Blood Flows Deep in the Empire (6 page)

Fucker.

Sweat slid down her face as the memory became too much. She could feel her need for him expanding,
demanding
him
.
Again.

She felt sick. Vulnerable. Out of control.

Whatever had been happening to her in the alley magnified to the point of violence. Biting her lip, she held back a whimper as tremors racked her so hard it felt like her bones rattled. Her teeth chattered as she shook.

“Ismini!”

Oh, God. Please. Please touch me. You’ll make it better. Touch me.

She had no idea where those thoughts came from, but she knew they were true. Had she been able to move she would have latched on to him.

Dyletri knelt next to her and wrapped one of his hands around her waist. The other one stroked her face. Her lower lip. His worried voice caressed everything else.

“I moved too fast. Forgive me. Are you all right?” He sounded so genuinely concerned. His tone had grown deeper. Softer. “Ismini, talk to me.” His touch was light, and she felt it seep into her being.

An ache slid into her heart, causing it to do that strange fluttering thing. She inhaled shakily, and tried to control the need gnawing at her insides. Panicked, she pulled at her sweater, desperately trying to rip through it and clutch her chest. “Ianthen! Cyake!”

Ismini cried out as Dyletri picked her up. She blinked and tried to raise her head to look at him.

“Hold on, Ismini. We’re going to help you,” he said, cradling her against his chest.

She was still trembling as he began running, but being so close to him distracted her. He smelled unlike anything she’d experienced. The scent eased her pain even as it worsened her hunger.

Dyletri moved so fast that the world once again became a blur. She fought to stay awake even as she heard several other pairs of footsteps heading their way.

“Cyake! Ianthen! Damn it, I don’t know what’s happening to her. I traveled too fast, I guess, but that’s not all. It started before we left Earth.”

“What the hell happened?”

“I have no idea. She was running from someone when I went for her. She said she was being followed, then she collapsed.” Dyletri shifted her. “Ismini, open your eyes. Look at me.”

She complied, confused. Shit, when had he gotten so close?
A lock of his white hair fell over his brow as he leaned toward her. He stared deeper into her eyes, and all Ismini could think was that he was too gorgeous for his own good. Too-f bottom lip, an intricate tattoo that peeked out from the sleeves of his white T-shirt, and strange blue eyes—eyes that had changed and now showed their true color. Silver and blue swirled together around his pupils.

Ismini knew he’d probably disguised his eyes when he had to go into the human world. She’d seen what they really looked like before in her dreams, but the sight of them still stole her breath.

Or the little bit of it that was left.

It was practically nonexistent as he entered her mind again. Distress jolted Ismini, nearly making her forget about what had been happening to her body. She wanted to snap at him and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.

She feared he was after more of her past, or worse, her fantasies of him. But instead, she saw him go straight for the memory of the two “men” who had been following her.

I wasn’t hallucinating. What the fuck were they? Was one of them really freaking
blue
?

Dyletri’s nostrils flared, then he froze. A beastlike sound vibrated behind his tense, closed mouth. “Enteax. Lisrn.”

“What did you just say?” one of the other voices asked.

“It was fucking Enteax and Lisrn. They were after her.” Dyletri glared at whoever was standing in front of them.

Ismini wanted to see who he was talking to, but she felt herself growing weaker and weaker. Her eyes locked on Dyletri’s throat, on the pounding she saw there, and her insides cramped again. She cried out, feeling like her midsection had been splashed with acid, and arched in Dyletri’s arms.

“Come. Bring her into the medical wing.”

“I’ll get Vedlyl. He’ll attend to her.”

“Cyake, you get Vedlyl. Ianthen, start a search. If those pieces of shit are showing themselves after so many millennia, it can’t be good. Find them. I want to know what the hell they wanted with her.” Dyletri’s tone left no room for arguments.

Ismini could tell by the timbre of the two new voices that they were also gods. Just like Dyletri’s, there was a slight raspy echo behind their words.

Ismini wanted to listen to them some more, but couldn’t. Darkness called to her, and the heaviness of sleep fell over her. She thought she heard Dyletri asking her to stay awake, but it was futile. Whatever the hell this was, it wasn’t just coming from her body. She was exhausted to the deepest part of her soul.

Chapter 5

Enzyria. Upper level, medical wing

Vedlyl examined Ismini, but he refused to tell Dyletri what he suspected was happening. He said he would monitor her and that he’d be back after he “looked into something”.

Dyletri did what Vedlyl requested. He stayed in that fucking room and watched as hour after hour passed, his fist pressed against his mouth. Each damned second that ticked by seemed to make her worse, and every time the girl whimpered, it felt as if something inside him broke.

What else could explain the pain he felt?

Five hours later, Ismini showed no signs of improving. If anything, she was worse, which really pissed Dyletri off. He’d done everything he could to get her straight to Vedlyl, but even the God of Medicine hadn’t been able to cure her. Apparently she wasn’t suffering from any normal human fever.

No, shit.

Had it been that, something normal, Vedlyl would have been able to reverse it. To heal Ismini. Instead, she remained sweating, bright red, and even to him, her skin was too hot when touched.

