Page 12 of Destined for Dreams
Chapter 4
Bartol
Her scent lingered in his shop. Bartol should have showered and sprayed down his work area with something strong to remove any trace of her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. It had been too long since he’d been close to her, touched her, felt her warmth and soft skin. Sneaking glimpses from far away had seemed like enough for the first couple of weeks, but staying out of reach had begun to wear on him. He’d never admit it to Cori, but he was glad she came to his shop that morning. After only one encounter, he already felt better than he had in weeks.
Could a weakened mating bond truly harm him on a deeper level?
And if so, what might it be doing to her? As frustrated as Bartol was with Cori, she was his mate, and the last thing he wanted was for her to suffer. She’d had enough of that with her former husband—a man who’d beaten her regularly and later caused the death of their daughter. He suspected that was one of the reasons she was unwilling to commit to him. No matter what she said, she could not possibly trust Bartol after what she’d been through with another man. She’d had years to come to terms with that failed marriage, but he had no doubt recent events had brought back all her old fears. Cori was even still blaming herself over her failed murder attempt of Griff, thinking she deserved the terrible punishment he’d meted out. She hadn’t deserved to die. Bartol wished she could understand that and then maybe things could be different between them. Maybe she could trust him.
The thought of her rejection still hurt, though. They may have known each other for a short time—a mere six months—but deep within him he knew there was no other woman for him out there. He’d had his fill of females in every size, shape, and quality centuries ago, even if he hadn’t realized that simple truth until recently.
And from the moment he and Cori met each other, she’d managed to get under his skin in ways he’d never imagined. Not once did she make him feel like less than a man, despite his scars and traumatized past. If anything, Bartol suspected it was his darker side that drew her to him. She was the other half of his soul, if only she would accept him completely. But then again, perhaps it was for the best that they did not work things out. She needed and deserved someone who was less damaged. Though it killed him to do so, the greatest gift he could give her was time apart so that maybe she could eventually move on—even if he never could.
A bright flash of light disturbed his train of thought.
A young man with shaggy brown hair and violet eyes appeared near the shop door. He swaggered over to Bartol. Tormod was considered a nerou—part nephilim and part sensor—but unlike the rest of his kind, he also had a quarter demon in him. That made him fully immortal and a potential threat once he got older and stronger. As of right now, he was only fifty and had the maturity of a teenager. The nerou hybrid had led a sheltered life in Purgatory as the youngest of his kind and had a lot of growing up to do. His nephilim trainers were nearly at their wits end with his pranks and childish behavior, especially while having the others to focus on, which was why Bartol had begun giving private sessions to the boy so that Tormod could have more individualized attention. He earned extra money by conducting the training, but it also gave him a sense of purpose he hadn’t had when he first returned to Earth.
Tormod sniffed the air with his heightened senses and grinned. “Cori has been here.”
“Mind your own business,” Bartol growled.
“Hey.” The nerou put up his hands. “I’m glad you got laid. I wasn’t looking forward to more days of grouchiness if this went on for much longer.”
Bartol stepped closer to the young man, narrowing his eyes. “Whatever happens between my mate and me is our business. Stay out of it.”
Tormod, who was every bit as large as Bartol, and perhaps a shade more muscular, didn’t back down or appear the least bit intimidated. “I’m only calling it like it is. You need her, whether you like it or not, and everyone knows it except you.”
It was difficult to restrain himself, but Bartol held back from punching the nerou. When it came to mates, immortals were very protective—especially in the beginning—and they lost their tempers easily to anyone who appeared to be a threat. On an intellectual level, he knew Tormod was just being himself and meant no harm. But on a primal level, he saw the young man as being far too familiar in matters that didn’t concern him. Bartol couldn’t even stand the idea of other males, or interested females for that matter, being near Cori. It was all he could do to control himself and one of the reasons he avoided visiting his mate’s shop. She didn’t need to deal with that level of jealousy, and he couldn’t afford to lose control.
“One day, I hope you understand the true nature of mates,” Bartol said, stepping away to grab hold of two training swords in the corner. He tossed one to the nerou. “I don’t want to hear another word on the subject.”
They used the open space in the middle of the shop to practice their sword play. It was close quarters, but that was a lesson in itself. Tormod was missing training at the nerou compound to spend time with Bartol, and the others didn’t like his methods of fighting anyway, so they worked on his skills here. It gave each of them exercise and helped to work off any aggression they were feeling. Between the two of them and their individual problems, they had a lot to burn through each day.
Tormod was quiet for the first few minutes, mostly working to block Bartol’s expert moves, but it was clear he was working up to saying something. “I heard about Caius coming to visit.”
“He’s on a fool’s errand.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” the nerou replied ominously.
Bartol kicked out and tripped Tormod, sending the young man flying onto his back and hitting the floor with a hard thud. “Caius has been foolish enough to fall into Zoe’s trap, but I expect you as my student to be smarter. She is attempting to manipulate us so that she can see her daughter—that is all.”
Tormod jumped to his feet, replying as he adjusted his sagging jeans, “Olivia had a vision about a demon rising. Zoe may not be lying.”
The nerou he spoke of was Micah’s daughter and Lucas’ niece. She had the second sight and could make predictions of the future. Most were vague and little could be done about them until too late, but others became clear while there was still time to act. Still, she saw many things that no one ever came to understand, which meant they might not happen for centuries, or they occurred too far away in the world to matter.
“She is likely influenced by Caius’ words,” Bartol argued.
“The first vision came a couple of months ago and the second a few weeks ago.”
He paused. That was long before the nephilim’s visit. “What did she see?”
“An evil presence rising out of the Earth. She got a sense of great doom.”
That was specific enough to fit, except it still told Bartol nothing. “Anything else?”
Tormod shook his head. “She logged them both, but she didn’t bother to mention them until this morning since she couldn’t find any way to relate them to anything happening now.”
“In other words, we still don’t know if what she saw is the same as Zoe’sallegeddemon,” Bartol said, thrusting his sword at the nerou once more. “I would not act on so little information.”
