Blood of Zeus: Book One

by Meredith Wild

  The fire in her declaration matches the heat of her eyes, now intense enough to scorch me like a flamethrower. But I don’t look away. I can’t. Every buzzing cell of my blood, battering every inch of my veins, orders me not to stand down. To fight everything she’s just said with all the fiber of my being.

  Thunder that now booms in support of me…in every inch of the sky outside this building.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kara

  Dalton opens the front door as I pull up the drive. He welcomes me with a graceful, sweeping gesture. “Good evening, Miss Valari.”

  I stride up to him. “Hey. Is Mom home?”

  “I’m sorry, she isn’t. She’s having dinner at Nobu.”

  Without Kell here to distract my mother, I’m relieved to learn that the house is free of her.

  “Who’s she bending to her will now?” I mutter it nearly beneath my breath, half-suspecting the palm trees themselves are rigged with listening devices. “Let me guess. Jaden’s new director?”

  “I didn’t recognize the gentleman,” he offers coolly, following me inside the foyer.

  I spin around, widening my gaze. “You saw him?”

  “They met in her office, briefly, before leaving together.”

  I’m tempted to interrogate him more, but staying out of my mother’s affairs is safer. She already has an entourage to obsess over all the details surrounding her—an entourage that’s mercifully absent tonight, as well.

  Still, I’m curious what kind of “gentleman” would be collecting her from the house and taking her out to dinner. My father—if he can be called that—only stayed in town long enough to produce the three of us. My memories of him are few and unremarkable. He was an incubus who disappeared as abruptly as he arrived after having done his duty. No more, no less. Exactly according to tradition.

  A tradition that I cling to now, with at least a small sense of consolation, when contemplating my own fate. One day, I’ll have some semblance of freedom again.

  One day…

  That’s not coming anytime soon.

  After a heavy sigh, I glance toward the back of the house and then turn my attention back to Dalton.

  “I’m going to see if Gramps is up.”

  He simply nods in response. I leave him to the mansion that’s emptier in more ways than one.

  I journey across the tropical-landscaped backyard to the modest guesthouse. Flickering light from the television reflects across the glass. Through the window, I catch my grandfather’s figure in the kitchen. I open the door, and he turns from the stove, a wooden spoon in his hand. His eyes light up when he sees me.

  “Kara.”

  I smile and go to hug him. “Hey, Gramps. What’s for dinner?”

  Then I spot the empty soup tin on the counter, and the answer is obvious. I cringe. “Canned soup? I think we can afford at least some better takeout for you.”

  “Nonsense.” He snorts. “Chicken noodle is my favorite. No complaints here.”

  Not convinced, I take the spoon from him and swirl the soup around the small saucepan. “Smells good at least.”

  “It’s delicious.”

  I laugh. “I’m pretty sure it’s the MSG.”

  “Ah”—he waves his hand dismissively—“here, there’s enough for two. You can judge for yourself.”

  He nudges me away so he can fill two bowls. We bring them to the little kitchen table that’s a few steps away.

  “What brings you tonight, my sweet girl?”

  I take a tentative spoonful of the salty soup. He’s not wrong. It is tasty. Its warmth fills me with the same comforting calm as his loving stare. “Just checking on you.”

  He hums a response, which doesn’t sound quite like an affirmative. When I look up, one bushy white eyebrow has gone crooked.

  “What?”

  He slurps down another spoonful. “I appreciate you checking on me, ladybug. But I’m wondering if maybe there’s something else on your mind, that’s all.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like maybe your mysterious friend, if we’re still calling him that.”

  I let my spoon rest against the bowl with a small clink.

  “Have you seen him again?” His tone is light, but I don’t miss the seriousness lingering behind his words.

  “I’ve seen him. Not sure I can call him a friend anymore, though.” As soon as I say it, I recognize it as fact. My irrefutable truth. Maximus is rapidly becoming more to me. So much more.

  “Did you argue?”

  I sigh. “We argue plenty.” Like when he pretends he can cut me from his class.

  “And?”

  “And that doesn’t really seem to keep us apart.” Sometimes—many times—it accomplishes the opposite. In electric, indelible ways…

  As my mind fills with a string of hot Maximus-centered memories, my grandfather is discernibly quiet. I don’t search for meaning in the silence. I have more questions than answers when it comes to Maximus, especially now. But talking about how mixed up I am about him with anyone feels dangerous. Even if it’s Gramps. And especially when it’s Kell, who’s barely said a word to me since I admitted to falling for my mesmerizing professor.

  “Have you learned any more about him?” he presses.

  Gramps’s expression is more taut than when I arrived, matching the new mood in the air. Apprehension that probably has everything to do with me dancing with a dangerous prospect—a man who isn’t the demon I’ve been saving myself for.

  “He doesn’t know who his father is,” I say, remembering the anguish it seems to cause—a wound that isn’t any less painful for how long Maximus has endured it. “He has questions too. He knows he’s not like everyone else.”

  “Does he know about you?”

  “Of course not.” I rear back defensively. “I’d never tell him about the family.”

