Enraptured

by Elisabeth Naughton

  “Say my name, Skyla.”

  She swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Say it.”

  She glanced across the room toward the fire so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

  And in that moment, his restraint snapped.

  The red rage of betrayal colored everything in his path. He was on the bed before she saw him move, his hand wrapped around her neck, his knee wedged against her side as he pushed her down to the mattress. “Say my name!”

  She gasped, let go of the sheet, and grappled for his fingers. But though she was strong and could easily give him a good knock-down, drag-out fight, she didn’t try to tear his hand away, didn’t retaliate in any way. Tears flooded her eyes. Tears that only inflamed his anger because he knew they were nothing more than another form of seduction. Seduction she’d been trained to use to get what she wanted.

  “Say my name or I will crush your windpipe,” he growled. “I swear it.”

  Tears spilled over her sooty dark lashes. “You weren’t supposed to remem—”

  His grip tightened. “Say it!”

  “Cynurus,” she choked out beneath his hand. “Your name was Cynurus. Your father named you after the mystical valley Cynuria between Argolis and Laconia, where it’s said the Muses liked to play.”

  He let go and stepped back. And as he did he saw the past as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

  He was Perseus’s son. Grandson to the King of the Gods. The son who was nothing but a major disappointment to his father. The grandson who’d been pegged as disloyal right from the start. And she was the Siren who’d been sent to kill him, not just once, but twice.

  He’d fallen for her both times. Like a love-struck fool. All because somewhere deep inside he’d wanted to believe he deserved something more. That he was meant for things greater than himself. Just like the original heroes.

  Stupidity slammed into him. Treachery followed quickly on its heels. And sickness tore through his stomach to weaken his knees.

  The “more,” he’d gotten. It just hadn’t been the “more” he’d wanted. Death at the hands of Zeus’s assassins had gifted him two thousand years of “more” trapped in the Underworld. In a never-ending cycle of pain and agony and torture. Where he’d been forgotten. All because of her.

  He turned away, because the rage inside was so strong it was either that or kill her. He swiped his pants from the floor where he’d dropped them hours ago. The Orb clanged against the hardwood and lay at his feet, the marking of the Titans staring up at him, the earth element gleaming where he’d slid it into its compartment only hours ago.

  “Orpheus…”

  Heat radiated from the Orb. Drifted up from his feet, infused him with the strength he lacked now that his daemon was gone. Reminded him what was constant in this world.

  Not trust. There was none.

  Not honesty. Honesty was a farce.

  And definitely not love. Love was the greatest ruse of all. Designed to trap and enslave and ultimately destroy.

  He lifted the Orb from the floor, slid the chain around his neck, and felt the power of the Orb surround him.

  “Orpheus,” she said in a frantic voice. “Wait. Let me explain.”

  He tugged on his dirty jeans, found his boots, shoved his feet inside. Picked up his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head as he moved for the door.

  She grasped his arm before he could turn the handle. “Wait. Please.”

  Her touch stirred what her voice couldn’t. He whipped toward her, knocking her arm away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever think of touching me again.”

  “Orpheus.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Tears she was obviously working hard to conjure. She took a step back, gripped the sheet around her breasts with both hands, playing the part of the heartsick female remarkably well. But then she’d had years to perfect that role, hadn’t she? Thousands of years.

  “Just…just listen, okay? I didn’t know at first. And by the time I did, I couldn’t tell you. They said you wouldn’t remember and I didn’t want to…Everything…everything from then and now is so muddled. I was trying to figure out the truth about what happened back then and whether you deserved—”

  His vision blurred and the red rage of retribution forced his feet forward. She closed her mouth with a snap, took a step back, her eyes wide, white halos all around her amethyst irises. Eyes he now knew he had looked into hundreds of times before. A lifetime ago, just as he’d thought.

  He slammed his palm against the wall right by her head, a deafening crack that echoed through the entire room.

