Warrior Avenged

by Addison Fox

As they walked in companionable silence, Ilsa found her thoughts shifting toward a subject that held endless fascination.

  Kane.

  His life. His interests. Him.

  “Have you ever tried to get rid of the poison?”

  “Hmmm?” Kane took her hand again as they came into the widened pathway, their footsteps falling in sync with each other.

  “The poison. In all the years you’ve had it, have you ever tried getting rid of it?”

  At that, a broad smile broke across Kane’s face and he laughed in a way that suggested he saw some funny memories in his mind’s eye.

  In an instant, she was captivated. Breathless, almost, at the warmth that filled her from his smile.

  “Oh, I’ve tried. Or I should say we’ve tried.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Doesn’t sound very successful.”

  A cheeky smile greeted her in return. “I’ve still got the poison in my veins, don’t I?”

  “Touché. How could I forget?”

  He rubbed at his stomach and made a great show of limping the next few feet. “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay. So the poison’s still there. Tell me how you’ve tried to get rid of it.”

  “Experiments, potions, you name it. We scoured the texts of the ancients we keep in the basement of the Manhattan house.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. Unless vast lessons on Greek history, dry enough to put me to sleep through the poison’s zenith could be considered a cure.”

  She giggled at that, aware of the texts he spoke of. Early on, when she still thought there was hope for her situation, Ilsa had read the old volumes herself, hoping to find some way out of her predicament. Some explanation for the punishment from Zeus or even the agreement with Hades.

  Both were ironclad.

  And the texts that told her that put her to sleep more than once.

  “Anything else?”

  “Okay. So after the research angle went bust, we felt sort of stumped. Then, in the early part of the last century, Callie hooked up with some white witches.”

  “Witches?”

  “Yep. We’ve got a few who live in the neighborhood in New York and Callie made friends with them at the market.”

  Ilsa’s stomach muscles clenched at the mention of her sister, but she worked to keep her face open and curious as Kane talked to her. Whatever anger existed between her and her sister wasn’t Kane’s problem. It wasn’t any of the Warriors’ problem.

  And she was the only one who could decide how she was going to fix it.

  Or if she even wanted to.

  “What happened?”

  “They tried everything they could think of, but nothing worked. Spells during a full moon, a waxing moon, no moon—they couldn’t find a single thing that would work on me. Everyone looked so sad and pitiful after that, too, like they’d let me down.”

  “None of their rituals worked?”

  “Nope, but it sure was a lot of fun to see three women all sky clad every night for a month.”

  “Sky clad?”

  Kane wiggled his eyebrows. “Naked.”

  “Kane!”

  He just laughed again, his voice rolling with hints of humor and lots of teasing. “They were very upset, and all I could think was, ‘All things considered, did you enjoy the play, Mrs. Lincoln?’ ”

  Mrs. Lincoln?

  Was that one of the witches’ names?

  Gods, another one of those expressions she didn’t understand again.

  Did she dare ask?

  When Kane continued on, she kept the question to herself, unwilling to look stupid.

  “The worst one was Brody’s attempt.”

  “Which one is Brody?”

  “You haven’t met him. He’s our Leo and he’s been on a six-month honeymoon with his new wife, Ava.”

  At that word—“honeymoon”—Ilsa felt a great wave of longing fill her. Her skin prickled in awareness and warmth suffused her cheeks. She imagined what it must be like, six breathtaking, glorious months with the person you loved and chose to spend your life with.

  How wonderful.

  Ilsa shot a quick glance toward Kane, her pulse ratcheting up in its predictable way whenever he was near. This involuntary response to a simple view of his profile confirmed—as if she had any doubts whatsoever—that she’d love to do the same with him. Oh yes, she’d take any number of trips for Hades, carry any number of souls, to get a honeymoon with Kane.

  She’d bet they’d get to have a lot of sex on one of these honeymoons.

  That cheeky grin was back again as Kane looked down at her. “You with me?”

