Some Lycan Hot
Page 5
“Here’s the part where you go night-nights,” she said.
Darrius fell backward, his eyes fluttering closed. Just before he passed out, he felt the woman fall against his chest. He curled an arm around her—and they slept.
“TURN OFF YOUR radiance,” demanded Aphrodite. “I’m getting a migraine.”
The light around Nemesis blinked out. The goddess of wrath looked a lot less fierce without her blinding illumination. “What are you doing here, Aphrodite?” she asked. She looked at Daphne and rolled her eyes. “Still hanging out with plant life, I see.”
Daphne gave her the finger.
“Watch it, nymph, or I’ll banish you to Hades.”
“You stole my apple!” interrupted Aphrodite.
“I did not. I’m allowed to use any and all objects of magical or mystical origin and/or creation to fulfill my obligations in my designated job.”
“Do not quote me canon from the Laws of Zeus. Those haven’t been relevant for centuries.”
“Whatever! How did you find me, anyway?”
“I followed your trail of glistening self-righteousness. It looks exactly like snail slime.” Aphrodite glared at Nemesis. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“My job. I’m the goddess of wrath, remember?”
“I heard the conversation,” said Aphrodite. “You’re just pissed off she got out of your bargain. You hate to lose.”
“So do you!”
“Well, at least I don’t prance through the mortal world throwing vengeance around like it’s confetti.” Aphrodite buffed the apple on her sleeve. “You know that boy is the son of Tark and Aufanie. We have to attend social functions with them!”
“I hate those anyway.”
“Quit using the apple to curse love,” demanded Aphrodite. “It’s petty and childish.”
“I dispensed justice.” She snapped her fingers, and the apple disappeared from Aphrodite’s grasp. Nemesis laughed, and then she disappeared as quickly and seamlessly as the apple she’d stolen. Again.
Aphrodite let out a sound of frustration and stamped her foot. “I’d like to take that sword and shove it right up her—”
“The werewolves are waking up.” Daphne patted her boss’s shoulder. “We gotta give them the bad news.”
“A conversation that will need tea.”
“You mean tequila.”
ALAYA, DARRIUS, AND Aphrodite sat the living room, sipping chamomile tea sweetened with honey. Daphne had served the tea and disappeared. Literally.
On the couch, Alaya was tucked in beside Darrius, his arm around her shoulders. She’d forgotten how affectionate he was, and how much she enjoyed feeling loved and protected.
Aphrodite had taken the oversized, stuffed chair to the left of the couch. She looked very much like a queen sitting in her throne. She sipped tea and offered them a reassuring smile.
“We’ve been cursed,” said Darrius. “By your apple.”
“The apple of discord, but it’s even worse than that.” Aphrodite looked abashed. She put down her teacup. “The apple was a prize in a beauty contest between myself, Athena, and Hera. The judge was a Trojan prince named Paris. We all offered him bribes, and mine was to give him the most beautiful woman in the world.” Aphrodite sighed. “Not my finest moment. Paris gave me the apple. I gave him Helen of Sparta.” Aphrodite pinched her fingers together. “She was a teensy bit married. Her husband wanted her back, and Sparta and Troy went to war for the next ten years.”
“It’s certainly tragic,” said Alaya. “But how did that situation affect the apple?”
“Erm. Did I mention Nemesis was Helen’s mother? She was so angry, that she imbued the apple with the power to curse true love.” Aphrodite leaned back and steepled her fingers together. “The one holding decides what form the curse takes. In your case, Nemesis ordered you two to forget each other forever.”
“We have not forgotten who we are—or that we love each other,” said Darrius.
“Only because of Daphne. She’s a Naiad, a water nymph. Her tears have healing magic, but not enough to break the curse—only to delay it.”
“How long do we have?” asked Alaya.
“A day,” said Aphrodite. “Maybe less.”
“This was not how I expected to spend my Tuesday,” said Alaya.
