“Son,” she countered, grinning like a fool because it was the first time he’d called their baby anything but “it.”
“Let’s hope not.” He kissed her again, then pulled back. And in his dark, mesmerizing eyes, heat pooled. A heat that would have to sustain her at least a little while longer. “We’ll finish this when I get back.”
“You bet that cute ass of yours we will, Argonaut.”
He cast her a devilishly handsome smile as he followed the others out of the room.
Alone, Isadora wrapped her arms around her waist and sighed. She hated lying to him, but if he knew she had no plans to go back to Argolea right now he’d never leave. And for his own mental well-being, he needed to be with Orpheus and help save Gryphon.
When their footfalls turned to silence, she blew out another breath, closed her eyes and focused, drawing on the internal power of the Horae, the ancient goddesses of balance and wisdom. The winged omega marking on her inner thigh heated and vibrated, and she knew the markings each of her sisters shared were vibrating as well. As the ancient power flowed through her, she triggered that internal communication system she and her two sisters had been perfecting over the last few months.
Demetrius might want her to go home, and Orpheus might not want her help, but neither was getting what he wanted right now. This was bigger than both of them. This was bigger than them all.
***
The mountain air was thick and muggy, the result of a warm front that had moved through the area. As Skyla stood in the shadow of a large palm tree, she glanced toward Orpheus, deep in conversation with Demetrius ten feet away.
He’d barely said two words to her since they’d flashed to Corinth. And though a part of her was a little peeved over that fact—especially considering what they’d done to each other only hours ago—Skyla couldn’t help but be impressed. Orpheus knew how to blend in with human society. He barely seemed fazed by cities or technology or unknown terrains. And that, she supposed, was how he’d survived so long, hiding in the shadows, crossing back and forth between worlds, tormenting the gods whenever the opportunity arose.
A small part of her liked that about him. Liked that he didn’t give a shit what people—or gods—thought of him. And this new infatuation had nothing to do with the fact he was sexy as all get-out in those jeans that hugged his ass and that tight black button-down that accentuated his muscles. Or that he had a hard look about him, one that screamed badass to the core. What intrigued her were the inconsistencies in this image he worked so hard to portray. The moments of gentleness he’d never cop to. The concern he hid from those around him. The worry she knew he felt for his brother but wouldn’t discuss.
That was the real Orpheus. Not the daemon he wanted her to think defined him. Not the troublemaker he wanted the world to see. More and more, the word hero kept revolving in her mind whenever she looked at him. What she didn’t quite understand was why he couldn’t see it.
The word hero made her think of the lies Athena had told her, and before she could stop it her mind drifted to Olympus. Tension pulled at her chest. Zeus would not be happy when he found out she’d failed at her mission. If he sent other Sirens to finish the job as he had last time…
Orpheus stepped toward her. His jaw was scruffy, his gray eyes like polished granite in the sunlight. And though she could tell from his scowl he was trying to put distance between them after what had happened last night, the memory of his mouth, of his hands and tongue and what he could do to her with only a look heated her insides and drew all other thought from her mind. Zeus and Olympus and her future included.
She wanted him again. More than she had last night. And that was new for her. The last time she’d wanted someone had been thousands of years ago. When she’d been infatuated with Cynurus. Though they were technically the same…this was different. It was stronger. It was hotter. It consumed her on a level that wasn’t even close to the same.
His eyes narrowed as he drew close. “I don’t like that look.”
She smiled, loving that she put him on guard. It meant he was feeling the same damn thing as she. “What look?”
“The one that says you’re plotting something.”
Need pulsed through her. She was plotting something. What she was going to do about her order. How she was going to keep Zeus from going after him. When she was going to get the man in front of her back in bed, hopefully sooner rather than later.
He nodded to the west. “Apophis’s compound is just on the other side of those hills. Probably guarded by a dozen witches.”
“He’ll be expecting an attack,” Demetrius pointed out, moving up on his side.
