Destiny's Shift (9 page)

stuck her hand out to him. “Let me help you up.”

Jovan looked at the small hand and the little female it was attached to. He

couldn’t believe she was going to teach him something as huge as how to control his gift.

She smiled at him, and Jovan studied the ringlets that fell around her face and the

glow of her eyes. She was really pretty in an innocent, almost childlike way. He felt his

Warrior side emerge, the side that wanted to shield her from all the ugliness he knew

existed, all the terrible thoughts and feelings people had.

He clasped her hand and was surprised by her strength as she helped him up.

“I hope you don’t mind, Jovan,” she said as they left the dining area. “I requested

the sleeping quarters at the bottom floor of this cylinder. The only way the emotions of

the house can get to us is from above, and it is much easier to manage when they aren’t

coming at you from all sides.”

Jovan nodded. It made sense.

The emotions in the house were going to be very strong for a while, of that he was

certain. Even Noah, Rayner, and Hudson would be feeling sadness for the loss of SR44,

even though they were happily mated. However, Talin and Cohen will be off the charts

devastated with the loss of their
lovrens
. Jovan realized that if it weren’t for Liberty, he

would probably have to leave the Warriors, because there was no way he would be able to

deal with the sheer torture of the intense emotions in the house.

As they stepped into the elevator, Liberty turned to him. “As we descend in this

box, it is my understanding that we will be passing the sleeping quarters of where the

others tarry. Is this correct?”

Jovan nodded. “Elevator,” he said.

She tilted her head and stared up at him, obviously confused.

“This box is called an elevator,” he said with a smile.

“Ah,” she said. “Of course. Thank you.”

“And yes, we’ll be passing where the others sleep.”

She nodded, turned to the control panel, and pushed the button for the bottom

sleeping quarters.

Jovan reached over and pushed the emergency stop button. “What do I need to do

so I don’t end up on the floor again, Liberty?”

“Take a deep breath,” she said. “I shall hold the box . . . I mean, elevator, in place

while you do this exercise.”

Their hands gently grazed over each other as she moved to hold the button. “Now,

close your eyes, Warrior.”

He did what he was told and skipped telling her that he wanted her to call him

Jovan.

“Your SR44 form is a beautiful, glowing light. Imagine that energy in front of

you.”

He remembered the green, misty form of his past.

“Now, concentrate and picture lowering a fabric of black over it.”

After a couple beats of silence, she asked, “Do you have that vision secure?”

In his mind’s eye, he brought the black cape over the green form, and within him,

he felt something shift. It was as if he was really rocking the whole I-am-an-island thing,

and not in the physical sense he was used to. He had entered a private room of his own,

where he could relax, where he was . . . alone, without anyone’s emotions or thoughts to

bother him. And this place brought him peace and freedom, freedom from the shackles of

always being on the outskirts, from the chains of needed avoidance.

“I see it in your face that you have accomplished your task, Jovan,” Liberty said

quietly. “We will ride the box down now. Concentrate on keeping your light cloaked.”

The elevator gave a slight jerk, and Jovan felt the descent begin. When he didn’t

feel anything for the first few seconds, he thought he had the whole cloaking business

down pat and he let himself relax. Suddenly, a jolt of pain cut through him, slamming

him into the side of the elevator, and taking his breath away.

“Focus, Warrior,” Liberty said in a calm voice. He felt her cool touch on his arm,

her fingertips on his temple. “Focus.”

He did what he was told, and the pain dissipated a bit, but not totally. “We must

have just passed the quarters of either the Warrior Talin or the Warrior Cohen,” Liberty

said. “The male is in a terrible way after losing his mate in the destruction of SR44.”

Hot on the heels of the first wave of pain came a second, but it felt different. “One

of them again,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yes.”

After that, Jovan didn’t feel much, just a bit of an ache. Liberty removed her

hands as the elevator jerked to a stop.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s pretty amazing.”

Liberty nodded. “Yes. Eventually it will become second nature to you, and you

will perform the task without realizing it.”

She stepped out of the elevator, and Jovan followed. Without the cloak, he could

still feel the emotions in the house, but instead of taking on tsunami-like qualities, they

were more of a dull hum. Hums he could deal with: tsunamis, epic fail.

Opening the thick oak door, she stepped into the quarters.

The place was light and airy, done in different shades of cream and white accented

with blacks and grays. The standard sixty-inch TV hung from the wall, a dark gray

loveseat sat facing it. Another thick oak door on the other end of the room led to the

bathroom. It was nice; however, Jovan would have preferred things a little more . . .

masculine? Dark?

Whatever.

Liberty walked around the room, her finger tracing over the top of the dresser, her

gaze going to the TV.

“Oh my,” she said. “I love the box of moving pictures!”

Jovan watched as she hurried over to it, glancing around the room. “It’s called a

television, Liberty. For short, it’s a TV.”

She nodded. “I knew that and I had forgotten. Where is the cylinder that makes

the . . . TV come to life?”

“Over by the bed. And that’s called a remote control.”

Seconds later, Liberty sat on the bed, clicking through the channels, enraptured by

the screen.

After watching her taking it all in with childlike wonder, Jovan went to the

bathroom to shower.

He stripped off his clothing, letting it lie where it dropped. Turning on the shower,

he appreciated the instant hot water. He let the water wash away the negativity that

seemed to cover him like a wet wool blanket.

Man, that shit in the dining room had fucked him up good.

After the initial shock, he felt the hands of his fellow Warriors on him, as well as

their mates. He had wanted to scream at Cohen to get the hell away from him because the

guy was rolling in sadness and despair. He hadn’t needed the healing Cohen was trying to

give him; he just needed everyone to get the hell away.