  “Two thousand years, Siren,” he said from between clenched teeth. “In hell. All because of you. Do not speak to me about what is deserved. Because right now I’m a hair’s breadth from deciding you deserve to be ripped apart limb by limb and thrown to the fishes in the lake below us.”

  He took a step away from her, hating that even now, when he knew it had all been an act on her part, he still wanted her. Still craved her. Was still entranced by her just as he’d always been.

  “And take a message to your fucking king while you’re at it,” he added, drawing on the Orb’s strength so he wouldn’t reach for her, wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’t ever give in again. “Tell him his grandson’s back from the dead. And this time, his fucking days are numbered.”

  ***

  Maelea couldn’t sleep.

  A dark energy had infiltrated the colony sometime during the night and she’d been awake since, checking abandoned corridors and balconies, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Drawn to it in a way that made her skin itch and her heart thump with excitement.

  Footsteps echoed from the stairs. She slid into the shadows behind a large stone column in the great hall. Orpheus’s boots grew silent as he hesitated at the bottom of the steps, glanced right and left. His hair was mussed, his shirt wrinkled, the jeans he wore stained with…blood? But it was his face that kept drawing her attention. The locked jaw like a slice of steel beneath his skin, the burning eyes, the unnatural energy that radiated from every inch of his rigid body.

  She drew a sharp breath. This was not the same man who’d slinked into her room a few nights ago and spoken of loneliness and being forgotten. This was the man who’d kidnapped her from her home, killed those hellhounds as if they were nothing, and put her life in jeopardy.

  His eyes narrowed on her hiding place. She held her breath, sure he could see her. Seconds later he turned and headed for the door at the far end of the hall.

  Alone, she pressed a hand against her stomach and breathed deeply.

  The clock over the fireplace told her it was close to five a.m. She needed to get back to her room before the colony awoke. She took a step for the stairs, then stopped when she heard voices. Female voices. She darted back into the shadows and waited for them to pass.

  “Have you checked on Max?” Isadora asked.

  The tall auburn-haired female strolling down the corridor with the queen of Argolea rubbed her forehead. “He was studying. Didn’t want to talk to me. He’s always studying.”

  “That’s not a bad thing, Callia. He missed out on school during his time with Atalanta.”

  “I know, I know, it’s just…”

  “What?”

  Callia stopped. “I knew the transition wouldn’t be easy. I knew the honeymoon phase would wear off, but lately…I’m having a hard time getting through to him. It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to us anymore. Like he’s turning into himself and his schoolwork.”

  “He has a lot of emotions to work though. He spent ten years with her.”

  “I know,” Callia said, walking again. “I know he’s angry and confused and trying to adjust to life in Argolea. It’s just—” Her voice caught. “I love him so much. I don’t want to lose him now that he’s finally home.”

  Isadora squeezed her hand. “You won’t. You and Zander will help him through this. He’s lucky to have you.”

&nbs
p; Callia nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. She stopped in front of the massive fire in the living area, where embers from last night’s fireplace still glowed red.

  “How about coffee?” Isadora asked. “That always helps.”

  “I think five minutes off my feet might do me better. I need to get back to Gryphon soon.” Callia eased onto the couch. “And only one cup for you. Too much caffeine’s not good for you and that baby.”

  The queen sat on the arm of a chair, said something Maelea couldn’t hear, but Maelea barely cared. If the two females didn’t leave soon, there’d be no way for her to reach the stairs without one or both of them seeing her. And while she wasn’t afraid of them, she had no desire to “chat” or get to know anyone better in this place.

  The two conversed quietly by the fire for a few minutes, then footsteps echoed from the stairs again and both turned that direction.

  Maelea’s gaze shifted to the stairs. Skyla’s boots clanked against the hardwood as she skipped stairs to reach the bottom. She wore the same outfit Maelea had seen her in since the first, but this time the perfectly coiffed Siren was nowhere to be found. Her hair was a wild tangle around her face, her shirt inside out, one boot not zipped all the way to the top. And the panic in her eyes was a dead giveaway something had happened.

