying effect. He washed himself with stoic efficiency, avoiding the confounded cockstand that rose against his belly. So hard, it thumped against the drum-tight skin, seeking friction.
Seeking release.
He was used to raging hard-ons these days. They popped up everywhere. All the time. Whenever he was near Michael or even thought about him. Even unconsciously, like now.
He’d purposely wiped his mind blank as he scrubbed himself clean. Yet, some twisted, contrary part of him still dreamed of unfathomable, iridescent eyes. That whisper of a thought alone got him rock hard.
Ruthlessly, he swatted at that uncontrollable part of his body, gritting his teeth at the self-inflicted pain.
It didn’t help. If anything, his erection got thicker, grew longer.
He huffed out a mirthless laugh, turned his face into the cold deluge and closed his eyes.
Remembering…
Age of Gods. Tens of thousands of years ago.
Byakko was dying.
He felt it in his bones. In his blood.
Though he was still capable of Nourishing his goddess, he was no longer getting the Sustenance he needed from her to survive.
After each battle in the endless wars he fought for her against other gods and their monsters, she healed his physical wounds as she always did. She fed him food from her hands to restore his strength.
But he needed more from her now. He needed something she didn’t seem capable of giving.
She made a small noise in her sleep and nuzzled his throat, her arms tightening around him, one hand at his nape, one hand clutching his buttock.
They were intimately connected, as they always were when she slept. His body inside hers, their limbs entangled. They were wrapped in a protective cocoon of the goddess’s making, an alcove in a different plane that couldn’t be disturbed by the real world.
He stroked his hand through her silky, ankle-length mane and pressed his lips against her brow, trying to give her ease, to chase away whatever demons that haunted her in her dreams.
She sighed and nuzzled him again. Her fangs elongated and sank into his throat, something she’d done countless times. Languidly, she nursed there, taking his life into her own.
He fought to keep his body still and relaxed, though her feedings hurt more every time she did it now. He could feel his Immortality unraveling, like an armor that weakened with one fatal chink.
He cupped the back of her head and pressed her lightly against him, urging her to take more of him.
He didn’t fear death. He only worried for how the goddess would fare without him. Who would Nourish her then? She trusted no one. For good reason. Who would absorb her wrath when she railed at the injustices committed against her? Who would take her violence and diffuse it?
Most of all, who would make her smile when she was sad?
With a contented, kittenish mewl, she pulled out of his neck and licked the puncture wounds closed. She angled a bit away and opened her glowing eyes at half-mast, gazing into his face. An unconscious smile curled her lips. She was the perfect portrait of a female well-pleased.
It never ceased to awe him that he could give her this.
Only him.
He was the only being she let close to her in this way. Not even her Twin could give her this pleasure and happiness.
“My Byakko,” she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.
The hand at his nape came around to cup his cheek, her thumb caressing his jaw, then lightly rubbing over his mouth.
Her iridescent eyes swirled with a million stars as she gazed into his. Her smile grew brighter as if it gave her the purest joy to look upon him. As if nothing in the Universe could please her better.
In moments like these, Byakko could almost convince himself that she loved him the way he loved her. Wanted him the way he wanted her. As a Mate would.
A partner.
His heart thudded heavily in his chest. His soul yearned to be fulfilled by hers.
He looked back at her with all the feeling, longing, and endless love he possessed. He prayed to every deity in the Universe that she would accept him. Believe in him.
And that was when the brilliance in her eyes flickered, and her smile lost its innocence.
Just like always.
Using her superior strength, she rolled him to his back and came astride him, never losing their connection.
“Serve me, my pet,” she demanded, the gleam in her eyes strictly proprietary. None of the softness remained.
Byakko’s entire body shuddered with the agony of her rejection.
Again.
His eyes squeezed shut against the pain, but he forced them open again. Made himself hold her gaze, his own entirely stripped of armor, his heart and soul laid bare.
The more he showed his love for her, the more her protective shields went up. Up, up, up, until she encased herself within an impenetrable fortress.
Her eyes became entirely unreadable and opaque as she rode him deep and hard. Ruthlessly taking him as he gave all of himself, matching her stroke for stroke, pleasuring her body even as she kept all other parts of herself locked away from him.
Gods, he hurt.
He couldn’t bear it.
To give everything yet never receive…until there was nothing left of him.
As her body climaxed around his and milked him for his answering release, he gave it all. Holding nothing back.
He held her cold, detached gaze as he broke apart for her, flooding her with his seed. She took and took, wringing every drop out of him.
I love you, he telepathed, too weak to say it out loud.
