by Jeanne Allen
Jin lays a heavy hand on the back of my neck, rubbing in slow, soothing circles.
“When your mother was fifty, King Johan died, leaving the crown to Greta. She was very young for a Queen, but she wore it well. Like her father before her, she was kind and just, and the people loved her.”
I try to picture this woman, this mythical Queen who would birth me. I cannot.
“Sometime during her reign, things began to change between us. I cannot tell you how I began to see Greta as a woman above Queen and friend. It happened so gradually that by the time I recognized my feelings for what they were, it was too late. They had already taken root.”
Alexander’s face hollows, traces of remembered anguish threatening to halt his speech, but he persists. “I struggled for many years with what I thought were my own perverse feelings. Unbeknownst to me, Greta began to struggle with the same problem. I would learn later that she confided in her Kladí who, though supportive of anything that made their Agora happy, were not sure I would return her feelings. I had grown so good at hiding them that not even my closest friends could tell how I felt about their Agora.
“I tried to leave for other assignments but always found my way back to Greta. I was too selfish to deny myself her presence for long. Eventually, as is the way with such things, Jonathon took notice. I don’t know what it was, perhaps a lingering look or an overly familiar touch, but one day he confronted me about my feelings.”
Both of my Kladí stiffen. Even I can agree this doesn’t look good. I might not be a licensed anthropologist yet, but I know enough to predict male aggression in this type of situation.
To our surprise, Alexander releases my hands and leans back to give us a wry smile that looks altogether too devilish mixed with his angelic features. “I thought, as you do now, that he had come to kill me, as was his right as Greta’s Kladí. I was prepared to take my death quietly. I only asked that he make it look like an accident for Greta’s sake. To my complete befuddlement, he laughed. He told me that, even if he wanted to, he could not kill me. To kill me would be like killing the light that shines on our mutual love, our Queen. He grinned and informed me that if I didn’t tell Greta how I felt, then he really would kill me.”
“But you weren’t her Kladí, how could… how could she…”
“How could she love me like she loved Jonathon or Mhened? The answer is that she didn’t. Greta could never love me as she loved her Kladí. They knew that, and I knew that, just as we knew she could never take the place of my Anya. However, the heart is a curious thing. It grows and stretches to heal old wounds. To accommodate new roles: protector, brother, friend, and lover. I was all these things to Greta. We, Greta, Jonathon, Mhened, and I, became a family.”
My body grows warm at the truth of those words. I see it in Alexander’s honey eyes and the soft way he speaks them.
It reminds me of the way I feel about my Kladí, about the family I’ve made with them. Heat grows behind my eyes, but I blink it away forcefully. I need to hear the end; there’s more.
“Around twenty-five years ago, Greta finally shared with us a secret she had been burdened with. She was unable to conceive with Jonathon and Mhened, despite her repeated efforts.”
“Wh—”
Jin squeezes my neck, cutting off my question.
Alexander quickly explains, “She thought she was the problem. She’d been so burdened by it that she was prepared to pass the crown to her brother if she couldn’t conceive. I insisted both she and her Kladí visit a trusted healer friend before doing something so drastic. The result was bittersweet. Greta was fertile, but both Jonathon and Mhened were unable to father offspring, something unheard of for Phósopoi. We were all devastated. Children are a welcome and expected part of any Omás.”
“Not long after, on a day I will never forget, Jonathon and Mhened spoke to me privately. We agreed I would be the one to produce a child, which Jonathon would claim as his own. Greta had already been in favor of the plan, and a few years later, she became pregnant with you and your sister.”
“Why? Why couldn’t you claim me?”
To my surprise, it’s Jackson who answers, his face every bit the grave professor I see in class when we talk about serious subjects. “Though it is biologically possible to have children outside the Agora-Kladí relations, that doesn’t mean it’s accepted. Children born of ‘unfavorable’ unions are often pariahs in our society, even if they come from Royal bloodlines.”