Orpheus scrolled through screens on his fancy phone. “Which is why he’ll never see us coming.”
Skyla glanced from male to male. “What are you two planning?”
Orpheus grinned, tucked his phone in his back pocket. A sinister twist of his lips did wicked hot things to her blood and told her he was planning his own something. “To lure him out. With a new recruit.”
Oh, no. She took a step back. “You two are Medean, not me.”
“Yes, sweetheart, but you’ve got the goods. Apophis only likes females. Special females. I’m thinking maybe you can be of use after all.”
A shimmer of foreboding rushed down her spine. Yes, she wanted him, but something told her what he had planned wasn’t anywhere near what she had in mind.
“Relax, Siren,” he said. “You may like this. Would I ever lead you astray?”
Yes, yes he would. And he’d enjoy every minute of it.
The problem was, so would she.
Chapter 19
Skyla wasn’t scared. She’d been trained never to show real fear. But then, a warlock hiding out in the human realm with godlike powers didn’t exactly put her at ease. And pretending to be a virginal witch, when she was anything but, also didn’t leave her overly reassured this crazy plan would work.
The hem of the thin white gown they’d bought for her grazed her thighs, made her itch to scratch her legs. The sandals were way too open for her taste and she felt naked without her armor. Since there’d been nowhere to hide her bow in this getup, she’d relinquished it in favor of the blade strapped high on her thigh, and the little spell Orpheus had cast on her—the one he’d said was necessary for this ruse—didn’t sit well with her either. In fact, it made her thighs ache.
She tried not to fidget as she waited inside the circle Orpheus and Demetrius had cast. The earth element was heavy in her palm. In the clearing, surrounded by dark hills filled with cypress and oak and pine that towered above like decrepit old men, moonlight filtered over the stones and branches and wild orchids littering the ground, making the entire area look gray and barren rather than colorful and alive.
She could feel the energy invoked by Demetrius and Orpheus somewhere out in the trees. Knew the earth element in her fist was amping that energy. And she was sure Apophis could feel it too. Magic recognized magic, and she had no doubt the power from the circle would eventually draw the warlock from his hiding place. But a small part of her stiffened just the same. Orpheus was still frustrated with her for pushing her way into this quest. She just hoped that hero streak she knew was inside him showed itself when Apophis finally appeared. Because earth element or not, without her weapons there was no way her warrior skills were a match for a warlock.
Branches crackled to her right. She held her breath. Nothing moved around her, nothing but the air stirred by Orpheus’s and Demetrius’s incantations. Another crackle sounded to her left, and she tried to see through the darkness. Couldn’t. The blade felt heavy against her thigh, the earth element hot against her palm. Neither slowed her pulse.
A figure stepped out of the trees. Her breath caught.
She’d known he’d taken the body of an Argonaut, but what approached was not what she’d expected. Dark blond hair, a youthful and handsome face with a square jaw covered in just a dusting of dark stubble. Unlike Orpheus, who had that dark
, dangerous look, and Demetrius, whose scowl was downright frightening, this Argonaut was movie-star handsome, tanned from days in the sun here in Greece, body muscular and at the same time artistic, as if his shoulders and chest and thighs had been chiseled from solid stone.
But that blue glare coming from his eyes…that wasn’t right. Whatever was inside him was definitely not Argonaut. And it was most certainly not heroic.
Apophis stopped just beyond the stones forming the circle, tipped his head. Those eyes glowed brighter. “I feel power radiating from you, little one.”
It was all she could do not to tell him what he could do with his power. But she bit her lip, reminded herself she was luring him in. It was no different from what she did as a Siren. Even if the virgin thing was a real stretch for her.
“I heard tales of a great warlock in the Peloponnese,” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, lowering her head in a subservient way. “I hoped we would meet.”
His blinding gaze illuminated her body. “You are most delectable. There is promise in you.”