He’d never voiced it before. He knew she didn’t want his love. She thought of it as a weakness and a hindrance.
But his end was close; he could feel it. He didn’t want her to go through her endless existence without knowing.
She was loved.
Even if it was only by an inferior Beast like him. His love was pure and true. And even when he was gone, it would remain. Nothing could ever take it away from her.
Her eyes blazed with something indiscernible. Something like fury, violence and desolation combined.
In a lightning quick move, she separated her body from his. In the process, the back of her hand connected sharply with his cheek, hard enough to snap his head to the side and bloody the corner of his mouth.
It didn’t seem like a purposeful slap, more like an afterthought. An accidental violence toward something she cared little for. Like a child tossing away a plaything when she grew bored of it.
And then she was gone.
Byakko was back in the cavern he shared with his cub. Back in his Beast form, lying against the wall, all of his vitality drained out of him.
Papa, Goya chuffed, coming to lie down beside him, as if the smaller tiger was trying to lend him strength.
Byakko closed his eyes, turning his face away to hide the single blood-red tear that trickled out.
His end came not long after.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Seven watched Benjamin Larkin D’Angelo from the shadows of the floating restaurant, one of many dotting the Chao Phraya River delta.
Time zones didn’t seem to matter as to what form she took. Or rather, what form took her over. Presently, as it was later in the night, she was Eve.
It was a good thing she’d saved most of her earnings at the diner over the past three years, or she would have struggled to afford such an expensive trip from the Yukon to Bangkok. And it was also fortunate to have an accommodating boss in Maddie, because her sudden vacation was granted without a fuss.
“You haven’t taken a single day off since you started working here,” Maddie had said when Eve brought it up.
“You’re due for a leave. Go have some fun. Relax. Maybe make some of your own Hallmark memories.”
At this, Maddie had winked at her. Both Mike and Maddie knew all about Eve’s unhealthy fondness for those sappy, feel-good movies.
“Hallmark movies are fiction,” Eve replied in her usual no-nonsense monotone voice.
“You never know until you live your life, Eve,” Maddie pointed out. “We all have the capacity to make our dreams into reality if we truly believed in them and went after them.”
Thus encouraged, Seven took the cheapest flight from Whitehorse Airport to Bangkok International, commandeering the worst possible seat on the almost sixteen-hour journey. In the very back right beside the smelly bathrooms. She’d managed to stay in Michael’s form throughout the flight, which was fortunate, because his sense of smell and need for personal space was slightly less demanding than Eve.
As Michael, she managed to find out from Ben’s family where he had gone. For the first week since he left, she used the time to get her own thoughts in order. Michael was a thinker. A plotter. And even then, he didn’t know what to do about Ben. Whether to give him space or hunt him down.
Oh yes, Seven was absolutely certain that Ben was what she wanted. Whom she wanted. She’d always wanted him, it seemed. Even when she forgot why.
The question was—how she’d go about…acquiring him.
Gods simply hunted their targets, demanded their service and owned whatever plaything that caught their interest. Then, just as promptly, threw them away when they lost interest.
Humans were more subtle. They “flirted.” They skirted around the edges of what they really wanted with flattery, meals and other outings, presents, conversation…They “dated” if they wanted a more-than-sexual relationship.
Seven wanted the instant gratification she was used to as a god, but she was an average human stuck in the human world. Did this mean she had to engage in the wasteful posturing of human courtship? Where would she even begin?
But she wanted him.
That much was clear. Therefore, if Michael figured out nothing else as the “brain” of the operation, it was that Seven needed to be in the same vicinity as the object of her desires if she was to have him.
By the second week of Ben’s absence, it became clear that she couldn’t simply wait him out. Unlike the other business trips that took him away from home, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to return this time. At least, according to Tal and Ishtar. He had apparently left a message with his family that he was on an extended leave, and to not worry if he didn’t stay in touch as often as usual.
This would not do, Seven determined.
She had never been particularly patient when she wanted something. Thankfully, very little interested her across the whole of her existence. She’d never allowed herself to be interested, for one. And after tens of thousands of years, she felt she’d seen it all. The world was a washing machine set on the repeat cycle.
Except for Ben.
He was the only thing—the only being—that had ever fascinated, mesmerized and obsessed her and her other half. Because of this, she feared him. And because she feared him, she’d been purposely cruel to him. He was a weakness she couldn’t afford to have as a god. Especially one who was hated and envied by other gods.
Ironically, the crueler she was to him, the kinder her Twin was.
Well, now she knew these were all simply facets of her own personality. Like the Devil and Angel standing on each shoulder, except that they sometimes switched places. There must be Balance, after all. Even when there were extremes.
