by JoAnna Grace
Thanks to Rhea, she felt the joy of life in her veins. Thanks to Dante, she felt the blush of affection on her cheeks.
No plans, she realized as she stood outside his door and lifted her hand to knock. She didn’t know what she was going to say or do. All she knew was that her body and soul were driven to his side, even if it meant she’d never join the Pythia. If her vision was any indication, she would find a much greater devotion.
Three taps on his door. Two muffled voices. One, the masculine sound she knew so well. “Get off me.”
The other, a high-pitched feminine giggle. “Do you want me to put my clothes on?”
Oh dear gods. Her heart stopped beating and the air was sucked from her lungs.
Dante opened the door, pulling on his button-up shirt, his toned chest bearing red lipstick smudges. The fly of his jeans was undone and he hurried to button it. “Lysa. What are you doing out here?” He stuck his head out of the door and looked both ways down the hall.
“Making a terrible miscalculation.” Lysa gathered her robe around her and turned to leave. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“Stop. Please wait.” Dante grabbed her arm and she jerked away. “You don’t understand.”
Her heart shattered in her chest when she saw the brunette woman come into the hall, her clothing messed up, lipstick smeared, and hair in disarray. “It costs extra if she’s joining us.”
“A prostitute?” Lysa bit out and glared at Dante, whose eyes were as round as dinner plates. “I…I can’t.”
As fast as her legs would take her, she ran back the way she came. Behind, she heard rushed conversation and heavy footfalls as Dante charged down the hall after her, but she didn’t stop or slow. Instead of going back to the safety of Dynasty’s suite, she ran down stairs and into a utility closet, where a secret door took her into the tunnel. Thankfully, Dynasty had shown her the various hidden passages around the castle. Right at that moment, Lysa didn’t want to face the queen, or anyone else, for that matter.
She needed to escape. She needed fresh air and space to deal with all the pain that invaded her heart like a disease. The cancer ate at her very soul.
“Lysa,” Dante called from far behind her, just now entering the tunnel, his voice echoing off the rock walls.
Tears blurred her vision as she punched in the numbers on the keypad to the exterior door and pushed it open with all her strength. As quickly as she could, she closed the door and hit the emergency lock button. If he wanted out, he would have to go all the way back to the palace and out the traditional way. It would take him a while to get up the mountain.
She could barely hear Dante’s loud cursing from behind the door.
When she thought her legs might collapse, she urged them to run. There was only the moonlight guiding her through the dark night, but she ran in the frigid air until her lungs burned and her muscles ached. Finally, her body couldn’t carry her another step forward. She slumped against a tree and slid to the ground.
Sobs racked her frame, tearing emotions from her heart that she didn’t know she possessed. Over and over, she pounded her fists into the ground, wishing it was Dante she was hitting. The image of him—bare chest painted with the kisses of another woman, his pants undone, ready for intimacy—burned in her brain. Dear gods, he was perfection and she hated her attraction when she should be concentrating on how he had betrayed her.
How could he do that? After the tender moment they’d shared not so long ago, the way he’d looked at her with hunger in his eyes, he’d turned to another woman to sate his desire. What of her vision? Was she mistaken? Was it the other woman who Dante had made love to? He’d said her name, she was sure of it. Maybe it was all a mix up? Most of her visions were from an omniscient point of view, never in first person where she was a part of the scene. What if her vision of passion and love had been from the eyes of another woman? Did this mean they were not meant to be together after all?
Lysandra sobbed so hard she never heard him approach until Dante knelt down and pulled her into his arms.
“Please, dearest gods, please let me explain. Lysa, I’m begging. I’m sorry. I know how that looked and you must hear me out. Please.”
He crushed her to his warm body, gripped her hair, and held her to his chest. His breath was heavy, panting with desperation. Under her ear, his heart boomed like a bass drum.
