Amends: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 2)

by Carissa Andrews

  Part of me wishes we could bring him with us, but the other, more intelligent part of me says that’s a disaster of epic proportions. Besides, I’m pretty sure Renaldo would kill me.

  Kyros stands up, tugging at the tops of his thighs. “How do men in this era handle having their manhood squashed up inside these confines?”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “And on that note…” I spin around, zipping up my suitcase, and rolling it over to the door.

  “Truly, Anastasios, how do you get used to such restrictions? There’s no airflow,” Kyros mutters, holding onto the edge of the bed and maneuvering into what I can only conclude was an ostrich impression as he squats up and down.

  “It’s Blake. And…” Blake’s gaze shifts to me then back to Kyros, “you get used to it.”

  I run my hand over my face. All the marvels this new age brings and in typical manly fashion, they worry about their bits.

  “All right, well, it’s time to get going,” I say, edging closer to the door, so I can make a quick escape.

  “Amarantham,” Kyros calls.

  I sigh but turn back around. “Yes?”

  “It has been an honor to serve you,” he says, pulling his shoulders back a bit. He still looks like Gollum, but at least he’s got his teeth and modern clothes.

  My insides twist and I drop the handle of the suitcase to walk over to him. “It’s been an honor to work alongside you, as well. You must know that.” I set my hand along his left shoulder, patting it awkwardly.

  He steps forward quickly, wrapping his arms around me. With my arms pinned to my sides, I look over my shoulder, trying to plead Blake for help with my eyes. What I get is a half-smirk.

  Oh, he’ll pay for that.

  “Well, I really better…” I begin, trying to free my right hand enough to pat Kyros on the side.

  With a sniffle, he releases me and stands up straight. “Well, then, yes. You must be going. I shouldn’t keep you.”

  I stumble backward, trying to gain some clearance. “Take care of yourself.” Shooting him a pained smile, I turn around and walk out the open door. I’m on the wraparound outdoor deck before I realize I forgot my suitcase.

  “Dammit,” I mutter under my breath. Turning back, I stick my arm inside the door, grab the suitcase, and cast another quick wave to Kyros.

  Blake’s smirk only deepens and I have the sudden urge to hop in the car and drive off without him.

  “See ya, old man. Stay out of trouble,” Blake says as he closes the door behind us both.

  Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. He clearly doesn’t remember much about Kyros in his past life. He was a hellion then and likely a hellion now.

  I make my way to the car and toss the suitcase in the backseat. Everything about this feels surreal and wild. There’s practically nothing I can wrap my head around that grounds me.

  The ride to the airport is a test in awkward silence. As much as we can be comfortable together without all the mundane chit-chat, I can’t bring myself to say anything at all. My mind is numb, almost quiet, and I can tell this is Apollo’s way of trying to get me to do his bidding.

  He’s trying to show me that my gifts are tied to him and that when he pulls back, what’s left is simple humanity. But I’ve got a surprise for him—I wouldn’t mind being human for a change. I never wanted this gift or any of the power that rides along with it.

  I follow Blake’s lead as he maneuvers us through the rental car drop-off and the airport. Thankfully, he’s a take-charge kinda guy and there isn’t much I need to think about through the whole ordeal. It’s not until we’re sitting in the airplane that the gravity of my situation slams into me.

  “Oh my god, I hate flying,” I say, gripping the armrests until my knuckles turn white. My stomach rolls and I’m suddenly not so sure about this whole leaving thing.

  “Yeah, you made that abundantly clear last time.” Blake laughs and his lopsided dimple makes an appearance to the side of his goatee. It makes my heart flutter and my insides warm.

  If I weren’t worried about dropping thousands of feet out of the sky, it would be enough to have me running through scenarios on how to handle our romantic entanglement when we touch down. Gods know Kyros’s arrival certainly put the kibosh on any sexiness happening back in Greece and if Ren finds out we’re “a thing,” but haven’t done the deed…

  I shudder the thought away.