His body had convulsed, and there was a moment when he was certain that he

wouldn’t survive the onslaught.

As the pain faded, he had felt her gentle hands on him, and he knew he wanted to

be closer. He had eventually found her lap. It was a solace he relished.

That simple trick she had taught him rocked. Just fucking rocked. There was hope

that he wouldn’t need to get a lobotomy, move to an island, or go certifiably crazy.

Maybe he could learn to deal with this curse. Gift. Whatever. Anyway, Liberty had given

him a little hope.

He smiled as he rinsed the shampoo. Liberty. Sweet little Liberty who had full

control over the gift that brought him to his knees. Well, actually, put him flat on his

back.

Those little ringlet curls reminded him of that girl who starred in the old movie

Annie
, except, of course, Liberty’s curls were brown. She had an innocent face as well,

but it was her demeanor that really gave away her pure soul. Really, she didn’t have a

clue about much of anything.

His thoughts wandered to seeing her in the pool the previous day, her small

breasts cresting the water, her slim figure floating in a cross formation as if she were

offering herself up to the heavens.

Looking down at his hips, he watched as his sex came to life.

Huh.

It had been a long time since he had sex. About twenty years, if he remembered

correctly. A blink of an eye for him, yet a quarter of a lifetime for some human. He tried

very hard to not even think about sex since he couldn’t get any with his gift being out of

control.

He closed his eyes. Thinking about Liberty in a sexual way felt wrong. She was

innocent and pure, and then there was that little ditty of her being Noah’s sister. On SR44,

she wouldn’t have been considered a relative to him, just a servant to the family.

However, they weren’t on SR44, and they never would be again. So when in Rome . . .

yeah, she was Noah’s half-sister. Even though Noah had known his sister, or half sister,

for less than three hours, Jovan knew that Noah would embrace the traditions of Earth

and accept her as his sister. Jovan also knew that Noah would be very protective of her. It

was how all SR44 males were built: to protect their mates and their family. It was

something that they couldn’t control.

Unfortunately, those thoughts didn’t stop a little fantasy from developing. He

imagined Liberty as a stripper twirling around a pole eyeing him seductively, her eyes

glowing pink.

“Fuck.”

It was interesting circumstances. Sure, Jovan liked being with human females

before his so-called gift started ruining his life, but that cute, little thing who was so

engrossed by the TV was an SR44 female in a very nice human form.

And one who had been born into servitude, which meant that she hadn’t lived a

life—her life had been dedicated to someone else. Now she resided on Earth, and

everything was new. She was like a child experiencing everything for the first time, her

innocence and vulnerability . . . he was definitely the last thing she needed. Yes, he was

learning to get a hold of his gift—fucking curse—and she was his teacher, but you didn’t

get hot for teacher.

Then there was the whole servitude thing. She needed to learn to live her life, and

he was not the babysitter or the coach she needed.

Well, that little pep talk did nothing for the hard shaft jutting from his hips.

Seeing that it wasn’t going away, he grabbed the soap and lathered his hands and

ran one up and down the length.

As his fantasy continued—Liberty slowly pulling the apron string to her French

maid outfit—he heard the door open.

Glancing over, he couldn’t see her.

“Jovan!” she said excitedly, coming toward him, “they actually have whole

sections of the TV dedicated to the life on Earth, and another one focused on the

government!”

He turned his back to her as she came into view, her form blurry through the

beveled glass. She really didn’t need to see what he had going on.

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m learning so much of the animals. They are truly amazing creatures . . .”

Jovan noticed her words trailing off, and turned his head to look over his shoulder.

“Liberty,” he said quietly, “I’m not trying to beat up on you, but you can’t just walk in on

someone when they’re showering.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she said, “But of course. My apologies,

Jovan. I’m terribly sorry. Please forgive my intrusion.”

He heard the door shut and looked down at his flaccid sex.

It was so not ha-ha funny how he could conjure up a fantasy of Liberty as

something she was not, but the real thing made him deflate faster than a flat tire on a

freeway.

Chapter 17

Liberty stared at the TV, studying the lions, but her mind was on Jovan. Even

through the beveled glass she could see that his body was so much different than hers.

She had noticed that male and female bodies were not the same, but she hadn’t thought

beyond the apparent height, broad shoulders, and Jovan’s flat chest against the small

bumps of her own.

Even tonight through the beveled glass she had seen the difference of the sexes,

and she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Humans were so vastly different than SR44

beings. If a male and female SR44ian were to stand next to each other, one could not tell

the difference.

She had seen him fisting his sexual organ, and she noticed the length and girth of

it, where on her human body, there was none.

A strange sensation came over her, and her stomached ached a bit.

Minutes later, Jovan came out of the bath, a towel wrapped around his waist. He

met her eyes briefly and said, “I just need to get some clothes.”

She watched as he rummaged through the drawers and came up with fabrics made

up of squares in the colors of blue and green.

As he returned to the bathroom, she watched the muscles in his shoulders and

back roll with each step. His back also had a picture of a skull with a red knife going

through the eye socket. She had seen others with pictures on their skin at the club where

she had worked. The picture on Jovan’s back should have been frightening, but it wasn’t.

In fact, she decided she liked it, and her stomach ached a little more.

Sighing, she grabbed the remote and switched off the TV. She snuggled down into

the crisp sheets and closed her eyes, hoping she wasn’t getting ill.

Minutes later she felt the mattress dip, and she opened her eyes. Jovan sat on the

bed looking at her.

“You can’t sleep here, Liberty,” he said, crossing his arms over his smooth, bare