  With him?

  Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.

  “What? Sorry. Yes, I’m here. So what happened?”

  “Brody was convinced he could try a few ancient rituals on me. I put up a good fight for quite a few years, but he kept bringing it up so I finally gave in.”

  “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say the Egyptians might have been a wily, superstitious lot, but clearly none of them had ever had to actually live with a black-magic-induced poison in their veins.”

  “What did Brody do?”

  “Several chants and a bloodletting with these really huge ceremonial knives.”

  “Oh gods! How long did it take to recover?”

  “Not as long as I made them think. Besides, everyone felt so bad for me, I actually got off pretty easy. The guys and Callie got stuck cleaning up a sizable mess in the workout room and then had to disinfect a bunch of bloody ceremonial swords.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “Recover in bed, moaning all the while.”

  Her mouth dropped as images of him lying like that haunted her. The agony he must have suffered. “Were you in horrible pain?”

  “Enough that I didn’t get my ass downstairs to help them.” Another laugh spilled from Kane and Ilsa reveled in the carefree attitude and the knowledge Brody’s attempt hadn’t truly hurt him.

  It was obvious Kane loved his Warrior brothers, despite their natural bickering and infighting. It was equally obvious how much he cared for Callie. How much they all did, if the deference they showed her and the warmth with which they looked upon her were any indication.

  The laughs stopped and Kane’s face sobered as the path beneath their feet widened even more. “Thank you, Ilsa. This place. It disturbs me. Saddens me on so many levels. The laughter did me good. The memories are a comfort. A reminder that this year’s bout with the poison will pass.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They continued on and Ilsa knew they’d reach Charon in a few more minutes. The sound of the lapping waves of the river was already audible above the crunching of stones under their feet.

  Screwing up her courage, she took a deep breath. “Can I ask you one more question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Who is Mrs. Lincoln?”

  That bright shout of laughter was back. “There really are modern things you don’t understand, aren’t there?”

  She shouldn’t have asked. But the easy camaraderie made her feel she could be honest with him. Could ask him anything, really. “So she wasn’t one of the witches?”

  Kane stopped then, tugging on her forearm when she would have kept going, her footsteps already speeding up to move on ahead of him. Turning toward her, he reached for her hand, pulling it up to his lips. The humid air swirled around them as a warm lethargy filled her senses.

  That dark, chocolate gaze focused on her and his lips were soft as he pressed them against the back of her hand. Warm breath fanned over the sensitive skin and Ilsa felt an answering call from every part of her body. Her nipples tightened in response, a flush raced up her neck and she felt a distinct, feminine warmth at the junction of her thighs.

  She wanted this man.

  Desperately wanted to feel him again. Feel his large body pressed to the entrance of hers. Feel those glorious lips as they explored every inch of her skin. Feel the an
swering response of her own body as she flew into a million tiny little pieces.

  “Ilsa, I’m not laughing at you.”

  Her gaze dropped to the middle of his chest, embarrassment whirling through her in great tornadolike gusts of air. “Okay.”

  One long finger found its way under her chin and he pulled her head up to look at him again. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just a surprise—a pleasant one—when you don’t understand something I’m telling you. I just made a little joke. A silly saying, really. And not a very good one at that.”

  When she still didn’t respond, he prodded her chin again to force her to look at him. “Most of the time, the guys don’t laugh at my dumb jokes. You don’t need to, either.”

  From the small place where she pushed any and all emotion, she opened the door a fraction of an inch. And allowed him to see what lay beyond the door.

  “I’m so behind. Always behind everyone else. It was like that with my sisters. Even before Rhea took me away, I was behind them and what they knew. What they understood and what mattered to them. Then I was forced to that cave with Zeus, no contact beyond our small little life. And now—” She broke off, not sure what to say. Not sure what to tell him.

  Unsure how to truly explain how she felt.

  “I’m not like anyone else. And I don’t know how to be.”

