Thanos (Masters Among Monsters Book 3)

by Ella Frank

  “If you let him see—”

  “Alasdair,” Thanos said, “stop. You know not what you speak of.”

  Alasdair frowned. “I find it difficult to believe you are so easily defeated. The Thanos I know would never roll over so easily. Even when faced with such…obstacles.”

  Thanos brought the mask back up to rest on what was left of his nose, and then raised the hood of his jacket back over his head.

  “You really believe he won’t take you back? Don’t you?”

  Thanos’s eyes glowed out at him from the shadows then, and Alasdair could feel the warning emanating off him. “That is not the biggest concern here, cousin.”

  “Then I do not understand.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. There are only three who do, and the reason your Ancient just left you here is because he is one of them.”

  Thanos sat back down on the settee and brought his palms up to his face. “This is all my fault…”

  “What is? You didn’t stab yourself, Thanos. That fucker Elias did.”

  “No, not that. But everything after that and what has to happen now,” Thanos said. “That is my fault.”

  Alasdair crouched down in front of the male and looked into his eyes, trying to understand both what his cousin was saying, and this new overwhelming feeling of compassion. That had to be coming from Leonidas…but how?

  “I am just so angry at him. And have been for a long time. I just buried it,” Thanos whispered. “But it is still there.”

  “Your anger is understandable. The damages inconcievable. Eton will understand it. You are one, you and he. As is Isa with Diomêdês, and myself and Vasilios.”

  Thanos shook his head adamantly. “No. We are not one, not any longer, and even if we could be again, this is different. We are different from you and Isa, and Eton…he is gone now.”

  PARIS COULDN’T STOP his body from quaking as Leo led him into an enormous bathroom and shut the solid wood door behind them. His friend, on the other hand, appeared remarkably calm, all things considered, as he dropped the white sheet he’d had wrapped around his waist and reached for the plush terry robe that was hanging on a brass hook.

  After years of friendship, it was nothing out of the ordinary for either of them to strip and get changed in front of the other at the gym or before clubbing. But as Paris stood in the unfamiliar bathroom after everything that had happened in the last—what? Twenty-four hours?—he was more than a little shocked at seeing bite marks and red fingerprints marring Leo’s pale skin.

  Jesus, they did force him. And, from the looks of it, fed on him.

  “Are you okay?” Paris managed as he raced across the tile floor to take Leo’s hands in his. Leo squeezed his fingers in return, led him over to a bench in the room, and told him to sit down.

  The remnants of a headache throbbed behind Paris’s eyes, thumping in time with the ever-increasing beat of his heart, and when he finally settled on the seat, Leo sat down beside him and took in a deep breath. Paris looked him over, worry coursing through him at the serious expression on his usually jovial friend’s face, and he tried to remember the last time they’d been in a situation that had been normal and fun. And when was that…Leo’s birthday? That night at the pub? Yes. A couple of weeks after that, Leo had gone missing.

  “We need to talk,” Leo said, as he rubbed his palms along his thighs.

  “I know. Leo, what did they do to you?”

  Leo’s mouth opened, and then he shut it again and got to his feet. “Well…umm, have you spoken to Elias at all?”

  Paris shook his head, tracking Leo’s movements. “No. I haven’t seen him since they took him away in handcuffs. Is he—” Paris put a hand over his mouth as his head spun at the thought he’d just had. “Is he dead?”

  Leo shook his head. “No. God, no. He’s with— Actually, don’t worry where he is. Just know he’s okay. Let’s try and clear some of this up for you before you pass out or, umm, throw up on Vasilios. He really wouldn’t like that.”

  Paris wondered at the slight smile on Leo’s mouth. What could possibly be humorous, he had no idea. “That Vasilios guy and Alasdair. Have they been…you know…”—he thought over what word to use—“hurting you?”

  Leo ran a hand through his hair and then cupped the back of his neck. “No,” he said, and then headed to the sink to get a glass of water.

