by Laura Kaye
Chrys traded glances with his brothers. He spun the blade in his grip. “From a friend. It’s made of infernal iron—”
“I know of what it is made,” she said. “It’s mined in Tartarus and laces the cave system below us. And it can temporarily paralyze or neutralize a god. Or worse.”
It was nearby infernal iron that screwed with their powers in here? The cavern in which Aeolus had held them sat further underground—no wonder he’d been able to confine them. The walls were a virtual cage of the power-stealing iron. Well, now he had a way to use it to his advantage. He eyed the blade and nodded. “Yes. A little odds-evener, as it were.”
“Why do you wish us away from the sons?” Boreas interjected. “Chrysander already has Apheliotes seeing where they stand. It is a sound plan.”
Aeolus’s eyes flared green. “Call him back.”
Chrys caught the blade’s grip in his palm and frowned. “That ship sailed. Aphel left for the East this morning.”
“By the gods, Chrysander. You’ll ruin everything.” Aeolus’s voice boomed through the cavern.
Dread slinked in icy tentacles through his gut. “What the hell am I missing?”
Aeolus spun on his heel and paced away, cursing under his breath in the ancient language. Tisiphone turned, watching him.
For the first time, Chrys paid attention to the god’s clothing. Not the normal luxurious robes he wore when presiding over one of the ceremonial halls on his estates. Not the tunics often worn among the gods in the divine realm. Loose black pants. Form-fitting black shirt. Hair pulled back by a leather cord and damp with sweat…
“Wait a second. Wait just a goddamned second.” On anyone else, he would’ve sworn it was workout gear. The disappearing energy signature. The flash of light just as they’d entered the cavern. The pieces of the puzzle clicked together in Chrys’s brain. “You were fighting someone when we came.” Aeolus hesitated a fraction of a step in his pacing. That tell affirmed Chrys’s suspicions. “Who was it? Who was here when we arrived?”
Aeolus turned. For a long moment, he met Tisiphone’s gaze. She gave a nearly imperceptible nod. He drew himself up to his full height. “Not fighting. Training.”
“Who?” Chrys asked, fighting back a shiver.
“Eurus’s son, Devlin.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Tell me where you are right now,” Seth growled through the phone.
Laney scanned her gaze over her borrowed bedroom. It was the third time she’d talked to him since her “disappearance” two days before, but he was no calmer now than he’d been the first time. “I can’t, but don’t worry—”
“Don’t worry? You left the farm without any notice. Your purse, your phone, your house keys—they’re all still here. And yet I’m supposed to believe you’re just fine? You haven’t traveled by yourself since before your grandfather died.”
Guilt washed acid into her stomach. Of course he was right. And she heard, too, what he hadn’t said—it wasn’t just that she hadn’t traveled by herself, it was that she hadn’t gone anywhere without him. Between the deterioration of her vision and the rural location of the farm, she really was trapped without someone to drive her. And Seth was always there for her.
“I’m sorry,” she managed. She shifted positions on her bed.
“But you’re not going to tell me.”
She shook her head, unable to turn him down for the millionth time. “Please trust me. I know I’m asking a lot, but I’ll be home soon.”
“Trust you? How about you trust me to help you with whatever’s going on. We’ve been friends for forever. It’s my job—as your friend, as your farm manager, as the man who made a promise to your grandfather—to watch out for you. If you’re not going to tell me what I need to know to do that, for whatever reason, I’m calling the police.”
Tension roared down the line despite the silence. Had they ever been this at odds with one another? There was only one way to fix it. She held her breath for a long moment, then let the words fly. “I’m in Fairfax, Virginia.”
He didn’t respond right away. “Where?” he said, tone full of barely restrained anger.
Shoulders falling, she gave him the address.
“I’m coming to get you.”
Her scalp prickled and her stomach seemed to take flight. “No, don’t. I—”
“This isn’t up for debate.”
