Forbidden Mortal: Book One (The Bone Gatherers 1)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Forbidden Mortal (The Bone Gatherers, #1)

  To my husband...

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHARACTERS

  COMING SOON

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AN RH PUBLISHING BOOK

  FLORIDA

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case, the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Forbidden Mortal – Book 1 – The Bone Gatherers

  Copyright © 2021 Randi Rayl - RH Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art by UniCat Designs

  First Edition: April 2021

  Version 1.0

  ASIN B0918RLSFX

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  To my husband...

  Our love inspires the stories I write every day.

  PROLOGUE

  The wind howled outside, tugging at the thatched roof above Eztlie’s head. But it didn’t drown out the sound of his screams. The shaman had warned him there wasn’t much time. But somewhere deep in his soul, he held onto the slight chance Patecatl, the god of healing, would hear his prayers and cure the woman he loved.

  Tlalli took another shallow breath. It smelled rancid. Infected. The same smell came after every battle, days of wounds festering, filling with pus. Lightning lit the dim hut and made the walls shine red. A second later, its loud crack shook their home.

  While the shock of the sound made him jump, his wife, Tlalli, didn’t react. Her eyes were glassed over, and her breathing was slow and rattled in her chest. He checked her wound for the thousandth time. The healers had left long ago, deeming her a lost cause. But he wouldn’t go down without a fight. Eztlie never did. His name meant blood, and he’d sweat that and tears to get her better. When he lifted the bandage from her stomach, the smell overwhelmed him. And even as a seasoned warrior, he couldn’t help but gag. He ran his hand over his head. The bristled Mohawk was covered in grease. He hadn’t bathed in days. Not since returning to his injured wife.

  He should have been there. Most of his soldiers had returned home. But he had stayed to ensure their victory and care for the injured. While he was gone, Tlalli had gone into the forest to hunt and came across a mother bear and her cubs. Eztlie’s eyes traced the now-swollen claw marks across her abdomen. They’d found her in the woods the following day when she didn’t return home. Word got to him three days afterward.

  The memory sat so heavily in his mind that he didn’t notice his wife grow still. Tlalli’s chest wasn’t moving. He launched forward, taking her hand.

  “Tlalli,” he begged. “My love, please do not leave me. Please!”

  He smoothed her midnight hair. Even in this state, she was beautiful. Beneath her closed lids were chocolate eyes. He traced a finger down her delicate jaw. The movement made her open her mouth.

  “Ez?”

  “Yes, my love. I am here,” he said, laying his head on her chest.

  “So is he.”

  He looked up at her face, slick with sweat. Her eyes were focused on the far end of the hut. It was then that he could sense the presence. “No!” Eztlie screamed, throwing his body between his beloved wife and the intruder.

  He could only make out the silhouette, but he knew what was coming for Tlalli: the Bone Gatherer.

  “You cannot have her!” Eztlie yelled. “You will not take my wife!”

  He grabbed his macuahuitl from the table. The long paddle was lined with obsidian blades and still coated in his enemies’ blood.

  The image solidified, and before him stood a hulking figure. In a dark hood, his back covered in owl feathers, he stepped slowly toward Tlalli.

  Eztlie screamed and lunged toward the man. But he moved right through him, landing on his knees and toppling forward. His teeth clacked together as his chin hit the floor. He spun around in time to see a long finger appear from the man’s black sleeve.

  Tlalli looked up at the figure, no fear on her face.

  “No, please,” he begged. “I’ll do anything. Please don’t take her.”

  The man’s hand stilled.

  Tlalli’s eyes snapped to her husband. “No,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “You’re going to get in trouble,” Marlow said, drinking her tenth cup of coffee.

  Sofia sighed and went to the ever-empty coffee machine and refilled it. “They won’t know,” Sofia said, giving her a flippant wave.

  Taking meticulous care in filling the coffee pot allowed Sofia to hide the fear her face was clearly showing. She had just finished reviving a man by administering oxygen and chest compressions. Under any other circumstances, as a nurse, she would have gotten a gold star. But in hospice, everyone there was on a DNR, and a “do not resuscitate” meant just that. These people were dying, and her job was to help the patients and their families through the process, not to draw out the inevitable. Sofia could lose her job. She could go before the state board with a violation. Even worse, Sofia could get her nursing license revoked.

  But she couldn’t let Mr. Garcia die. He wasn’t ready yet. Neither was his family. She always developed a rapport with her patients, but he was special. Every morning he would greet her with a song. “Good morning, good morning... it’s time to face the day. Good morning, good morning to you...”

  He’d have his family bring her little trinkets from his house, which she could never take. “I’m going to leave them here one way or another, Pequeñita,” he’d say with a heavy Mexican accent.

  “How about we decorate your room with them, está eso bien, Mr. Garcia?” Sofia had said, trying her best to remember her abuela’s native tongue.

  Sofia finished making the coffee and turned to her work friend. Marlow was old enough to be her mother but looked like they could have graduated high school together. She was fit and trendy, dyed blond hair curled and twisted into a perfect topknot. Marlow was always up on the latest pop culture, went to concerts, and dated different younger men weekly. But for as flamboyant as she was, Marlow was a rule follower through and through.

