Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) (6 page)

Bomani leapt over the black jagged rock and landed
on the soft sand. A second bright flash of light caught his attention in the
distance. Someone had either joined or left the party. The breeze carried the fragrance
of lilacs and spices. Two separate scents. One male. One female.

He paused, uncertain. He should return to the
human realm, find the exiler and leave this memory alone. It was not his anyway.
Despite his resolve to leave, he skirted the tree line closer to his destiny. Movement
drew his attention. The enormous black stallion grazed on the grass at the edge
of the bank where the sand met the fertile ground. Lush green vegetation
flourished on the rich volcanic soil. He scanned the tropical hillside and the
beach. The rider could not be far.

Within a few feet from the horse he stopped. The steed’s
head jerked up with its ears twitching in multiple directions. Its red eyes
fixated on him. The black nostrils flared as the horse assessed him. Volatile
by nature, warhorses would charge if they sensed any threat. The stallion
snorted before lowering its head to resume ripping the succulent green grass.

Bomani dared to lay a hand on the horse’s neck. Muscles
twitched beneath the thick hide, and the long arched tail brushed over its hindquarters.
Not giving Bomani another look, the steed shifted its weight to move to a new
patch of vegetation. The swelling posterior of the horse’s foreleg drew Bomani’s
gaze. He slid his palm down the shoulder and over the bruised area. It jerked and
nipped Bomani’s hand.

“Sorry, boy.” Despite the injury, the horse was
well nourished and cared for. To his knowledge all the horses had been
destroyed after the war. The Pantheon had no further use for them, yet this one
lived. Bomani shifted his palm over the horse’s chest and traced over the brand
of a lion’s head.

The rider’s cloak was draped over a branch. He ran
his fingers along the thick felt fabric. It smelled of lilacs and vanilla, the
scent all too familiar.
Isis, that would mean
…

Water erupted and a goddess emerged from the black
surf. She blew out a breath and smoothed her hair back from her face. Water
shimmered against her honey colored skin. The moonlight highlighted the
exquisite lines of her face and neck. Her light eyes appeared almost colorless.

Bomani leaned a hand against the horse to steady
himself. Her name rested on the tip of his tongue, but he could not draw it
forth. Transfixed, he delayed concealing his presence. She walked to shore, the
water level dropping further to expose more of her carnal flesh. The water
flowed down the curved lines of her full breasts, flat abdomen, and perfectly
bare sex. Long lean muscles ran the length of her body, bulkier than most
females, but no less exquisite.

Her silhouette exuded strength to match the energy
flowing around her. This was no simple goddess. This was the Goddess of War, a
more than worthy opponent. Bomani broke out in a sweat. His gums ached as his
incisors descended into sharp fangs. He clenched his hands, his body not quite
feeling his own, but unmotivated to stop the rush seeing her gave him.

She turned to look out over the water, unaware of
her now captivated voyeur. Dark brown hair snaked down a delectable spine to
the curve of her round ass. Unrepressed arousal surged through his body,
awakening a new hunger deep in his soul.

* * *

Siya jerked her head over her shoulder. Execution
grazed undisturbed on the bank. Despite his calm, the hairs on the back of her
neck stood on end. Few knew of this location, the very reason Haru agreed to
meet her here. She stalked towards her sword, keeping her eyes locked on the
shadows. She dressed quickly and then grasped the hilt. Was this just more of
her paranoia?

“We need to get moving.” Her respite over, she
swung up onto Execution’s back, grabbed his reins and circled him around. The
prickling at her neck had yet to cease. Something or someone was out there. She
needed to get back to the human realm.

She jabbed the horse’s flanks with her heels and
forced him into a full gallop. The green palms and water flew by in a blur. The
steed grunted in protest and fought her command to line up with the entry to
the portal. “Come on, boy. Get it together.”

She yanked her sword free and pointed to the
center of the invisible layer. The sword glowed with the power she forced into
the metal. Next to her father, she was the only other god that could transport
via dark and light energy. She could absorb and expel it at will.