He told himself to keep it together and
not
fling the dresser against the nearest wall. The last thing Ismini needed was to be disturbed by a raving lunatic. But staying in that room and watching as her condition deteriorated was driving him batshit crazy.

Needing to get out for a few, he went to her apartment, intent on bringing back anything he knew was important to her.

Her memories clouded his mind. Every moment she had lived, or endured, had been etched onto his brain. Dyletri rematerialized into Ismini’s room in Enzyria and walked toward the bed. He stared at her.

There was no denying it. He was sick with worry, and a part of him was beginning to feel as ill as she looked.

His teeth ground so hard he feared he might crack one. It would heal instantly, so that wasn’t the issue. Recognizing the feelings going through him was the real problem.

“Dyletri.”

Dyletri stiffened before turning and catching sight of Nylicia. She stood outside on the balcony, beckoning him closer.

“I don’t want to disturb her. She needs her rest.”

Dyletri joined her outside, throwing one more glance over his shoulder. “What is happening to her?”

“If it’s what I think it is, then I cannot tell you . . . yet.”

Her reply infuriated him, and he narrowed his eyes. “Then what’s happening to
me
?”

Her face was stoic, not an ounce of emotion or remorse played across her features. “Same thing.”

“Damn it, Nylicia!”

“You are worried,” she said, interrupting him. Her eyes traveled over his face, warmth flickering behind them. It was almost as if Nylicia was
glad
that he was worried.

It made him want to hit her. Okay, he would never hit her, but maybe pinch her. Anything that would aggravate her half as much as she was aggravating him. The woman could try the patience of any being in the Universe, of that he had no doubt.

“I’m not just worried. You know there’s more happening to me. And why are you here if not to help?”

A breeze blew through her transparent form, lifting her long, dark bangs as if she were a solid entity.

Her big eyes somehow got even bigger as she looked up at him. “Are those her things?”

Dyletri had a hard time holding her gaze. She was freaking him the hell out.
He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at the back of his neck.
His skin heated up, and with shock he realized he was on the verge of blushing.

No, not on the verge. That shit was actually happening!

“Oh, Dy!” Nylicia clapped her hands together.

He scowled. “Nylicia, shut it.”

Nylicia murmured unintelligible words, and her smile was almost frightening as she jumped from one foot to the other. She rubbed her palms together, looking like some sort of mad scientist plotting a scheme.

Forget that. This was Nylicia. The mad little scientist was definitely up to something.

“Woman, you will explain to me right now what is going on. Why am I having these symptoms?”

Nylicia deflated, her shoulders falling as she stared up at him with a childishly forlorn expression. “They’re called
feelings
, Dy. I mean, really . . . Symptoms?”

He growled at her, baring his teeth like an animal. A sound behind them had him looking over his shoulder.

“I’d love to stick around and explain.
Really
, I would. But Ismini is going to wake soon, and she needs you to talk to her, even though she probably—no, she definitely—won’t remember this conversation.”

By the time Dy glanced back, she was already running down the length of the balcony, her skirt flowing around her legs. Odd. Most the time, she just disappeared from view.

“Oh!” Nylicia appeared before him. “She’s going to need her friend here as her companion. The black-haired one. Another pretty little thing I named Evesse. Send Zeniel for her.” Then she ran from him again.

“Why Zeniel?”

“Because it
has
to be him. Don’t fuck with Destiny, my confused, little sex-addict in denial. Toodle-oo!”

Sex-addict in denial? Who the fuck does she think she is?

Dyletri seethed as he watched her wave over her shoulder. What he wouldn’t give to have her solid for a minute or two—so he could wrap his fingers around her neck.

She was insanity incarnate. He didn’t know how old she was, but she was going fucking senile. No one would convince him otherwise. Whatever mental illnesses were out there must reside in her head. All of them. Hell, they might have even originally sprung from there.

Dyletri sighed and made his way back into the room, pushing Nylicia from his mind and focusing solely on Ismini.

Which, disturbingly, wasn’t a hard thing to do. Not at all.

Dyletri knelt down beside Ismini’s bed, careful not to disturb her.

“Ismini?”

She shifted toward him, caught up in some dream or another. Her skin was still an angry, sweltering red. She showed no signs of waking soon, and he wondered what she was seeing behind her tightly closed eyelids.

“What is wrong with you?” he whispered.

Her brow furrowed. “Dy-Dyletri?”

Could she hear him? “Ismini?”

She whimpered, her little face scrunching up in agony. She tried to speak, but her voice came out raspy and dry.

“What do you need?” He leaned closer, wondering if he should call Vedlyl.

Ismini trembled. She curled into herself, and his chest ached. Impotent rage clawed at him, and in turn, he was damned close to clawing at himself. Just as he was about to call out for the God of Medicine, she spoke.

“C—cold. So cold.”

Cold? How the hell was that possible? She was bright red, sweating, and her skin was abnormally hot to the touch. He’d believed these were all the earmarks of a normal human fever, but what did he know? He’d never been susceptible to human illness. Was it normal to feel cold even when your body temperature was sky high?

“Ismini, what is it? Want me to get Vedlyl?” Dyletri stood, ready to go and find him.

She reached out, eyes still closed. Her delicate hand caught his attention. He watched as she seemed to search for something.

Then she wrapped her hand around his wrist.