by JoAnna Grace
“Why, Dante, you’re exactly who I wanted to see.”
“Save your pretty words, Ashton,” Dante growled. “I know the truth now.” He readied himself for a fight.
“You know nothing.” Ashton shrugged, a smug sneer on his face.
“You’re the one behind all the attacks on the women. You’re using the demons as cover.”
Blond eyebrows rose on Ashton’s face. “Well, aren’t you a sharp little student. I’ll have to tell your father you’re not as stupid as he thinks you are.”
Dante let the comments roll right off him. Ashton thought to strike at his weakness, but the need for his father’s approval was long gone.
“What do you plan to do, Dante? Turn me in? Arrest me and take me to your band of Elites?”
“Exactly. You don’t have to be living, though.”
Ashton laughed. “Your threats don’t scare me, boy. Do you know what this is?” He held up the vial. Black demon blood overflowed the tube and dripped over his hands. “Most people think it’s toxic, poison to Olympians.” He stuck one bloody finger into his mouth. “In large quantities, it is, which is why you need a diamond container to store it. But when you ingest a tiny bit of it…”Ashton’s eyes changed from blue to black. “It actually gives you amazing strength and power.” He licked at another bloody finger. “It enhances the body and, with a gift like mine, why, it’s like adding accelerant to the fire.”
“We’ll see about that.” Dante charged at him, ready to kill this bastard before he could infect others. He jumped, raised his fist, and came down on top of Ashton.
He hit the ground.
Ashton moved—fast. Too fast. Could he be right? Could the demon blood really enhance an Olympian? He spun around to face his opponent.
“Easy there, brute.” Ashton said and laughed. “You wouldn’t want to stumble.” Ashton flicked out his wrist and Dante’s body crumpled to the ground.
His muscles cramped up, his limbs bunched up and refused to straighten. Pain shot through his head.
“You and I both have secrets, don’t we, boy? Not many people know that I can control the brain. They labeled me a Paean when I was young.” He sauntered up to Dante, who lay helpless, writhing in agony on the ground. “The thing is, Paeans train to heal people. I trained to manipulate people. The brain is an amazing thing. Every nerve, every muscle, every organ—all dependent on it.”
Dante tried to speak, but his voice came out as a groan, his jaw locked shut.
“I’m sorry. Does it hurt?” Ashton’s black eyes shone. He enjoyed Dante’s misery. “Here. Better?”
Instantly, his limbs relaxed and he gasped at the relief. If he could only reach Ashton, he could neutralize his powers. It took all his strength to roll over onto his hands and knees.
“No, no, no. No touching.” Ashton shuffled backwards. “You’re a sneaky one. It’s a shame that Xavier turned his back on you so early on. You would have made such a good ally. He doesn’t see the value in you, Dante. But I do.”
Ashton held up his hand and Dante stood, fully controlled by the prince’s will.
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I’ll never help you,” Dante spit out through clenched teeth.
“Yes, you will. And to make damn sure you will, I’ll tell you a little secret. My friend Maxus has a man trailing your little sister even as we speak. Ariebella has no idea she’s a breath away from a painful death—”
Dante lunged at Ashton, nearly had him around the throat, when his heart and lungs seized. It was as if Ashton had his hand inside his chest, squeezing his organs. He fell to the ground, desperately trying to suck in air. Black spots danced in his vision and he knew he was about to die. If he couldn’t touch Ashton, his powers and strength were useless.
“I’m really trying to work with you here, Dante. But when you act savagely, I’m forced to remind you who is in control of this situation. Now, can we talk civilized or do I need to kill both you and your sister?”
Dante reached for something; his arms flailed around as he tried to get purchase of anything that might end the suffering. Even in the face of his own death, a lifetime of regrets and fears came flooding in. He wished he could see his family one last time, make sure Ariebella was safe. He wished he had the chance to be with Lysa. Not just physically, but to claim her as his mate, join with her in the sight of the gods, watch her carry their child and hold that baby in his arms. He wanted a life with Lysa and he was certain he wouldn’t get it. At least with Ashton’s attention solely on him, she could get to the palace. He closed his eyes, resigned to take his last breath as long as she could live.
As quickly as his body had seized, it relaxed. He pulled in a deep gulp of air and his heart beat once again.
“Let’s try this again,” Ashton said softly. “You will do as I ask. If you do not, I will kill your sister, I will kill you, and I will let the entire world know that you’re having an affair with Dynasty.”
“What?” Dante coughed, both because the idea was ridiculous and because he still needed more oxygen.
“Don’t be foolish. I’ve figured it out. That’s who the roses are for. That’s why you spend most of your time in her suite. You’re right; the gods should punish you both for such horrid activities. Her husband is barely cold and you’ve already got your foot in the door to take his place.”
Dante frowned. Dynasty? Ashton thought he was having an affair with the recently widowed queen? Good Heavens, must all villains be so stupid? He thought for a minute to use this to his advantage. Ashton couldn’t know of Lysandra. No matter what lies Dante had to tell, he had to keep her existence a secret. Her exposure was a direct link to Avery’s.
“It’s not Dynasty.” He bent over, his hands on his knees, and finally tried to straighten without blacking out. “It’s Hanna. I’m courting Hanna.”
It was the perfect out. Hanna and Lysandra both had jet black hair. Lysa was taller and a bit thinner, but Hanna could easily pass for her at a distance. More importantly, if Ashton went after Hanna, he would be taking a lioness by the tail. Hanna only needed to speak to take care of Ashton.