No matter how good it felt to be in his arms, she pushed him away; the image of the mussed-up brunette was as good as cold water in her face. A prostitute. He’d replaced her with a whore. She hit at his chest like she wanted to.
“Let me go. Leave me. I never want to see you again.” She fell backwards against the tree. “I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my existence miserable and alone in Delphi. I don’t want be anywhere near you. Go back to your paid woman.”
“Lysa, please. Yankee sent that woman to my room. He’s a prick and—”
“And he is obviously rubbing off on you,” she screamed, swiping at her flowing tears.
“No, I swear, I was not going to be with her. She barged into my room and started undressing me, talking crazy because Yankee sent her there. She’d only been there a moment before you knocked. Please believe me.” Dante reached for her and they both noticed the blood dripping from his hand.
“What have you done?” Compassion for him battled with her anger.
“Sorry.” He tore a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around his bleeding fist. “I had to get to you and I wasn’t going to let a damned keypad stop me. Lady Dynasty is going to be upset, but I couldn’t go back.” Dante met her eyes.
Her breath caught when she saw his tears.
They stared at each other for a moment before he looked away. “I never should have gotten involved with you.”
What? He’d chased her out into the cold, beaten down an armored door, and all he could say was that? “Am I such a disappointment? That you can’t look at me or kiss me or admit that you care? Is it because I’m a virgin? Is it because I’m over a thousand years old, but none the wiser than a child in this era?”
His head popped up. “Dear gods, is that what you think?”
Lysa huddled into her cloak, the cold of the night seeping into her limbs. “I know you must think I’m a failure in my duties to the temple. I’m not what you are accustomed to. I’ve never been with a man. I’ve never been kissed or touched intimately. There is so much about this time period that I am ignorant of. I couldn’t even figure out the shower.” She sobbed again, wishing she could disappear. “It was foolish for me to believe an honorable warrior such as you could ever lower himself to care for a woman like me.”
Dante’s shoulders slumped and his head fell to the side. “You have no idea how I see you.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “You’re freezing. Come back to the palace, where it’s warm and we can talk.”
Lysa shook her head and dropped her hand from his. “If you have something to say, do it now. I can’t wait any longer. If there is no hope between us, then let’s get it out now so I can be rid with this insane need of you.”
Dante sighed and his brows dipped, taking his time to answer. “I don’t want to screw up your chances of ascending to the Pythia. I don’t want to ruin your innocence, to scour your purity. You’re worth more. But every time I look at you, I want to take you into my arms, into my bed, and love you until even the gods know you belong to me. I want to possess you so fully your every thought is of me, and have you know that I feel the same about you. I have no right, but when I thought Yankee was going to kiss you…” His jaw clenched up and his aura flared with red anger. “I wanted to beat him to a pulp for touching you.”
“You weren’t angry with me?”
“Never. You are my beautiful flower.” Dante cupped her cheeks. “I want the right to kiss you, Lysa. I want to be the first man who makes you feel desire. I want to consume you until all you see or feel or taste is my body. More than that, I want to be the man who wakes you with roses every day
and showers our children with love and affection.”
If she thought she’d been nervous earlier, she damn sure was now. The butterflies were back with a vengeance and Dante was so close, their breaths mingled.
“Do it,” she whispered, desperate for the life he’d described. Could there be a greater fantasy? Married to the man she loved, giving him children, and being loved so fully for the rest of her life sounded like Heaven.
“What about the gods? What about the Pythia?”
“I’ll never be one of the Pythia. Why do you think Rhea sent me here? I’m not suited for temple life, even after all these decades, and she knows it. If I have my choice, I’d rather spend one night with you than a thousand lifetimes there.”
Gathering her courage, she inched up on her toes and closed the distance between their lips. The silk of his mouth pressed against hers, hesitant at first. Her eyes drifted closed and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Dante pulled her closer and weaved his hands in her hair, tilting her head. He nipped at her lips until he chased away the chill of the night.
