Tempted (12 page)

He headed for the trees. “Then we’re gonna have to figure out a way to prove the myth wrong now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but—”

A scream joined the howl far below. Her hand gripped his shoulder. She pulled her body close to his on reflex. His skin warmed in response and before he could stop it, a whole host of electrifying tingles erupted beneath her fingers where she held him, beneath her breast pressed tight to his bare chest, then rushed straight down his torso right into his cock.

Which he
so
didn’t need, now or ever.

He ground his teeth to the point of pain. And shoved a whole lot of I-don’t-give-a-shit into his voice when he said, “I liked you a lot better when you were unconscious.”

***

Orpheus stared across the room toward Gryphon, out cold in the center of the bed. A series of monitors beeped and hummed above his head. Wires and tubes ran into the Argonaut’s hands, resting on the thin blanket covering his body. His chest rose and fell as if he was deep in sleep and his face looked as it always had. Only nothing was the same.

Three days. Gryphon had been unconscious for three days and nothing Callia had done or was doing was reviving him. The daemon inside Orpheus vibrated with the need to grab Callia and shake her until she healed his brother. The Argolean in him kept his feet rooted firmly in place against the wall of this room on the fifth floor of the castle. As he crossed his arms over his chest, he willed Gryphon to sit up and start bitching at him as he’d done thousands of times over the years.

Callia moved over to the bed, studied a monitor near Gryphon’s head, reached down, and felt for his pulse. She jotted numbers on a clipboard, then stepped back to enter them in her little high-tech computer with its virtual screen, near the windows.

Footsteps brought Orpheus’s head around. Zander stepped into the doorway and cast Orpheus a tight smile. “Hey, man.”

Orpheus went back to watching the bed.

“Zander.” Surprise and relief lit Callia’s face as she put the clipboard down and moved to embrace the blond Argonaut.

Zander nodded toward the bed. “How is he?”

“Fine,” she said easily. Way too easily.

“When was the last time you took a break,
thea
?”

“I…” Callia’s eyes strayed to Orpheus. “I don’t need a break. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Zander said. “You’re about ready to fall over from lack of sleep. Even you have limits.” He unlooped the stethoscope from around her neck and set it on the table to his right. “No arguing.”

“But—”

“O?” Zander asked. “There’s an empty room across the hall. She needs an hour or two of rest. If something changes, you’ll come and get her, right?”

Orpheus didn’t look at either of them, kept his gaze firmly on the bed. He wanted them both gone if they were going to stand here and bicker. “Go.”

“Come on.” Zander pulled her toward the door.

Callia paused at the threshold. “Orpheus…”

The concern in her voice was too much. He set his jaw. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Okay,” she said softly. But his peripheral vision picked up the uneasiness in her eyes, the compassion rushing over her features. And that space in his chest that was already tight as a drum stretched even tighter.

They disappeared out into the hall. Footsteps sounded on the wide marble floor, then the snap of a door. A rasp of cloth met Orpheus’s ears, followed by the press and slide of two mouths joined in a heated kiss.

His overly sensitive hearing picked up every nip and suck and lick, even through closed doors and soundproof walls. Normally he’d get a sick kick out of listening to what they were up to in that other room, but right now all he could think about was the fact that if something didn’t change soon Gryphon was never going to have that. Not that rush of want or the carnal fire of desire. Not with his soul mate. Not with any female. Not ever again. All because of him.

Theirs was a relationship anchored in animosity. Mostly on Orpheus’s part. And yet in all the years Orpheus had dissed his brother or undermined what the Argonauts were doing, Gryphon hadn’t given up on him. The guardian had a serious case of heroics, and on more than one occasion Orpheus had told his younger brother he wasn’t worth saving. But Gryphon had never believed him.

“Oh, Zander,” Callia whispered across the hall. “Nothing’s working. He’s not getting better.”

“It’s only been three days,
thea
. The knife wound he took was pretty deep.”

“You don’t understand. The wound in his side has completely healed. That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s what the warlock did to him.”

“You said the burns on his skin are already gone. I thought—”

“They are,” she cut in. “But I ran some extra tests this morning. Zander”—her voice lowered—“the burn has condensed
inside
his chest. And it’s growing.”

Silence met Orpheus’s ears. Callia’s words swirled in his brain and his brow lowered with curiosity.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “It’s like the burn or energy or whatever is consuming him from the inside out.”

“Consuming him?” Zander asked. “How is that even possible? You said his body was healing. He’s looking stronger every day.”