  Somehow admitting to Maximus that I’m a demon—he’d never believe me anyway—seems a lot worse than falling into bed with him. Which would be all wrong. On so many levels.

  Dangerous levels.

  Which means a few casual fantasies are worth forgiving myself for. It’s not like Maximus will ever find out. He’ll never know enough about me to understand what it truly means to be a Valari. No one outside our closed circle ever will. But being vague about it just makes me sound like a poor little rich girl—entitled and pouty. From what little he’s shared, I can tell his childhood wasn’t without its struggles, financially and otherwise, that would make mine look like spilled chocolate milk in comparison.

  But still, I want to know more about him. All about him.

  Every time he shares a little morsel from his personal life, I find myself driven to uncover more. Maybe it’s the same for him. Maybe he wants to find my truth the way I’m preoccupied with finding his.

  “What are you going to do, Kara?”

  My grandfather’s question is the same one that’s plagued me from nearly the minute I met Maximus. What do I do about this impossible temptation? The addictive possibility of Maximus…

  “I can’t stop seeing him,” I finally say.

  Gramps is strangely neutral about his answering regard. Finally he murmurs, “You’re pretty sure about that.”

  “I am.” I stamp everything I am into the statement. “Even if I wanted to, at this point my fascination far exceeds my willpower to stay away.”

  Another heavy pause. He pushes his empty bowl away, and the wooden chair squeaks when he rests back against it. “You sensed he was more than he seemed to be. What makes him so different?”

  “Some of it is just really difficult to ignore,” I say. “For starters, he’s…enormous. A god among men.”

  “You can chalk that up to exceptional genetics.”

  This time I’m quirking the eyebrow. “Can’t we all?”

  He grins. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s not just that. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. I’ve never witnessed his kind of strength before. I’ve see
n him heal too. He tried to brush it off as nothing, but there was nothing human about it.”

  He hums again. This time it’s more thoughtful, like maybe he’s trying to unravel the mystery of Maximus too. “His mother must have some answers.”

  “Maximus is sure she knows more than she’s telling him.”

  “Maximus?”

  I blink as I realize I’ve never uttered his name to Gramps before.

  “Maximus Kane.” I let go of another tense sigh. “You might as well know now. He’s a literature professor at Alameda.”

  He holds my stare for a long moment. “You’re playing with fire.”

  I shift in my chair, suddenly feeling uncomfortable…on the brink of unnerved. The intensity in Gramps’s stare…they’re not like anything I’ve witnessed from him before. And the energy behind them, hitting me like zaps of fire in a snowdrift, make me alternately hot and cold.

  “I know.”

  “Do you? Really?”

  “What does that mean?” I snap defensively.

  “You’re risking everything, Kara.”

  I scoff, but it’s a rickety sound. Whatever is building with Maximus is becoming so much stronger than the fear my grandfather’s warnings should elicit. How can I explain that Maximus is everything I never knew I wanted? How he doesn’t look at me the way everyone else does? How I feel every time he does? How I might never, ever grow tired of it?

  “Maybe I’m willing to sacrifice a life of lies to live a moment of truth.”

  I don’t know that I can or will, but saying the words out loud almost makes me feel brave enough to act on them.

  He closes his eyes and draws his hand across his face. “Kara… You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying I don’t know if I can accept the life that’s been handed to me. It’s not fair.”

  “It isn’t. But you have no choice in the matter if—”

  “If what? You said it yourself. Everyone has a choice.”

  “Not when it comes to this.”

  “Why?” There’s anger in my demand, but it’s scratching the surface of what I really feel. “Why is this the exception?”

  “In our world, decisions carry consequences,” Gramps says tightly. “Consequences that follow you. I’ve spent my life enduring mine, sweetheart. I don’t want to see you make the same mistakes.”

  The fervency in his voice gives me pause. He’s always been my advocate. A quiet cheerleader for the good in me. But tonight something’s changed. I worry it’s his own fear at play. We’ve never spoken about the circumstances that brought such darkness into his life. Like many family stories, everyone seems to know the broad strokes, but too many of the details are missing.

  “Gramps?”

  “What?” he grates.

  “What really happened to you?” I whisper. “I don’t understand how anyone could think you deserve all this.”

  “You know enough, Kara. I’m not dredging up the gory details for you.”

  “But I want to know. Maybe I even need to.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Part of it the rest of the world already knows. That Giovani Valari should have died forty years ago when Malcolm Caulfield, husband of one of the most successful starlets of the time, shot him in cold blood before turning the gun on his wife and himself. Gio clung to life, drifted into a short coma, and eventually flatlined before he miraculously pulled through. Malcolm and Penelope Caulfield weren’t so lucky.

  In the weeks after, rumors circulated that Caulfield’s violence was due to an affair between Gio and Penelope, but with no one to speak to the truth but him, the rumors stayed rumors. None of it explained why my grandfather was able to escape the grip of death and an eternity in hell, or why he ended up in the underworld to begin with.

  “Gramps?” I prompt again. “Please. You keep saying that I don’t know and I don’t understand. So help me to do that.” I reach for his hands. “Help me see.”