  “I’m going to take my break. Mason, can you please help Marlow if she needs it?” Sofia said, giving her a fake smile.

  The half-adult man-child her boss had hired the month before was hiding behind the desk, playing a game on his phone. His blond hair fell into his big blue eyes, and tiny budding muscles strained his too-tight scrubs. Rainbow plugs filled his earlobes. Sofia eyed him and cleared her throat. Bells and dings signified he was deep into a game of Animal House and wouldn’t be coming up for air anytime soon.

  Sofia sighed. “You good for fifteen?”

  Marlow cli
cked her tongue. “I’m not mad at you, Sof,” Marlow said, clanking her mug with a large diamond ring on the wrong finger. “I don’t want you to get fired. Think if someone else saw that.”

  “I won’t do it again,” Sofia mumbled, walking away.

  “Sure you won’t,” Marlow hollered after her.

  Sofia walked into the bathroom. She had been holding her bladder, in true nurses’ fashion, for nearly eight hours. While washing her hands, Sofia dabbed her neck with water. She had fucked up. But she wasn’t sorry.

  Sofia looked up at the mirror and into her dark-brown eyes, the only trait she had been given by her Hispanic side. And they were red rimmed. The skin beneath was darkened. She needed sleep. Sofia had been at work for twelve hours, picking up an additional shift. People often told her to go home or that she worked too much.

  Her shift manager, Floyd Lopez, barely tolerated her. All he cared about was numbers. And the more beds he filled, the more money the facility got from the state of Arizona.

  Hospice was, in fact, free, but only to those who were dying. And Sofia saw more and more people being turned in to hospice care that she thought still had a chance. Not that Floyd wanted them to die. He wasn’t a sadist. The bastard hoped those patients stayed in their beds as long as possible. Every day their hearts still beat was another dollar to Gracefully Made Hospice Care and a better chance for that bonus he bragged about.

  Taking a deep breath, Sofia tucked a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. Looking at her watch, she saw that she had ten minutes to grab a meal bar and sit outside. It was November, and the weather in Tucson was beautiful. It almost made up for the blistering summer weather in which the locals became acclimated to one-hundred-plus degrees.

  Sofia walked down the hallway toward the vending machine and past Mr. Ramirez’s room. His door was half shut.

  That was odd.

  She passed the crack in the door and froze. A large man stood inside. Slowly, she leaned back, peeking around the doorframe. He was wearing black scrubs and a lanyard. But Sofia hadn’t ever seen him before.

  The word “handsome” didn’t quite do him justice. His massive frame stood at least two heads taller than she. Sofia could see the tanned muscles filling out every inch of the black cotton around them. He ran a hand through his ebony hair. Sofia’s eyes went to her patient. Maybe Mr. Ramirez knew the man. But the old man seemed to be sleeping.

  Sofia was about to introduce herself when the mysterious nurse extended a hand. A black mist, like a waft of smoke, left his fingertips. Snaking and winding, it headed straight for Mr. Ramirez.

  Sofia gasped, and the man’s head snapped toward her. The intensity in his eyes made Sofia shake. When she looked at his hand, the mist was gone. Had she imagined it? She must have imagined it.

  “What are you doing?” the man barked.

  Taking a deep breath, Sofia squared her shoulders and tried to pretend she wasn’t rattled to her core at what she had just seen. “What are you doing?” Sofia pulled the door open and looked up at the large man. “This is my patient,” she said with all the authority she could muster.

  Handsome as he was, the man was terrifying. Rage rolled off him like the smoke she saw shooting from his hand. His jaw was chiseled and clenched. He seemed angry and mildly embarrassed.

  What was he doing there?

  Slowly, he pulled his gaze from Sofia and looked at the man lying in bed. Those big brown eyes softened a bit. She saw him inhale as if he was sensing something she couldn’t. “My mistake,” he finally said, his voice thick and deep. “Wrong room.”

  “Sofia!”

  The sound of her name made her jump. They both turned, and in the doorway stood Floyd.

  “Hi, Floyd,” Sofia answered, giving the tall, dark man a long glance.

  “I see you’ve met our newest nurse.” Floyd beamed. Floyd ushered them out of Mr. Ramirez’s room.

  Sofia eyed her boss speculatively. He was wearing a pair of unstained khakis. Floyd adjusted his brand-new tucked-in button-down that still had the packaging creases on it. He had also taken the time to comb his hair, hiding the bald spot.

  She sniffed the air. Was he wearing Old Spice?

  Sofia glanced between Floyd and her new coworker. Floyd was positively glowing.

  Oh, gag me, Sofia thought, trying and failing to hide her disgust.

  Sofia couldn’t have cared less who Floyd wanted to sleep with, but if his romantic pursuits were ones that he hired, perhaps he could have assessed their resumes more thoroughly before swiping right.

