She Transcends Book Two

By Odette C. Bell

Layla’s in too deep now to leave. Plus, would Manus ever let her?
What he can’t hold still with his god powers, he binds by oaths. And Layla is about to learn his promises run deep.
When she’s thrust further into this world and more blood is spilled, she comes closer to her past. A past wrapped up in him, and a past wrapped up in danger.
That past will not be repressed anymore. And that past will kill her and him, given the chance.
....
She Transcends follows a seemingly normal woman and the true god of lightning fighting for the future. If you love your urban fantasies with action, heart, and a splash of romance, grab She Transcends Book Two today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: Jul 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005763503

Book preview

Chapter 1

She… woke up.

Or did she?

She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t open. Images kept flashing through her mind, getting faster, getting more powerful as they slammed into her stomach, her chest, her arms, her face, and more than anything, her lips. She thrust to the side and gasped. She opened her eyes to stare at the wall. It was covered in vines and small flowers. They shimmered like crystals.

As she stared at the intricate patterns, slowly – or quickly, considering her heartbeat – everything came back. The fight with Rana, Anchorage, and… the kiss.

Layla shot out of bed. She was on her feet before she got her balance back. She almost crashed to the side, but fortunately a small shrub had grown out of the base of her bed, and she grabbed it in a white-knuckled grip. She clutched her throat. It took an age before she had the courage to slowly trail her fingers up her face to reach her lips. What, did she think they’d still be on fire? Because they had been on fire, hadn’t they? He’d….

Pneuma. Rana damaged your Pneuma. He just… fixed it.

Layla tried to force her hand to drop, but it took a great deal of her strength.

After a few seconds of trying, her fingers hovering in the air uncomfortably, finally it dropped. Then she swallowed. It was a hard move, and it shoved her chest against her simple top. She looked down to see that someone had changed her clothes. Wait, no. It was magic.

She patted it, and she thought she recognized Frosty’s unique power. Speaking of Frosty.

She turned. Fortunately, he was in the corner, all curled up, sleeping softly. And what a cute sight it was. Every second inhalation, he let out this whinnying splutter.

She moved over to him. She went to wake him, but then she saw his side. It was crackling with magic. It didn’t look as if he was being attacked – just as if his body was healing its injuries.

She hissed, though quietly.

She knelt down beside him. She let her hand hover over his face. Thank you, Frosty. I’m very glad we finally got him. If we actually did, she muttered as she scratched her head. She shot to her feet. She had no idea what had happened back at that banquet. Manus had locked his lips on hers… presumably saved her Pneuma, then… she’d wound up in her bed. No, wait, her hand.

Layla jerked up her injured hand. It was fine, however. He must’ve healed it. Now both the index and middle fingers on both her hands were this strange crystalline white that flashed like far-off lightning.

She staggered backward. She planted her shoulders into a gnarled trunk and squeezed her eyes closed. If she really tried hard, she could almost remember Manus transporting her back here and taking her into the pool.

Dammit. If only she’d been properly conscious, she might’ve had a chance to go back to that vision.

Memory – not vision, she found her lips correcting her. Then she lightly slapped her cheeks. Sorry, what was that? She had no idea who she was. She had no idea where her powers began and ended. But she knew that couldn’t possibly be a memory, because why wouldn’t Manus remember her, then? He’d tried to kill her, for god’s sake, yet in that vision, it seemed as if there was nothing he wouldn’t do to pull her back from the storm.

She shook her head and took a heavy breath. Then she glanced at the door.

It was probably locked, right? Layla didn’t even have any idea what time it was. Her adventure had occurred during the day. She didn’t feel as if she’d been out for that long, so what if it was nighttime? The answer was, Manus would probably still be up. Not only did she doubt that he ever slept, but wasn’t he more powerful at night?

Layla inched over. Then she shrugged. She settled her hand on the door. It of course didn’t open until she slid her two lightning fingers over it, because stuff it, that’s what she was going to refer to them as now.

