Her scarlet eyes glittered as she lifted them to meet his again, a flicker of pleasure that revealed how twisted she had become. She had probably been filled with glee when he had lost the gate, had probably been keeping track of the situation and urging him to fail.
Because she wanted to hurt him.
She wanted power over him.
He shifted on his knees to get more comfortable.
She moved around him, graceful slow steps that had him wanting to yell at her to get on with it. Her fingers skimmed across his shoulders, sending a chill down his back, and paused on his spine. He jerked backwards when she tore the black T-shirt from him.
Shuddered as she stroked his back and murmured. “It is almost a shame to ruin this.”
She was talking about his favour mark, a gift from the primordial goddess Gaia when he had been born.
“It will heal,” he grunted.
Except for one scar. Nemesis would ensure one remained to remind him of his failure.
When she touched him again, it was with cold metal, and he closed his eyes and bent his head, twisted the leather straps in his wrists and held on to them, steeling himself for her first strike.
She stepped back.
A whirr sliced through the thick silence.
And then his back.
Lightning streaked up it where the metal whip had struck, and he gritted his teeth and muttered his first apology.
She was quick to strike again, not giving him a chance to finish before another wave of fire ripped through him.
Marek focused on the ring before him, on his hands where he gripped the leather, on what he needed to do when he escaped this torment. He muttered an apology whenever the whip lashed at him, counting each one, keeping track of them because Ares had warned him Nemesis had started to sneak in extra.
The pain was bearable during the first five hundred lashes, while Caterina filled his mind and he could think straight, focusing on his mission.
But as they neared one thousand, his thoughts began to blur. The anticipation as the whip whistled and cut through the air, the agony as it slashed his back, and the fierce sting as sweat seeped into the cut all had his focus slipping.
Caterina slipped away with it.
He muttered another apology, unsure how many it was now as the pain made it impossible to keep track. His head swam with it and it took him several more lashes of the razor-sharp whip to realise the goddess was speaking to him.
Her words wobbled in his ears, distorted at first, until he pieced them together.
“The daemons destroyed your amulet.”
He swallowed and nodded.
“They revealed they are not the keys.”
He frowned but nodded again, admitting that he had failed in his duty and revealed that to the daemons. His thoughts blurred together as the whip cut up his back, catching him in his ribs this time. He wavered, his grip slackening before he roused himself. He couldn’t pass out.
“It was your duty to keep it hidden that you and your brothers are the Keys of Hades.”
Another nod.
He sagged forwards as she struck again, the force of it blinding him, and grunted this time, unable to hold it back as pain ricocheted through his aching body.
“You are far more amiable than your brother Ares.” She struck him again, making her words distort in his ears. “And far less difficult than Keras.”
Another strike.
He sucked down a breath and issued an apology, the words slurred as they left his lips.
It seemed enough for her.
She struck him again, and he slurred another one.
“Getting a reaction from Keras often proves difficult. He does not respond to physical pain.”
Another lash, another grunt ripped from his lips, this one accompanied by a wave of nausea that rolled up on him so swiftly he was sure he was going to vomit.
When the wave receded, Marek made sense of her words and uttered another apology.
Keras didn’t respond to physical pain? What sort of punishment did she give him then?
What pain did she deliver?
The whip whistled through the air and he arched forwards as it lashed him, cutting over his right shoulder and down to his left hip, shattering his ability to think. He apologised on auto-pilot and waited for the next blow.
It didn’t come.
“We are done.” Nemesis rounded him, her scarlet eyes glowing with satisfaction, pleasure he had given her with his pain.
He gritted his teeth, clenching them so hard they creaked under the pressure, and tried to pull his wrists apart to break his bonds.
His arms shook, every muscle on his body tensing and flexing, trembling as he tried harder.
They didn’t give.
Nemesis crouched before him, no trace of sympathy in her eyes. “You seem weaker than usual.”
Weaker than usual?
That barb cut deeper than the two thousand lashes she had delivered and he growled as darkness surged through him.
The ground trembled beneath him as he clenched his fists and pulled his wrists apart. The worn leather gave this time, one strap ripping open, and he twisted his arm free and tore at the other strap, pulling it off his other arm.
He staggered to his feet and glared at the goddess. “Do not question my strength again.”
She rose to her feet and a hint of a smile tugged at her lips, the satisfaction that glowed in her crimson eyes deepening. She was pleased she had angered him, provoking a reaction. If she hoped it would get him back at her mercy for another thousand lashes, she was mistaken. His penitence was done.
He could say whatever he liked to her at this point and there was nothing she could do about it.
But he had nothing to say to her.
He mustered his strength and stepped, teleporting back to the Tokyo mansion.
Rather than landing inside the main living space, he landed in the courtyard nestled between the three sides of the building, close to the broad stone steps that led up onto the covered wooden deck that ran around it.
Esher growled the moment his blue eyes landed on him.
“I’m fine.” Marek wasn’t, but he needed to keep his brother from slipping into the darkness.