Sickness floated up from her stomach. “I’ve been studying the dark arts for quite some time. I had a vision my master would soon come for me.”
Oh, man, she was so going to hurl if this didn’t end soon.
“A vision?”
She nodded. And as they’d planned, opened her fist so he could see the earth element in her palm. “A vision that told me my master would unite a disk of great importance with this.”
His eyes grew wide, their glow illuminating the clearing. “Where did you get that?”
“I stole it. From a man. I told you I’ve been practicing my art.”
His eyes narrowed in deep distrust. “You are a virgin?”
Not even.
But Orpheus had been right. The warlock was attracted to that, the sick bastard. She knew why. He got some kind of enhanced power from the induction of a virgin into his order, but it pissed her off just the same.
“Yes, I am,” she lied, hoping Orpheus’s little spell was working to block his ability to sense this particular aspect of her being.
“Open the circle.”
This was the moment of truth. He couldn’t enter without invitation. And she was safe until he did. “I can only open it for my master. How do I know you are he?”
For a heartbeat he did nothing. Then slowly he fingered the buttons at his chest, popped one, then another. And pulled his shirt open to reveal the Orb of Krónos lying against his toned skin.
Its power reached her across the distance. The earth element grew even hotter against her palm, so close to its home. No wonder Zeus was willing to kill for this thing. Even from here she could feel the all-consuming draw and command.
The energy of the circle fractured and opened. The warlock stepped inside. Skyla’s pulse skyrocketed. She hadn’t opened the circle, Orpheus had. And though she knew it was all part of the plan, that didn’t ease her anxiety.
He approached slowly but with intent, and stopped only when he was a foot from her. He drew in a deep breath, held it. Smiled slowly. “This will be a very good union, virgin. You will be most important to the coven.”
“Think again, warlock.” Orpheus moved out of the trees with Skyla’s bow in his hands, arrow trained on the warlock’s heart.
As the warlock turned to look in his direction with fire in his eerie blue eyes, Skyla darted around behind him and sprinted for the opening in the circle.
“You,” the warlock growled.
“Yes, me,” Orpheus said, coming closer to the edge of the circle, arrow still ready to strike. “You took something that didn’t belong to you and we want it back.”
“We?” the warlock asked.
“We,” Demetrius answered, coming out of the trees to the warlock’s left, drawing his attention that way.
“You!” Fury erupted over the warlock’s face. He lifted his hand toward Demetrius and hurled a bolt of blue energy that hit the edge of the circle and dropped to the ground, leaving behind smoke rising from the dirt.
Okay, that was cool.
“What’s wrong, motherfucker?” Orpheus asked. “Too weak to break through one measly circle?”
Fury erupted over the warlock’s face. He held both hands out, closed his eyes, and began chanting in a foreign language.
“Now?” Demetrius yelled over the warlock’s words.
“Now,” Orpheus answered, handing the bow and arrow to Skyla as she came up beside him. He took the earth element she offered, closed his eyes, created his own chant that mixed with Demetrius’s.
The warlock’s face grew bright red. Magic gathered in his hands. Energy shot forward from his palms and pierced the circle.
“Orpheus!” Skyla threw her weight into him, knocking him to the ground so the blast wouldn’t hit him.
He rolled to his stomach, pushed to his knees, his chant never once missing a beat. Demetrius’s voice grew louder. The warlock shifted Demetrius’s way, tried to hurl the same energy, but this time the force hit the edge of the circle and dropped to the ground like a ball slamming into a wall.
He was weakening. Orpheus had been right: without his witches, he lost his dominance. Magic was something Skyla was familiar with. After all, she lived on Olympus. She watched the gods conjure it without a second thought. But what she witnessed in that field between those two Argonauts, both of whom could trace some part of their ancestry back to Medea, was like an art form. Awe rippled through her at what they were able to do by focusing their gifts and working together.
