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“Bingo. First, however, you must solve a puzzle. The past is the future.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Everything. Nothing if you are unable to figure it out. But if you solve the conundrum, if you awaken Ohngel, you will understand what you trade for your single week.”
“Okay. Game on.” Her knees buckled. The OneCreator shimmered, dissolved. She awoke on a cold stone floor in a large white room, open to the outside and surrounded by pillars. The light was muted by clouds, the sound of gentle rain falling. Roark was lying on a bed, Dominion by his side.
“What the hell? You people need to stop whisking me all over the place without a warning.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dominion gripped Indigo’s elbow to assist her off the floor. “This is Ohngel’s home in Angor where he will rest until he awakens.”
She steadied herself, jerking away from his hold, brushing her hands down her thin top, smoothing her skirt. She strode to Ohngel’s side. “Can you get clothes for him?”
Though Dom could have snapped his fingers to clothe his brother, he wanted to watch Indigo with Ohngel. She was a puzzling female, unlike the ones he knew who were either conniving or fearful of him. “What would you like?”
“Something loose. Soft.” She tossed her thick braid over her shoulder where it hung beyond her hips.
Dominion placed clothing in her hands. He observed while she dressed Ohngel, sliding pants up his legs, gently wrestling a shirt on him, stroking his hair to the murmur of tender words.
His brother was fierce, bloody in battle. He used females to assuage his needs, never warmhearted, often callous. What would he think of this witch’s ministrations? Would he find her soothing? Irritating?
She stood by the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’ll need to wash him every day and put on fresh duds. So I’ll wander around a bit. Find where things are.”
Ohngel’s female was stunning in her own way. A long colorful skirt, a top which exposed her lush curves. Bare feet. Wrists laden with polished metal and jeweled bracelets. Rings on each finger. A necklace falling between the swells of her breasts. But she was defined by her shiny hair with its escaped tendrils, untamed as she.
Perhaps it was her wildness which drew Ohngel to her. Though she was not his equal, her rebellious spirit may have appealed to his own renegade nature.
“Do you expect to tend to him until you die?” asked Dominion.
“Yes. Will he need food or water?”
“No.”
She padded across the tile, exiting through an archway.
What did Ohngel called her? Indy. Why would she sacrifice her life to care for an immortal who would never awaken in her lifetime? What did she gain?
When she returned, Dom still held his vigil against the column. “Indy…”
She snapped at him, “No. Never call me that. No one but Roark has the right.”
The female resumed her position by his brother’s bedside, swiping her hand across his cheek.
“I meant no offense. What may I call you?”
“Indigo, the reader of the river, the incomparable finder of lost objects, witch extraordinaire, sister of Alarik, aunt of Rein, daughter of Tor and Adriana, madwoman, quirky bitch, and…” She drew in a sharp breath. “…mate of Roark, the male you call Ohngel.” Her lips quirked into a smile.
“What’s funny?” He puzzled his brows.
“Nothing. A memory,” she said.
Dominion remembered also. He had promised to care for this inferior Indigo. Ohngel would not want her to waste her life mourning beside him for all her years. She would grow old, weaken, and die. “Immortals never mate.” Yet rumors said millennia ago, pairs joined.
“My immortal did.”
“You will return to Scath where you belong.” Dominion bobbed his chin with authority.
