Page 59 of Lost and Stolen Gods
Whoosh.
I counted to five, the spikes slipped down, and I ran.
I made it past the first two sets of spikes just as the last bunch slid out of view. I had time before they shot back up, but I gave in to the panic, and it caused me to falter and slow my pace. The spikes slammed into my frame and held me like a trapped bug. They were far apart enough on this course not to impale, but fuck, it still hurt like a bitch.
“I’ve got you.” Araz was on hand to extricate me and carry me, cradled in his arms off the course. “Are you hurt?”
I knew his actions and words were for show but answered regardless. “Just my pride.” Which was a lie. My ass ached, and my inner thigh burned where a spike had rammed it. He had to know it too.
“A shame,” he muttered, the insincerity clear for me to hear.
I shoved at his chest, wanting to be free, but he held me tighter, leaned in and whispered, “Play along, little mortal. Don’t make me punish you.”
With kisses? No. Do not think that. I allowed him to carry me up to the platform and set me down. “Again,” he ordered.
“I need a break.”
“No breaks. You told me to be hard on you, so here it is. Go again.”
I’d said no such thing. But he knewthat pain was a distraction that might lead to another fuck-up and more pain.
He just wanted to hurt me.
Bastard.
I smiled up at him, sweet as sugar pie. “You got it, boss.”
It was going to be a long three weeks.
The next week passed quickly.Araz watched me from the sidelines and instructed me when needed but knowing that it was all fake left me with a pit in my belly. I focused on the Guru’s instructions.Guru, a word I’d come to learn meant teacher.
In the evenings, I’d slip out after supper to meet with Ravi and run the gauntlet again and again until my body ached, and I was ready to drop. Araz was never around unless he needed to put on a show. He was gone when I got back in the evening and absent when I woke. The only evidence that he’d visited the room at all was the steam from the washroom and his distinctive cranberry scent hanging in the air.
He was true to his word, though. Minimal assistance and minimal contact, and I should have been happy, but his distance left me hollow and empty.
I posed the dilemma to Ravi one night after our secret training session. We were lying on the platformto watch the stars, a thing that we’d started doing a couple of nights ago.
“I don’t understand it. Araz hates me, and so I should be good with this arrangement.”
“It’s the bond,” Ravi said. “Or so I’ve heard. It makes you yearn to be close. To connect. I guess the Asura believe that love makes more committed warriors.”
“Love?” I laughed. “There is, and never will be, any love between me and Araz.”
“There are different kinds of love, Leela. Some jodis form romantic unions, of course. But most become like siblings or the best of friends, and others adopt a parent-child dynamic. It’s love, all the same.”
“And what about you? What about the rakshasa? Do you have a jodi dynamic?”
“We have mates,” he said. “Our beast knows when we find a potential match. We’re encouraged to procreate to swell our ranks.”
“So there are female rakshasa in your barracks?”
“Once a month.” He smiled wryly. “They come from Jangal domain for a three-day visit. Any offspring are then raised to be warriors.”
I pushed up on one elbow. “Wait a second. What about love and family? I mean, do you have that?”
“My packismy family. The only one I will ever have or need.” His tone was flat, though, as if the words were rehearsed and ingrained into his psyche.
I shouldn’t push, but my curiosity got the better of me. “What about your mother and father? Siblings?”