Energy shot from the tip of her blade and pierced
the mortal plane. The matter opened at the center, revealing the dock and
familiar human buildings. It was large enough to let them pass. She loosened
her hands on the reins and leaned forward in anticipation of Execution’s jump.

The horse shifted, but not in the direction she
commanded him. His back legs stiffened and he dug his hooves into the sand.
From super speed to an abrupt halt, Siya shot over the horse’s head. She missed
the now collapsing portal.

Her head and spine cracked against the black reef
jetting out of the sand. The impact ejected her sword from her grasp. As she
rolled to locate her weapon and Execution, the grating of broken bones took her
breath away. Struggling for air, blood bubbled from her mouth.

What happened to that gods' damn horse? Execution’s
head was down and he limped towards her. She reached her arm out to leverage
herself against the sand and dragged her body to her sword.

Movement in the shadows drew her blurry gaze. A
large cloaked figure shifted in the silver moonlight.
Henry’s devil.
Panic overwhelmed her. Digging her fingers into the sand, she clawed her way to
her weapon. She had younglings counting on her. Humans to protect.

The dark male grabbed Execution’s reins and pulled
him away. Siya’s fingertips grazed the hilt. If he hurt her horse, she would
gut him. Raging against the pain, she thrust herself forward and wrapped her
palm around the thick handle.

The male stepped on the blade, rendering it
immobile. Unwilling to die without a fight, she forced herself up onto her
knees. Her powers would heal her injuries, but she feared not soon enough.

He knelt and snatched the curved saber from her
waist. Barely able to hold herself up, she failed to stop him. Cool fingers
grazed her temple, robbing her powers and buckling her limbs beneath her.
Darkness crept into the corners of her vision. She lunged and slammed into a
wall of muscle. Large firm hands clasped her and restrained her feeble attack.
More warmth flooded her body and drained her last reserves of energy. A black
shroud closed in, sleep overwhelming her need to survive. She slammed her palms
into the broad chest to break his hold. Her power waned and she slumped against
him.

Her exile had weakened her after all. She would never
be able to defeat her father or Apep. They had come to destroy all of it.

Bomani stared down at the goddess cradled against
his chest. Her wet hair clung to his exposed arm. The scent of lilacs and blood
filled his senses. A large laceration on her scalp stopped bleeding and slowly
knitted itself back together. If not for his powers to subdue her, she would
have recovered fully within minutes. That, he could not have, not with the
lethality hidden beneath the beauty.

Isis
, he had the Goddess of War in his
arms. A legend he had read about in the ancient texts. There were few warriors
left from the primordial wars, and few talked about those times. It had always
been a mystery as to how his predecessor was killed in battle. Bomani could
find no record of Khalfani’s death, other than his last entry in the
Commander’s ledger, announcing the Pantheons’ victory over Apep.

He appraised the goddess. A part of him still
denied the truth of her identity, but the horse’s brand and matching
hieroglyphics on her forearms beguiled his skepticism. His fingers trembled as
he brushed the hair from the base of her neck.

He already knew what he would find lurking beneath
the thick brown mane. The scarab brand distorted her otherwise perfect skin.
The mark of a god on death row. This was the exiler he was sent to find. Bast’s
Destroyer
.

He did not make the connection until now, and why
Bast had told him to stay clear. The Destroyer had slaughtered innocents after
the war, unable to quell the thirst for blood. But, those had been rumors, ones
he gave little credence at the time. Looking at the mark on her skin, he
believed they very well may be true.

Why then did the Pantheon let her live? Why after
all this time was Bast interested in her whereabouts? Had her killing resumed?
The memory of the body in the alley came to mind. It was not far from the
diner.

He shook his head. Too many questions he should
not be asking in the first place. It was not his concern anymore.

The warmth of her energy crept over his skin and
burrowed deep into his tissues. Being this close to living energy, he could not
restrain his hunger any longer. He drew in long and hard until the tendrils of
energy burned through his veins. He had gone for so long without replenishing
his powers. Similar to the god who sired him, he needed living energy to feed
his soul. Better the goddess than the humans he had been eyeing.