  “No? Leo, I saw your back. This is me. You can tell me the truth.”

  Leo walked back over to where he was sitting and handed him the glass. “I am telling you the truth, Paris. They haven’t done anything to me that I…” Leo paused, pulled his bottom lip behind his teeth, and shrugged. “That I didn’t want them to.”

  Oh shit. He’s gone mad. That was Paris’s first thought as he saw a satisfied expression enter his friend’s eyes. Leo had been kidnapped, held hostage, and finally lost his damn mind.

  “Before Elias was taken to—well, away,” Leo said, “did he tell you anything? How did you get free?”

  Paris worried his lip with his teeth as he thought back to the moment in the cell. All he’d wanted was to escape, and the next thing that’d happened was a black cloud bursting out of him—out of my hands. Then that hulking vampire guard had been all withered up on the floor and he’d been free to run. Run away from whatever awaited him.

  Coincidentally, he’d run right into the path of the one who’d brought him back into this whole messed-up situation—Thanos.

  “Paris?” Leo said, shaking him from his thoughts. “How did you get free of the holding cell?”

  “I…I don’t exactly know.”

  Leo narrowed his eyes on him. “Did someone help you? Maybe talk to you. In your head?”

  How did he know that?

  “Look, I can’t begin to imagine what you’re thinking. I know when I first got here I was scared shitless—”

  “Yet you thought nothing of bringing both me and Elias back here with you?”

  Leo sucked in a sharp breath, and Paris couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

  “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “Actually,” Leo said, “I kind of did. You see, I’ve been angry with Elias. I’ve been angry with him ever since I found out the secrets he’s been keeping from me…from us. So when I was given the choice to die or go and find him so he could give answers, I chose to live. I bargained myself because I wanted answers, and I wanted to live.”

  “And me? Why am I here?”

  “At first I thought collateral damage. Wrong place, wrong time. But you’re the third—Elias confirmed that. You’re connected. The three of us are all connected. But how, is the question.”

  They looked at each other in confused silence until Leo said, “God…where to start. How to explain this to you…”

  “Just say it,” Paris said, though the idea of what he was about to hear terrified him. “At this stage I don’t know what to believe, but I want to know. I’m sick of being the only one who doesn’t know.”

  “Okay,” Leo said, and let out a sigh. “The night of my twenty-seventh birthday, I started to hear things, voices in my head. I saw things in my mind—visions of the past, ancient Greece, and chalked it up to all the overtime we had been spending on that blasted exhibition and that book Elias had given me for my birthday. But then Alasdair arrived.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Paris demanded, even as Leo’s lips gave way to a smile.

  “He wanted to kill me. He even tried a few times. But he couldn’t. My blood, it kind of paralyzed him. Rendered him incapacitated. It turns out that’s part of the grand plan. Not that Elias ever bothered to trust us with any of that information or explain that we were even part of a plan. You see, Paris, there’s a reason we’re here, why we all know each other, and I’m finally starting to understand.”

  No…there’s no way. Leo isn’t going to say—

  “We’re demigods. The three of us. And I believe we’re here because of that myth we learned about in college, the one that made
you and me pitch this exhibit to Elias in the first place. The Scriptures of Delphi.”

  “The curse given to Ambrogio by Apollo?” Paris asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, that’s the one. It was your birthday last night, you turned twenty-seven, and at that exact moment I felt a power come to life inside of me that I’d never experienced. It vibrated through me until finally it found release through my palms like a burst of sunlight, and I came close to killing the two males that were in that room with us just now. Alasdair and Vasilios. And you sensed how powerful they were…”

  Oh fuck, Paris thought, and got to his feet to start pacing.

  “Is that what happened to you?” Leo asked. “In the cell? It’s the only thing that makes sense as to how you got free.”

  “Umm, not exactly.”

  “Then what did? You can tell me.”

  Paris dug the heel of his hands into his eye sockets, trying to keep all the crazy thoughts at bay, but it wasn’t working. Not even in the slightest. “In that myth, the one about Delphi…”

  “Yes?”

