Tempted (31 page)

She gripped his hands tighter, focused harder.

“
Yios?
”

This time he didn’t take his eyes off her as his chant resumed. He squeezed her hands right back, until pain shot up her fingers and into her palms.

She was weak and no match for his strength. His chanting grew louder. She cried out as he squeezed tighter, pushing down so she was forced to the ground.

“
Yios?
”

Something moved in the shadows behind Demetrius, but Isadora was in so much pain she couldn’t focus. Demetrius let go of her hands and swung around to face Atalanta. His chanting grew stronger; then he thrust out his hands forward. The goddess’s eyes went wide with surprise, and seconds later her body flew backward past the circle of candles to slam into the ground somewhere in the darkness.

The shadow shifted, moved, streaked toward Isadora. “That’s our cue, Princess.”

Zander.
Oh, gods, it was Zander.

He wrapped his arms up underneath hers and hauled her to her feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“
Yios!
” Atalanta’s bellow from the darkness shook the entire room. The candles went out in one giant breath of air.

Demetrius answered by chanting again and disappearing into the darkness.

“Come on,” Zander said, more frantic this time, hauling Isadora with him toward the other side of the room. “We have to get to the surface. I’m too weak to open a portal down here.”

She found her footing, held onto his arms with fingers that still burned, and tried to move with him. A dark doorway loomed ahead. They took five steps before a series of roars from that direction halted their progress.

“
Skata.
”

Atalanta screeched. An arc of electricity lit up the darkness. Demetrius’s chanting cut off abruptly and a crash resounded.

The roars—closer this time—brought Isadora’s attention back around. Terror raced down her spine.

Zander pushed her behind him and grasped his parazonium. “Get back!”

Isadora didn’t have a weapon. She couldn’t even see a foot in front of her face. The roars grew to explosive levels. She felt Zander’s adrenaline thrumming in the air in front of her. At her back, Atalanta screeched again and another arc of electricity illuminated the room.

She turned to look back, and in the split second of light saw Demetrius sail through the air and crash into the wall fifteen yards away. She cried out for him, but the roars, the pounding in her ears, drowned out all sound. Her heart lurched in her chest. Instinctively she moved toward him.

She slammed into a massive body, fell back on her butt. Horrified, she looked up and froze when the eyes peering down at her began to glow, casting an eerie green light over the entire area.

Oh
shit…

“It seems I’m always rescuing your ass, Princess. Is this three now?”

Orpheus?
No way. Orpheus was here?

“Holy shit, O,” Zander exclaimed from mere feet to her left. “We’re about to be overrun.”

“Then might I suggest alternate travel plans?” Orpheus winked down at Isadora. “I’ll add it to your bill.”

He brought his pinky fingers together and opened the portal with a snap and sizzle. The room burst with light. Zander turned and grasped her arm, dragging her to him, but in the chaos she saw the Argonaut markings down Orpheus’s forearms—the markings that hadn’t been there mere days before.

A battle cry erupted just beyond the door.

Zander pushed her forward. “Go, go, go already!”

Isadora took a step toward the open portal. Behind her, another arc of energy lit up the room, followed by another crash of body into stone, and again she watched as Demetrius sailed through the air as if he were a rag doll.

“Demetrius,” she whispered, moving toward him and away from the portal.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Orpheus asked.

“We can’t leave him.”

“I think he’s getting what he deserves.”

“She’s going to kill him.”

“Who the hell cares? Get through the portal, Princess!”

The black door shook with a mighty force. Followed by roars that rocked the room.

“No.” She wasn’t abandoning him. Not here. Not with Atalanta. She turned to Zander. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“You will rue the day you were born!” Atalanta bellowed in the darkness. A groan sounded somewhere across the room.

“Zander!” Isadora cried.

Zander looked to Orpheus. “She’s right. We can’t leave him.”

“What the—?”

“I couldn’t have gotten to her without him. He tried to save her, not kill her. It’s the truth, O. I don’t know what happened with Gryphon, but he didn’t hand her over to Atalanta. Dammit, she’s his soul mate.”

“Motherfucker,” Orpheus muttered. “Talk about screwing up a wet dream. Would you two get through the damn portal already?”

“But—”

“I’ll get him,” Orpheus said loudly, cutting off Isadora’s words.

“Do you promise?”

The glow of his green eyes held hers. But even through the illumination, she saw the truth lurking in their depths. He thought he was such a badass, yet how many times now had he come through for her when she needed him? “Yeah, I’ll get him. Now
go
!”

The door crashed in. Another series of roars resounded, these louder and closer and a thousand times more frightening. Zander grasped her arm. “Come on!”

From the darkness Atalanta screamed, “Hora!”

“Please,” Isadora pleaded as Zander tugged her toward the portal. “Please bring him back.”

“You so fucking owe me for this,” Orpheus muttered.

She didn’t get a chance to respond. Zander pulled her through the portal with one last yank. And then all sound dispersed as she went flying.

Chapter 24

Isadora stood in the massive walk-in closet of her suite in the castle of Tiyrns with a towel wrapped around her body, staring at the clothes hanging from the rack.