  He bent his head, his lips moving to press against her ear, the hot fan of his breath sending shivers down her spine. “You don’t have to be anyone else. You just have to be you.”

  “But I’m not enough.”

  “You’re more than enough.”

  Then he shifted, moved closer and kissed that narrow gap between her earlobe and her mouth. The warmth of his lips, so sensual as he ran them over her hand only moments before, were a million times more intoxicating as they meshed with hers.

  Fleetingly, she thought of the scientists. Wondered why they’d grown quiet throughout her and Kane’s journey toward the river.

  But the simple thought fled as quickly as it came, as want unfurled inside of her. That pure, feminine need for Kane kept all the ugliness—even the mere thought of it—at bay as the kiss spun out between them. Although Kane initiated the contact, she quickly responded, opening her mouth at the seeking pressure of his tongue. Liquid desire pushed its way through her body with insistent, potent need.

  She leaned in to him as his free hand reached up to cup her breast. Searing pleasure unfurled in her stomach as his fingers plied her flesh. Wanton, reckless heat filled her as he captured her nipple in the V between his thumb and forefinger.

  Ilsa felt his knee wedged between her legs; the heat of his body burned the inside of her thighs where they rested against his jeans. Kane leaned into his stance, his thigh pressing against the most sensitive part of her, barely covered through the thin material of her panties.

  His lips devoured her as he used his leg to exert exquisite pressure against her. “You are so hot. So beautiful. So incredible.”

  Ilsa soaked it all in and marveled they were together again. She was actually in his arms and the feeling was so much better than she’d remembered.

  There were the long, hard lines of his muscular body. The musky smell that rose off of him, so masculine, so . . . Kane. The pure heat of him, how it wrapped around her, a sexy enticement to press her body against his.

  Gods, she wanted to crawl inside of him, hold him and never let go.

  Kane rained a fiery path of kisses down her neck, over her heavy pulse points until his lips hit the vee of her sweater. His free hand still cupped her breast under the thin cashmere and he seemed undecided at what to do next as the material made an obstruction for the continued trail of his kisses.

  “Kane.” She heard her own breathless moan and wanted desperately to tell him to continue. Even as she knew it was impossible. “We have to stop.”

  As if unwilling to break the contact of their bodies, he shifted again, his thigh pressed so intimately against her she couldn’t keep from crying out at the incredible, intense pressure. “Kane!”

  Frantic breaths of air filled her lungs as Ilsa gave up her protests and allowed the sensations to unfold. She welcomed the pressure that built inside of her, matched to the increasing ministrations of his thigh where he pressed it against her core. Magnificent waves of pleasure built within her as Kane assaulted every inch of her body.

  She gloried in the insistent, mind-numbing bliss of his clever fingers as they caressed her nipple. And the hot kisses as his tongue thrust into her mouth, in matched rhythm to the pressure of his thigh against her. And the sexy whispers against her lips.

  “Ilsa, my beautiful Ilsa. So sweet.” His tongue thrust again as his mouth consumed her once more. As he withdrew, the words spilled from his lips on a groan. “So incredibly responsive to me. So necessary.”

  Necessary.

  That one word, above all the others, penetrated through the sensual haze. It burrowed deeply within her soul, lighting her up from the inside, filling up each and every empty corner.

  As Kane’s thigh muscles pressed yet again in exquisite pressure on her clitoris, she let herself go.

  The world exploded around her until all she knew—everything that she was—was encapsulated in the man who stood before her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Enyo paced her home on Mount Olympus, the usual adornments and decorations of death that surrounded her ineffective at easing the raw, mind-numbing anger.

  Her pulse thundered and her deep-set anxiety scattered each and every thought that whirled through her mind.

  How did Emmett know who I am?

  Like a master chess player, he’d put her in check and she’d never seen the move coming.

  Nor did she have any response.