At the beginning of the third week, she decided that she would go after him. Who knew how long he planned to stay away. Who knew what might happen in the meantime?
Now that she was determined to have him, she bitterly recalled how Ben attracted all sorts of lascivious attention from men and women both. Look what happened at the cookout with that harlot lioness.
As a god, Seven would have decimated anyone who looked at her Beast askance, never mind dared to touch a hair on his head.
He was hers and hers alone.
As a human, she unfortunately didn’t own Ben the way she used to. The way she wanted to. She’d have to vie with others for his attention, and she wasn’t exactly well equipped to do so.
She didn’t have model good-looks, certainly nowhere near Ben’s own effortless magnificence. She wasn’t filthy rich (though, thankfully, Ben didn’t seem to care about wealth). She wasn’t particularly interesting or funny. She couldn’t light Ben’s face up with smiles the way his best friend Annie did.
All she had was the unshakable conviction that he belonged to her.
Whether she deserved him or not was a different matter. She was selfish enough not to care. If she caught him, if he let her keep him (because even a god couldn’t interfere with free will), she wasn’t ever going to let him go. She’d hold onto him for as long as her short human life would allow.
Surely, there was no risk now. The other gods had long become extinct. Only the Jade Emperor and the Queen Mother of the West remained, though they were far removed from the earthly realm, rarely interfering with the goings-on of the human world, dragon quests notwithstanding.
The only risk was Ben himself. Because, damn it all to hell, he could choose to reject her.
Well, (Seven mentally squared her shoulders), it wasn’t as if she’d never tried to win him before. After all, Lilith had managed to take the leopard Beast incarnation of Ben as her Mate.
No matter what Ben’s forms and what Seven’s were, they recognized each other. Always. Surely, that would give her an advantage over other would-be suitors for his affections.
She wasn’t even sure she wanted his “affections.” She just wanted him.
Everything. Eternally.
Mine, a voice within her growled sonorously.
Savagely.
So, here she was, after two entire days of traveling.
Thanks to jetlag, she was currently wide awake, uncomfortably dressed in wrinkled, stale clothes. Given that she had two forms to pack for, she didn’t have many changes of outfits. Maybe tomorrow she’d peruse the various local shops nearby and buy more attractive attires, the better to woo the male she wanted to attract. Tonight was all about reconnaissance.
And to prevent more “entertainers” from the red-light district from accosting him when he was soused.
Eve curled her lip with distaste and a hint of violence.
It made her foul mood after the long journey even fouler when she bumped into the girl leaving Ben’s hotel room as she was unlocking her own room right next door.
The girl’s big doe eyes had grown wider with alarm when Eve suddenly bent close to sniff her like a dog. When she detected none of Ben’s scent on the girl’s perfumed body, she backed off with a huff of relief.
But she gave the girl a look that sent her scurrying away.
Good. She was glad to note she still had the ability to intimidate effectively with a look. Even if what she wanted was to turn the girl into a cockroach with the beam of her gaze.
The Quarter Chaophraya, the lavish five-star hotel Ben had chosen, was situated in the heart of the Chao Phraya River and Klong San district. Staying here, and finagling the room right next to Ben’s besides, was taking a huge bite out of Eve’s savings. Between the flights, accommodation, food and incidentals, she’d run out of money within a week, at most two.
She hoped he wouldn’t be too difficult to seduce. She didn’t have much time.
She supposed she could simply follow him and deal with money problems as they came, but she didn’t like to leave things to chance, without a concrete plan. And of course, there was her lack of patience again. Waiting even a day to have him was twenty-four hours too many.
Unfortunately, she knew nothing about seduction. Never had to do it before. What she wanted she simply took.
She thought back to the movies she’d watched and decided to employ some of those moves.
Ben was sitting at a small table by himself, overlooking the river. His body and face were turned away from the bustle of the popular restaurant, but even so, Eve noticed that everyone nearby snuck glances at him.
He was just that compelling. As if a warm glow wreathed his body. And they were all fireflies flitting around his flames, drunk on his beauty.
He wasn’t eating dinner. Or at least, he hadn’t ordered yet. Only a bread dish and a glass of water sat on his table. For the past half hour, he didn’t touch the food and drink, simply looking out at the river.
When the waiter approached his table with the drink she ordered for him, Ben turned to glance at him. While everyone else looked at Ben.
And Eve made certain she met each of their eyes with her own possessive glare. The eyes left Ben to rove elsewhere.
Very good. Her intimidation skills were definitely intact.