“I know.” Orpheus pictured Callia pressing her fingers against her forehead as she tried to figure out what she was missing. He’d seen her do it several times over the last few days, and even though he wanted to drop-kick her into action, he knew she was doing all she could. “I’ve tried everything. I even had Max take a break from sitting with my father to come down and help me direct a healing energy, hoping that would make a difference, but it hasn’t. Whatever the warlock hit him with was so strong…”

Max was Callia and Zander’s son, and his power of transference was an aid to Callia as she drew on her healing powers. But the fact she’d needed Max’s help with Gryphon wasn’t what set off a tremor of unease in Orpheus’s chest. It was the way her voice trailed off and the words she held back that put him on alert.

“So what does that mean, Callia?”

“It means,” she whispered, “there’s nothing else I can do for him. It’s not his body being destroyed. It’s his soul. And my powers aren’t strong enough to heal the soul. Nothing is. Even if I could figure out how to stop the damage, if he were to awaken right now, he wouldn’t be the same, Zander. His soul is dying one piece at a time.”

A lump formed in Orpheus’s throat and his eyes shot to his brother’s face. No, that couldn’t be.

But even as he thought the words, he knew they were a lie. He’d taken a shot of Apophis’s energy during that fight too. The blast had knocked him off his feet, sent him spinning into the wall. But he’d been able to shake it off and get back up. Gryphon hadn’t.

There was only one difference between them. As brothers, they shared the same father, the same lineage, the same link to the ancient hero Perseus, the same blood that made them both bigger, stronger, tougher than most. And yet Orpheus had walked away from Apophis’s attack without a single scratch.

Because he was part daemon. Because what was vile in them lived in him. Because he had no soul to destroy.

The tightness in his chest that had been holding him together snapped like a rubber band. And a green glow illuminated the room as his eyes shifted from gray to the calling card of the daemons.

“Have you told Theron yet?” Zander asked in a gruff voice.

“No. I…I don’t know what to tell him.”

Silence fell, and then Zander said, “Come here,
thea
.” Cloth rasped again. “We’ll figure something out. There’s still time.”

Not much, Orpheus realized. Not much at all.

A heavy weight pressed down around him. He was responsible for this. He’d taken Isa to the witches. Even though he wasn’t directly responsible for her abduction, he’d been the one to tempt that witch with exactly what she wanted. And then he’d taken it one step further and led Gryphon to his death by thinking he could play hero for a few hours and rescue the princess himself. In the end all he’d done was fuck things up worse than he ever had before.

Out of nowhere he thought of the Orb of Krónos. Even with the four chambers empty of the classic elements—earth, wind, fire, and water—the Orb held a power like nothing else. It had kept Max safe when he’d escaped Atalanta and her daemons. Maybe it could put a stop to whatever was killing Gryphon.

He rushed out the door and down the stairs, a renewed sense of urgency pushing him. There were servants coming and going who could alert Callia if Gryphon’s conditioned changed before he got back. He didn’t care that retrieving the Orb from its hiding place would put his carefully constructed plans into chaos. Didn’t care that he was about to give up everything he’d ever wanted. All that mattered was Gryphon.

Which was fucking ironic, wasn’t it? He’d never given a shit about anyone else in his whole life. He hadn’t thought a soulless being could develop a conscience.

As he hit the foyer of the castle and stopped on the gleaming marble floor, he closed his eyes and imagined his shop on Corinth Avenue. And ignored the voice in the back of his head warning that an Argonaut without a soul was a very dangerous thing.

Chapter 8

I liked you a lot better when you were unconscious.

The fear gripping Isadora morphed into resentment with each step Demetrius took through the trees. Yeah, well, she liked him a lot better when she was unconscious too.

Rather than drumming up snippy comebacks that would get her nowhere, she thought back to what had happened when she’d been with the witches. She had flashes of chanting. Of a dagger. Of someone dipping her into a pool. The discombobulated images didn’t make sense, but she was sure they’d done something to her in that cold, dank castle. Something that explained the roller coaster reactions she was having to Demetrius today. Attracted to him? Tingly? Achy with need? Those were not logical or appropriate physical responses for her to have to any Argonaut, especially to the most callous of the bunch. And especially not now when her life was in danger and she was stuck here with him for what looked like an indefinite amount of time.

Howling echoed in the trees to both her right and left. She tensed but didn’t grab on to Demetrius. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction, not again. And freaking out wouldn’t get her off this island any faster.

The thick cypress trees opened up to a rocky ledge that fell away nearly two hundred yards to a canyon below. Isadora’s eyes scanned the dark mountains on the far side, the river that wound through the small valley, the splashes of color against a deep green canvas. Then her gaze swung to the ruins on the hillside to her right.