  “Oh, right,” I say, slinking into my seat a bit. On the way here, I’d basically made a fool of myself. It won’t happen again. I need to make a better impression this time.

  Besides, the flight attendant is too busy further up. Probably getting ready for this death trap to take off.

  “You know, for someone who’s lived as long as you have,” Blake whispers, with a hint of humor in his tone, “you sure are jumpy about flying.”

  “Yes, well, now I have you to worry about. Don’t I?” I say, shooting him a knowing look. Granted, I’d be a wuss even if he weren’t riding with me, but now that I think about it…

  “Yeah, but if we were going to crash, you’d have seen it. Right?” he says, leaning in a bit. His eyes sparkle with all seriousness and I swallow hard.

  A valid point, but still. My gifts aren’t infallible. It’s not like I’m a god. I’m just a chick who gets glimpses into the future from time to time.

  A strange tingly feeling courses through me, raising the hair on my scalp and sending goosebumps skittering over my body. My heartbeat kicks up a notch and I’m suddenly concerned about how far Apollo might go to keep me here. He wouldn’t bring the plane down knowing I’d survive, but Blake wouldn’t. Would he?

  Surely I would have gotten a vision if he meant to bring the plane down. Right?

  Before I have the chance to do anything about the thought, the pilot announces our departure, and the flight attendant in view buckles herself in.

  “Oh god,” I mutter under my breath, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

  The plane taxis and the next thing I know, my stomach flips, and we’re up in the air.

  Blake places his hand over the top of mine, and the warmth from his palm spreads across my skin. I sigh into the comfort, unable to hold my breath any longer.

  “We’re in the air. You can relax now,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder.

  “Easy for you to say,” I mumble.

  After the longest fifteen minutes of my life, the flight attendant makes her way to us. Despite myself, I end up with a stash of teeny tiny bottles of booze. None of them ideal, but they’ll do in a pinch.

  If I need them.

  “Do you want some soda to go along with all that?” Blake asks, grinning wide as he jabs his index finger toward my stash.

  I shoot him an irritated glance. “What do you take me for, sir? And, of course. Can I have a 7-up, please?”

  The flight attendant nods, handing over a smaller-than-normal can.

  I sigh, cracking it open and pouring it into the plastic cup with way too much ice.

  “Would you like anything to drink?” the flight attendant says, turning to Blake.

  “Whatever cola you have is fine,” he says.

  She bends down, grabbing the can and shoving a plastic cup into a bucket of ice at the top of her cart. Then she hands them over.

  “Thanks,” he says, setting them down on the tray in front of him.

  She nods and continues on her way.

  I take a sip of the 7-up, all the while envisioning cracking open the first bottle of, gods only know what, and downing the contents.

  “You don’t have to wait, you know,” Blake says, tipping his chin toward the bottles.

  “No, I’m okay for now,” I mutter taking another small sip.

  Blake shakes his head, and chuckles under his breath. “So, do you think the old man will be okay?”

  Guilt twists me in the gut again and I eye the tiny bottles. “He’s a grown man.”

  “Yeah, but he’s pretty green to this new world. Maybe we should have—“
>
  “Do not finish that sentence,” I say, pressing my fingertip to his lips, effectively cutting off his words.

  “But...” he manages to eke out.

  “Shhhhhhh. Trust me. There is no way bringing him with us would have ended well. Besides, can you imagine the brimstone and fire it would invoke with Ren. Oh my god, just…no.” An involuntary convulsion moves through me. “This is the best way.”

  I remove my finger from his mouth, dropping my hand beside my cup.

  “I suppose you’re right. I guess I feel a little guilty about it. He’s all alone and even though I don’t really remember much about him, per se, I can’t help but feel protective over the old man. It’s weird,” Blake says, turning from me and looking out the window.

  “It’s probably because you were tasked to protect us both. He was part of my entourage, after all,” I say, taking another fizzy sip, wishing I was able to stop thinking about the distance between us and the horizon.

  A crackling sensation pierces through at the edge of my mind and I sense him before I see him. The seat in front of us shifts and after much grunting, Kyros’s head pops up over top.

