“I vow to protect Zavier with my own life as if he is my blooded son. Let no one underestimate the power of my oath.
“From this day forward, should I seek to break my oath, Gary, uncle of the Named prince and Zareb of the south central prides will lead until Zavier is of age, for I would have forfeited my life. On the words of the Doctrine, I am bound. My fate tied to the power of Ulryk and Nivar, owner of my power and the leader of us all.”
In unison Nivar and Ulryk said, “By your words you are bound. Should you break them, your life will be ours to seize. Live with Honor, Tor, for you are bound.”
All of the gods—after taking a final look at Zavier—left and returned to Gardas. The room sat in silence for a brief moment before one of the western pride Zareb’s stood and took the attention away from everyone gawking at Omar.
Alake Brad tried to force the male back down, but Omar shook his head so that the male could speak.
“Why should it matter what happens to him when he isn’t even your son?”
Omar turned his copper eyes to the Aleser who’d spoken. Obviously this male wasn’t grasping the fact that he’d spoken an oath that couldn’t be undone. He’d bound himself by the power of his word as both a Rocky and Tor. His vow was not just unbreakable because of who he’d made it to, but because to do so would cost him his eternal soul. The gods required more of him than pretty words, something to assure them how dedicated he was about the oath. However, the pride didn’t need to be told; he’d how them instead.
Omar turned his copper eyes to the Aleser who’d spoken. “Because I said so.”
“But he is a bastard’s son.”
Jazmir stepped forward, the sword he always wore brandished across his back. Anise stepped forward, but her presence was unnecessary. He would make it clear to everyone—beyond a shadow of doubt—that Anise’s son was his.
Without jostling his son, Omar grabbed Jazmir’s sword. He launched himself from the altar’s raised dais and decapitated the male in one swift motion. An audible gasp went through the gathered pride.
After making his way back to his Tukata, he resheathed the sword and turned his attention to the pride.
“He’s my son. Any questions?” When he received no response, he nodded to Yara, who dismissed them to the dining hall for the feast to honor Zavier.
Jazmir went with Ronan to prepare yet another body for a Passing, but Brad stepped forward.
“I warned him, Tor.”
Omar shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d find a way to piss me off. We can perform his Passing in the morning if you like.”
“No. We have occupied your space long enough. If it is possible, I would like his body returned to California and his pride.”
“I will see if Torin can assist you. If not, I will charter a jet for you to return home. Jazmir will assist you with everything else while I make those arrangements.”
Brad nodded and followed Jaz to the body.
Omar turned to find Anise staring at him. She was obviously trying to find words to describe the scene that had happened too fast for her to process.
“I am a male of my word, mate. He is safe with me. Do you trust me now?”
She gave him a wary nod that he could tell still held irrational doubts. He didn’t know what else he could do to win her trust in regards to his intentions. Exasperated, Omar led her from the room and into the dining hall where everyone had gathered.
“Sorry for the delay,” he said. “I present to you my son and prince to the throne.”
A chorus of praise rose from those gathered. He released them to their chosen seats and guided Anise to the raised platform where a table was waiting.
OMAR STOOD NEXT TO
TYSON
as they prepared to board the plane, already wary of the glassy eyed stare Tyson aimed at no one in particular. Omar didn’t understand how no one saw what was happening to their fellow Rocky.
Nothing about Tyson was normal, not that Tyson would have ever been classified as normal. The male had an attitude problem of god-like proportions. The only person he’d ever paid any attention to in regards to leadership was Mikko Wayne. The fact that he was risking Mikko’s generous good graces—something no one ever bothered to try—should have alerted the others that something was wrong.
Omar led Tyson by the elbow onto the plane. Though he was bound in god cuffs as a precaution, he doubted the Hafiz would bother fighting them if he’d been granted his freedom. An eerie calm wafted from Tyson, implying his acceptance of is likely punishment. Worse, he displayed a nonchalant attitude to the possibility of a Dispelling and dying without honor.
Nothing Tyson had done warranted that kind of punishment, but he’d have to convince Mikko Wayne—a male notorious for his low threshold for bullshit.
“Do you really think he’ll be put down?”