  “He will take the mid and late shifts,” her boss said to her, not taking his eyes off the new meat. “Sofia, please show Mr. Teotl around and answer any questions he has.”

  “Sure,” she said, crossing her arms, still shaking from what she might or might not have seen.

  Floyd always did this to her. Images of Mason floated in her mind. He hired male staff members who were good-looking and had little to no experience in hospice care. He would then expect her to train them, all the while maintaining her patient list. It was ridiculously unfair.

  The man stared deeply at Sofia, and she felt herself flush.

  What was this dude’s problem?

  Floyd took a step forward, placing a small, stubby hand on Mr. Teotl’s arm. The new nurse raised an eyebrow and looked down at his arm.

  “And if you have any issues or would like to discuss work-related procedures over lunch, I am always here,” Floyd said with a smile. When the new nurse didn’t reply, Floyd swallowed. Quickly, he removed his hand and looked at Sofia, who gave him a half-cocked smile. “Now get to work, both of you!” Floyd barked and fled the room.

  Sofia chewed her lip. She could feel the stare of the hulking man beside her deepen.

  Turning slowly, she looked up at him. His full lips pressed together in a line. His scrubs strained against his thick arms as he crossed them. Her knees weakened as the silence stretched on.

  “Sofia,” flew from her mouth.

  The man raised a brow.

  “I’m the training nurse, and my name is Sofia.”

  “My name is Eztlie,” the nurse said. “But my friends call me Ez.”

  It was hard to catch her breath. Looking into his deep brown eyes was like falling into a pool. They swam with different shades of mahogany. He was so perfectly made it was hard to look at him but also hard to tear one’s eyes away.

  You have a boyfriend, her brain sang to her.

  With a snort, Sofia forcibly broke the spell. “This way, Eztlie.” Sofia drew out his full name. Weird name.

  She most definitely did not want to be this man’s friend.

  ~

  Sofia showed him around the facilities. The massive man was very quiet and wrote nothing down. She tried to focus on how annoying that was rather than on how good he smelled or how chiseled his jawline was.

  “This is the nurses’ station,” Sofia said flatly. “We chart on tablets. But there are computers in here where you can access all patient information.”

  Sofia allowed her eyes to flit to his face. Eztlie stared at her.

  “You have charted electronically before, right?”

  “Yes,” was all he said.

  “Great,” Sofia mumbled. “You will be issued a tablet sometime soon. Until then, you will have to chart on paper or on this computer. Unless Floyd gives you your tablet at the special lunch he offered.” Sofia gave him a smirk.

  “I will not be going to lunch with him,” Eztlie said.

  “Mm-hmm,” Sofia mumbled, hands on her hips. “Follow me.”

  He walked awkwardly close to her. Sofia could feel the heat of his body. This man was so bizarre. She felt the hairs on her arms stand on end.

  “Here we have the medication room”—she motioned to her right—“and the Pyxis machine where all the narcotics are held.”

  Eztlie eyed the machine.

  “You will eventually be issued a code for the machine,” Sofia said, raising her voice.

>   The new nurse’s head snapped in her direction. She hoped this new guy didn’t have a “problem” like so many other hospice caregivers. Addiction was a terrible disease, but Sofia had zero patience for a person using her facility as their own dispensary.

  “And don’t let Mason see the code,” she snapped. “He finds plenty of pills tucked in old bedsheets.”

  He raised a brow.

  “You will shadow me for a week,” Sofia said, walking them into one of her patients’ rooms. “This is Mr. Upton. He has mild dementia and kidney disease.”

  Sofia looked at him, waiting for a basic human response. Nothing.

  “Okay.” Sofia scowled and turned to the patient’s room with a big grin. “Good morning, Thomas!”

  The one-hundred-one-year-old man gave her a toothless grin. Sofia took his hand. “Hi, Ms. Sofia,” Thomas rasped.

  “Sofia!” Mason beckoned from the hallway. “Betsy’s family needs you now!”

  Sofia and Eztlie looked at each other. Shit. Betsy hadn’t been doing well.

  “Can you do Mr. Thomas’s vitals?” Sofia asked, leaving the room. “I’ll be right back.”

  Sofia left to check on Betsy. To her relief, Betsy had fallen into a deep sleep. Her pulse was very weak, and Sofia knew she didn’t have much time. But today was not the day she would leave this world. Sofia tucked her into bed and gave her daughter a tight hug.

  “Call me if you need anything.” Sofia smiled, rubbing the daughter’s shoulders.

  Sofia jogged back to Thomas’s room. As she approached, Sofia heard a deep male voice.

  “I used to love archery.” Eztlie laughed. “I was never a good shot, though. Much better with a sword.”

  “A sword?” Thomas chuckled. “What is this? Biblical times?”

  Sofia leaned on the wall outside his room, listening. She had been with Eztlie all day, and he had barely spoken a word to her.

  “You were saying... about some contest?” Eztlie asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Thomas continued. “The Musselburgh Silver Arrow in Scotland. It’s the world’s oldest archery contest, dating back to the 1400s. My great-grandfather, who emigrated from there, you know, won back in 1950.”