She couldn’t get close enough to him. No matter how much she leaned in, it wasn’t enough. Dante held her tight, one hand splayed across her back. He licked across the seam of her lips and, on instinct, she opened her mouth. When he plunged his tongue inside her, they both moaned.
Having never been kissed, much less kissed like this, Lysandra took her cues from Dante. She mirrored his movements, learned the things that made him moan, and did them over and over again.
“You’re a quick study,” he panted against the wetness on her mouth.
“You’re a magnificent teacher.”
His kiss-swollen lips kicked up to one side. “I’m not nearly as experienced as you might think.”
“Teach me what you know and we can learn the rest together.” Lysa smiled.
“Oh, Lysa, how I long to do just that.” He smiled so brightly it lit the night. There was nothing so beautiful in all the land of Delphi. “First, I have to get you warm.”
“You are doing a fine job at the moment.” Unable to get enough of his taste, she kissed him again, gripping his shoulders for dear life. She’d already discovered that there was a direct link from her lips to her most feminine places. The more she kissed him, the hotter she became between her legs.
“Let’s head back to the palace. We can go to my room and learn.”
“You must let me tend to your fist; it’s bleeding right through the wrap.” Sure enough, small droplets of blood hit the leaves of the forest floor. “Will your visitor be gone?” She arched her brow as she kissed the back of his hand, ashamed that his injury was her fault.
“Gods, I hope so. Otherwise, I’m going to rip off Yankee’s testicles. I swear he’s trying to get rid of—” He sniffed the air, his brows furrowing deep. “Do you smell something?” He shifted into warrior mode, his eyes hard and cold, his jaw set.
Lysandra lifted her nose to the night breeze. Sulfur and smoke, acidic and revolting. “Is something on fire?” she whispered.
“That’s not simply a fire.” He took her hand and tucked her close to his side. “Stay near me. Walk quietly.”
She obeyed, scared to make a sound. They snuck through the forest towards the smell. Through the trees, they could see the faint glow of a fire. Not a campfire, but a ring of fire. Standing in the middle was a—
“Holy Zeus!”
Dante spun her around and clamped a hand over her mouth when she was about to scream. “Shh.”
She nodded against his palm. They crouched behind the nearest tree.
A demon! Dearest mother-goddess, there was a demon in the Haven. Its ghastly form danced about the fire, the flames and smoke blurring the image. What she could see of the beast was far more than she could handle. Red skin, cracked and crinkled, as if it had been burned a thousand times over and reformed over the scabs. Black talons stretched out like daggers. Its head was of a beast she’d never seen, nothing she could name. It had three pointed horns atop its head, the extended jaws with rows of teeth and dripping toxic drool. The black caverns where eyes should’ve been haunted her the most. If she stared hard enough, she could see the souls of others, screaming out in eternal agony.
How did it get there? They were banned to Hades. How could a demon have possibly crossed the barrier to the world of the living? Especially one as fully formed and solid as this one. This was not its first visit.
“Who is that with it?” she whispered when she saw the figure of a man cross in front of the fire. She could only make out a silhouette.
“I can’t see his face.”
They stayed close to the ground cover and strained to hear.
“I’ve given you enough,” snapped the demon, a serpentine-like tongue flickering out of his mouth.
“I need more. There’s something going on here and I have to find out what it is.” The crackling of the flames muffled the man’s voice, but Dante’s body went rigid.
She got close to his ear and whispered, “Do you know that voice?”
Dante stared her in the eyes. His face turned glacial. The line of his clenched jaw was sharper than usual. A shiver went down her spine. He nodded once.
“Get back to the castle, Lysandra. Warn the others.”
“What about you? You are unarmed, Dante. Don’t be foolish! You cannot fight a demon with your bare hands. It will kill you.” Her heart drew up in her chest at the very thought.
Dante pulled a wicked knife out of his boot. “I’m always armed.”
“What can you do to a demon with a knife?”