Not a single pair of pants. No blouses. None of the modern items Casey had helped her gather weeks ago when she’d decided she wasn’t going to play the part of the cloistered princess any longer. All she saw were miles of crinoline, satin, chiffon, and silk. Dresses she’d thought she was done with forever.

Water droplets fell from her wet hair to drip onto her bare shoulders. Her stomach rolled all over again. She hitched the towel tighter as one expensive fabric bled into another.

She barely remembered the past two days. Callia had told her she’d blacked out when Zander brought her back. She’d slept straight through, her body so sick and worn out that it had needed the time to heal. But even after nearly twenty-four hours asleep, a platter full of food that hadn’t stayed down, and a fresh shower, Isadora didn’t feel healed. Or free. If anything, looking at the clothes in this closet, she felt more confined than she ever had before. Even on Pandora.

She grabbed the first dress her fingers touched, dropped the towel, and wriggled into the claustrophobic gown. She didn’t notice the color or style or anything about the garment. The only things she wanted were answers. And after everything she’d been through, she deserved them.

She zipped the back of the dress, finger-combed her short hair, then reached for the closest pair of shoes before turning out of the closet. And stopped when she came face-to-face with both of her sisters.

“I’d say she’s feeling better,” Callia said in that healer voice that set Isadora’s nerves on edge.

“Much,” Casey agreed with a smile that looked forced.

They were both dressed in slacks, Casey with a red fitted sweater and Callia with a blue button-down blouse. Both were close to the same height, with the same violet eyes and the same confident expressions. And both were studying her as if she were their latest laboratory experiment.

Isadora dropped the shoes and slid her feet into them. “Where is he?”

When neither sister answered, she looked up. Callia and Casey exchanged somber glances.

“What?” Isadora asked. “He is back, isn’t he? You told me Orpheus brought him back. I need to talk to him.”

“He’s not…” Callia started, then closed her mouth. “You can’t.”

“Why not?” When neither answered again, panic settled in. “Is he…?”
Oh, gods
. “Is he hurt?”

“He’s not hurt,” Callia said quickly, taking Isadora’s left hand. “He’s fine. Orpheus found him in the dark and flashed him outside the bunker walls. He was a little banged up from the fight with Atalanta, but these guys—they heal quickly with their superhero Argonaut genes, you know.” The healer tried to smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He’s lucky Orpheus was there, though. Anyone else…they wouldn’t have been able to get away.”

Isadora knew that. She owed Orpheus. In the hours since her rescue she’d learned that Theron and the others had defeated the daemons and that the ones who hadn’t been killed had scattered, just as she’d learned Atalanta was now gone as well. Where, no one seemed to know, but whatever Orpheus and Demetrius had done to the goddess down there in that bunker had given the Argonauts the chance they needed to win the battle.

Her gaze strayed to Casey and she noticed her sister still looked worried. Something was wrong. If Demetrius wasn’t hurt…

“What aren’t you both telling me?”

Casey took Isadora’s other hand. “Honey, I really think you should lie back down. You’re not back to one hundred percent yet and I don’t want—”

Isadora was so sick of everyone coddling her. It had to stop. Now.

She wrenched her hands free and took a step back. “No, you tell me what’s going on right now. Where is he? Did he leave?”

Casey looked to Callia again, and the pitying expression on her face only sent Isadora’s blood pressure higher. “He didn’t leave, Isa.”

“Then where is he?”

“He’s…”

“He’s in Erebus,” Callia finished when it was clear Casey didn’t want to go on.

Isadora looked from one sister to the next. “Erebus? The prison? But why?” She flexed her fingers, desperate for something to do. They still ached from where Demetrius had hurt her in Atalanta’s chamber, but she knew now he’d done that to trick the goddess so she wouldn’t suspect he’d turn on her. No matter what he’d done up until that point, no matter what his motives had been before, he’d saved her. “I don’t—”

“Between Gryphon’s testimony that Demetrius betrayed the Argonauts and what Theron found in his flat,” Casey said, “the Council’s charged him with treason.”

“Wait.” Isadora held up a hand. “Gryphon’s gone.”

“He was here. The guys found him after the daemons took you from the field. He told the others what happened outside the colony.”

Her mind flashed back to that moment when she’d stepped through the portal from Thrace Castle and realized they were surrounded by daemons. Demetrius had been shocked. She knew in her heart he hadn’t planned that any more than she had. “Gryphon was hurt. He wasn’t thinking clearly. I was there. Demetrius tried to save us. I don’t know what you’re talking about with regard to his flat, but—”

“He’s been planning your abduction for months, Isadora.” At Callia’s bombshell, Isadora swung her attention to her other sister. “He had pictures of you all over his flat. A telescope that looked over the rooftops into your suite. Drawings of you, maps of the castle. Isadora”—her voice softened—“he’s Atalanta’s son. You yourself told us he wasn’t what we all thought.”

Confusion welled in Isadora’s chest. “I know what I told you, but…my gods, we’re all related to someone we don’t want to be related to. Do I need to remind you both about the hideous things our own father has done?”

Casey sighed. “It’s more than that, Isa. His lineage and the evidence combined with his attitude are damning.”