Alexander nods, his expression grim. “You would have been cast out simply for the audacity of being born to the wrong male line. Our society is as beautiful as it is dangerous. Sometimes, it reminds me of a pit of vipers, each one colorful and silky to the touch, but one wrong move can lead to deadly consequences.”
Cold runs through my blood, chasing out the warmth I felt listening to the story of my parents. Not for the first time in the last year, I wonder if I can truly survive here among the Phósopoi.
“I knew this, but never felt it so clearly until the night I lost your mother. I was her love, as she was mine, but first and foremost, I was her Knight, and she was my Queen. I failed to protect her, and for that, I will always be truly regretful.”
I shake my head. “How did you find me?”
I want to know, but I also want to move away from subjects that threatened to pull us all under a cloud of sadness and regret.
My plan works, because Alexander pulls himself up and gives me a weak smile, continuing his tale. “After entrusting you to a friend, I went into hiding. When I was certain no one knew where you were or the identity of your true parentage, I began searching. It took me many, many years to find you. I didn’t get even a hint of your whereabouts until I saw your picture in some Phóspolis publications about a week ago and was struck by the resemblance to your mother. Then, a mutual friend mentioned you were in trouble, and I had to see if I could help, whether you were who I hoped you were or not.”
The logical part of me knows that this man did what he thought was best, but the part of me that’s a mess of bitter memory can’t even look him in the eyes. I’d been able to listen to Alexander’s tale as if he talked about another life, another daughter.
Now, it’s all I can do to stay still, to not run from the room. I lean back into the arms of my Assassin, too overwhelmed to do more than just allow the conversation to continue.
Thankfully, Jin takes over. “On that subject, what do you know of the people after Rose? So far, all we can gather is that they want her alive.”
The change that comes over Alexander would be remarkable if I wasn’t so scared to hear his answer.
He pulls his shoulders back, fixing my Kladí with a steely gaze, his voice holding more power and authority than it has since I met him. This is Alexander Sjoberg, the Warrior-Division Knight. “I do not know much, only that they call themselves The Sons of Zeus. They are a militant group that has gained power in the last century by aligning themselves with the Keńos. They believe the Phósopoi, as genetically superior, should enslave the humans.”
I cringe. Why does every society seem to produce these kinds of Elitist dinglenuts?
“I’ve heard of them,” Jin admits.
Jackson nods as well. Not exactly a secret, small group, then. Lovely.
“But, why Rose? Prince Nathanial seemed adamant he capture her alive,” Jin presses, leaning forward.
My Assassin seems unconcerned with the power rolling off of Alexander. Jackson also barely notices the steely eyes and clenched fists of the warrior in front of us. I do my best to follow their lead, though I have to admit that I pray I never find myself on the bad side of this guy, blood relative or not.
The warrior in question shakes his head. His shoulders droop, and the steel leaves his eyes, making them look empty. “I don’t know. I’ve exhausted many of my contacts, but nobody can even get close to their inner circle and survive. The most I’ve heard is that their leader wants Rose for something, but we don’t know what that i
s.”
“That’s helpful,” Jin bites out.
Jackson reaches past me to put a calming hand on his Bond-mate’s shoulder. Jin loses some of the tension that had been building since Alexander began talking about who was after me.
Alexander doesn’t even blink. He nods at Jackson before turning to face Jin. “I know it’s not much, but it’s all I have. All I know is that my daughter is in danger, and I plan to do all I can to keep her safe. I just found her, I can’t—” He stops himself, his honey-brown eyes flitting over to me for a second before he takes a deep breath and continues, “I can’t lose her again.”
Now it’s my turn to throw out the sarcasm. “Lose? You didn’t lose me; you threw me away.” I try to keep my voice steady, but at the last word, it cracks with all of my frustration and resentment.
It took a few minutes for this situation to settle in, but now I can sift through everything this man has said about my birth, my mother, and how I came to be alone in a hospital thousands of miles away from my kin.