“But—”
“Stay put, Laney. I mean it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The line went dead.
She gaped at the phone. “Holy crap,” she whispered to herself. How the hell was she going to explain all this to Seth? The walls of the room closed in on her at the thought. She had to get out of there, just get some fresh air to clear her head and help her figure out what to do.
Laney eased off the bed and smoothed her hands over her borrowed T-shirt. Luckily, a few of Megan’s pre-pregnancy summer clothes had fit well enough to get by for a few days. She sighed and counted the paces to the bedroom door. In the two days she’d been there, she’d thrown herself into pacing out the distance between things so she could move around as independently as possible and not be any greater burden on the couple than she already was.
Six steps to the door. Knob on the left. Eight steps down the hall to the top of the staircase. Thirteen steps down to a landing at the bottom, turn left, and two more steps to the living room floor.
She crossed the living room to the kitchen. Empty. Thankful not to have run into anyone, Laney made her way to the mud room that led to the back door.
She kicked something and froze, throwing her hands out in case she tripped. Something bounced. A ball? Maybe one of Teddy’s toys?
Ahead of her, the light brightened. The back door.
A few more paces, and she was opening it, stepping out onto the brick porch. The sunlight stole her remaining vision, as it always did. No matter. Chrys had told her there were three steps. She felt for the iron railing and found it.
When she reached the grass, she stopped and allowed her sight to adjust. Underfoot, green came into focus. Laney stood there for a long moment and scanned her vision over the yard. Longer than it was wide, there didn’t appear to be any obstacles that would trip her up.
The glare remained too bright to locate what she was looking for at this distance, so Laney set out carefully, counting the number of steps she took so she could make her way back to the porch. After twenty paces, she paused and scanned again. To her left. There it was.
The tree under which she and Chrys had materialized after that first miraculous journey through the wind. After he’d gifted her with that amazing, whole view of the world. Under that tree, she’d kissed him.
Heat washed over her skin that had nothing to do with the midday sun.
She made her way toward the sprawling branches, hunching to ensure she didn’t hit her head on an unseen low-hanger. When she reached the trunk, she pressed her hand flat to the bark. Rough and craggy, she pushed her finger under a piece and pulled it away. Then she sat, her back to the tree, her knees pulled up in front of her.
Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back as she breathed in a deep, invigorating gulp of fresh air. Already, just being out of doors lifted some of the weight from her shoulders, made it easier to breathe. She hated being a burden. She hated uncertainty. And she especially hated the feeling of helplessness. As nice as Megan and Owen were—and she truly did like them—she didn’t belong here.
But Chrys does.
True. But that was hardly relevant if they weren’t together.
In her head, she heard the strained rasp of his voice. I walk out the door.
She fingered the heavy amulet that hung around her neck. Whatever power it held worked. She bore no side effects from her attack.
Oh, which was the truth of Chrys? The man who says he always leaves his lovers, or the man who promised to take care of her?
And why, after a lifetime of insisting on her independence, on her ability to take care o
f herself, did she hope with all her heart the latter was the real Chrys?
Because you’re falling in love with him.
She thunked her head against the tree. Hard to believe it hadn’t even been two weeks since Chrysander Notos had fallen into her life. How could she be falling so hard for someone she’d known for such a short time? For someone she knew so little about, and who knew so little about her? She thought about Seth, who knew almost everything there was to know. She didn’t believe two people had to be that well acquainted to fall in love, but did she really feel that strongly for Chrys? If so, given his little speech, she was probably so, so screwed.
The breeze ruffled her hair, and Laney tucked a few wayward strands behind her ear. Random memories of the time they’d spent together ran through her mind. But they were no more helpful in sorting out what to believe. For every instance she recalled of his intense brand of care and consideration, there existed an example of him pulling away or leaving.
Why was he always pulling away?
I restrain my lovers because I can’t stand to be touched.