  After he dropped his bomb of knowing exactly who and what she was, she stamped on her trademark haughty-bitch glare and wrapped up the conversation.

  But he knew.

  “Darling!”

  Lovely. Just a glorious, fan-fucking-tastic time for her mother to show up.

  Hera breezed into the room with her usual glowing demeanor. Her robes were inlaid with thick strands of gold, her dark hair coiled in an elaborate updo. While she loved her mother truly and completely—the only immortal in her entire existence Enyo could claim those feelings for—this was so not a good time.

  “You look upset, darling. What’s wrong?”

  How to play this one? Her mother could sniff out a lie faster—and more accurately—than anyone she knew.

  “Work’s been a bit challenging lately.” Not a lie. In fact, rather accurate, if the truth be known.

  Hera took a seat on the couch and patted the empty cushion next to her. “I know you hate when I say this, but you really need to find yourself a man.”

  “Mother. I realize you’re the goddess of marriage. And as such, you believe it’s the answer to every ill.” Enyo took the seat next to her mother, leaning over and laying her head on the shoulder that always waited for her. Always soothed, no matter how far away from the cradle she got.

  “Yes, but maybe if you took the focus off your job.”

  She held back the sigh, attempting reason in the face of such implacable belief. “It’s the definition of my life, Mother. I am the goddess of war.”

  “Yes, darling, but look around.”

  Enyo followed her mother’s hand as she pointed to various decor choices around the room.

  “A guillotine, Enyo? Really? Must you advertise what you do like that? How quickly do you think a man is going to warm up in here if he knows there’s an instrument of death sitting in the corner?”

  “It’s a human instrument of death, Mother. Besides, you only want me to see immortals.”

  “That’s beside the point. It’s creepy.”

  “It’s me, Mother.”

  “That it is.”

  Enyo resettled herself against Hera’s shoulder and considered how to broach her questions. Although Emmett had caught her off guard, she w
asn’t completely without intel herself.

  “Mother, do you remember that time—? Oh, it’s been years now. There was a sorcerer who captured several immortals.”

  She felt her mother stir, felt the slight head nod as her mother’s body shifted with the movement.

  “Yes, I do. It was a dark, dark time for us. Your father wouldn’t let me off Mount Olympus. You remember it too, don’t you?”

  Sadly, Enyo remembered very little of it. She’d gained back quite a bit of power during the Middle Ages, the plagues and terrors of that time putting several win marks in her favor in her ongoing battle with Themis’s Warriors.

  And then it had all come to a crashing halt. The Renaissance period had begun, humans flourishing each and every place she looked. With it, Themis’s boys had gotten their shit together. By the end of the Renaissance, Enyo was in worse shape than before the Middle Ages, her power so diminished she had begun to feel rather panicky.

  For almost a century, she’d curled up right here, enjoying the calming effect of Mount Olympus. Oh, she’d stayed busy, planning and plotting strategy. But she hadn’t concerned herself with much of what took place outside her four walls.

  “I really don’t, Mother. I was a bit out of it then.”

  “That’s right. I forgot. Your wallowing period.”

  And leave it to her mother to call them like she saw them.

  Hera’s tone grew frosty. “I swear, I absolutely hate that stupid bargain your father made with that hag Themis. She tricked him into it and got you roped into it in the process.”

  Enyo did sigh this time and sat up, shooting her mother a harsh stare. “A conversation we’ve had more times than I can count. Yes, Themis is a bitch. Yes, she had Daddy first. Yes, you hate her. Did I miss anything?”

  Now it was Hera’s turn to sigh. “No, darling, you didn’t miss anything.”

  Even though she thought she knew Emmett’s history, Enyo continued to question her mother. Pushed to confirm that she had her story correct. “So. The sorcerer? What did he do?”

  “Well, I got most of this secondhand from your father, but apparently the sorcerer convinced himself he could harness the power of the Pantheon if he captured enough immortals, that once he had them, he could figure out the secret to immortality.”