Darrius barked a laugh, and then he hugged her. “I promise you that Wednesday will much better.”
Warmth suffused her, and she recognized it as being comforted. It had been a long time since she’d been on the receiving end of compassion.
“I never stopped loving you, Darrius.” Alaya took his hand and lifted it to kiss his knuckles. He rested his forehead against hers.
“You are my soulmate. I will not lose you again,” he said softly.
“We will not lose each other,” she responded. She and Darrius had reconnected on a level she hadn’t believed possible. His love for her had not diminished over time. He was just as she remembered—and more, so much more. The moment she saw him standing in her doorway, the only thing she could think about was her love for him, shining as bright as the first day she’d known she wanted to be his: The very first time he tried to kiss her. And she’d responded by punching him.
An hour ago, she had been thinking they had time to work out their feelings, to discuss their fears and hopes, to create their future.
To lose him again just when she’d found him—or he’d found her—was just too much.
Alaya had spent her entire life learning to heal the emotional and physical hurts of others. She’d cultivated a calm demeanor, a non-judgmental viewpoint, and a turn-the-cheek mentality. As a priestess she was expected to behave in an honorable manner that befitted her station and her duties to the Moon Goddess.
Her second chance with Darrius was being jeopardized in the same damned way it had been more than seven decades before. She refused to allow her life to be torn apart by forces outside her control.
Nemesis was not the only one entitled to justice.
Or vengeance.
CHAPTER NINE
Meanwhile in Broken Heart…
“YOU WANT TO go to college?” asked Durry.
To Tamara’s relief, he sounded more confused than upset. “Yes.” They sat on the front porch steps of the house she shared with her parents. The crescent moon was a mere slice of light in the velvet-black sky. Cool wind rustled the leaves across the dry grass.
“You don’t want to marry me.”
Tamara turned and placed her hand on his wrist. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying … let’s wait. I need to figure out what I want and who I am.”
“I already know these things about myself,” said Durry. His dark brows slashed down. “We’re taught from a young age how to hunt, how to survive. All I’ve ever wanted to be … is what I am.” He slipped his hands over hers. “I can make you happy, Tamara.”
“I’m sorry, Durriken. I’ve made my decision. I’m going to college. I love you. I do. But I can’t live in your shadow or chase your dream. I’m not lycan.”
“I don’t care!”
Tamara licked her lips and tried to swallow the knot clogging her throat. “I care. I’m no match for the girls in your camp. They know it, and I know it.”
“You’re becoming very skilled—”
“Durry,” she interrupted. Her voice was soft with regret. “I think we should … take a break from each other.”
Durriken stood up. He shoved his hands into the leather jacket’s pockets. “I understand now,” he said. “You don’t want me.”
“No!” Tamara rose, too, trying to keep her calm, trying to not throw herself into his arms and beg forgiveness. Sometimes, the right thing was the most difficult thing. “I have to make sure, Durry. I have to know with my whole heart that I belong to you—and to the life we make together.”
“I hope you find what you seek, Tamara.” A muscle ticked in Durry’s jaw. “Consider us broken up.”
“Durry—”
He shook his head, and turned, running off into the night, leaving Tamara alone with her heartbreak.
CHAPTER TEN
DAPHNE POPPED INTO the living room.
“Got the GPS and the net,” she said. In the one hand, she displayed the small metal square and in the other, what looked like a piece of a knight’s chainmail. “Did you tell them about the curse breaker?”
“I was getting to it,” said Aphrodite.
Daphne handed the GPS to Aphrodite, and then turned to look the two lycanthropes on the couch. Darrius was super hot, but totally into the girl. She’d been Aphrodite’s bitch long enough to know true soulmate love when she saw it.
Daphne studied the marred flesh on Alaya’s face. “You know, those burn scars would look killer with the right tattoos.”
Alaya seemed startled by either the suggestion or Daphne’s boldness. “I never thought of that.”