The fading light made it hard to see, but Demetrius spotted the crumbling stone structure at the same time and shifted in that direction without a word. Rocks and grasses covered the steep hillside. Acacia and wild fig trees littered the landscape leading up to the edifice. The scents of sage and thyme, rosemary and oregano greeted her senses as they drew close.

At first Isadora thought the ruins were some sort of temple, but as it came more fully into sight she realized it was a garrison. What little she knew of Pandora filtered through her mind. No one lived on Pandora. No one could survive the monsters.

Wind whistled past her ears, sent a shiver down her spine. The quickly fading light cast shadows over the stones and battered steps. More cypress trees, palms, and eucalyptus shared the top of the hillside with the ruins, flanking the man-made with the natural.

Demetrius eased her down to sit on the broken steps and handed her a short spear. “Take this while I go have a look around.”

She accepted the weapon without a word. The tip was still sharp but she doubted she’d be able to do any damage with it, especially considering she couldn’t walk. Something was better than nothing, though.

Massive columns ran along the front of the structure. Demetrius disappeared inside. Somewhere across the valley a howl erupted, drifting on the air like an ominous warning.

Another shiver ran down her spine, this one not from the temperature but from everything lurking out there in the shadows. How in the name of all the gods had Demetrius opened the portal here? Not for the first time since she’d awakened did she have the feeling he wasn’t telling her the entire truth.

Long minutes passed during which Isadora tried to piece together the fractured memories swirling in her mind. Growing more aggravated by the minute, she tapped her fingers together while she waited, the only sounds now the whistle of the wind through the trees. Just when she was sure Demetrius had ditched her, he appeared from around the far side of the building and stalked across the rocky ground toward her.

Her heart tripped at the sight of him, a reaction that made her draw in a startled breath. As he moved, her eyes shifted to his bare chest, to the slight dusting of dark hair there, to the muscles and sinew flexing beneath his tanned skin. The wounds on his belly had already scabbed over. His black Argonaut fighting pants were bloody and ripped at the knee and he’d lost his shoes at some point, his bare feet making him look more like a mortal man and less like the warrior she knew he was. But it was his face that kept drawing her back. His hard dark eyes, his jaw covered in two days’ worth of stubble, his mouth set in a grim line.

It wasn’t excitement over seeing him that stirred something inside her. It was relief at knowing she wasn’t alone. It had to be.

Her gaze focused on his full lips as he moved closer and out of nowhere she heard his husky voice in her head. Only it wasn’t the condescending, angry voice he usually used with her. This one was deep and gravelly and filled with emotion.

Wake up, kardia. Open your eyes so I know you’re there. Please open your eyes.

Kardia.
My heart. Why would he ever call her that? Her pulse stuttered, caught, and picked up speed.

He stopped at the base of the steps and raked a hand through his disheveled hair as he glanced around the ruins. “The place looks empty. It’s got to be an old outpost. Pre-Archaic period, I’m guessing. Most of the roof’s gone but the walls are sound, and there are a few rooms off the main hall with enough shelter for the night.”

She had trouble comprehending his words. Was still busy trying to make sense of that voice she’d heard in her head. Was it a memory? Was it a vision of the future? Had he been talking to her?

Demetrius’s dark eyes slid her way. “What’s wrong with you?”

His harsh voice cut through the fog and she blinked even as her heart continued to race beneath her breast. “I…”

He frowned and stooped down to pick her up again. “Since you’re no help to me, you might as well just get out of my way.”

She didn’t argue, had no idea
what
was going on or why. As he carried her into the main hall, which was flanked by two rows of columns, chipped and broken but still standing, she mentally focused on her surroundings instead of his strong arm beneath her legs or the bare skin of his chest pressing into her side or the heat radiating from every inch of his body.

Her eyes skipped over shadows and light. The ceiling was missing but the walls rose around them like a security barrier, and the first twinkle of lights from the night sky shone above. Halfway down the hall he ducked under an archway and stepped into an octagonal room.

Windows devoid of glass looked down over the open valley. A slight breeze blew through the large room with its pointed dome ceiling missing pieces here and there. Pottery shards and rusted metal littered the floor. Demetrius set her down on a bare section of stone against the wall that faced the wide open windows along the eastern side, then kicked debris out of her way.

“I’ll be back,” he announced.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest as he looked down at her. She didn’t nod when he spoke, was too busy trying to figure what was wrong with her. Scowling, he shook his head and disappeared beneath the archway once more.

Alone, she drew deep breaths to settle her racing pulse, but it did little good because her mind wouldn’t slow.
Kardia.
She was almost sure he’d called her that when they’d been climbing that cliff face too.

A soft echo drifted in through the windows. Happy for the distraction—any distraction—Isadora pushed herself across the floor and eased up to look over the low ledge to the ground beyond.