Something unlocked. The door swung open. Layla was so surprised, she almost screamed. She bit her lip and smiled.

Not that she would have that much to smile about when she found Manus. He would conclude that she’d escaped her room, and he’d punish her, right?

Maybe.

She touched her lips as she carefully wandered down the hallway. There were no other doors here. There’d been other cell doors previously, right? Oh, she didn’t know. If one thing was certain, it was that Manus’s tower never retained the same internal blueprint day-to-day.

Or maybe, a wild thought rose in her mind and said, he’d changed this corridor to keep her on her own. Why would he do that, though? Why wouldn’t he want people interacting with her?

Perhaps… she was dangerous.

As she wandered down the corridor, she thought of every single thing that happened during her fight with Rana. From the moment Rana had locked her hands around Layla’s throat, to the moment Manus had demanded Layla share her power with him.

Manus was meant to be one of the most powerful gods… right? Though, to be fair, Layla didn’t know that; she didn’t know that many other gods. But he should be able to defeat a witch on his own. Yet he’d needed Layla. And together, they’d banished her.

No more thinking. Just find him and… ask.

Sure, ask. Layla kept patting her lips. She was aware it was pathetic, but she couldn’t stop. This tingle had picked up in her mouth. It was pushing down her throat. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was pleasant or unpleasant. And that was a strange state to be in. At least it distracted her.

The corridor was long and winding. It didn’t lead to a door. And Layla started to wonder if she was being led around in circles, but just before she could turn back around, she found one. She placed a hand on it. Again it seemed to try to want to lock her out, but all she needed was a swipe of two of her lightning fingers, and it opened. It appeared that nothing in this tower would dare stay closed for her magical hand. At least nothing she had encountered yet.

She walked into a completely different corridor. This one was dimly lit, and it also felt… abandoned.

Layla had no idea how large the tower was and how many rooms there were, but if the internal blueprint could change, it could probably expand and contract as Manus saw fit. But why did it feel as if the corridor she had just entered was somehow fundamental – an important part of the building that he’d never dare get rid of, because it was the heart, the foundation, the… soul.

With that word vibrating on her lips, she walked down the corridor.

There was only one door.

She went to reach toward it, but she stopped. This overwhelming sense struck her. She didn’t have to close her eyes to know where the impression came from. It was like… she was about to face one of the doors of her childhood. Whenever she went to the god realm, she’d always face her old family home and the horrors from within. This was the same… no. This door wouldn’t lead to her internal shadow, but Manus’s.

Layla was so very certain of that thought that she couldn’t help but reach forward. And yet as soon as she settled her hand on the door, black power marched up it. These tiny strikes of lightning bit at her hand, and they threw her off. It didn’t matter that she’d used her two lightning fingers – the door would not be opened.

Layla even tumbled down to her knees. She reached for the door again, then realized there was no point.

What exactly would Manus do if he found out about this, anyway? Likely kick her out.

If he could anymore.

She went back to the look – the look he’d given her when he’d—

She patted her lips, then patted them a little harder with a light slap. Just forget it. Find him. Or go back to bed. Do something.

She tore her eyes away from Manus’s shadow door – for there was no other thing she could call it.

Then she strode back down the hallway. She opened the same door. She assumed it would take her back to the corridor that would lead ultimately to her room. But it did not.

Layla strode into the hallway at the top of the building.

Manus’s office was just there.

Layla stared in surprise at the fact that either the tower had let her come here, or her magic had figured out a way to get here. Then she heard low voices. More than that – something that would always get her attention. Thunder.

She twisted her head around and realized the door only several meters down the hallway was half open.

The sounds were coming from there.

Layla inched out into the hallway. She carefully edged down it, one hand on the wall, not for support, but to ground her nerves. They shook further up into her throat every single time there was the pound of lightning and the roar of thunder.

The flashes blasted out into the corridor, each brighter than the next.

She heard the grunt of a man. It had to be Manus. Was he getting struck by lightning? Why? He wasn’t fighting, was he?

