CHAPTER NINE
Charlotte
He’s naked. I’m becoming used to that.
More importantly, he speaks. With an accent, yes, but in words strung together in a grammatically correct fashion to form a sentence. Mostly.
A wave of giddiness sweeps up from my stomach to my head, leaving me woozy. Yes, I witnessed him as nothing but a stone carving. Yes, I flew with him through the sky. Yes, I’ve seen him transform his shape. But to learn English overnight…
“You can speak?”
“I could always speak. I had some trouble with words.”
Stunned doesn’t begin to explain how I feel. Bludgeoned with a brick comes closest. The level of intelligence he must possess to have learned so much in so little time is nothing short of astounding.
Even as chills trickle up and down my spine, heat and heaviness lodge below my belly. Is there anything more attractive in a man than raw intellect? If so, I’ve never found it.
I swallow against the rock currently lodged in my throat. “How?”
His smile is gentle, though his eyes are hot as they pierce into me, lighting a corresponding fire in my chest. “How do I come to speak your language? The Queen’s English? This is right?”
I nod.
“I used magick, which I feared would alert my mother, but as she has yet to arrive, I can only guess that she no longer resides upon this planet. Otherwise, she surely would have come to lambast me for my absence for so long a period. Nibiru must have cycled close enough for a return to her home, yes?”
I think he thinks I understand him. He’s speaking English, after all. It’s just that his words are meaningless. “I don’t… your mother?”
He nods. “I suppose I would welcome her counsel.” His smile falters. “We parted on a disagreement. I didn’t expect it to be our last.”
“No one ever does.” I think of my own parents, a sort of helpless grief filling me as it always does when I realize anew I’m an adult orphan. “I miss my father. We parted on the best of terms, but it doesn’t make his loss easier to bear.”
“The difference is that I’m not parted from my mother forever.”
I open my mouth to disagree with him but shut it again before responding. I don’t want to hurt him, and death, no matter who one is or where one is from, is a matter of unending pain.
His fingers tickle the sheets. “My mother didn’t understand my need to forge my own path through life.”
“Is she a lamassu?”
“The original. Lama, Goddess of Harmony, Unity, Mediation, and the Celestial Zodiac.” His brow furrows. “Surely, you must know of her? All civilized worlds do, even if the people follow other gods.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t. I’ve never heard of her, but I don’t know most of your peop…er, gods.”
A look of astonishment widens his eyes. “How is this possible?” he mutters, seemingly to himself.
My hand comes to rest over his foot, as if I can give him comfort with my touch. “You’ve come from very far away, Alad. Across the seas, over time spanning thousands of years. I’m not certain how many.”
Alad squeezes his eyes shut and his fingers still. All his features tighten before he expels a long gust of air. “I realized from the books that much time has passed. But so long… And my bro…king? Gìlgame?? Did he depart for Nibiru with the gods?”
“I don’t know. Are you sure…?”
“Yes. I would feel their presence if they remained on planet. I’m connected to them through my mother’s blood.”
I have to let the incredible thought that there were actually gods in this world settle before I can add, “But I’ve read Gilgamesh’s tale. It was discovered about twenty-five years ago, maybe thirty. In fact, The Epic of Gilgamesh has become rather famous since its translation.”
I move closer to him as he sits up against the headboard. He snorts. “Figures that the blistering son of a kunga has his own book. And where does this Epic place my king now?”
“What’s a kunga?” I ask, not wishing to disappoint him further by answering his question.
“A type of hybrid ass.” When my face heats, he laughs. He has beautiful, even white teeth. “Donkey. ‘Ass’ isn’t a polite term, is it?”
“No.”
“Then I ask that you excuse my lapse. I would hate you to think me impolite.” But just as suddenly, all traces of laughter fade from his eyes and lips.
His shoulders firm before he leaps from the bed and resumes his taller humanoid form, the one that has wings attached to his back.
His head is bent against the ceiling. “Where is Gilgamesh? I must find him at once.”
And he’s beautiful. Even with his full beard that hides most of his face, his features are rock-hewn at angles. He’s so broad, so tall, so powerful, the air practically pulses around him. And he’s naked. His member isn’t rearing, but it’s so large that it would rip me asunder.
Is he a god? Or a monster? And does one negate the other?
I swallow. I don’t want to tell him where Gilgamesh is. I can’t.
His brow furrows. “Please, Char.Lot. I must speak with him.”
“Alad… I thought—we all thought—Gilgamesh was nothing but myth. All the experts are agreed.”