The rocky outcrop on this side of the fortress dropped off steeply to the sea below, churning against rocks and sand. Soft moonlight cast eerie shadows over the uneven ground and shimmered off the water. As far as strongholds went, this was a perfect location. Nothing could surprise you, nothing could attack you without warning, and no one would even know you were here unless you lit a fire or sent up smoke signals. That settled her anxiety, at least for the moment.

Her gaze ran back over the ground, then stopped and held when Demetrius stepped into view. Moonlight highlighted the dips and ridges of his powerful back. Mesmerized, she watched as he looked out to the water and pulled in a deep breath. Just as he had on the bluff, he held his hands in front of him and closed his eyes. His voice drifted on the wind, no more than a hum, a murmur, a silent curse. He turned a slow circle, his lips moving with muffled words, and when he’d made a complete rotation he knelt down and lifted a handful of soil, which he then proceeded to sprinkle as he rose and walked around the ruins, disappearing from sight.

Unnerved, Isadora eased back down to the cold floor. Again the sense that Demetrius was not who and what she’d always pegged him to be ran through her mind.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she scooted into the corner of the room so she could lean her head against the wall. She was so tired. And weak. And not just because of her bad leg. Something else had happened to her. Something before, during, or after her time with Apophis that she couldn’t quite remember but which weighed heavily on her soul. And she was too exhausted and worn out to figure out what that was right now.

Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. For just a moment, here in these ruins, she felt safe. Whether or not that was because of Demetrius, she didn’t want to know. She just wanted to forget.

She drew in a deep breath. Let it out. Relaxed into the wall as sleep drifted over her. But her mind kept twisting back to what she’d seen. And one image it wouldn’t relinquish.

Demetrius.

Darkness closed in, faded to gray, and then grew lighter. Through shadows and mist she saw him standing on that cliff, his hands outstretched, his hair whipping around his lean face. Looking like an Argonaut, a sorcerer, a god, all rolled into one. And she heard his voice. Deep, rich. So damn sexy it set off a tremor deep in the center of her being.

Wake up, kardia. Open your eyes and look at me.

She did. Slowly. Blinked several times. Only she wasn’t in an ancient garrison anymore. She was in a dim room illuminated by hundreds of twinkling candles. Massive marble pillars rose around a circular raised platform and a flat altar of granite. Symbols were etched into the side of the altar, into each of the pillars midway up. Symbols she couldn’t quite read but faintly recognized.

She saw herself dressed in nothing more than a short black robe that hit mid-thigh, parted in front to reveal the long supple line of her neck, the mounds of her breasts, and the deep valley of her cleavage. Her legs were sleek and bare, her hair a wild mess of gold around her face. She looked like a sex goddess sent to seduce, and lying over a bloodred velvet chair, staring into Demetrius’s wicked, searing eyes, it appeared she planned to do just that very soon.

I’ve waited so long for you.

His lips didn’t move, but his words echoed in her mind, and her body answered with a rush of warmth that ignited a wild, uncontrollable desire. Heat gathered in her center as a slow smile slid across her mouth. She rose languidly from the lounge and slinked across the room, up the three marble steps toward the immense stone altar where he stood waiting, wearing nothing more than loose, low-riding black silk pants.

He captured her hand as she drew close, pulled her in for a hot, wet kiss that vibrated all the way to her toes. And just as she felt herself melt, give in,
crave
, he lifted her around the waist, laid her out on the altar, and untied the black sash around her waist.

She shivered as the halves of her robe fell open, revealing the length of her bare body.

Open your eyes, kardia, and look at me.

Slowly, she did. And gasped as his face shifted and morphed into that of the Lord of the Underworld.

A depraved, victorious sneer ran across Hades’s face as he drank in every inch of her naked flesh. Horror pressed in and she opened her mouth to scream. But the only sound she heard was his heinous voice closing in to smother her.

Soon
you
will
truly
be
mine.

***

Demetrius paused outside the open, arched doorway and listened to the slow steady rhythm of Isadora’s breathing.

Thank all the gods she was asleep.

Tired himself, he placed a hand against the cool stones and debated the urge to take a peek at her. Then he remembered the fear in her eyes when they’d been attacked on the beach. When she’d broken her leg all over again. When she’d watched him casting the invisibility spell on that bluff so that damn harpy couldn’t see them anymore.

Too bad he also remembered the disgust.

Bitterness brewed in his stomach when he thought of the way she’d said
witch
, but he welcomed it. Welcomed the familiar feeling and the distraction it brought as he pushed away from the wall and headed for the passageway he’d found hidden in the northwest corner of the ruins.