Laney’s throat tightened at the memory. Twin reactions coursed through her. Arousal stirred as she recalled every restraining grip, dominant hold, and commanding word from their lovemaking. But deep concern dampened the pleasure. Because she’d heard the pain behind the admission, behind his description of his “ugly reality.”
Pressure squeezed her chest. Not once had she ever fully seen Chrys, but that didn’t keep her from knowing he was a beautiful, beautiful man. Inside and out. Nothing about him was ugly. Not to her. Not even the rough sex he’d warned her away from.
She tried to recall all the times he’d pulled away…
Their first kiss, when she’d grabbed his back. In her bedroom doorway after her shower. Before she’d ended up against the door, she’d tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but he’d pushed her hands away and pinned her. He’d been totally into her until…until she wrapped her leg around his.
Her heart kicked up in her chest. Now that she was looking for the signs, she found them everywhere. In the flinches and muscle ticks and tension when she touched him. In the way his breath caught. In the way he apologized every time he pulled away.
Oh, Chrys.
The more she’d thought about their night together, the more she knew to the very core of her that his sexual dominance resonated with her in a way she never would’ve expected. Maybe it was the novelty of it, or the edginess, or the rough way he handled her—like she wasn’t fragile or damaged, but strong enough to take what he needed to give her. But as much as she knew she could accept that part of him, her arms ached to hold him. Her fingers tingled with the desire to trace over his face, to explore every inch of his body.
Neither of which he would want.
Which didn’t really matter if he didn’t want her, now did it?
Laney groaned. Her head was one big circle of confusion. And, in a couple of hours, Seth was going to be here to add to the mix. Her only saving grace was he was going to have to wade through D.C.’s horrid rush hour traffic, which would hopefully give her a few more hours to figure out how to explain the impossible without him hauling her off to the nearest psych ward.
She let herself enjoy the warm breeze for a few more moments, then pushed herself up. She didn’t want Megan to get up from her nap and worry about where she’d gone.
Counting out her paces again, she headed back the way she came.
Damnit. She swung her arms in a careful circuit, but couldn’t find the railing. She must’ve veered off her original path, but the glare of the sun after sitting in the shade made it impossible to see.
Shielding her hand over her eyes, she waited for them to adjust, that uncomfortable feeling of being out of place settling back into her shoulders.
“Are you okay there? Can I help you?” a woman’s voice called from off to the left. “I’m Tabitha, Megan’s neighbor.”
Laney cringed internally. No doubt she looked ridiculous standing in the yard utterly lost, yet probably mere feet from the door. She forced a smile. “I’ve, uh, gotten myself a bit turned around.” She gestured to her face. “I’m almost blind and still learning where everything is here.”
“Well, don’t you worry about a thing.” Her voice neared. “Any friend of the Winters is a friend of mine. How can I best help get you back inside?”
Sincerity rang through her words, putting Laney more at ease. “If you’ll let me take your elbow, I can follow you in.”
“One elbow, coming right up.” Tabitha stepped to her side and Laney took her arm.
“I smell roses.”
The other woman chuckled as she slowly led her across the lawn. “I was pruning. Warm as it’s been, some of my repeat bloomers might just have one more flowering in them.”
“Yeah? What color are they?”
Tabitha hesitated, as if the question caught her off guard. “Two are the palest, softest pink. One is white with just a hint of goldenrod along the petals’ edges. I’ve got several shades of red—one almost maroon, it’s so dark, another that’s bordering on fuchsia, and two that are the classic rose red. And then there are my absolute favorite—they have bright, canary buds that can’t help but make you smile.”
The woman’s words had the same effect. “You described them beautifully, like an artist, or a writer.”
“That is sweet of you to say. I paint, so I’ve always appreciated color.” They paused. “Here are the steps.”
“Perfect. Thank you. I can find my way from here.” She gripped the iron. “I’m Laney, by the way.”
“Very nice to meet you.” Tabitha stepped away. “Do you like ice cream?”