“I have to try.”
“You have to live,” she pleaded, grabbing his collar. “Think. Don’t be rash. Come back with me. You know who that is; we can gather soldiers and apprehend them.”
“I am thinking,” he said, grabbing her hands and prying them off. “I have to distract them so you can get down the mountain safely. Leave, Lysandra. I’ll not risk your life. Run, while their focus is on me. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”
Tears once again streamed down her face. Dante was willing to sacrifice himself so she might live and that meant everything to her. But she couldn’t lose him, not now. How could she live when he held a piece of her heart?
“I love you,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me leave. I love you.”
He gasped at her confession and sat in silence for a heartbeat before he pulled her lips to his. She thought he’d given her passion before, but this kiss was unbridled and raw. It was the kiss of a man saying goodbye.
“Because I love you with every breath, I will not let you die.” He pushed her away. “Run.”
***
IT KILLED HIM to watch Lysandra slink off down the mountain. But Dante had to give her credit—she was quiet as a mouse. Neither of his adversaries noticed her run for safety. He took a deep breath.
Damn it. What the hell was he going to do against a demon? And Ashton. Ryse was going to blow a gasket when he found out that bastard was in league with demons. Was the whole Avondale clan evil? Was Lady Dynasty truly safe with Filene in the palace?
Dear gods, was his father aware of Ashton’s affiliation? The thought knocked the air out of him better than a kick to the gut. Ramifications of this spread far and wide. If Xavier was in bed with demons, what would that mean for his family? His poor mother; what would she do?
Ashton and the demon kept talking; negotiating, if he had to judge by the back and forth. He crept up closer, staying low to the ground. They were so involved with their debate, they never noticed him inching closer until he could hear them clearly.
“You do not dessserve more of my blood,” the demon hissed, drawing out the s like a snake.
“Bloody fucking hell I don’t. It’s only because of me that Salina hasn’t spilled her guts about everything. Do you think she would have kept your secret all this time if not for my power over her? Hades would end you if she’d confessed the truth.”
“When her sssoul gets to
Hadesss, we ssshall sssee what sssecrets were kept. It isss only a matter of time before Hadesss intervenes...”
“Then give me your blood so I can work quickly. If I take down the Castilles, the others will domino with them. Now is the time to strike at them. The Thracians are stretched thin, and they are so focused on the rogues abducting women, they have no idea what’s going on behind the scenes. But I need more blood to keep our tracks covered.” Ashton held up a sparkling vial.
Dante tried to recollect from his studies what material would be strong enough to contain demon blood. He came up blank. Then again, this had to be the first demon to make his way into a Haven. The only other recent demon problem they had was at Avery’s home in Texas, part of the human world.
If he made it out of this alive, he had to warn Ryse that the rogues were the least of their problems. Traitorous Olympians hunting women for sport was a terrible crime against their people, but demons invading and taking over—that meant the end of their world and exposure to humans.
“Thisss isss the lassst you ssshall be given. You weaken me. I’m not ssstrong enough to fully crosss over yet.”
Ashton took out a knife and the demon extended his claw. Right before he sliced the red scales of his palm, the demon pulled back. His head thrashed about in the air. He lifted his snout to the air and inhaled. “I sssmell the blood of a Thracccian.”
Shit. Dante looked down at his knuckles. They had bled through and blood dripped to the ground. There was no hiding his presence now.
A wailing cry broke through the air. Dante looked up to see Ashton slashing the claw of the demon, collecting a vial of his black, oily blood.
“You’ll pay for that,” the demon threatened.
“I doubt it. You need me. Now go.” Ashton broke the solid line of fire by kicking dirt into the ring, breaking the seal that held the demon. With a hiss, he vanished.
Maybe Dante couldn't use a simple knife to kill a demon, but he sure as hell could use it to kill Ashton. He stepped out from behind the tree trunk and into Ashton’s line of sight.