Page 27 of Destined for Dreams
Rebecca gulped. “What does it…what does it do to you if she goes any further than that?”
“It brings back the nightmares Kerbasi created in my mind of my past lovers torturing me viciously through sex,” he said, shuddering as those very memories came forth. It hit him that something wasn’t right about this conversation, and he narrowed his eyes on her. “Why am I telling you this?”
Tormod sauntered over. “I probably should have warned you, but she has a way of getting people to tell her their most intimate and dark secrets. The longer you talk to her, the more she’ll get out of you.”
No one had mentioned Rebecca carried a unique talent of any kind, but he should have asked. All the nerou developed something within their first century or two. She’d had plenty of time to discover hers and fine tune it now that she was several hundred years old.
“I’m sorry.” She gave him an apologetic look. “It’s just that I could feel your pain from where I was sitting across the aisle, and I’d hoped maybe getting you to talk about it would help.”
“That’s also her thing,” Tormod said, crossing his arms. “Helping people when they don’t want it.”
Bartol ground his jaw. “No more questions and no more talking.”
“We’re almost there anyway,” Caius said, joining them from the front of the plane where he’d been sitting on a leather couch. He gestured toward the aircraft window where a city could be seen below in the distance. “That’s Kirov.”
It wasn’t their final destination, but it would get them close enough to the nerou compound that they could flash their whole group as well as luggage. Bartol took a few deep breaths to cool his anger over Rebecca’s manipulations. He knew from dealing with Tormod that the nerou were still learning to control their powers around other people, and they didn’t always mean harm. For their entire lives until coming to Earth, they’d been secluded in Purgatory where they learned very little beyond a basic education in reading, writing, and ancient history. He didn’t think they’d ever been taught proper social behavior and had to create their own code.
Also, magic was severely repressed on the otherworldly island for anyone not born a full angel, so their abilities were much stronger now than in Purgatory. The temptation to use them often was great, especially with so many more people around to experiment on. Bartol knew he had to be patient when dealing with them, but it didn’t make it easy when one could force deep, dark confessions out of him.
The plane began its descent. Everyone settled into their seats and buckled in as the aircraft took them on a bumpy ride toward the ground. The winds were high, making it particularly uncomfortable. Bartol watched as they got closer to the airport. The grounds around the runway were covered in snow, but oddly none of it swirled across the tarmac. He frowned, knowing it wasn’t natural. Only magic could create such a phenomenon.
They touched ground and taxied across the runway toward a group of three individuals—one woman and two men. They stood alone and unafraid of being hit should the plane not stop in time. It did, of course, but no more than a dozen feet separated the nose tip from the group.
“Couldn’t the pilot have gone just a little farther?” Tormod asked, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing up. “He would have gotten some cool points for running over those three.”
Bartol lifted a brow. “Cool points?”
“Uh, it’s hard to explain.”
Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t get it, either. I think it’s something he got from that sensor girl, Emily. She teaches him stuff, and then he tries it out on us. Sometimes we like it and use it, sometimes we don’t.”
Bartol grabbed the duffle bag he’d packed and joined the others as they filed out of the aircraft. The co-pilot had already gotten the stairs down for them. Bitter cold hit him as he stepped outside and hurried toward the ground. It wasn’t as frigid as Fairbanks, but it was still cooler than Bartol preferred. If he was going to finally leave Alaska for the first time, it was too bad he couldn’t have gone to a warmer climate. Perhaps the demon could do him a favor and be hiding down in the south of Spain.
“Welcome,” Zoe said, moving toward them.
Her gaze was directed at her daughter with a happy smile on her face. It was the perfect expression for a mother who’d missed her offspring and was happy to see them again. She attempted to hug Rebecca, but the young woman stepped away, shaking her head.
“You haven’t earned that right yet,” the younger woman said.
A flash of hurt touched Zoe’s gaze before she collected herself. “Of course, you’re right.”
She turned her attention toward the rest of them, her back ramrod straight. The clothes she wore were simple and yet elegant with an azure sheath dress that stopped just below her knees and a cream overcoat. Zoe was thirty-two hundred years old, but she could have easily passed for thirty. She had long, strawberry blonde hair like her daughter’s, though she was slightly taller and better endowed in the chest department as well as having wider hips. The woman used her naturally sensuous body to her advantage every chance she got, as Bartol recalled from previous meetings.
He’d never slept with her, but she’d done a fair job of tempting him once or twice. The only time her wiles failed completely was while she was imprisoned in Purgatory since the guardian, Kerbasi, had not been affected by anything she tried. Even Zoe—with all her beauty and manipulations—could not escape his torture. Of course, most people wondered if Kerbasi was capable of lust at all.
Bartol gestured at the men behind the female nephilim. “Who are they?”
“Oh.” She glanced back at the two males who appeared to be in their mid-twenties. Both had dark brown hair, sky-blue eyes, strong facial features, and stocky builds. The main difference between them was one had olive tinted skin, and the other was pale. “These are the two nerou I personally train.”
Zoe would pick favorites.
Tormod gave the males a derisive look and snorted. “I could take them down—easy.”
“You could try,” one of them said, crossing his arms to show off his large biceps.
“Both of them are over seven hundred years old. I highly doubt even you could take them at the same time,” Zoe replied, sniffing in disdain.
Bartol leaned toward Tormod. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew. We aren’t here to prove who is the strongest or toughest. I need you to focus on the mission.”