Ares stood just beyond Esher, his brown eyes awash with concern that only increased as Megan bustled past him, her deep scarlet T-shirt and blue jeans a contrast to his all-black clothing.
Her chocolate eyes widened as they landed on Marek and her dark ponytail bounced as she hurried towards him.
Marek held his hand up to stop her.
She scowled at him in a way that said that wasn’t going to happen. “I know all about penitence and I’m damned if I’m going to let you go out like this. It’s barbaric.”
“It’s the rules,” he countered.
Beyond her, Ares rolled his eyes in a way that warned he wasn’t going to get his way. None of them were.
“Sweetheart,” Ares started but she turned her glare on him, and he sighed deeply. His voice dropped low as he reached for her, worry creasing his brow. “Healing us weakens you.”
“The babe?” Esher looked from Ares to Megan, and his eyes darkened, black edging out the blue. “You cannot. The babe…”
The determination in Megan’s eyes wavered and she crossed the short span of wooden deck to Esher, looked as if she wanted to touch his arm and glanced at Ares. Ares frowned at her hand, sparks of red and gold flickering in his eyes.
She settled for smiling at Esher instead of touching him. A wise move. Ares was feeling protective enough without her provoking his darker side, the one that was liable to make him attack Esher if she laid a finger on him.
“The baby will be fine,” she said to Esher and then looked at Ares and Marek. “It will be fine. I’ll only heal the deeper wounds. You can’t let Marek go after Caterina like this.”
A war erupted in Esher’s eyes. Not what Marek needed. His brother felt deeply protective of his family, and now Megan was ask
ing him to choose between endangering the baby by allowing her to heal Marek, or endangering Marek by allowing him to go into what was bound to be a battle while he was injured and weakened.
“I’m making a decision here, and no one is going to change my mind. I know the rules. I’ll only heal the deepest wounds. If I feel anything is wrong, I’ll stop.” She planted her hands on her hips and stared each of them down in turn. “But I am doing this.”
Ares looked as if he wanted to argue.
Or possibly teleport her away so she couldn’t go through with her plan.
“Won’t you rest a while?” Ares said, hope building in his eyes.
Marek destroyed it by shaking his head. He didn’t want Megan risking herself by healing him either, and resting would heal the worst of his wounds, but only if he slept for a few hours.
“I’ve lost too much time already.” Marek looked from Ares to Megan. “I don’t need to be healed. I’ll be fine.”
Esher looked as if he wanted to argue and force him to either rest or allow Megan to heal him. He stopped his brother with a well-aimed glare and stepped onto the deck. He banked right, following the path towards the wing of the building where the showers were.
“Oh, you overbearing—” Megan’s voice came from behind him.
Ares rumbled, “I’m not letting you see my brother naked. You want to heal him, you wait here.”
Marek took a left when he reached the first bedroom and followed the wall around it to the bathhouse. He stripped off, set the shower running and stepped under the spray, flinching as the warming water hit the lacerations on his back and sides.
He stared down at his bare feet, watching the crimson water swirling around them into the drain. The moment it ran clear, he switched the water off, dried himself as best he could without disturbing the healing wounds, and pulled his clothes back on.
He stormed back through the main living area of the house, passing the kitchen and the long low dining table, his gaze fixed on the corridor to the left of the TV area. He just needed to grab a T-shirt and then he and Esher could go.
Megan and Aiko stepped into his path, a formidable wall despite the difference in height and build between him and them. The hard edge to their matching dark eyes said he wasn’t going to get past them, not without using what little energy he had to teleport.
He looked at Ares and Esher, silently asking his brothers to weigh in. Ares just shrugged. Clearly, whatever war he had waged while Marek had been in the shower, Megan had been the victor.
“Make it quick.” Marek turned his back to the two women. “Only the deepest cuts.”
“And you stop if you feel tired.” Ares stomped past him, heading for Megan.
She huffed. “I already said I would. Stop coddling me.”
Ares grumbled, “Never going to happen. Get used to it.”
She sighed and her voice softened. “I know. I know. Just, lend me some strength.”
“You got it, baby.”
Marek could picture his brother behind Megan, kneading her shoulders in that way he always did when she was healing one of them, monitoring her vitals and offering encouragement, support that she seemed to relish.
They made a good team.
Marek’s thoughts turned to Caterina. They made a good team too. The way they had fought against the vampires together had been incredible, working as a unit to swiftly deal with them. It wasn’t only fighting beside her that felt right, though. All of it did. She was the perfect partner for him, one who enjoyed tracking and surveillance, fighting and working to protect something. To save something.
Like he should be working to save her right now.
He needed her back in his life, safe in his arms.
“Are you done?” He was sure Megan had only managed to heal a few of his wounds in the time he had been lost in his thoughts, and Aiko had cleaned some of the others in preparation, but he needed to get going.
He couldn’t stand idle any longer.
“Let me just do this one.” Megan sounded tired already.
Guilt lanced him and he turned away from her, breaking contact before she could funnel her power into him.
She looked pale.