  Isadora rose from the couch. “Skyla? What’s wrong?”

  “Maelea,” the Siren said in a breathy voice as if she’d been running. “I have to find Maelea.”

  “I haven’t seen her,” Isadora said. “We’ve been with Gryphon. What’s happened?”

  “He took the Orb.” Skyla pressed both hands against her eyes. “He remembered and he took the Orb and now he’s gone. And I have to find him before he does something…”

  Callia pushed up from the couch, followed Isadora across the floor to the base of the stairs where Skyla stood. She placed both hands on Skyla’s shoulders, turned her into the light. “Calm down and tell us what happened. You’re talking about Orpheus, right? What did he remember?”

  “Everything,” Skyla said in that same broken voice. “All of it. He…” She drew in a shaky breath, dropped her hands. “He’s Perseus’s son. Zeus’s grandson.”

  “What do you mean, Perseus’s son?” the queen asked. “Orpheus is only three hundred years old. How—?”

  “He was given a second chance at life.” When both looked at her as if she was nuts, Skyla waved her hands. “Two thousand plus years ago he stole the air element from Zeus. I was sent to get it back and then kill him. Only I didn’t. I…we…we had…a relationship. And then I found out he really had stolen the element. I couldn’t kill him at that point, but I didn’t stop it either. I didn’t think…” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again to focus on the queen. “When Zeus sent me after Orpheus because he was hunting the Orb, I knew something wasn’t right. But I didn’t find out until later that Orpheus was Cynurus reincarnated. They told me he wouldn’t remember his past life, but they were wrong. They were wrong about so many things. And I believed them. Just like always.”

  Isadora and Callia stared at the Siren in disbelief, and Maelea found herself thinking back to what she knew of Perseus and his son Cynurus, about whom she’d heard whispers but had never met. He’d done something to anger Zeus. Something more treacherous than simply being born, like her.

  “I have to find him before he does something he’ll regret later. He has the Orb and the earth element. And he thinks I betrayed him. He’s angry and hurting. If he tries to challenge Zeus with the Orb…”

  Callia shot a look at Isadora. “Theron needs to hear this.”

  “Go get him,” Isadora said.

  As Callia rushed off, Isadora added, “Now tell me what this has to do with Maelea.”

  “Maelea can sense energy shifts. She’ll know if he tries to use the power of the Orb. She can locate him before he—”

  Maelea stepped out of the shadows. Skyla’s head came around and her mouth closed. Stopping in the middle of the room, Maelea rubbed her arms to ease the chill that had settled over her skin with this news. “He’s my nephew. In three thousand years I’ve not met a direct relative until now. I—I didn’t even suspect.”

  “I need to know where he is.”

  Maelea nodded. She knew all too well what would happen if Orpheus tormented Zeus with the Orb. And a part of her—the part that had believed in him the night he told her he wanted the Orb to rescue his brother from the Underworld—needed to know a soul could still overcome all that darkness. “He came down the stairs just before you. He left through there.” She pointed toward the far end of the hall.

  “What about the Orb?” Skyla asked.

  “I—I didn’t see it.”

  “Orpheus can flash on earth,” Isadora interjected. “He won’t need to tap into the Orb’s energy to open a portal like the warlock did.”

  “Damn it,” Skyla muttered, running a hand over her face. “I forgot about that.”

  “He doesn’t need to,” Maelea said. When Skyla’s head came up, she added, “He’s using the Orb to give him strength. The strength he lost from his daemon.”

  “Where?” Skyla asked.

  Maelea closed her eyes, focused on the darkness she’d felt when Orpheus had come down the stairs. It had left the colony with him, she now knew. She loosened her mind and the tendrils of awareness she so often kept locked tight.

  She opened her eyes when she located it. “In the hills outside Litochoro, Greece.”

  “The City of Gods.” Determination settled hard in Skyla’s eyes, turning them to intense shards of colored glass. “Thank you.”