“If you decide you wanna do it. I gotta a guy. When it comes to tattooing scars, he’s magic.”
“Thanks,” said Alaya.
“You mentioned something about a curse breaker?” asked Darrius. He sounded impatient, and Daphne didn’t blame him. The true love curse was one of Nemesis’s more heinous creations.
“There is an ancient ritual that can bind two souls together,” said Aphrodite. “If you survive it, the curse will be broken, and you’ll be together until the end of your days.”
Darrius and Alaya stared at Aphrodite.
“You’re probably wondering about that surviving bit, aren’t you?” Daphne sat on the edge of her boss’s chair. “It’s not a particularly complicated ritual, but it’s risky. And it requires the use of Nemesis’s sword.
“It’s blood magic—the most powerful kind. You must both use the blade to cut your palms. Then you hold hands and repeat a single incantation. If your love is true and equal, you will bind heart and soul. And Nemesis can suck it.” Daphne raised her hands in universal rock ’n roll gestures.
Alaya frowned. “You haven’t told us the bad part yet.”
“You both have to love each other completely and irrevocably,” warned Aphrodite. “If your love isn’t equal in nature, the one who loves more will die. The one who loves less will live.”
“That’s the shitty part about using Nemesis’s sword. It’s imbued with that whole justice/wrath/balance vibe.” Daphne sent the lycans sympathetic looks.
Darrius gazed at Alaya. “I would rather die than forget even a second of our time together.”
“I won’t live without you.” Alaya cupped his cheek. “I will never lose faith again, my love.”
Darrius kissed her.
“Well, that answers that question,” said Daphne. “All we have to do now is trap Nemesis and steal her sword.”
“No problem,” said Aphrodite. “The GPS says she’s still in town—at some place called Beautiful Beaux.”
“Beautiful Beaux is a male strip club on the pier,” said Alaya. “Why would she go there?”
“Because it’s a male strip club,” said Daphne. “She’s the goddess of wrath. She’s not dead.”
THE RHYMTHIC QUALITY of the music accompanied the wiggling hips of the male dancers. Darrius looked everywhere, but at the gyrating men. To his everlasting regret, he’d already accidentally caught glimpses of the brightly-colored thongs sparkling in the stage lights. He’d never been more uncomfortable in his life.
“Oh!” said Daphne. “Nemesis just stuffed money into his g-string. He’s giving her a lap dance.” She paused. “Wow. I didn’t know male genitalia could do that.”
“Only the talented ones, darling,” said Aphrodite.
“She seems distracted,” said Darrius.
“Do you blame her?” asked Aphrodite. “Look at that thing!”
“I meant distracted in a strategic sense.” Darrius turned to Alaya. “I think I’m just going to throw myself on her sword. It may be the only way to get out of this place.”
Alaya laughed. Her smile was bright and beautiful, the same as the loving light in her eyes. His heart turned over. He knew that he loved her more than his next breath. And he believed—he had to believe—that she loved him just as much. But if he was wrong, then he would die.
Better that fate than to forget her, to be without her.
“Have faith,” she said, as though she could read his thoughts.
“I do, Liebling.”
“Good. Now, let’s throw the net over this bitch,” she said. Alaya held up the square of chained links. “Are you sure this will work?”
Aphrodite eyed the net. “Oh, I’m sure. Just keep it away from me.”
“Toss it on Nemesis,” said Daphne. “It’ll trap her instantly. Get the sword first. If it gets trapped in the net with her, you’re screwed.”
Darrius and Alaya kissed each other, and then strolled around the small tables that held screaming, cat-calling women.
“Hey, sugar, how about a dance?” One lady leaned forward, her breath a testament to power of bourbon, and waved a $5 bill at him. She reached out and patted his pectorals.
Stunned, Darrius could only stare at her with his mouth open.
“He’s on break,” said Alaya. She pushed him forward and he stumbled past the giggling woman.
