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Lost Gods

Kim Knox

Lost Gods

Kim Knox

Published 2008

ISBN 978-1-59578-517-6

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509

reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise,

without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

Email:

raven@LSbooks.com

Editor

Devin Govaere

Cover Artist

Anne Cain

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of

the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual

events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Dedication

To Ed, Jack and Daniel for mostly not annoying me.

To Kelly and Jessica, thanks for reading this story in its infancy.

And also everyone at Romance Divas who helped me with the tweaks. Especially the

ladies of the Live Chat Challenge.

Chapter One

“When I get you, Paxton, you son-of-a—”

I fell forward, the rusted metal floor rushing up to meet me. I hit it and what little air

there was whooshed from my lungs. Lying there, I couldn’t move. I’d fallen from a body-

tube, a cryogenic storage device. The familiar rank odour of flash-warmed skin swept

though me, and I choked, my aching chest heaving as I pulled in new breaths for the first

time in too long.

My milky vision cleared, and I found a row of the bulky, black body-tubes

disappearing into the shrouding darkness. The single shot of light from high above stung

my face and dried the gel to my skin. I shivered. Damp material stuck to my limbs and

my shiver deepened.

I drew in an easier breath of stale air and coughed. Where the hell was I?

“Falling at my feet.” A man’s smooth voice eased over me. “Really, what have I

done to deserve this?”

Turning my head, my chin rested on the cold metal floor, and I stared at polished

shoes. They swam into focus, black, real leather shoes with neat hand stitching. The rich

scent warmed through me, and I let my face rest back against the uneven metal. Tiredness

sat on my cold muscles and bones.

His words rolled through my brain. Something about them triggered a flare of heat

under my skin. Yes, I recognised my fight-reflex … but my body was rubber. Smacking

him could wait.

The stranger squatted down beside me and stroked back my damp hair.

Unexpectedly, my heartbeat slowed, and I breathed easier at his slow, rhythmic touch.

Which was odd, since I’d been ready to punch him only a moment before for being

supremely oily. I blamed the fog clouding my brain.

“I’ve been looking a long time for you. A long, long time.” The soothing press of his

palm, his fingers over my hair continued. I lay there and a knot in my chest eased. A knot

I didn’t know I had until it was gone. Who was this man? Or was it simply the warm

touch of another human being after the cold grip of the body-tube?

“Tell me your name.”

The soft words fell. It was an easy enough question to answer.

Yes, it was…

“My name?” I pushed hard, scrabbled about in my mind, but the thought was

slippery, elusive. What was my name? I didn’t know it. My own name, it was gone. Ease

vanished and panic fired through my blood. I whipped up, finding my feet and landing in

a natural half-crouch.

“Nice reflexes.”

I blinked. I was fast; I knew that. I also knew that my abilities weren’t natural, they

were … grown. What the hell…? Another burst of fear lashed words. “Who the hell are

you?”

He straightened and stood watching me, his arms loosely folded across his chest. He

was beautiful. Tall, with a lean athleticism only accentuated by his smooth, black suit and

an easy perfection to his features that made it difficult to look away from him…

The most deadly smile lit his face. I swallowed, my mouth dry, and my heart

thudded out an uneven beat. My stomach twisted as more panic surged. Did I know a lot

about wickedly attractive men? This stranger had me completely thrown and that wasn’t

… me. Who was he?

“My name is James Kinsare.” He lifted a dark eyebrow and there was a hard glitter

to his eyes that I couldn’t read. “Sound familiar?”

“Should it?”

James sighed, and he gave me a simpler, less threatening smile. “I always live in

hope.”

Straightening, and ignoring the protest of unused muscles, I stayed wary. I was in the

dark … about everything. I didn’t know who this man was. His name, his pretty face

meant nothing. And I would never believe someone who could smile the way he had.

“You said you knew me?”

He winced. “I was looking for you. Well, the frozen woman. I only knew you as

Katya.”

Katya . I rolled the name silently around and over my tongue. There was no

corresponding fire of neurons in my brain. It was as blank to me as the stranger’s … as

James Kinsare’s name. My mind jumped, instead, to another name. “Paxton.” I had

shouted it the second the tube reactivated. “I need to find Paxton.”

James shrugged. “I have no idea who he is.” He fastened his jacket and smoothed

over his tie.

The incongruous sight of his smooth suit finally hit my addled brain. He was wearing

a suit in a rust-thick silo. I had no name left in my mind but I knew wearing expensive

civilian clothes here was wrong. I stared down at my body. I wore a brown flight-suit,

patched, grubby and still damp. Patting the bulbous pockets proved useless as I came up

empty. Nothing to tell me who I was. Damn. “Who are you, James?”

His sharp smile returned, and I took a step back. James’ smile brought with it a

sudden hot rush and made me nervous. I didn’t like being nervous. Not one bit.

“Me? I’m an entrepreneur.”

“Yes.” My gaze slid down the tailored lines of his coal-black suit. “I can believe

that.” I met his dark eyes. The spark there had my stomach in a knot. “Though, I think,

more creative accounting than salvage.”

“What?” He spread his arms, half turning, staring down at himself. “A man can’t be

well-dressed?”

I wiped a damp hand over my mouth, hiding a smile. I didn’t want to like this man;

didn’t want to trust him. My skin prickled, and it was more than the cramps of new blood

reaching my muscles. Trust. I didn’t do trust. That was very important.

“Katya…”

Something about the way he said my name lifted more hairs on the back of my neck.

Maybe it was still my worry about trust, maybe a realisation that Katya really was my

name or maybe it was just the silky darkness of James’ voice. I couldn’t decide.

“I know your memory is patchy.” My expression fixed. Shit. He knew. I held back a

groan. Of course, he knew. He’d known I couldn’t remember my own name. “You’ve

been in a body-tube for years. You’re disoriented, jumpy.” His mouth quirked.

“Hungry?”

Years? A tremor ran through the hand covering my throat, but to answer his

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