The goddess stirred against him. Despite her eyes
being closed, her brows furrowed into deep lines. Her palm brushed over his
left chest above where the Underworld shield was scarred into his skin. He
inhaled sharply as his normally numb skin surged alive. The nerve endings
danced with currents of electricity. He pressed his thumb into her temple,
uncertain how much he could sedate her without harm. Tonight was the first time
in his life he tapped into his powers.

He lived a warrior’s life and refused to embrace
the gifts his father had given him. Asar never pushed him on this issue. Bomani
had risen to the top by his own fortitude. No one dared challenge him on that
issue.

Bomani was no god. Gods lived in the palace with
fancy dishes and servants to placate their every need. He’d lived on a dirty
mattress for centuries. He valued only what he earned through blood and pain.

Yet, it seemed appropriate to incapacitate the
female before she caused herself more damage fighting him. Based on the burning
red glow of her eyes, she would not stop. Witnessing the accident from a
distance, he was surprised she remained conscious after the hit she’d taken.
The horse’s leg had buckled on the injured side, just a few strides from the
portal’s entrance.

Mine
? What the fuck was that about? He
heard the thought in his head as clearly as if it was his own. He could not
discern if he was driven purely by his need to feed his starving soul or anger.
He had too much of both at the moment.

The tightness in his chest dissipated as the
goddess’ energy recharged him from the inside out. He closed his eyes and
tipped his head back, reveling in the feeling. Bathed in warmth, his tight
muscles loosened and the pain released. The darkness of his vision faded, his
hungry soul sated.

At least for the moment.

Movement against his chest brought him out of his
high. He gazed down at the goddess. The wound on her scalp dripped blood. Her
healing stalled, allowing the wound to open again. A sharp spike of regret
filled his chest. He could not replace what he had taken. Guilt rode hard and
deep. He pressed his hand against her head to slow the bleeding.

What had he become to take advantage of a helpless
female?

This was not the first time.
His conscience
reared its ugly head.

He released the goddess—
no
, exiler. Her
body slid to the sand as he surged to his feet. Bitterness raged in his chest.

Damn, Bast.

Damn, Kendra.

Damn them all.

Black sands and warm waves greeted her sore eyes.
The cold metal of her sword lay under her fingertips in the sand. She pushed up
to sit. Her head bobbed under the weight of pain. Snapping her hand to her
waistband, she found the saber snug in its sheath.

What of the dark figure? Her eyes swept the beach.
Surely, she had not imagined the intruder. She touched the side of her head.
Blood knotted the thick strands of her hair, but overall her skin was intact.

She palpated the back of her neck. Oddly, the mark
was warm to the touch instead of ice cold. If not for the irregular skin
beneath her touch, she would have believed she had been absolved of her
sentence.

With a grunt she stood, but not without a
significant amount of dizziness. The blow to her head could explain her
hallucination. She blinked a few times and gauged her surroundings. Execution’s
hoof prints and the surf had erased any evidence of an intruder.

He had been real, solid enough she felt his firm
touch. She tightened her grip around her sword. A siravant would not be
merciful. It would have ensured she was awake when it consumed her soul. If it
had been Menthu, she would have been shackled or dead. No, this enemy was
playing with her. Why else would she have her weapons back.

She surveyed the shadows shifting beneath the
large canopy of branches. Inhaling, she sifted through the scents carried in
the air. Nothing stood out among the salt and vegetation. No scent?

Despite his severe limp, Execution had wandered
down the beach to some fresh vegetation. He surely would have alerted her. The
beast hated all but her. Even the younglings.

Could she have imagined the hard planes of his
chest or the strong arms restraining her? She pushed away the doubt, trusting
her instincts. He was out there watching.

She had set out to find Henry’s devil when in
fact, the devil had found her. Now, what to do about it? The intruder wanted
her to believe he was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

Fine.

She would play his game.

For now.