But fire shone in her eyes as she frowned at him.
“No more.” He put it out there before she could protest and lifted his eyes to Ares where he towered behind her, silently asking him to stop her if she tried.
Because he didn’t want her to endanger herself or the baby on his account.
Ares nodded and palmed her shoulders through her red T-shirt. “Let him go. You did good, sweetheart.”
She huffed. “I could do more, but I’m starting to get the impression you’re not the only overbearing man I have to put up with for the next few months.”
“I’m not the only overbearing man you’ll be putting up with for the next few decades.” Ares grinned and wrapped his arms around her. “You think I’m bad now. Wait until you deliver this baby. Father is going to lock you and the kid in a padded room under around a thousand layers of wards.”
She pulled a face. “That is so not happening. No one is going to dictate what I do. Not even Hades.”
The ground beneath them trembled.
Everyone looked at Marek.
He shook his head. “Not me. Mother was a little upset when she realised you were pregnant. Father wants to see you and Megan.”
“When the hell did you see them and how long have I not known this?” Ares waved him away, closed his eyes and sighed as he shook his head. “Gods, I’m going to be in a world of trouble. You know he’ll think I’ve been ignoring his summons.”
“Things were a bit crazy.” Marek rubbed his forehead. “I forgot, all right?”
“Go.” Keras nodded towards him. “We can handle things here.”
Ares sighed again, gathered Megan into his arms and looked down into her eyes. “Maybe he can wait a little longer.”
He was stalling. Marek could understand why. Megan was tired from healing him and the teleport to the Underworld would drain her further. Not only that, but Ares probably didn’t want to be the one to explain what had happened to the twin gate, not when Megan meeting their parents and officially announcing her pregnancy should be a happy occasion.
“Go after I’ve had time to explain what happened.” Marek stepped up to his brother and laid a hand on his shoulder, not looking forward to the prospect of using a Messenger to tell his father about what had happened to the gate, or the inevitable summons that would follow. “We could use Megan here for now, just in case.”
There was no just in case about it.
It was going to come down to a fight.
And he was going to win it.
Chapter 33
Marek tried to ignore the dark things Esher grumbled under his breath as they came out of the teleport on the hill above the twin gate. He was losing patience too. So far, they had visited the house where Marek had been held again, had been to Caterina’s apartment in Barcelona, and had tried several other locations.
They hadn’t found even a trace of the wraith.
And the night was wearing on.
It had been just before sunset when they had started their search. Now it was after midnight. In only a few more hours, it would be daylight and his chances of finding the wraith would be reduced to zero. The daemon would go into hiding until night fell again.
Esher had noticed his unease and had announced he was sure he would be able to sense him even if he had moved on recently, so they had agreed to return to the twin gate to see if that was true.
It had been twenty-four hours since they had been here. If Esher could feel the wraith’s presence still, there was a chance they could somehow decipher where he had gone.
Could they track him? The bastard’s portal didn’t leave any trace of him behind, but it had been Caterina who had teleported him and the illusionist away from the battle.
Maybe it had left a trail they could follow.
He approac
hed the brow of the hill and his senses sparked, his internal radar warning him that they weren’t alone.
Marek eased forwards, not wanting to alert whoever was below them to their presence.
Esher walked right to the edge of the bushes and glared down into the dusty valley below.
There went the element of surprise.
But then Esher didn’t need to be subtle when he could command blood to do his bidding. It took a powerful being to resist Esher’s control over water. Whoever was in the valley below wasn’t strong enough to do that. If Esher wanted them dead, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
Marek came up beside him.
Frowned at the lone figure clad in tight black trousers, polished leather riding boots, and a short black tunic that hugged his lean frame.
“What’s a Messenger doing here?” Esher said, loud enough the male heard.
His shoulders stiffened as his head whipped towards them, his mismatched eyes widening before they narrowed and he cautiously eased back a step. Everything in Marek said the male was going to run.
He stepped before it could happen, landing right behind him.
The male pivoted to face him and stumbled back a step.
“Did Father send you?” Marek looked him over, avoiding his green and blue eyes. He was dressed like a Messenger in Marek’s family’s service, the silver detailing on the cuffs and around the fastenings of his tunic unique to Hades’s team of them.
He hadn’t sent word about the gate to his father yet, but Hades was linked to them, was probably already aware of what had happened. He stared at the male, hoping he was wrong and he wasn’t about to be delivered a demand from his father to return to the Underworld to explain himself, because he didn’t need another delay.
He needed to find Caterina.
The male shook his head.
Backed off a step only to go rigid when he bumped into Esher.
Esher canted his head, curiosity shimmering in his dark blue gaze as he studied the back of the male’s head.
“Not sent by our father but wearing the finery of our family.” Esher stepped around him, each slow one seeming to ratchet up the Messenger’s tension.
The more Marek looked at him, the more familiar he felt, which was ridiculous. All of the creepy bastards looked like each other. Of course he would appear familiar.
Marek: Guardians of Hades Series Book 4 Page 34