Pride of the Lion hc-3

by N. J. Walters

  Pride of the Lion

  ( Hades' Carnival - 3 )

  N. J. Walters

  Araminta Davenport has arrived. After giving up her librarian job to be a full-time writer, all those lonely nights alone with her cat and her keyboard have paid off. She s been invited to participate in one of the biggest reader appreciation weekends as a professional author.

  She can t imagine her life getting any more exciting than that until she accidentally releases a sexy, shapeshifting, immortal warrior from a five-thousand-year-old curse.

  Finally free of his carousel prison, lion shifter Leander is determined not to let Hades lure him to the dark side in a quest for world domination. Nor will he give the delectable Araminta up to the clutches of the dark one. If they can survive twenty-four hours and somehow resist losing themselves completely in the sexual haze threatening to swallow them up the curse will be permanently broken.

  But the clock is ticking, the heat is rising and only the ultimate sacrifice will save them both.

  Pride of the Lion

  Hades' Carnival - 3

  by

  N. J. Walters

  Thank you to my amazing editor for your hard work, encouragement and humor. I look forward to working with you on many more books.

  Thank you to my incredible readers for allowing me to stretch myself as a writer and coming along for the ride. You’re the best!

  Spell of the Lady of the Beasts

  Lion, wolf, tiger and bear,

  Be of stout heart and show no despair.

  Phoenix, jaguar and serpent, all brave,

  Be not afraid, though thy destiny is grave.

  Warriors brave deserve a much better fate.

  You shall not pass beyond Hades’ gates.

  My powers I give thee to protect and to keep

  From death and torture in the dark and the deep.

  When Olympians’ power is turned into dust

  The time will come for the righteous and just.

  A chance to escape from a prison of Hell.

  Listen closely to all that I tell.

  Feminine power will come to your aid.

  You will come to life as the curse starts to fade.

  The sands of time will begin to slip by

  And you will have but one day’s turning to tie.

  While the demons from Hell tempt and deceive,

  A life must be given, a heart received.

  One step from the path and all will be lost.

  Your souls will be forfeit. That is the cost.

  If honor and courage win the fight,

  The curse will be broken, the debt made right.

  Free you will be from harm and from strife

  Able to live your immortal life.

  Prologue

  Hades stood in the mall bookstore staring at the small display of books on the rack near the door. He plucked a copy off the shelf and fingered the cover. A woman with long, flowing black hair was being chased by what appeared to be a rather nasty demon with horns and a forked tongue.

  “Not a very flattering likeness, is it?”

  The feminine voice was low and sultry, but Hades ignored it. He knew the woman standing next to him was attracting the attention of every man, and even some of the women, in the bookstore. She was tall and gorgeous and evil to her core. He should know. She belonged to him, was the demon he’d chosen for this assignment.

  “Don’t disappoint me.”

  The demon stiffened and silently moved away, instinctively shying from his quiet fury. “No, my lord.”

  “Go.”

  She retreated, unwilling to bring his wrath down upon her. He didn’t acknowledge the demon as she turned and hurried away. He assumed everything would be done to his specifications. After all, it almost always was. And when it wasn’t…well, those poor unfortunate souls provided him with days of entertainment until he finally threw them into the deepest pits of Hell.

  Hades resumed his perusal of the book in his hands. It was written by a woman named Araminta Davidson—an impressive name for a woman who was anything but. That would work to his advantage. He could not allow another warrior to gain his freedom.

  Stavros and Phoenix—the jaguar and the phoenix—had both died trying to flee with the women who released them from their curse. Roric and Marko—the tiger and the bear—both had managed to escape his wrath and now he could no longer touch them or their women.

  He cursed the Lady of the Beasts, and he cursed himself for agreeing to the terms for her help without thinking them all the way through. The original curse she’d cast on her faithful warriors to keep them out of Hell still remained in effect. If they could survive the first twenty-four hours of their release, both they and the women who liberated them were free from him for all times. Failure to comply would mean Hades death and he had far too many plans to be struck down now.

  It was a nuisance, but even gods had rules. He’d given his word in a moment of haste and now he had to live with the consequences. But there were still two warriors left on the carousel—the lion and the wolf. Hades wondered which one of them Araminta would set free. She was the next woman he needed in his quest for world domination. She would set one of the remaining warriors free and he would entice that fortunate beast over to the dark side, whether through threats or trickery. Didn’t matter to Hades how it happened, as long as it did.

  He felt a slight surge of power behind him and turned. A rush of satisfaction filled him as he watched his first and only success walk up to stand beside him. The serpent belonged to him, body and soul. The only one of the seven immortal warriors of the Lady of the Beasts he’d brought over to his side. But the game was far from over.

  “That her?” Mordecai studied the book in Hades’ hands.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Mordecai plucked a book from the rack and opened to the back cover to study the picture of Araminta. “She’s pretty ordinary.”

  Really, the warrior could be obtuse at times. “It doesn’t matter what she looks like, only what she can do. And she can free one of the warriors.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Surely there was smoke coming out of his ears. “Are you doubting me?” No one questioned him. No one.