Layla raced the last few steps, but then she caught a glimpse through the door. It wasn’t a fight. Manus stood under an enormous hole in the ceiling. It was much larger than the one that was in his office. It took up half the room, and the room itself was epically huge. The hole crackled with black-purple force around the edges. And second by second, lightning lanced down, and second by second, it smashed into Manus’s outstretched arms and back.

Nemesis was there with him. She looked nervous – a strange emotion for such a usually powerful woman. My lord, you shouldn’t take much more.

Do not tell me what I can and cannot take, Nemesis, Manus growled, but there didn’t seem to be any animosity in his words.

There was another strike of lightning, then another. So much power raged down from the storm and channeled itself through Manus, Layla was certain that it was going to rip the floor out from underneath him. And if it didn’t do that, the very least it would do would be to rip him asunder.

Layla inched closer.

The storm got faster, harder, more violent. Strikes of lightning came every half second now. They were so blindingly fast and powerful, they shook Layla to the core.

Manus, despite the fact he was the Lord of Night Lightning, was no better off. When a particularly large strike struck him on the back, Layla heard the distinct sound of skin splitting.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She knew well the risk of spying on Manus – and revealing it – but she didn’t care. She rushed out.

She crossed the distance between him and her, had just a moment to see his eyes widening, then tackled him. At least that was the plan. She intended to pull him out of the way of the lightning, but he was stronger than her or better balanced. He pivoted, spinning with her, his shoulder-length hair fanning out.

Layla was stuck in the moment as he stared into her eyes as another flash of lightning blasted down from above. But as it changed direction and tried to lance into Layla’s back instead, Manus collapsed over her. It smashed into his back, and Layla felt his skin splitting this time. It marched across his back then around his left bicep. It was cut right in front of her. The blood didn’t splatter out. There was a hiss as it mostly cauterized, but Layla saw several crystalline blue drops leak out and splash onto her arm.

Fool, Nemesis cried. Your Lord has shown you mercy. Now you attack him so foolishly.

Manus’s grip tightened on Layla’s arms as they came to a stop, their dance finally ending.

She still stared into his eyes.

Then she realized that, yeah, this could be construed as an attack. She’d been hiding behind the door, and just when Manus had seemed to be at his most vulnerable, she’d rushed in to tackle him. But—

Manus did two things at once. He stretched a hand out to silence Nemesis, and he also tilted his head back. His eyes flashed, two deep strikes of lightning suddenly visible in his pupils. He was… communicating with the storm.

The storm looked as if it had more to give – as if it desperately needed to discharge its power, and Manus was the only means to do that through.

But then the clouds abruptly began to abate.

My Lord— Nemesis said.

The clouds didn’t disappear entirely, but they no longer circled above that massive hole in the ceiling. Nope. Which meant there were no more distractions. There was just Layla and Manus with his hands around her shoulders.

Nemesis took a threatening step up to Layla, and she reached for something holstered on her back. It would be her whip, then?

Maybe Layla had survived the extraordinary today only to stuff up one last time around her supposed supervisor.

And maybe Manus had absolutely no intention of letting this go anywhere. He finally broke away from her.

She attacked you— Nemesis began.

I believe in her mind she thought that she was saving me. Manus wouldn’t look at Layla when he said that.

There was a simple stone plinth in the room. It was only several meters away. There was a gold basin of water and bandages.

Manus walked over to them.

Layla felt a little unsteady on her feet. She staggered, but she did not fall.

Manus watched her over his shoulder.

He reached the basin, placed his hands in it, winced, and started to mop up his injuries.

What the… just what the hell was going on here?

Even if you thought you were saving him, Nemesis said in the kind of voice that said she didn’t believe that for a second, you were spying. You will pay for your crimes—

Why would you let the storm do that to you? Layla spoke right over the top of Nemesis.

She stared at Manus. She tried to let this make sense. Was he just… forcing himself to pay for his guilt? Was this just self-flagellation? It had to be… more.

He dropped one of the bandages. He leaned down to