This man could have saved me from everything, but he didn’t. He left me to rot amongst the wolves. For that, I can’t find it in myself to be as happy at our reunion as he is.
“Mina älskling. I tried to find you as soon as I knew that whoever murdered your mother presumed you dead as well. I went after the Kladí who was supposed to send you away, but she was gone. Vanished. I couldn’t find her no matter how hard I tried.”
I don’t know what to say to his excuses. Again, the logical part of me knows his story checks out, that he did what he thought best at the time. But the emotional part of me, the part that can’t help but think of all those years I begged whatever god would listen for someone to save me, to love me, that part of me simply can’t forgive and forget.
So, I say nothing and instead offer the slightest of nods to show I heard him.
Alexander sighs and sits back in his chair, turning his attention toward my Kladí.
For the rest of the hour that we stay with him, I keep my silence. I let my Kladí and my father plan and ruminate on what to do next, on how to find out more about the Sons of Zeus. When it’s time to go, I shake Alexander’s hand, but I don’t look him in the eye.
His hand grasps mine, warm and comforting in ways I don’t want to think about yet. “I’ll be here, älskling. When you’re ready.”
When we leave, I don’t look back, because he sure hadn’t all those years ago.
It takes me two days to come to terms with everything my father revealed. During that time, I retreat into silence. All of the black moments of my childhood, all of the crazy revelations thrown my way since meeting Jackson more than six months ago, come back to me. My head is so full of things I hadn’t dared to think about, to really consider.
I want to go back to being Rose, the socially inept twenty-something who manhandled her professor’s hand on their first meeting. Since then, I’d gained a few more titles: Agora, soulmate, and, most recently, Princess. But I still don’t feel like I’ve grown or changed since then. Now, I’m less capable of handling the mashed potatoes I’ve made of my life more than I’ve ever been.
After a few days, we move on. I know the guys are still in contact with Alexander, but for now, no one pushes me to talk to him.
Chapter 8
With a sigh, I stretch out on the seat I’d stolen from the twins. Poor things are squished on the other end of the bench seat. The SUV we ride in is big, but not that big. Graciously, I lift my legs, beckoning Lyle over. With a soft smile, he comes close, pushing my calves down over his lap where he promptly starts to massage the knots out that have formed there.
With another sigh, I lean back.
Ever since the meeting with Alexander, my mind has been one big blank. Not willing to take a deeper look at my feelings where my new heritage is concerned, I decided instead to think about nothing at all and simply revel in the feeling of my Omás around me.
Thankfully, they haven’t pushed me to do much more than eat and sleep, though I know my silence must be wearing on them.
Now that we’re near our destination of Atlanta, I can almost feel the anticipation among my Kladí. I think we could all use a good night’s rest and some decent food.
Jackson turns to look at me from his spot in the navigator’s seat. “You’re going to love Atlanta, Rose. It has everything, culture, class, and a bit of adventure.” His eyes are bright with eagerness at showing me his city.
After meeting with Alexander, Jackson let it drop he owns a secret apartment there. Apparently, he’s spent quite a bit of time in Atlanta when, in his words, he “needed to just be Jackson.” I hadn’t thought the prince title weighed so heavily on Professor Evans, but I guess everyone needs an escape.
“I think I’ll like anywhere as long as it has a bed,” I grumble.
Lucas snickers. “Poor Sweet Pea. Is spending a few hours cramped up with your attractive boyfriends too much for you? I can arrange for some alone time, if you’d like.”
I look at him hopefully.
His eyes do that Goblin glittering thing again. “As long as it’s with me.”
And there it is. I scoff at him. “If I want alone time with any of you, it will be with Forrest. He was injured protecting me.”
Forrest turns around in the bucket seat he claimed. “Anytime, sweetheart.”