When the warlock’s energy was spent, his words cut off midstream, his eyes popped open. Every time Orpheus and Demetrius finished a verse, the warlock would yelp, as if he’d been shocked by some unseen electrical current coming from the ground. He lifted his feet, tried to jump away from the soil. After five minutes of yelping and screaming and dancing around like a chicken with its head cut off, he shrank to his knees in the middle of the circle, curled into himself, and whimpered like a child.
Orpheus opened his eyes. Grinned Demetrius’s way. “Nice work.”
Pulse still pounding hard, Skyla kept her arrow at the ready as Orpheus stepped into the circle and knelt over the warlock. Apophis didn’t seem to notice. Orpheus reached for the Orb, but a pop sounded, and he jerked his hand back as if he’d been burned.
“What’s wrong?” Demetrius called.
“He must have put some kind of damn spell on the thing.”
Demetrius moved into the circle. “What are you thinking?”
Orpheus frowned. “I’m thinking we might not be able to get it off him until he relinquishes control of Gryphon’s body.”
“What does that mean, as far as holding him goes?”
Orpheus pushed up from the ground. “It means we’ll have to make sure he’s wrapped up nice and tight until I get back.”
Back. From the Underworld. Skyla’s stomach tightened. She’d known this was where things were headed, but her stomach tightened just the same.
“Let’s just hope three days is enough time,” Demetrius muttered, helping Orpheus tug the warlock from the ground and out of the circle. “He’ll be pissed when he wakes up, and if his witches have honed their craft enough before you’re back, I’ll be in deep shit.”
“I’ll be back,” Orpheus said.
Demetrius didn’t look so sure as he led the warlock toward their vehicle hidden in the trees.
Alone, Orpheus perched his hands on his hips, tipped his head as Skyla shrank her bow. “You did good, Siren. That takedown was NFL-worthy. You been watching Monday Night Football? ”
Skyla knew enough human culture to catch the meaning. And the compliment warmed her. More than she expected. “Physical contact, as you know, isn’t a problem for me. I expected something a little more cataclysmic, though.”
“Cataclysmic’s overrated. Sometimes uneventful’s good enough.”
Not for her. But then she was a Siren. She always expected the worst.
She flicked a look
at the earth element now hanging from a chain around his neck, just barely visible at his open collar. The thing unnerved her. Not only because it held so much power, but because he wore it as if it belonged to him. And though she didn’t like where her mind was going, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when he had the Orb to go with it.
She focused on his eyes. “You can go ahead and take the virgin spell off anytime.”
“I don’t know. It’s got a certain…charm on you.” His wicked gaze raked her breasts, slid down her waist, shifted to her thighs beneath the hem of the white gown.
And under that heated exploration, fire exploded in her veins. Whereas before his lusty looks had ignited a low simmer in her belly, now it stoked a full-blown blaze. He’d added a shot of something else to that masking spell, she realized. Some enhanced arousal he’d intended to use to punish her for not listening to him when he’d told her not to tag along. “This is funny to you, isn’t it?”
“There’s so little humor in my life, Siren. I have to take it where I can get it.”
She leaned in close. Close enough to smell the sweet scent of a body hard at work mixed with an arousal he was trying not to show. “Then be careful, daemon. Because casting an arousal spell over me isn’t going to change my mind about joining you in the Underworld. And you forget I’m a Siren. I’m used to getting all hot and bothered and avoiding release. You, on the other hand, might want to think twice about this. Because when we’re walking through the Fields of Asphodel, I have a feeling you’re going to have a helluva time forgetting just how horny you’ve made me, and what you know I can do about it.”
She left him standing in the trees alone as she headed for the car, where Demetrius waited with the warlock. And though it shouldn’t give her satisfaction, the holy hell look on his face was enough to make her smile.
For now, that would be enough.
***
Orpheus had taken the arousal spell off Skyla right away. What he’d intended to use to torment the Siren had backfired. Big-time.
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