Omar focused on Trent to see his inquisitive eyes roaming over Tyson. He narrowed his gaze at the little boy, who seemed to have a sudden lack of a filter.
“A Rocky isn’t a dog or a lame horse. You don’t put one of us down. Those who have been Dispelled have died without the honor, which is our guiding principle, but we are never reduced to animals. We are better than that.”
Tyson snorted and smirked at the boy. “I don’t care what the motherless one thinks, Omar.”
Trent laughed, and a flicker of wisdom passed through his odd green and yellow eyes. “Good. You aren’t completely unaware. I’ve heard of some of your fights. Can you tell me about them?”
With the curiosity of a child and the wisdom of his father, Trent managed to wipe away Tyson’s glassy gaze and engage the male in a way that kept the male coherent enough to prove he wasn’t totally irredeemable.
“Which one?” Tyson asked.
Trent paused as if in thought. “The battle of The Pass.”
The smile that graced Tyson’s face spoke of how much he’d enjoyed that fight.
For the next hour, Tyson kept Trent entertained with old war stories, and Trent kept Tyson lucid and aware of his surroundings. When they were disembarking the plane, Omar pulled Trent aside and let Ronan guide Tyson from the plane.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Trent asked.
“Taking care of my brother in arms.”
He shrugged. “If I hope to lead, I must first recognize the needs of my men. I can’t lead them into battle with no understanding of what ails them when their souls are weary. He lacks purpose and drive. His mate was taken from him. My father gets that same glazed look of desperation in his eyes when he doesn’t think I watch him. I am the reason my mother is gone—why my father has moments where missing her is so great that he wishes me dead so that he no longer has to see me to adulthood. I am both the reason he remains as sane as he does and the catalyst to his insanity.”
The kid was really too smart, too aware of the world around him. He spent too much time with adults and not enough engulfed in the wonder of childhood.
“Don’t do that,” Trent said, breaking into his thoughts.
“Do what?”
“Minimize me because of my age. Don’t think that because of my age I am somehow unaware of the reality of my world. Or that I should be wrapped in some false sense of safety in order to protect me. That isn’t protection. That is weakness personified. I am not weak.
“I may be nine, but I am strong. I can’t afford to be any different. My life depends on it. You think my life is somehow missing something, that I don’t understand or know the childhood you will obviously covet for your son. I don’t have the luxury of your son. His mother is here to protect him. You are here to protect him. I can’t blame my father for giving me the tools I need to defend myself if the need arises. I am not helpless in this world where war is a reality, where many go into battle and some to the eternal embrace of Gardas by the time the sun sets from the sky. I’m sorry I can’t be that innocent kid for you, but I can’t afford that luxury. One day, I’ll lead the Rockys, and I needed to understand what that means as soon as possible.”
Omar smiled at Trent and clapped him on the back. “And it is for that reason, should you ever need me, all you need to do is ask and I am there, whether you be Rocky or not.”
Trent smiled at him and led the way from the plane while Omar reeled at the fact he’d given an oath of loyalty to a fucking nine year old.
* * *
Anise sat on the edge of her bed and looked at the blueprints of the house. Omar wanted her to try her hand at redesigning the place and ordering new furniture, all things that sounded terribly domestic. She wasn’t the domestic type. She wondered if Omar was going to expect her to start cooking and cleaning.
Derrick had particular females he let do those mundane chores, having seen her lackluster capabilities in the kitchen and been unsatisfied with her attempts at cleaning. His mistake was that he assumed she’d been spoiled and wasn’t asked to lift a finger as the only child to her aunt. The reality was she’d been fighting all her life, learning the power of weapons and taking the lives of their enemy from the moment she’d had her First Shift.
Of course, Derrick had known none of this. His arrogance had been a turnoff, but her aunt had shown her the way to the throne—to have the son of the Tor and rule from the shadows. Too bad her aunt hadn’t ironed out all the nefarious details of what that meant. Dealing with Derrick and his tantrums, pretending to be weak for the sake of his ego and her future plans nearly ate away all that she knew about herself.
And the sex… gods, the sex had been awful. So awful her plans had nearly derailed because she couldn’t imagine having to deal with years of non-orgasmic sex just to rule from the shadows, especially when she had to factor in the Derrick’s general shitty moods and the constant hovering desperation that was Eryka. That was a female she couldn’t wait to Challenge.