  “There was Apollo, god of the sun. If we are to believe we are the descendants of him, then you would clearly be born of his lineage with everything you’ve just said.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I thought. He’s come to me in my dreams several times now. Though he hasn’t shown his face or confirmed it, both Alasdair and Vasilios say we bear a striking resemblance.”

  Not lingering on that little bit of holy fucking hell, Paris continued with his train of thought. “Elias told me that we were all meant to meet. That he was tasked with bringing us together. Like a warrior, a leader, or as the myth goes, the huntress, Artemis.”

  “Yes,” Leo said, with a quick nod, looking excited by the idea that they were finally piecing everything together. Meanwhile, Paris was back to wanting to vomit. “That makes total sense. But that just leaves—”

  Leo abruptly stopped, and Paris knew why. He knew the story as well as Leo did. Paris also now knew why instead of sunlight bursting from him, a dense black fog had emerged. Because the only god left in this little tale was a scary motherfucker.

  “It leaves Hades,” Paris said, fear having taken control of his ability to say any more than that.

  But Leo didn’t have quite the same problem, as he whispered, “God of the Underworld.”

  VASILIOS WAS THE first to appear outside the holding cell, and as he took his full form, his senses went on high alert. The massive iron door was ajar, and there was no sign of any other living thing present. As Diomêdês faded in beside him, he stiffened immediately, also sensing the bleak emptiness like a warning bell tolling.

  “This is not good, brother.” Diomêdês was the first to speak as he took a step forward, and Vasilios reached for his arm, gripping it tightly between his fingers. He wasn’t sure what was beyond that door, but for the first time in his long life, he was…wary.

  Diomêdês glanced back at him, and Vasilios moved up alongside him, his eyes on the door and his spine stiff. “Be of care,” he said. “Death has been here.”

  Not much made Vasilios cautious—that was what years of being at the top of a food chain did to one. But whatever lingered in the air now was beyond Eton’s violence, and had his fangs dropping and his guard all the fucking way up.

  “I sense it too,” Diomêdês said as he continued to walk toward the door beside his brother.

  Vasilios cocked his head to the side to see that Diomêdês looked as on edge as he was feeling. The two of them disappeared inside the gaping blackness beyond the open door, and what they saw when they entered the cell stopped both of them in their tracks.

  The chain and shackle that had been bound to the third male’s hands lay broken on the stone floor beside the withered remains of their guard, one of his bloodline. Vasilios had been around long enough to know what he was seeing without explanation—but such a death could only happen one of two ways: a stake through the heart, or something much more sinister, of the soul-sucking variety.

  But how? The young male they’d left in here, the one currently back in his chambers with both his males and Thanos, had been no threat. And he certainly hadn’t been wielding a stake.

  The threat had been the arrogant fuck Diomêdês was keeping close. This male, he’d been passed out cold at the trial. Scared of his own shadow tonight in his chambers. So what the hell had happened in here?

  As the temper he took great care at concealing flooded through his veins, Vasilios tried to think of a logical explanation. He was becoming sick and tired of being one step behind as of late, and it was time to find out what was going on.

  “Vasilios?”

  Diomêdês’s voice broke through the rage that had bubbled to life, and Vasilios brought his eyes up to the black ones locked on him.

  “The third,” Vasilios growled. “He is of Hades… It is the only thing that makes any sense. Leonidas is of Apollo. Yours is more hunter and warrior than ever I have seen in a human before.”

  “Yes. I think you are right. Elias, I saw him in a recent vision of mine. He was there, back in 250 BC, the night you and I slaughtered the prince.”

  “Of course he was,” Vasilios spat. “They have been carefully placed to see but not remember until now, what the gods wanted them to see. What would help them connect. Leonidas was at the temple with me and my Alasdair.” He paused for a moment, and his mind whirled over all the details that were starting to fit together like an intricate jigsaw puzzle. “And this room, it is full of death. Paris, the one who escaped here, he is the third, and at some point he has seen our brother. Because I have only ever sensed this kind of evil in—”

  “Eton.”

