Chapter Nineteen
Three nights later, Riya stood at the door to her apartment, smoothed down the hem of her summery blue dress, squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Tonight she would tell Marcus she was leaving. Of course she’d made the exact same promise last night and the night before. Problem was, as soon as she entered Marcus’s apartment, the last thing she ever wanted to do was talk.
And it wasn’t like the man gave her much opportunity for conversation. The moment he clapped eyes on her, kissing her, stripping her, keeping her too breathless, too busy to think, let alone contemplate stringing more than three words together. Working them both into a state of physical exhaustion. By the light of dawn she had no energy left to find the words.
Repeat.
Damn her cowardly hide. She was like a junkie who refused to give up her fix.
It was ironic that in the past few days their relationship had been reduced to exactly what they had insisted it would be… all about the sex. And the sex was great, better that great. But each morning as she gathered her clothes and slipped back to her own apartment to shower, change and get ready for the day, Riya was surprised at how hollow she felt.
Sure her skin still tingled from the afterglow, but her soul, her heart, ached. She missed just chatting with Marcus. The easy going banter. Twisting his words until he couldn’t see straight. Teasing him.
Now, when she saw him, she was too busy tearing at his clothes to talk, knowing that it might be the last time she got to touch, to taste him. Scared that if she did manage to open her mouth and start a conversation it would have to start with the words… I’m leaving tomorrow.
Which were exactly the three little words she intended to tell him tonight, as soon as he opened the door. No hesitating. No getting distracted. No chickening out. Besides, the last excuse for prolonging her stay in Atlanta was leaving tomorrow. Hadleigh had proclaimed that her body no longer felt like a snapped rubber band, what ever that meant. And that it was time Asher was settled in his nursery back in the Southern Sanctuary.
Of course it might have been Vaughn insisting they re-locate sooner rather than later. Riya had the distinct impression that the stream of steady visitors from the Southern Sanctuary were proving a tad disruptive for the Maat Warriors.
But who could blame the Great-Great-Aunts after visiting Hadleigh and Asher for wandering into the weapons storage rooms, and accidentally setting off that smoke bomb. They were naturally curious and Rafe should know better than to leave temptation out in the open like that when her family were in the vicinity.
Riya took another deep, calming breath. Her hand unconsciously resting over her flat stomach. Sorry, future not even conceived baby, if you think Marcus is your Daddy, then you have another thing coming. And no way was she going to get slack and go down that slippery path. Her birth control was one hundred percent effective, Nell swore by it. Hmmm, but now Nell was pregnant. Nope, Riya was sure Nell and Drum had made a conscious choice.
She, on the other hand, would be leaving Atlanta as unencumbered as she had arrived. Having already heard Marcus’s thoughts on doing the right thing, Riya refused to be trapped in a loveless marriage with a semi-immortal Warrior for her very long life. Especially when it was only loveless on his side of the equation.
Damn it, why did Marcus have to be so stubbornly opinionated. Why couldn’t he respect her magic? Her abilities? Her? Goddess, why didn’t the man love her?
Crap, Riya rested her hand against the apartment door. Sadness swamping her. Perhaps she shouldn’t give into temptation one last time. Maybe she should just grab her already packed bags and slink away. Because if she did see Marcus one last time, what if the three little words that slipped out weren’t, I’m leaving tomorrow, but – I love you?
Huh, Marcus would probably start reeling off statistics concerning studies that showed people mistook love for indigestion eighty percent of the time. Idiot. Big, gorgeous, idiot.
Okay, it was settled, she was running away. And yet, her feet weren’t moving. Stupid feet, Riya had a sneaky suspicion they were siding with her treacherous libido. So she’d just stand here frozen with indecision until the sun came up? Yeah, like that was a solid plan.
She should see Marcus one last time.
No, she should haul ass back to the Southern Sanctuary.
The soft knock on the door had her sighing with relief. Marcus had gotten tired of waiting for her. Riya’s libido spiked even as her gut clenched in dread. Time to see him one last time and end it. Like a grown up.
Okay, she gave herself a pep talk. Retain eye contact at all times. Do not touch him. Do not take off his clothes. Do not take off any of your own clothes. Lips to self. Hands to self. Check and double check.
Deep breath, she could do this, she had to do this. End it now.
Swinging open the door, terror instantly infused every cell. All Riya could focus on was the gun currently pointed right at her heart.
Well, shit, thanks Fate, she hadn’t seen this coming at all.
* * *
When the tentative knock sounded on Marcus’s apartment door, all tension left his body. Riya was here. Thank the Sun. He hadn’t been sure she would come tonight.