She sighed and turned back to the blueprints. A catalog of furniture lay nearby, which she flipped through for the fifth time. The least she could do was pick another bedroom set.
She circled a heavy mahogany set, wrote down a list of colors for sheets and comforters, and finally checked off a few decorative items to give the room some personality and a few splashes of color. When she was finished, she checked on Zavier before going to find Omar’s Lykata.
“He’ll like this, Nabila,” Yara said after glancing over her selections.
“Just call me Anise. I’m not his wife.”
“Yet.”
“I won’t hold my breath.”
“Why do you doubt our Tor so much? I know you aren’t comparing him to the former Tor. They are not one in the same.”
Anise stood silent in reflection, well aware that Omar and Derrick were nothing alike. Still she wasn’t going to sit around and speculate that Omar had different plans for her. Granted, he had said he had no use for more than one wife. She hoped that was the case because she wasn’t the least bit interested in sharing his attention with another female.
“You know what, Yara? You’re right. I’m leery of getting my hopes up, but I see what he has allowed you to do by being his Lykata.”
Yara dipped her head in respect. “Unfortunately, I think I may have to resign my post or become your Lykata. That is if you will have me. The organization of the pride here in the States is a lot different than that of the African prides. I’m afraid no one will take me seriously here. There will be upheaval, which will not help Tor solidify his position here with the pride leaders.” She gave a sad nod. “I think I may ask Omar to instate Jazmir as his Lykata. I can do any number of things so long as it doesn’t include cleaning and cooking.”
Anise laughed. “In that, you have my sympathy and support. I know you will be wasted in such domestic capacity. We’ll figure it out.”
They ventured downstairs to check in with the rest of the pride. Her brother was taking care of the members who seemed uncertain of their futures and the few females who mourned their former Tor. Anise stepped into the empty altar room, leaving Yara to entertain herself elsewhere.
She knelt at the altar and fumbled for the words she wanted. The reason that brought her to the altar room disturbed her more than the crap she’d been willing to endure for the sake of one day ruling behind the helm of her son. Still she took a breath and shook the cowardice from her heart and embraced her purpose.
“Goddess Afri, show me your mercy. I need you more than I have ever needed you.” She paused, not because she expected a response. She knew the goddess heard her, but the gods rarely responded in person. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts and courage to say the words out loud.
“Finish it, Anise,” the goddess’ gentle voice said.
“You came?”
“It was you or this creature from Larka. Trust me; you don’t want to know how horrid their idea of love is. Ownership and submission, and not the sexy kind of submission.” The goddess shuddered, her long locks waving loosely behind her. “Come on now. Tell me what you need.”
“My mate…”She sighed. “I want to love my mate the way he deserves.”
“Does he deserve it?”
“I don’t know. He’s my Soul’s Mate; how can he not deserve it? My soul chose him for a reason.”
“That is true; it did. The question remains, does he deserve it? Does he deserve the cognitive part of you that is reluctant in this equation?”
“I could refuse him?”
“You’d pay a price.”
“My sanity.”
“Oh, that’s the least of your problems. I’m referring to the denial of your affections to one of your own. A Rocky is not denied. And he is your Tor.” A twinkle of laughter escaped the goddess’ slender throat. “I don’t think he’d let you leave without making every effort to change your mind. And you know as well as I do that you’ll change your mind. It’s not like you want to deny him now. You just don’t want to like him.”
“I want to protect my son.”
“Omar has the heart and soul of a Rocky. He has no intention of harming your son. You are fishing for reasons, Nabila, and they are terrible reasons. Stop using your son as a pawn in your game of hearts. You love the Tor already. You want him in every way that is right and pure. Take him. The longer you deny him, the more you will chip away at what is right and pure about your inevitable union. Your Rocky is strong of heart, but no heart is able to withstand everything. I know from experience what it is like to destroy love. You will never recover what should have been.”
With that, the goddess left, but not before Anise saw Afri’s tearful gaze. She nodded at the replica of the Tree of Liflasir. She would try to love Omar despite her fears.