  “Indeed.”

  “YOU HAVE TO be starving after last night,” Isadora said, as she watched Elias climb out of bed. “Why don’t we go and track you down some food?”

  “I have to admit, I did work up quite the appetite. Do you actually have food here? Wherever here might be.”

  Isadora smiled as she swung her legs over the side of the mattress, and when she got to her feet, it pleased her immensely that Elias’s eyes left her face to travel down every naked inch of her. She could feel her pussy throb under that heated surveillance, and when he finally raised his gaze back to hers, she licked her lips and began to walk over to him.

  “We keep a fully stocked kitchen here, yes. You forget we have yieldings to feed so that—”

  “You can feed,” he said, and then slowly shook his head. “I always seem to forget what you are, until something like that wakes me back up to it.”

  Elias turned away to grab his crumpled clothes that had been discarded on the floor, but Isadora reached for his arm and halted him. She knew he was still trying to come to terms with all that she was. But she wasn’t about to let him forget why he’d agreed to put aside his vengeful quest of murder and mayhem. He loved her, he’d told her so, and vowed he would do nothing to harm her from here on out, and she would do everything in her power to remind him of those feelings.

  “Leave them there. Diomêdês had some clothes brought in that are your size. He put them at the end of the bed. He wanted to make you feel—”

  “At home?” he asked, his deep voice giving way to a rumbling chuckle. “Not going to happen, Isa. What’s his story, anyway? I believe I saw some of it. He allowed me a glimpse of what I think was revenge. He killed a guard and a prince, I think, alongside that Vasilios male. But I don’t understand why. I also don’t understand how he can lie in a bed with you and not want to be with you in the most intimate way a male can be.”

  “He showed you that? The memory, that is unlike him. But Diomêdês is a complex male,” she said, and walked around him to head for the bathroom. “If he showed you his exacting revenge, it was for two specific reasons. One—to boast. He wanted to impress you. And two—to show you his skill and worth as a fighter before you lay in a bed with him and saw what he wouldn’t be able to do.”

  “So he showed me those
things to prove he is a male? It’s pretty fucking obvious just by looking at him.”

  Isadora trailed her gaze down Elias’s body, and the fact he was now erect was curious to her. “That would be my guess. Though I agree with you. Diomêdês is intimidating in height, power, and his innate ability to show kindness at times. He is all male, and maybe one day he will explain why he doesn’t use the organ that is so loudly proclaiming your interest in him right now.”

  “What?” Elias said as Isadora walked back to him and then wrapped her fingers around his stiff prick.

  “He intrigues you. His abstinence confounds you. But the mystery of him,” she said, stroking her fist up Elias’s length, making his eyes shut and his head fall back, “the mystery of my Ancient arouses you.”

  “No…I—”

  “It’s okay, Elias. I understand,” she said, and put her lips to his chin. She kissed him there as she continued to work his erection in her tight fist. “I feel the same way. All that power. All that control he wields. It just makes you want to be the one to unravel him.”

  Elias grunted at her words as she scraped a fang up his jaw.

  “But in the end, he’s the one who will make you lose control.”

  “Oh fuck,” Elias said, as she twisted her fist at the plump head of his cock.

  “Come shower with me and finish this. I won’t even care if you call out his name.”

  And with that, she let go of Elias, who looked confused as hell, winked at him, and then headed for the shower.

  WHAT THE HELL is going on with me? Elias thought, as he pulled on the black pants Diomêdês had left for him, and watched Isadora’s perfect ass vanish inside the bathroom. He was so damn hard that it was almost painful. Never in his life had he felt an interest in anyone of the same sex. His two best friends and colleagues were both gay, yes, but he’d never had any desire or inclination in that arena. Yet, as he stood where Isadora had left him, he couldn’t deny her words about that fucker Diomêdês, who had gotten his dick harder than a steel rod.