  “Ah, there you are,” he says, grinning broadly. “Well, this is a delight, isn’t it?”

  Blake turns his wide, brown eyes to me, clearly not used to this real-world full of the supernatural just yet. I, on the other hand, should have known leaving Apollo’s request behind wouldn’t be so easy.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m fucking tickled to death,” I mumble, grabbing hold of the first bottle of booze and cracking it open.

  4

  Get Up and Own the Damn Day

  I sense the bright light before I gather the energy to open my eyes. It presses on the back of my lids, alerting me to the intense pain in my head ready to greet me the moment I try to sit up.

  Groaning, I reach over my head and cover it with my pillow.

  Pillow?

  Despite myself, I yank it off my head and attempt a mini-cobra.

  Or is that Sphinx? Lord help me, I was never any good at yoga.

  Light streams into my bedroom and I stare out the window, dumbfounded. How in the hell did I get here? Why do I remember nothing?

  Then, snippets of a plane ride filter back in.

  Oh, gods…

  I plop unceremoniously, face down on the pillow, and groan again.

  Beside me, I hear the sound of someone clearing their throat and I scramble to sit up.

  In the corner of my room, a pile of clothing on my small wicker chair moves. Kyros attempts to stand, careful to set the clothing back where it originated.

  Despite myself, a startled scream escapes my lips.

  “What in the hell are you doing in here?” I sputter, clutching my blankets to my chest.

  My head throbs, a remnant of my indiscretion on the plane, and likely a side-effect that prevented me from sensing Kyros in the first place.

  “Anastasios demanded I keep an eye on you while he attended to someone named Aiden,” Kyros says, puffing up his chest indignantly. He looks utterly ridiculous with the gesture, particularly since his t-shirt of choice is two sizes too big, and says, ‘with a body like this, who needs hair?’

  How on earth he managed to get it, I’ll never know.

  “Blake, his name is Blake,” I say, running a hand over my face.

  It’s too early for this kind of nonsense. I need Excedrin. STAT.

  “Yes, well, he will return soon, but since there wasn’t a convenient place to sit, I figured this would do,” he says, pointing at the clothing stack. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to attend to your attire. I mean, honestly, who needs so many choices?”

  “Kyros,” I say, glowering at him. “As much as I adore being berated first thing in the morning—oh, wait. No, I don’t. Get out.” I raise my arm, pointing toward the door.

  He harrumphs but shuffles himself out into the hallway.

  “Wait—I have a question,” I say, wondering how much of a fool I made of myself.

  “How… Did Blake…” I can’t seem to find the words to ask what’s on my mind.

  Kyros raises his chin, watching me struggle from the end of his nose.

  “You were incapacitated, if that’s what you’re asking. Anas—Blake—was a gentleman and ensured you were taken care of until resting in here.”

  “Did he—?” I wet my lower lip. Gods, I need water, too. “Did he stay here? Or?”

  “Yes, Amara—Diana. But he took up residence on the floor.” He points to the edge of the bed and I lean over. There’s a small throw blanket and a couch pillow folded neatly beside my nightstand.

  My heart flutters and I feel like a complete moron. I should be better at this by now. I’m sure he thinks I’m real smooth. I’ll be lucky if he wants anything to do with me after all of this.

  “Did I make a complete idiot of myself?” I say, chewing on the side of my cheek.

  Kyros’s face screws up and he tries to hide something in his expression. If my gifts were working at full-strength, I’d be able to pick up what, but I can’t seem to think through the hangover fog, let alone dig into someone else’s head.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say a complete idiot, Amarantham,” he finally says.

  “Oh, gods,” I say, wincing. “What did I do? Do I want to know?”

  Kyros clasps his hands in front of his small frame and considers. “Well, you did tell him repeatedly how his smile made you… What was the word? Squirm with pleasure? You continually tried to coax one out of him, which I have to admit was highly entertaining. And I believe you mentioned several occasions how you’d have his baby if you could do such a thing.”