Things had been… different between them the past few nights. What had happened to their easy banter? The teasing? Riya butting her nose in where it didn’t belong? All gone. In its place between them was nothing but convenient, hot sex. And Marcus hated it.
It reminded him too much of his past relationships. The women who scheduled time with him into their weekly calendars. Who didn’t care enough to ask him about his day. Who didn’t think it worth their effort to share any details of their own personal life.
At one time he’d been grateful for those barriers, the convenience of it all, without any attachments or emotions. But now, now that he’d gotten a glimpse, a taste of how good it could be, thanks to Riya, crap, he craved more. Wanted it all, but only with Riya, because damn it, he loved her.
Which in the scheme of things didn’t matter, he would do what was right by Riya, in order to keep her safe. She didn’t sign up for the dangers inherent in fighting supernatural forces on a daily basis.
But that hadn’t stopped Marcus from wracking his brain for a loop-hole over the last few days, while he tagged along on his brothers-in-arms missions just so he could grab some shut eye and think clearly. And the fact that he had to do that, in order to avoid a Dream Vamp, just went to show how bad an idea it was for Riya to stay here, with him.
So he would do the right thing tonight. No grabbing her the moment he laid eyes on her. He would invite her in. Keep his Goddess damn distance and cut the cord. Better to be brutal than to see her hurt… or worse, sometime down the road.
Marcus was determined that Riya would be safe, protected, and in order to do that he had to send her away. He swung the door open, his gut clenching, fucking hell, case in point, if she stayed she’d find a gun pointed at her head, like was happening right this second.
He lifted his gaze and stared into Heath Gammon’s determined dark eyes. Shit. “Well, this is unexpected.” Marcus held his hands up, backing away so Gammon and Riya could enter his apartment. His gaze quickly assessing Riya, she appeared unhurt. “And here I was thinking the fourth patsy after the rubies was Belinda.”
Gammon issued an unamused laugh. “Oh, but it was, it was just too much to hope she had the range and ability to sucker in a Maat Warrior. Personally, I think she over-extended, throwing Dimity into the mix hoping she would meet a tragic end just muddied the waters. Sometimes, when you want something done right, you just have to step up and take charge.”
“You know what I am, but you’re still willing to go up against me?”
Gammon looked exceedingly unimpressed. “I know you’re not faster than a bullet.”
Marcus tensed, ready. “Go ahead, shoot me.” Ignoring the small sound of protest Riya made. “You’ll never get what you want. And then you’ll have six pissed as hell Warriors on your tail for the rest of your very short life.”
Gammon shook his head, his white capped teeth flashing momentarily in a smile. “Who says the bullet is for you?” Pressing the barrel harder against the underside of Riya’s chin, forcing her head up slightly higher.
Marcus instantly froze in place. “Don’t.”
Gammon flashed his teeth again. “Fuck, you don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that word. You can’t imagine how surprised I was to find leverage to use against the machine man.”
“Is that what you call me?”
“Fred started it, and he considered it the highest of compliments.”
“You killed him, didn’t you? He was your boss, your friend.”
“He was a tool, a step in my plan. Honestly, weapons are so passé these days.” Gammon smirked at the irony of his own words, given the gun in his hand. “If you control the media, you control the masses. I knew from day one when I joined Forrest Media that controlling it would be the key to getting everything I wanted.”
“And how’s that plan working out for you Gammon?”
“Everyone hits a few speed bumps in their master plan to take over the world. Fred was a strong guy, when he began to buck my advice, I bought in Belinda to help steer him right. Even then, he wore through her controls too bloody quickly. Sneaky bastard, visiting the lawyers behind my back, drawing up a new will, cutting Belinda out completely… let’s just say it was easier to destroy it and deal with the four-year delay of probate with a spineless board of directors than let it all slip away.”
“And yet here you are acting as errand boy for Sek and Mot, that’s sinking pretty bloody low.”
Gammon laughed heartily. “Those fuckwits? Getting their faces plastered on wanted posters published by every law enforcement agency across the planet? That takes real fuck-up skills. Now, enough with the chit-chat, I have camera crews on stand-by and a building collapse to cover, bring me the rubies.”
“And why would I do that? I’m assuming no one is walking out of here alive tonight.”
“Oh, I know you do-gooder types, you think if you can stall long enough help will arrive, or somehow I’ll trip myself up and you’ll get the better of me. No, you’ll hand over the rubies, or we can just go straight to the dramatic first death scene right now.” Gammon growled out those last words, lacing them with real menace.