“Experts.” He snorts. “Wrong more often than they’re right.”
I nod, needing to shape words that will hurt him. There’s something about the way he said Gilgamesh’s name, almost called him a brother, that leads me to believe they were close. “The thing is, it’s been so long, I… he can’t be alive, you see.”
Shocking me once again, he bursts out laughing.
“Please. Gil is as immortal as I am. Only a god might slay either of us, and no god will go against his grandfather to do the deed, I promise you.” But he sobers.
“Though if you think him dead, that means he is hiding somewhere and does not wish to be found. Or, as I earlier thought, he’s gone to Nibiru with his mother.
In either event, my speaking with him grows more difficult, and I must speak with him, Char.Lot. ”
Immortal. He’s immortal? But why not? He used to be stone.
Focus, Charlotte.
Inhaling a deep breath, I ask, “And what is Nibiru?”
“The planet from which the gods of our pantheon hail. It has an elliptical cycle of roughly five thousand, two hundred years, but it passes close enough for voyage every three thousand years. Approximately.” He frowns.
“Of course, there are times when the planet passes too close to this one. The last resulted in the Flood.”
“Noah’s flood?”
He shrugs. “Utnapishtim’s. Big boat. Seeds from every animal so the gods could remake them upon their return.”
I know Utnapishtim. He’s in The Epic. I can’t think of that now, though. “And this immortality…?”
“Through our goddess mothers, though only his was royalty. Gil was royal twice over. He and I both had mortal fathers. His was a king. Mine was a shepherd. You haven’t heard of any of them?”
“No. Or, maybe. I didn’t pay too much attention to things like lineage in The Epic.”
He nods, his expression reflective as he runs his hands through his long hair. “Gil has always trumped me at every turn. He was born to rule, and I was born to protect him, but now…” He shakes his head. “I must find him and learn the terms of the curse he used to set me in stone.”
“Gilgamesh did this to you?”
“Only a friend could harm another friend so.”
“In that case, you need better friends.”
A small smile plays on his lips. “One cannot help whom one loves.”
I’d beg to disagree, but I don’t want to hurt him. “I don’t know where your friend is.” I struggle to stand on strangely wobbly legs. “But if anyone might have an idea, it would likely be Sir Austen Henry Layard. He discovered the ruins of Nineveh and the tablet fragments that comprise The Epic.”
“Then we go and speak with him. Come.” He holds out his hand to me.
“He resides in Madrid. Spain,” I clarify. “Across the sea—but not Uruk-across-the-sea. Except, we might find him in London if we’re lucky. I’m fairly certain he won’t wish to miss the unveiling of… well, you.”
But on the heels of that thought comes another. Mary. Ruin. I can’t go back to London. I can’t face her.
I sink back upon the bed as despondency grips me with sharp talons. “I can’t return to London with you. I’m sorry.”
“Why?” He drops his hand before sinking down beside me. The bed groans from the enormous weight of his giant form. His wings, though drawn in close to his naked body, ruffle against my arm. At least he no longer has to bend his neck at a sharp angle to avoid pushing his head through the ceiling.
But sitting next to someone who radiates such power, such… magick… makes my stomach crease with sudden dread. Who am I to even breathe the same air as someone like him? And how can I imagine I know him well enough to know he won’t hurt me?
“Can you take your human form again?”
His brows draw down. Suddenly, he looks thunderous. And suspicious. “Why? Are you disgusted by my wings?” He fluffs them a bit, pushing me until he draws them back.
“No. Not disgusted.” I want to stroke each feather. I want to be stroked by each feather in return. Hardly the definition of disgusted.
“Then, what?”
“Afraid,” I admit in a small voice, watching him carefully. “You’re so much bigger, I…” But my voice trails off, caught on the sudden fear.
Some of his imposing displeasure flees. His gaze softens.
“Holding such a small form as my Fourth Form is too difficult when I’m fatigued.
I didn’t rest last night because I wanted to learn as much as I could.
But I give you my word, Char.Lot. I will never physically hurt you, no matter which form I take.
You may count the word of a demi-god as unbreakable law. ”
“Truly?”
“Truly. No matter how big I am. No matter which form. Unless…” But now he’s the one to break off.
His gaze shifts to the side before he lifts his shoulders and smiles.
“Unless it comes to my i?arum stretching your kir, sweet one. I’m afraid there might be some pain until your body learns to accept me. ”
“Is…what? I…” But I can’t finish the sentence as I suddenly understand the words. I’m too astounded by how his voice rings with certainty that we’ll enter into relations together. Plus, the idea of it.