The slow sexy grin I’d come to expect from my cuddly giant hits me in all of the right places. I spent the last eight hours shut off from all of the emotions I didn’t want to deal with, including my growing lust. After that first week, the effects of my upcoming Awakening hadn’t really shown themselves other than a few lingering looks, but in the last few days, they’ve been silently attacking with more ferocity. Learning about my father dampened the effect, but now that I’m sane enough to come back to the land of the living, they hit me so hard I sit up in surprise.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lucas grow pale. He huddles away from his brother and hastily grabs his backpack off the floor.
I have just enough time to feel sorry for him before I notice how attractive the red polo he wears looks on his smooth arms and sculpted chest. The color pops against the dark umber of his skin tone, which looks soft as velvet.
Leaning over Lyle, I reach out to touch it, trailing my fingers over the exposed skin under his t-shirt.
“Sweet Pea. Not a good idea right now,” he grunts, sounding pained.
I don’t like that. I want to make it better. A weird rumbling comes from somewhere behind me, startling me enough to snap me out of my lust-haze. The sound stops immediately, which is when I realize the weird rumbling came from me.
“What…” I can’t even ask the question.
I turn to the rest of the guys, praying they hadn’t witnessed what just happened. No such luck. Five pairs of eyes stare at me, one pair flickering between me and the road ahead from the rearview mirror.
Sebastian, who was sleeping, had woken up sometime during my perusal of Lucas. He now eyes me like he’s considering taking me back to his lair and having his way with me. At least that’s what I hope that look is, because it’s doing weird things to my nether regions.
Sebastian is such a conundrum. He’s at once sweet and angelic, but then a switch flips and he’s this possessive caveman. It’s as sexy as it is frustrating. But even as a caveman, he looks angelic. Soft, golden wisps of hair frame his face and swing out as he tilts his head to consider me.
No one says a word, so my mind wanders.
Does Sebastian smell as sweet as he looks? Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t usually smell people or remember their scents. But in this case, before I can chicken out, I lean forward to sniff his neck. He smells like the ocean.
He never smelled like this before. What’s happening to me?
Sebastian lets out the same weird rumble I made a moment before. It sounds vaguely familiar.
I look up at Jackson. It’s the sound he made when we first met.
He gives me a barely
perceptible nod. His emotions are closed off, the court mask firmly in place, so I don’t know what to think about what’s happening. Then, he turns his attention back on the road, the whites of his knuckles the only indication of his agitation.
Jin is also closed off, but the pure black of his eyes and the way they slowly make their way around the outside of my face, avoiding my own irises, tells me he’s not as immune as he pretends to be.
Finally, someone speaks. “We need to get her somewhere. It’s happening,” Forrest says, his voice low and gravely.
“You think I don’t know that? I’m looking for somewhere now. Just… try to keep her from doing it again until we get there. I don’t think I can…”
Forrest cuts Jackson off with a sharp nod. He gives Sebastian a glare.
“Okay, baby girl, I’m going to need you to think of happy things. Don’t think of us. Think of something simple. Like… puppies. My sisters love puppies,” Sebastian coos.
I smirk. I can’t imagine the warrior queens of the Taylor clan with a bunch of puppies, but the thought does help to cool whatever has started to heat my blood. I close my eyes and lean back, turning my body so my legs touch the floor and not Lyle’s lap, which had begun to show evidence of his regard.
Ten minutes, which feel more like ten years, later, we pull into a motel. It’s one of those roadside ones but looks clean enough.
Stumbling from the car, we all follow Jackson toward the room he paid for.
Inside are two queen beds with an end table between them, a window on the other end of the room, and another door that most likely leads to the bathroom.
Lucas heads there first, slamming the door behind him in his haste.
I turn to the rest of my men, raising an eyebrow. I’m not panting for them at the moment, but I feel it growing.
“You won’t become a sex fiend,” I mutter, sarcasm and accusation flavoring my poor imitation of Jackson’s voice.
He smirks. “Sorry. We didn’t want to worry you. We know you aren’t… ready for this yet.” His forest-green eyes turn serious as he motions toward the bed.