Slowly, Marcus began backing towards the kitchen. “Follow me.”
Riya stumbled forward on stiff legs as Heath Gammon stalked after Marcus, his hold on her never wavering. “Build… Building collapse?” She queried as they came to a halt at the kitchen island.
“It’s going to be Forrest Media’s first big breaking news story. We’re moving to a twenty-four hour news format. No more dog shows or pathetic ghost hunts. The decimation of Maat Tower. It’s going to be spectacular. The unexpected weakness in the structure that caused the building to crumble and that devastating fire… all so very tragic. It will be award winning coverage, trust me.”
“You were the one who set up the dark web contract.” Marcus grit out. “You need the chaos rubies so you can play puppet master with the world.”
“And Forrest Media news crews will always be conveniently placed in the thick of the action to capture every heart breaking moment. Everyone will be tuning in, eating up our spin. And eventually they’ll pay or I’ll bring down governments.”
“Interesting plan. I just foresee one little problem, Gammon. How do you intend to escape the devastation? The rubies mojo is a little unpredictable, how can you be sure that you’ll get clear of the building in time?”
“Ever heard of a helicopter?” Gammon grinned, flashing those ultra bright capped teeth. “Did you think Sek and Mot were the only disgruntled demi-gods left to linger in this world? Power draining away slowly century by century unless we lucked into a cult or a power source? Lucky for me, war never goes out of style.” Gammon grinned and this time in his dark eyes Marcus saw flashes of mortar bombs exploding.
“War? Sopdu?”
“Ah, yes, dear old Dad, the God of War. Keeps telling me to take a meditation class and relax. I’m so sick of hearing him tell me that as you get older work matters less and it’s all about the people you surround yourself with, and the legacy you leave behind.”
“Yes, I’ve been hearing that a lot myself lately.” Marcus’s eyes darted momentarily to Riya’s.
“He’s an asshole, it’s okay for my father to say shit like that, he’s a God, a force of nature and an innate entity. When you’re a demi-fucking-god you spend every waking minute scrambling for power.”
“Wh…why?” Riya managed to get out from between clenched teeth, her head tilted at a painful angle.
“Why?” Heath Gammon sounded genuinely confused.
Riya took a big breath as he relaxed his hold on her ever so slightly. “You’ve had centuries to acquire wealth and power, and by the sound of it you aren’t happy. So why don’t you try something new? Find a nice woman, settle down, have some demi-godlets?”
“Because then I would never be anything more than a DEMI-god! Lesser.”
Riya rolled her eyes. “You don’t sound like you have the temperament for golf, what about sailing?”
“Shut up. Enough with the time wasting.”
“I’m-” Riya’s mouth snapped shut as the gun whipped out, issuing a loud thunderous bang before Heath Gammon shoved the hot end of the gun barrel once more against the tender skin under her chin.
Marcus grunted as the bullet tore into his thigh. He bit back a string of curse words. At least the gun had been pointed in his direction when it had been fired. If anything had happened to Riya, fuck, he would have torn though that kitchen island to get to Gammon like it was tissue paper. Unfortunately, with her still being held hostage there was little he could do but co-operate until he saw an opportunity to do some damage.
Riya grimaced, feeling a little queasy as Marcus grabbed the roll of cling-film off the nearest bench and began winding it around his thigh. As makeshift tourniquets it was effective, pity it was see-through though.
“I won’t ask again, the rubies, now!”
Marcus fetched the fire ruby, wrapped in Hadleigh’s bridesmaid dress from the oven. Dumping the ugly ball of material down on the kitchen island bench. The water element ruby, frozen in a block of ice was retrieved from the freezer. The earth ruby trapped in a bowl of raspberry jello came next. Then came the container of dark chocolate mousse, just the rim of the wind ruby visible and lastly, Marcus pulled down from a high cabinet a bottle of tequila with a wide open neck, the spirit ruby resting at the bottom.
Gammon surveyed the five offerings and laughed. “I was wondering how you managed to keep them soothed, and now I have my answer.”
“Now what?” Marcus eyed the rubies and then Gammon.
“Release them from their prisons. Start with earth, who knows how long it will take to bring down a Tower of this size.”
Marcus made a show of looking around for a tea towel. “You’ll do.” He grabbed the bridesmaid dress and unwrapped the fire ruby, placing it down on the bench he sunk his hand into the jello and pulled out the earth ruby, using the dress to wipe it clean. His elbow bumped the block of ice he’d extracted from the freezer moments ago. It hit the ground with a sharp cracking sound. Bending, Marcus swiped up the freed water ruby, giving it a quick polish with the bridesmaid dress as well before adding it to his pile of growing rubies. Fire, Earth and Water.