  My stomach rolls and I’m not only mortified but about to be sick. “Classy. Oh dear, god. I wasn’t sick though, was I?” I fight the urge to hurl and hold my breath, hoping it passes.

  “Oh, no. There was no vomit,” Kyros says, walking back into the room and patting me on the shoulder.

  I sink back into the bed, rolling over, and returning the pillow over the top of my head.

  Well, at least there’s that.

  Kyros pats my back. “There, there. At least he didn’t run screaming for the hills. Remember the good old days? You did that a fair few times to the unbelievers. Granted, he did leave bright and early this morning. So perhaps, I’m speaking too soon.”

  “Kyros, get out,” I mutter, my words muffled between the mattress and pillow.

  He clears his throat, but his hand is abruptly missing from my back. “I will just—I’ll be out there if you need me.”

  “Phanx,” I say, not bothering to annunciate the word.

  When I hear the soft click of the door, I close my eyes and sink further into the bed. If I could drop all the way to the seventh circle of hell, I’d do it. Pretty sure it would be less horrific than my current situation.

  Get yourself together, Diana. It was one indiscretion and it’s not like he doesn’t already know you hate flying. On the upside, he’s seen my warts—so if he comes back after all that, it was meant to be. Right?

  I inhale a noseful of stale laundry detergent and dust, then toss my pillow aside. Wallowing in self-pity is not the way I want to begin this new life with Blake. We’ve missed so much time together and I don’t want to waste another minute of it. I want to dive into his love and bury myself in it until I feel whole again.

  “All right, Diana. Get up and own the damn day,” I whisper to myself, brushing back a hot pink chunk of hair. I throw back the bedspread and my stomach flutters. Just like last time, Blake must have removed my pants, likely to make sure I was comfortable. My top half is still in clad the way it was, so I know he didn’t try to cop a feel while I was passed out.

  When I stand up, the world spins a bit with the pain in my head. I push through it, grabbing a new outfit from the stack of clothes Kyros had been hiding under, and make my way to the bathroom.

  After downing some headache tablets, and taking the world’s longest shower, I walk out of the bathroom feel
ing a billion times better. The dull ache in the back of my brain is still there, but it’s livable. A blessing from supernaturally fast healing.

  Now, I just need some food and I might be able to make it go away completely.

  When I walk out into the kitchen, Kyros is butted up to the two-person breakfast bar and Blake is behind the stove. The scent of bacon fills the space and I take up the seat next to Kyros.

  “Anas—Blake has returned,” Kyros announces as if I hadn’t sussed that one out on my own.

  I opt for nodding as a response, so I can admire Blake’s perfect ass in his stylishly ripped-up jeans. Seriously, I could stare at him all day long.

  I sigh far too loudly and Kyros shoots me an odd look.

  “What?” I mutter, defensively.

  Blake turns around, shooting me a full smile. His dimples appear beside his black goatee and my heart constricts in on itself. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  “Like I was run over by a freight train, then drug for a few hundred miles,” I say. “But things are looking up.”

  His smile doesn’t fade as he holds my gaze for a moment. “Well, I figured you’d want something in your stomach to help with all that. Pancakes and bacon sound okay?”

  “Are you kidding? You could throw toast at me and I’d be in awe,” I say before I can filter myself. I’m not used to people doing things for me, but I could get used to it.

  Kyros taps my arm. “What exactly are pancakes?”

  I chuckle. “It’s sort of like a flatbread, but tastes more like heaven.”

  He gapes at me.

  “Just—you’ll see,” I say, shaking my head, and instantly regretting the movement. Headache’s still hiding in there somewhere.

  “Well, he won’t have to wait long. It’s ready,” Blake says, grabbing some plates from my cupboard like he lives here.

  I slide off my stool and make my way to the other cupboard. While he dishes up the pancakes and bacon, I pour each of us a glass of orange juice and grab the syrup.

  Blake hands out the plates and I hand everyone their silverware. At least Kyros knows what to do with a fork now and no longer stares at it like it’s a magic wand or something.