  Mordecai calmly shut the book and put it back on the shelf before meeting his gaze. “No. I’m just trying to understand how you can be so certain.”

  Hades took a deep breath to calm his temper. He rarely lost it, but when he did, it didn’t bode well for anyone within about a hundred-mile radius. He reminded himself that working with an immortal warrior was much different than working with one of his groveling minions.

  His demons and underlings were mindless creatures, doing his bidding out of perverse joy and a fear of failure. Hades didn’t tolerate failure.

  The warrior, on the other hand, was an intelligent creature. Sly. Calculating. He also didn’t walk in fear of Hades as the rest of the occupants of Hell did. Mordecai’s attitude was annoying, but Hades allowed it to pass unchallenged for now. Once he had the power he needed to defeat his brothers and the rest of the gods of Olympus, he’d destroy Mordecai so he could never rise up against him.

  But for now, he needed him.

  Mordecai was patiently waiting for a reply. The serpent never seemed to sweat, never seemed to feel fear. It was a challenge, and one Hades couldn’t wait to meet once his war was over.

  Mordecai would scream and beg for mercy before Hades dispatched his soul to the darkest depths of Hell. He’d see to it personally.

  Until then, he needed Mordecai’s cooperation. “All the women who have freed you and your brethren emit a certain kind of energy, of light. And she—” he tapped the cover of the book, “—has it.”

  Hades
walked out of the store with the book still in his hand. He hadn’t paid for it, but there was no hue and cry from anyone who worked there. It would be amusing to read what Araminta had written, how she’d taken the dreams he’d sent her and turned them into a best-selling book. Mordecai followed two steps behind him. Where he should be. Still, Hades disliked having the warrior at his back. He snarled beneath his breath, wishing this was over and he was the ruler of both his world and this one. Soon, he promised himself. Soon.

  He shoved open the door to a service entrance and conjured up a portal. The black hole emerged from nowhere, spinning faster and faster with each revolution. It grew larger and larger until it was big enough for several men to walk through at the same time. It blocked out all the light around it and brought with it the smell of brimstone and fear.

  Hades inhaled deeply and smiled as he stepped through the portal and back into his realm. Mordecai followed behind him. The second both men were through, the gateway closed on itself, sealing them both inside Hell.

  The Lady of the Beasts felt Hades’ dark gaze upon her as she stumbled through the dark corridors of Hell. The skin on the bottoms of her feet was raw and blistered from the heat and rocks that littered the ground. Sweat rolled down her naked body, yet she shivered. To her right, a river of fire rolled by in a never-ending torrent of pain and misery, the occasional scream emitted from some tormented soul who was trapped in its depths.

  Most people believed there was only one gateway into Hell, and that was past the terrifying Cerberus, who killed all who tried to leave without permission. But she knew better. There were a few cracks in Hades’ realm, and she would find one of them to make her escape.

  She was close. The faintest scent of fresh air reached her amid the smoke and foul-scented stench. She pretended to trip on the uneven ground, allowing herself to fall to one knee. She rested there, sucking in the hot, arid air. It stung her lungs and made it hard to breathe.

  Hades could not know she was close to escape. He would do everything in his power to stop her. Since he’d given his word, he could not stop her personally, but he could put more obstacles in her way, and she did not know how much longer she could last.

  She’d come a long way since being released from the prison in the bowels of Hell where she’d spent the past five thousand years, but she was still in Hades’ domain. Hades was playing a dangerous game, one she prayed he would lose. Hope hinged on her faithful warriors, the ones she’d been forced to curse when she realized they could not win the war against the Greek gods and their soldiers.

  How it had hurt her to lock her brave warriors in their animal forms, but it had been necessary. The curse had kept them out of Hell, but it hadn’t stopped Hades from sending his demons to watch over them. But the Lady didn’t mind that. Who better to keep her loyal followers safe until the time came for them to rise once again?

  She’d told Hades how the warriors could be released from the curse in exchange for her release. But the devil was tricky and had agreed to release her from her prison and not from his domain. That she must do on her own.

  But she’d tricked him too, as even the gods were subjected to certain immutable laws. And the word of a god or goddesses could not be taken back once it was given.

  She sucked in another breath, knowing time was short. She could wander through the catacombs of Hell forever if she wasn’t careful, and her warriors needed her help.

  Time passed differently in this realm, and she had no idea how much of it had passed on Earth. Hades hadn’t managed to free another warrior since Marko. She’d know if he had, would feel the surge of power flooding through her veins. There were only two of them left now, her lion and her wolf. Two more battles to be lost or won.

  A distant roar echoed off the rock walls, funneling down the long tunnel toward her. She knew Hades was sending some of his demons her way. They couldn’t physically stop her, but they could put roadblocks in her way or trick her into going down a false trail, and she was so very close to freedom.