Ben looked down at the large café au lait she ordered. The tiger design took some doing to get the kitchen to accommodate. Bribery didn’t always get you what you want, Eve learned. Sometimes, people just lacked the necessary skills. Good thing they let her in the back a few minutes ago so she could do it herself.
The waiter was saying something to Ben and gestured in her direction. His eyes immediately sought her out in the shadows, unerringly riveting on her. Pinning her in place.
It must have been her imagination…surely, she shouldn’t be able to see the gleam in his aquamarine gaze with such crystal clarity.
But she felt it. His eyes pierced right into her.
To Eve’s utter confusion and mortification, her pulse began to race. Her blood heated until it rose within her like steam, suffusing her skin with a lobster-hued rash. Something in her chest stabbed with a phantom pain, as if her own ribs were crushing her, caving inward. She lost her breath in the process.
And yet she couldn’t look away.
A million emotions seemed contained in his beautiful eyes. It rendered her breathless to witness them, even if she didn’t understand most of them. The stabbing in her chest intensified the longer he stared. Soon, she was certain she’d pass out from the pain or lack of air.
Abruptly, he lowered his gaze to the cup in front of him.
His long, graceful fingers, calloused and rough though she knew them to be, toyed with the cup’s delicate handle, then caressed around the rim.
Eve let out an involuntary gasp, for she was certain she felt that caress on her person. The shell of her ear maybe. Or the bridge of her nose. The seam of her lips.
He brought the cup to his own lips now and took a sip of the coffee. Creamy foam stuck to his upper lip, and the tip of his tongue darted out briefly to chase it away.
Eve moaned a little and crossed her legs tighter. Because it felt as if he licked her there. Right where she was wet and creaming in her cotton Fruit-of-the-Loom drawers.
As if he was totally oblivious of what he was doing to her—and there was really no reason for him to know—he turned away toward the river again, holding the cup.
Dismissing her.
She sat there and kept vigil on him helplessly as he leisurely drank the coffee. He didn’t look her way again. It was as if she didn’t even exist. Even as he polished off the drink she’d helped make for him.
This meant that he accepted her offering, right?
In the movies, when the woman (for it was usually the woman; Eve never understood why humans were ruled by patriarchy—so inefficient and ineffective) accepted a drink from the man pursuing her, she’d smile at him. Maybe invite him to her table. They’d converse and undress each other with their eyes.
If he was extra suave, he might even get to escort her home and kiss her goodbye when the night was done. If he was extra, extra suave, and she was a woman confident in her own needs, she might even invite him to come inside and take him for a test run between the sheets.
None of that happened here.
Ben didn’t invite her over to his table. Nor did he convey any gratitude for the drink she gifted him. He did seem to enjoy it enough, for he finished all of it.
But when he finally asked for the check, was told she’d paid for it already, he didn’t look her way again. He simply got up with that male animal grace that was intrinsic to him and strode out of the restaurant.
Eager, appreciative eyes followed him. Not the least her own.
She’d never realized how compelling a man’s walk was. How utterly seductive a man’s back view was. From broad shoulders and back to trim waist and narrow hips. That tantalizing muscular posterior leading to long, strong legs.
She’d never looked at a man in quite this way before, especially not as Eve. Eve, who felt little, enjoyed little, and lived like a forgotten ghost.
When she’d been a god, extraordinarily pretty things drew her attention like the wink of a shiny object. But just as quickly, her interest faded. For there were countless shinier objects to be found.
He had always held her attention for some inexplicable reason, though his form altered with each incarnation. She’d never really dwelled on his form, now that she thought about it. It was his essence that drew her. His taste, sound and smell.
And how he looked at her.
As if universes swirled in her eyes, and he was endlessly fascinated by them.
Eve took a bit longer to rise from her seat and depart. Her body wasn’t used to such…wanton, uncontrollable reactions. Her underwear was damp and chafed her thighs as she walked out of the restaurant and back to the hotel. Her nipples ached and itched, and she had to surreptitiously scratch at them beneath her T-shirt and bra.
She wanted him.
But he seemed completely unmoved by her. Maybe he forgot her name and face again like he always did. And wondered why a random woman gifted him a free drink.
Or, maybe (she growled beneath her breath), he was so used to strangers buying him presents that he merely brushed aside the incident.
No, a voice insisted inside of her.
He had noticed. He’d paid attention.
She’d been observing Benjamin D’Angelo very closely for three years now, and she’d never seen him look into another’s eyes the way he’d looked into hers.
This realization gave her a sliver of hope and confidence. She was unaccustomed to second-guessing herself. She inhaled a balmy, bolstering breath and walked purposefully back to the hotel.
Tomorrow was another day. She had the rest of the night to strategize.