  My fingers barely brush his before the man rises sharply and starts tidying the kitchen with haste. “Has it occurred to you that I’m not especially proud of the reasons that brought me into all this to begin with?”

  I contemplate that for a moment. “Considering I’ve been raised in a family of demons, I’m not confident that any confession could color my opinion of you.”

  He wipes down the already clean counter vigorously. “I was not a saint. Pride. Envy. Greed. You name it. You might think looking into the mouth of hell and getting a second chance could change a man. Apparently your grandmother was the only one who could do that. Whoever’s calling the shots down there must know what they’re doing.”

  “Okay, they were determined to make an example out of you. I got that part. What I want to know is why.”

  He turns toward me, his lips pulled tight. “Because I earned my ticket there, and I still managed to hitch a way out. There’s nothing they hate more than a stolen soul.” His soft eyes swim with pain. “Sometimes I wonder what’s worse. An eternity down there or living every day knowing this is all my fault. That my freedom, if we can even call it that, robbed you of yours.”

  I try to absorb the blow of that hard truth. He’s my grandfather. I wouldn’t exist without him. But was I really brought into the world with no other purpose than to be a pawn in his punishment? As much as I love him, his misdeeds inked my own fate. I know that as a crushing certainty now.

  He exhales a ragged sigh. “I’m sorry, Kara. I’m not much good for visiting right now. Why don’t you come by in a week or two, ladybug? I haven’t felt like myself lately.” He steps closer to give my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Good night.”

  Before I can argue for him to stay, he’s already climbed the stairs to his bedroom. I don’t want to leave, but I feel awkward lingering. I can at least attempt to sort out my thoughts on my way home, though I’m not confident I will.

  I internally berate myself for putting Gramps in such a conflicting position. He loves me, I’m sure. All the more reason to want to shield me from a fate he knows too well. A penance with which he’s already been tortured.

  I walk through the main house, but before I can reach the front door, Dalton is there. With a smooth swoosh, he swings it open for my mother’s entrance.

  She shoots me a gleaming smile when she sees me. “Kara! You’re here! How perfect!”

  She saunters toward me, and I meet her for a brief hug. Over her shoulder, I can see another figure following behind. She pulls back and gestures toward the man who must have been her date for the evening.

  “Arden. Come and meet Kara. Kara, this is Arden Prieto.”

  Arden is tall enough that he reaches me in two graceful strides. He extends his hand for mine. I reach out, expecting a handshake until he lifts my fingers to his lips, forcing my stare up and into his.

  At once, I gasp—but not from any kind of pleasure. His eyes are coal gray, if assigning a color to them is even possible. The orbs are dark and intense, like perhaps they’re not just irises and scleras and corneas but two mysterious tunnels that lead someplace deeper. They match his slick black hair and the stylish scruff on his jaw. It’s the kind of five o’clock shadow that’s completely intentional, not a result of being overworked and short on time.

  “Enchanted,” he murmurs as he drags his lips off my skin.

  I can tell from the heat of him and every molecule of energy radiating between us that he’s one of us.

  The second his grasp loosens, I pull back. “Nice to meet you,” I offer tightly, grateful for the chance to be free of his forward touch and merciless stare.

  My mother’s eyes are wide. Her mouth seems frozen in a perpetual smile that small children reserve for theme park experiences.

  “I am so thrilled you’re here, Kara. I was going to have you join us for dinner later this week to talk about Arden’s work.”

  “His work?”

  She laughs and touches his shoulder like they’re old friends. “Yes, he works with anti
quities. I promised myself that we’d get serious about our collections this year.”

  “Collections?”

  She laughs again, but it’s more strained this time. “Our collections, dear. Heirlooms and…” She flits her hand rapidly as she searches for the right words.

  “Art and artifacts of special significance,” Arden supplies smoothly. “The market for relics is stronger than ever and very competitive. I can help navigate those waters and ensure quality acquisitions.”

  “Oh. Great.” I respond like I don’t have a pulse anymore, which might just be the case. Seriously, kill me now. If the Valaris need anything less, it’s another room of overpriced things that will make my mother feel superior to everyone else around her.

  “And you must help, Kara,” she says. “I don’t know a thing about it, and I don’t have nearly enough time to wrap my head around it properly.”

  I frown. “And I would?”

  She meets my exasperated look with one of her own. “For all the time you’ve spent with your nose in dusty old books, now’s the time to make some use of it.”

  Even if Arden wasn’t standing witness to our exchange, I’m not sure I would argue with her. I can tell that my mother has already decided to involve me in this new project of hers, whether I like it or not.

  Kill. Me. Now.

  Few of my broodings bear repeating more.

  “Come, let’s have some wine, and Arden can tell you more.”

  The steady look in Arden’s eyes tells me he has no qualms about Veronica’s plan to extend the evening’s festivities. Unfortunately, I’m nowhere ready to participate in them.

  “I’d love to, but I have an early class in the morning,” I say quickly. “It was a pleasure to meet you, but I really should be heading home.”

  My mother pouts a little, her annoyance plain. “Fine. We’ll figure out dinner this week. Yes?” She lifts a hopeful smile to Arden.