By the time they reached Nemesis’s table, she had two male strippers giving her quite the show.
The sword was propped casually against the bar table—only three inches away from its owner.
“You get the sword and I’ll throw the net,” said Alaya.
Nemesis chose that moment to stuff more bills into the thongs of her personal dancers. With her hands occupied, it was the perfect moment to strike.
Darrius reached over the table and gripped the hilt. He pulled it up and over the table quickly. The moment the weapon cleared the reach of Nemesis, Alaya tossed the piece of chainmail onto the goddess.
The silver net sparkled and then went liquid, covering Nemesis in seconds. Then it returned to its original state.
The strippers decided it was time to wiggle their junk in front of someone else.
“What the fu—”
Aphrodite popped next to the imprisoned immortal. “Oh, I wouldn’t cuss if I were you,” she said sweetly. “I hear the goddess of wrath is a real bitch.”
“Let me out,” screamed Nemesis. She fought against the metal netting, punching and kicking to no avail. “Now!”
“Oh, I’ll let you out. In a hundred years or so.” Aphrodite pointed a well-manicured finger at Nemesis. “Unless … you want to tell me where the apple is?”
“I buried it,” she said, spite in her voice. “Broken Arrow is going to have a few love problems.”
“You cursed an entire town?” Aphrodite leaned close to Nemesis’s face. “Why?”
“Everywhere I look I see injustice and pain and immorality, especially in the hearts of humans. Why do they deserve true love?”
“Your bitterness has clouded your judgment,” said Aphrodite. “Tell me where you buried the apple.”
“Never.”
“Fine,” said Aphrodite, losing patience. “Enjoy your new residence. I hear Tartarus is hotter than Hades this time of century.”
“Aphrodite, don’t you dare!”
The goddess of love snapped her fingers, and Nemesis disappeared. Aphrodite straightened her clothes and fluffed her hair. Then she looked at Darrius and Alaya. “Let’s get you two uncursed.”
“SO THE RITUAL has to be performed next to a body of water?” asked Darrius. He, Alaya, Aphrodite, and Daphne stood on a small patch of beach lodged between lumps of craggy rocks. The Pacific Ocean, a canvas of black, reflected the light of the half moon. The area was isolated, which made it less likely a citizen or tourist would accidently come upon two lycans, a goddess, a nymph, and a very large sword.
“Water can amplify magic,” said Daphne.
“And being near the ocean will ensure the blood gets washed away,” said Aphrodite.
“Thanks, goddess of practicality.”
“And that will end the curse?” asked Alaya.
“Before it even begins.” She eyed the couple. “Are sure that you’re both ready to risk your very lives for true love?”
“Yes,” they said together, without hesitation.
Aphrodite smiled. “Excellent. The spell is simple. Just say: Te amo, corde et animo et corpus et mentemin sæcula.”
“Goddesses,” muttered Daphne. “They love the old school.” She gestured to Darrius and Alaya. “Put your hands on the sword.”
Darrius and Alaya cupped the blade between their hands.
“Slid your hands down, just a little. Be gentle. That sword is as sharp as my wit,” said Daphne.
They did as the nymph directed.
“Clasp hands.”
The sword fell, landing with a soft thud onto the sand. Darrius and Alaya held hands, drawing together, their gazes only for each other.
“Say this phrase: I love you, heart and soul, mind and body, forever.”
Darrius and Alaya repeated the simple sentence that held so much meaning.
Heat and light grew between their clasped hands. The white radiance crept around their bodies like fast-growing vines. Soon, the couple was enveloped.
For a moment, they both shone as bright as golden statues.
Then the magical illumination shattered, and they fell to the ground.
“OPEN YOUR EYES.”
Darrius obeyed the soft command of the female’s voice. His eyes opened, and he stared at the beautiful face just inches above his.
“I love you,” said Alaya.
“I love you, too.”
“Good to know,” she said. “Because you’re never getting rid of me.”