Laney chuckled. “Do you ever find someone who answers that question in the negative?”
She laughed, a pleasant, open sound. “Not living next to Owen, I don’t. I think that man would live on ice cream if he could. I’ve made up a few more flavors and was going to bring some over for them to try, but tell me which you prefer and I’ll make sure I bring some of that special. I have orange chocolate chip, mint, strawberry, and coffee.”
“Yes, please.”
“Uh, which?”
Laney grinned. “Any or all.”
“My kinda gal. All right. Tell Megan I’ll be over.”
Laney nodded, still smiling at the force of nature that was their neighbor. The brief conversation made her realize she missed having girlfriends, people she could chat to about everything or just nothing at all. She had Seth, of course, but it wasn’t the same. He’d talk about the horses or the farm or her medical care until the cows came home. He was the only person in the world who could share stories about her grandfather, and who understood just how important those memories were to her. But the books she was reading, her feelings and fears, men? Not so much. “Thanks again, Tabitha.”
“You bet,” she said, her voice moving away. “See you later.”
She felt around for the doorknob and found it. Amazing how a bit of kindness from a stranger could lift your spirits.
The thought made her pause. Megan and Owen had offered that, too, hadn’t they? They’d been nothing but kind and helpful and understanding since she’d arrived. And not only that—Megan was so easy to talk to. She really listened, and she was funny, and she was the only person on earth she could talk to about the whole supernatural god thing.
Get it together, Laney. Time to stop moping and start appreciating. She hated the weakness of feeling sorry for herself. Done. Enough. Over.
For now, it was time to accept the situation and make the best of it. When Seth arrived, she’d figure out what to say. And when Chrys returned—she refused to believe it could be an “if”—she’d get the clarity she needed on where they stood, and go home to nurse her broken heart if that’s the way the cookie crumbled.
Until then, she’d enjoy the new friends she was making. And the homemade ice cream wouldn’t hurt, either.
…
For a long mom
ent, their father’s revelation hung in the darkness. Then all hell broke loose.
Zeph faced off with Aeolus. “Devlin? What the hell are you thinking?”
“You’ve let him know what’s going on, but not us?” Boreas asked.
The collective tension gave the air a sizzling, electrical quality. Chrys tugged his hair out of his face. “How do you even know you can trust him?” This whole situation was getting more complicated by the minute.
“Enough!” Aeolus glared at Zeph, who finally eased off a step. “He is strong. He is on the inside. And we need his help.”
Zeph planted his hands on his hips. “But he’s too close to his father. He’s not trustworthy.”
“There’s no love lost between them, I can assure you.”
“Not liking his father isn’t the same as not being loyal to him, for whatever reason. And it’s not the same as being free of his influence.”
Chrys nodded at Zeph. “And Aphel says while Eurus keeps Alastor imprisoned, Devlin is free because he’s doing his father’s bidding.” A thought slammed into his brain. “Son of a bitch. Devlin’s part of the reason the weather’s been so chaotic all summer. A storm or a destructive wind would arise, and I’d go thinking I’d find Eurus, only to come up empty-handed. It was clear divine energy was present, but I didn’t recognize it.” He held his hands out. “Until now. That same energy signature is all over this room, which means it was Devlin all along. Jesus, he’s been actively working with Eurus all this time.”
“Why did you think contacting Alastor would ruin whatever plans you’re making?” Boreas asked, a deep frown on his face.
“Because Eurus must believe you distrust his sons, especially Devlin. When you encounter one another in battle, Eurus must believe it.”
Zeph scoffed. “No problem there, since we don’t trust him.”
Boreas held out a hand. “What is it you’re training Devlin to do?”
Aeolus held Chrys’s gaze as he spoke. “As long as Eurus possesses the ring, the three of you are disadvantaged. Even without the ring, I am at least his equal, if not stronger, but there’s only one of me.” Chrys gestured for him to continue. “I’m training Devlin in my powers. I’m training him to become my equal.”