  Although she wanted to flee, she forced herself to stay where she was. Unmoving, she was the picture of defeat. She sensed Hades’ satisfaction and, as quickly as his presence had come, it was gone.

  The Lady allowed some of her newly regained power to surge through her—enough to give her the strength to run but not enough to gain the god’s attention. She pushed herself to her feet and hurried along the path as fast as she could manage.

  She ignored the blisters that covered her bare skin, the heat that made it difficult to breathe and the minor demons that watched her silently from their perches all around her. They could easily tell Hades she was getting closer to escape, but it would never occur to them to do so, just as it would never occur to Hades to ask them to keep tabs on her. These demons cared for little beyond their own survival. Since they couldn’t physically harm her, she was of little import to them. It was a weakness in her enemy’s lair and one she planned to exploit.

  Hades’ arrogance would be her salvation.

  In the distance she could see a light. She could also hear the slightest sound of chanting. The music was beautiful to her ears and gave her the extra boost of power she needed to keep going.

  The tunnel was long and narrowed as she climbed. Her fingernails were ragged and torn, her arms and legs bruised and battered. Her muscles strained and tendons screamed. Still, she climbed toward hope, toward freedom.

  Chapter One

  Araminta Davidson stuffed her cosmetic bag into her suitcase and shut the lid. Or, rather, tried to shut it. The overstuffed bag wasn’t going to close without a fight. It took several minutes, and her not inconsiderable weight to push the edges near enough for her to zip it. She straightened and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “That’s it, Percy.”

  Her black cat glanced at her from his perch on the foot of the bed before he resumed licking his paw.

  She laughed and reached out and gave him a quick scrub between his ears. That was Percy—disinterested and surly. They’d been living together for a year now and Araminta still felt like he was still auditioning her for the job as his owner. No, that wasn’t right. More like his personal house slave.

  She’d gone to the animal shelter for a cute little kitten and come home with full-grown, newly neutered male cat with one ragged ear and mountain of attitude. It had been love at first sight. “I should have called you Byron, not Percy.” She’d named him after one of her favorite poets, but he had more of Byron’s dark, brooding personality. Still, he answered to Percy, when he wanted to.

  “I’ll only be gone for tonight and tomorrow night and I’ll be home on Sunday afternoon. You have fresh litter, lots of water and food, and Mary Jo from next door will be over tomorrow to check on you.” Araminta pushed aside the guilt assailing her at the thought of leaving the cat behind and hefted her overstuffed suitcase off the bed. She dragged it out the bedroom door and down the short hallway to the living room. Her large tote bag with her laptop and promotional items sat near the front door, waiting for her to load them into the car. She’d already put the box of her books in the trunk.

  Percy followed her into the living room and made an agile jump from the floor to the back of the sofa where he settled down to watch her, his green eyes intent on her every movement.

  Araminta surveyed the room and ticked off her mental checklist. The stove was off, the cat was taken care of, she had everything she needed and the back door was locked. She took a deep breath and slowly released it.

  She was really going to her first writer’s convention, and not just any convention, but the Luna Starquest Readers’ Weekend. It was a limited get-together, with around two hundred and fifty readers and several other guest authors. For some unknown reason, Luna Starquest had invited her to be one of them.

  And the convention was being held just down the road from her in Fargo. She really didn’t have to stay at the hotel. It was more than close enough for her to drive back and forth every day. But she hated driving on t
he highway at night and didn’t want to miss out on any events because she felt the need to get on the road early. Plus, her hotel room was being paid for, which was great because she couldn’t have afforded it otherwise.

  Contrary to what a lot of people believed, most writers didn’t make a whole lot of money. The lucky ones, like her, made a living. And it was only the fact she’d inherited her home from her grandmother that allowed her to write full-time.

  She took another deep breath to keep from hyperventilating. She’d admired Ms. Starquest’s books for years and had never imagined getting a personal invitation to the event. She had her new agent to thank for it.

  As if on cue, her phone rang. Araminta hurried over to the chair by the door and dug her phone out of her purse. The call display told her it was indeed her agent, Sam Black, calling to check on her. “Hi, Mr. Black.” For some unknown reason, she couldn’t bring herself to call him by his first name. He didn’t sound like a Sam. He sounded sophisticated and cultured and just a little bit scary.

  “Are you ready for your trip?”

  She tucked a long, stray hair behind her ear and nodded before she realized he couldn’t see her. Her excitement and trepidation were melting her brain cells. “I’m just getting ready to load the car now. I should be on the road within the next half hour.”

  “Good. I don’t need to tell you how important this weekend is.”

  No pressure, though. “Yes, I know.” And she couldn’t complain. Mr. Black had contacted her because he’d read one of her three earlier books, all of which had been critically well received but had only had a limited audience. It was Mr. Black who’d taken the first book of her new series—Demon’s Wrath—and sold the first two books to a major publisher. The first book, Tiger’s Curse, had hit the bestseller lists. Very low on the list, but it was there. The second book was launching soon and the publisher had high expectations for it. The least she could do was to get out there and promote them.