“Now which one did you say you wanted?” Marcus picked up all three and began juggling.
“Don’t do that!”
“Urgh.” Riya’s head was tilted back even more painfully.
Marcus stopped immediately. “Here.” He slid a ruby across the bench.
“Pick it up.” Gammon demanded of Riya, playing it cautious.
Riya blindly felt around for the ruby, finally snagging it, surprised and disappointed to feel no heat emanating from it. Damn, she could have sworn with all that juggling that Marcus was going to slip her the fire ruby. Had he gotten them mixed up? Now what was she supposed to do? Um, it was either water or earth, which one? And did it matter?
Gammon grabbed the ruby from Riya, fisting it tightly. “Now clean off the others and wrap them all in that ugly rag.” Overhead there came an ominous creak from the ceiling. Gammon smiled. “That was fast. You’d better move just as fast, machine man.”
Marcus upended the bottle of tequila, soaking the kitchen bench and splattering the bridesmaid dress.
“Hurry.” Gammon instructed tersely as the overhead lights flickered. Pressing Riya hard against the edge of the kitchen bench in his eagerness to finally get his hands on all the chaos rubies.
Riya tensed, ready, the moment she’d watched Marcus so carelessly pour out the bottle of tequila she’d begun to get an inkling of his plan. Fire and alcohol, a volatile mix.
Come on… a few tense seconds passed, suddenly there was a whoosh as a sheet of flame shot up from the kitchen bench. Blue flames soaring upwards to the ceiling. Gammon yelled in shock, trying to leap back and take Riya with him but Riya had grabbed hold of the kitchen island. Gammon had no choice but to release her or face getting toasted.
Hah, Riya soaked in the heat, all the flames, take that megalomaniac wannabe. Seriously, what made all demi-gods power hungry douchebags? Were they not hugged enough as children? Turning, she stared at Gammon, standing five feet away, he’d raised the gun and was still pointing it directly at her. Damn, she hoped there was a part b to this plan of Marcus’s.
And yes there was, as the bridesmaid dress flew threw the air, a flaming blue fireball. The material wasn’t on fire, but the tequila it had been been briefly coated with burned bright blue. The fiery liquid shedding off the garment, splattering Gammon, who yelled out in shocked surprise, trying to bat the fire away, yelling again as the bridesmaid dress landed with a heavy slap across his chest.
Gammon frantically tugged at it as the material clung to him like it had a mind of its own, which of course it did. Riya watched on as Gammon did an awkward dance, batting at the blue flames dancing across his shirt and a few last flickers that clung to the mass of swamp green material. She glanced over as Marcus limped around the kitchen island to join her, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, he stared into Riya’s eyes. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She glanced down at his bloodied thigh with worry. “You?”
“Paper cut.”
Riya rolled her eyes. “I’m adding macho to that list of descriptives.”
Marcus shifted his weight, winced slightly and then smiled. “Still not sounding like a negative.” He switched his gaze to Gammon, whose movements were slowing, jerky, still attempting to shift the bridesmaid dress latched onto his chest. Damn, the bastard hadn’t dropped his weapon.
“Shit, I need to get that gun away from him.” He’d barely spoken the words when the bridesmaid dress moved, sliding across Gammon’s chest and down his arm, engulfing the gun.
Gammon began shrieking about then, only just realising that the material that had been flung at him had a mind of its own. The man panicked, lifted his other hand, the one that held the ruby and shouted out an indistinct power name. There was a worrisome rumble overhead, the lights flickered again.
Marcus grabbed for Riya, sending her to the floor and covering her with his body as a loud cracking sound split the air and the ceiling came down, along with about thirty tons of water.
The water ruby had worked its chaos magic and found the nearest water source, the plumbing pipes overhead.
Riya gasped, pushing her wet fringe out of her eyes. Alarms sounded. Emergency lights were flashing. Heavens, what next? Of course she’d barely had that thought when from amidst the wreckage in the centre of the room a burnt and sopping Heath Gammon rose unsteadily to his feet. His Italian suit torn and covered with burnt holes. His once perfectly coiffed hair now plastered to his head, the ends singed and fried. The bridesmaid dress was no where in sight, either hurt or swept away by the torrent of water.
Terror cascaded through Riya as the gun Gammon still held in his hand was lifted and pointed directly towards them. Even as the horror of what was going to happen dawned on her Marcus had already shifted, protecting her, making himself the target. No… Goddess, no. Please, no.