  Skyla was out the door before Maelea could think to answer. Before the queen of Argolea could stop her. Footfalls echoed from the hall, and then the great room felt ten times too small as it was suddenly flooded with too many men. Big, brawny, intimidating men.

  The Argonauts.

  Maelea shrank back into the shadows as quickly as she could.

  The queen looked toward the dark-haired Argonaut, the one with eyes like the dead of night.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Litochoro. At the base of Mount Olympus in northern Greece. The Siren’s already gone to try to stop him. But, Theron…”

  Her hand on his arm stopped his movement toward the door. He looked down at her. “I know, Your Highness. We won’t hurt him. Not if we don’t have to.” He glanced over her head to the tall Argonaut beyond. “We need to go.”

  Low murmurs rose up in the room. The mass of male bodies moved toward the door but the tall Argonaut lingered, waited for the others to leave, then crossed to the queen and kissed her before following the others out.

  And in the silence, seeing something Maelea knew she’d never find no matter how long she looked, she felt more alone than she had before. Alone and very much aware of the darkness still hovering in some hidden part of the colony. Darkness that had nothing to do with the Orb.

  A darkness that called to her and taunted her to find it.

  Chapter 26

  The cool wind whipped through the mountains. A chill Orpheus barely registered because revenge burned hot, heating him from the inside out.

  The trees were different, the mountaintops more weathered than he remembered. Though humans called the city at the base of the majestic Mount Olympus the City of Gods, it wasn’t. On earth, this wasn’t anything more than rock and soil. The metaphysical Mount Olympus where the gods actually lived was a different place entirely. But he didn’t need to recognize the landmarks to tell him he was in the right place. The Orb grew hotter against his chest the closer he got, and memories of the last time he’d been here flickered through his mind like a steady stream of color.

  There was one similarity in the two very different lives he’d led. Then, as now, his only goal had been to see justice served. The gods—those mystical beings who were nothing more than fallen angels—had one weakness. The same weakness that was responsible for their fall from grace so long ago. They
were enamored of humanity. And they meddled in that which they couldn’t understand and could never replicate.

  The temple was nothing but crumbled rock and broken columns. A thrill of victory slinked through him as he stepped from one massive boulder to the next. Destroyed. Just as Olympus would soon be destroyed.

  He located what would have been the altar area of the temple—the temple to Zeus, no irony there—and called on the power of the Orb as he conjured a spell to clear a space. When the mountain of stone had been sufficiently moved out of the way, he crawled down into the pit that remained and stared at the marble altar now broken in two, the iconic lightning bolt, the symbol of the King of the Gods, cut right down the middle.

  He stepped around behind the slabs of marble and reached underneath the right side to the hidden compartment in the base. The one that held the small wooden box he’d left there so many years ago.

  The Orb grew warmer. The box was lodged in the broken marble. He grimaced as he fished around inside, found the bronze latch and flipped it up, his fingers closing around a small teardrop-shaped glass.

  His skin grew red-hot. He pulled his hand free and stared at the swirling cloud of gas inside the container marked with the symbol of the Titans. The mixture found in heaven and on earth and even in the Underworld. That which made life possible. Power and strength surged in the palm of his hand, shot up his arm, gathered in his chest. And he felt a stark tug where the Orb lay beneath his shirt, as if the medallion were calling the element home.

  He pushed to his feet. Reached for the chain around his neck. Stopped when he heard movement behind him. Slowly, he turned and stared into eyes as old as the sun.

  “Be sure of this move, hero.”

  Lachesis. The wrinkled and petite Fate had warned him off the air element once before. Had told him stealing it would bring a wrath he’d never understand. And looking back, he knew that it had. But then he hadn’t had the Orb and the earth element. Now he did. Now he had what everyone wanted.

  “It’s too late for theatrics, old woman. I’ve already reached my quota for this lifetime, and the last. And I’m no hero.”