“What do you mean, ‘his attitude’?”

“He’s not talking,” Callia answered. “When the king questioned him, when the Council questioned him. He won’t explain where you two were, how you ended up with Atalanta, or what happened while you were gone.”

Isadora glanced at her skirt. “Why wouldn’t he just tell them the truth? Why would he…?”

Color swirled before her eyes, and she saw herself standing in her closet, staring at a sea of gowns, each one more stifling than the last. She wasn’t
that
princess anymore. She wasn’t meek and timid and easily pushed around any longer. If the last week had taught her anything, it was that she was strong and confident and that she mattered. The gowns were nothing more than a facade.

You
can’t save me.

Why
not?

Because
some
things
aren’t worth the effort.

Her chest grew tight. And in a rush she understood why Demetrius had been so cruel to her. For so many years he’d been trying to protect her from himself—because of who and what he thought he was. But he wasn’t like Atalanta. Yes, something dark lurked inside him, but it didn’t rule him. Even when he’d been surrounded by temptation of the most evil kind, he hadn’t given in to it to the point of no return. And now, to keep the Council and the king and the Argonauts from knowing what had truly happened between them on that island, he was reverting back to his old ways. Protecting her with the same I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anyone pretense he’d always used.

“
Ilithios
,” she muttered, heat rising in her cheeks as she pushed past her sisters and headed toward the door. “It won’t work, you big jerk. Not this time.”

“Isadora?” Casey asked with worry in her normally confident voice. “Where are you going?”

“To Erebus.”

“He won’t see you,” Callia said quickly. “He won’t see anyone. We’ve already tried.”

“Oh, he’ll see me.” She grasped the door handle and pulled.

“How can you be so sure?” Casey asked.

“Because I know a secret the rest of you don’t. I’m his soul mate. And he can be an ass all he likes to everyone else, but not to me. Not anymore.”

***

Voices dragged Demetrius’s eyes open. He eased his head away from the cold stone wall where he’d been trying to sleep and peered toward the dark staircase that ran to the guard’s station one level up.

His cellblock was isolated in the bowels of Erebus where he couldn’t interact with any other prisoners. The bars were steel, the cot so damn uncomfortable he’d parked himself on the floor with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up while he tried to clear his mind.

It hadn’t worked. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Isadora’s face when she’d looked at him in Atalanta’s chamber. The fear, the disgust. But mostly the pain.

The voices picked up—some kind of commotion was happening at the guard’s station. Had the Council decided on his punishment already? It’d only been a few hours since he’d told them to fuck off. Since he fully expected to be executed at any moment, he’d have preferred that Orpheus hadn’t hauled his ass back here, but the end result was going to be the same, now, wasn’t it? At least Isadora would soon be free.

His heart clenched at the thought of her, but he ignored the feeling. Atalanta was gone—that was another plus—but she’d be back. He had no doubt the goddess would somehow find a way out of the Fields of Asphodel, where he and Orpheus had banished her by uniting their Medean powers. Ironic, really, that he’d fought his Medean heritage for so long and yet he’d needed it to defeat Atalanta. Ironic also that what he and Orpheus had done wasn’t all that different from what those witches had done to keep Apophis locked in Thrace Castle for thousands of years. He was still more than a little surprised Orpheus was part witch, but he didn’t have the strength or energy to care much about the
ándras
’s intentions now. The only question left burning his gray matter was whether Isadora was really pregnant or if that had been another of Atalanta’s lies.

The voices died off and footsteps echoed down the stone steps. He pushed up, careful to keep his hands behind him, palms flat against the cold stones at his back while he waited for his fate.

The guard came down first, but there was no executioner in his wake. What followed was a swish of powder blue silk that lightened the entire room and looked like a breath of fresh air in this dark dungeon. His throat closed as Isadora moved down the last step.

She wasn’t pale and dirty anymore. Dressed in the wide-collared light blue dress that showed off her dainty shoulders, she looked like the queen she would soon become. The bell sleeves made her hands appear that much more delicate. The nipped waist reminded him how he’d been able to span her rib cage with his hands. And the A-line skirt sent thoughts of the treasures hidden beneath rushing through his mind.

Her chocolate eyes fell on his, held. He didn’t move forward, just tried like crazy to still his pounding heart.

“Leave us,” she said to the guard.

“I…” The guard stiffened. “The king has ordered the prisoner not be left unattended in the presence of visitors.”

Isadora glared at the guard. “My father will be dead in a matter of weeks and I’ll be your new queen. If you don’t leave us now, I guarantee I will remember your name. And the consequences will be severe.”

“But the king made it clear—”

“Now,” Isadora said louder.

Unease rushed over the guard’s face, but he backed toward the stairs. “I…I’ll be right upstairs. If you need something…”

His voice trailed off as he scrambled up the steps. And in the silence that followed, Demetrius couldn’t help but be awed by Isadora’s strength. Gone was the timid princess he’d mocked for nearly two hundred years. In her place stood a
gynaíka
who was calm and collected and the only female in this world or the next who he had ever truly wanted.

She was the first to break the silence. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

Yes. A thousand things. Not a single one of which makes a difference now.