The prince seemed genuinely shocked by this confession. “The Shadow Lady? What is it with you Elites and the bloody help?” He shook his head. “Either way, I’ll kill that bitch too. Now are you willing to hear my offer?”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
“You’re right. You don’t.” And that made the prince as haughty as ever. “You will get me the information I want on the Castilles. You will be my eyes and ears in their world. I want to know everything.”
Dante swallowed hard. “What makes you think I know anything?”
“Don’t play me, boy. I know you’re a class favorite.”
Dante and Ashton both turned their heads at the sound of heavy footfalls coming up the side of the mountain. Finally. Back up had arrived. Brenden called out his name, but he couldn’t reply.
It was a perfect distraction. While Ashton’s focus was on their incoming party, Dante attacked. He launched himself at Ashton’s chest, his knife positioned to strike the heart. Just before contact, Ashton swiveled and the knife grazed his left shoulder, leaving an angry, bleeding wound. Dante knocked him to the ground, rolled, and went to his feet, scrambling to strike again.
“You fuckers don’t know when to quit.” Ashton threw out his hand and once again had control of Dante’s bodily functions.
“I’m a Thracian,” Dante said, his voice strained. “Only death can stop me.”
“So be it.” Ashton took the knife and slathered it with demon blood.
With one thrust, he buried it in Dante’s abdomen, twisted, and pulled it out, shredding his body open.
“I’ll be sure to tell Ariebella all about how honorably you died, right before Maxus has his way with her.”
Ashton took off faster than any Olympian should have been able, leaving him to die.
Dante fell to the forest floor, gripping his middle, his blood pouring
out around his fingers.
“Brenden,” he screamed with the last ounce of energy he had.
The world faded away.
***
LYSANDRA RAN, NOT to the palace, but to the portal. There stood a soldier of Zeus, a warrior who could destroy demons. Fear coursed through her body, filling her with adrenaline. She nearly fell on top of the guardian when she reached him. It didn’t matter that she could be exposed; all that mattered was saving Dante.
“Please, you must help!” She pulled herself up by his garments.
His eyes never flickered to acknowledge her presence.
“Guardian of Zeus, please. There is a demon in the mountains. He has been conjured.”
This got the soldier’s attention and, for the first time in weeks, the statue moved. He looked down at Lysandra, his brow furrowed.
“Are you sure of this, Olympian?”
“I am an Oracle, sent from the Holy City of Delphi to reside here in secret until the goddess Rhea sees need of me elsewhere. You must believe me, guardian. I have seen this evil with my own eyes. Right now, there is a Thracian facing it alone. If you do not aid him, he shall surely die. Use your gifts; you will see that I am telling the truth.”
The guardian turned his face to the mountainside and his eyes glowed with the white light of the gods. He drew his sword and Lysandra stumbled backwards to keep out of the arch of his blade. “Return to your mistress, Oracle.” His voice boomed like thunder across the knoll. “I shall see to this.”
The guardian charged off into the night, his sword drawn and glowing. To the sky he bellowed, “Thracians!” A ripple cut through the air, like throwing a stone in a pond, his voice expanding to cover the entire Haven.
Lysandra ran back to the palace and was nearly trampled by the Elites and a dozen warriors who answered the call.
“What are you doing?” Brenden demanded as he gripped her shoulders.
“Dante… Dante is trying to battle a demon. He had only a knife, Brenden. Go to him.”
He took off running faster than all the other Thracians, nearly overtaking the guardian.
Lysandra covered her head and went inside to Dynasty’s suite. Yankee guarded the door, ready for battle. He ushered her inside and slammed the door.
“What the hell is going on out there?” Yankee demanded.
With all the strength she had left, Lysandra backhanded Yankee. She wanted, no— needed someone to blame and he was the right person to handle her anger. “You bastard. If you hadn’t sent that woman to his room, none of this would have happened. We could be together right now. He might be dead. You selfish, heartless bastard.”
In the many days since her arrival, she’d never seen Yankee react until that moment. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and he stepped back. He blinked rapidly and ran his hand over his nearly bald head. “Sonofabitch.” Yankee left the room just as her energy left her body.
“Lysandra!” Dynasty caught her before she collapsed on the floor. “She’s freezing, Hanna, get blankets. Samuel, stoke the fire; she needs warmth.”
“Oh, dearest gods, protect him. There was a man,” she cried, tears falling down her face. “He’s alone. Please, gods, save him.” Lysandra leaned into Dynasty and Hanna covered her with a blanket. Until she felt the warmth, she hadn’t realized how very cold she was.
“Bring tea, Hanna. We must get her temperature up. Her lips are blue.” Dynasty helped Lysandra to the large hearth of the fireplace and they sat as close to the flames as possible. “What were you doing in the woods this time of night, Lysa darling?”
“Do not be angry, mistress. Please do not be upset.”
“I’m not, child.” The queen gave her a gentle smile. “You may speak openly to me.”
“I love him.” Lysandra started crying again. Dynasty looked to Hanna and mouthed the name of the man in question. “I didn’t mean to love him, but I do. I had a vision of us together and I went to him. There was this other woman, so I ran. He followed me out of the palace and we ended up in the woods. We saw the demon—”
“Demon?” Hanna and Dyna said in unison.
Hanna handed her a cup of tea, but Lysandra’s hands were shaking, so she helped her drink.
“A man was there, conjuring the demon, speaking to him. Dante told me to run and he would distract them. I didn’t want to leave him. I was so scared. I ran to the guardian of the portal. I knew if there was a demon in the Haven, he could intervene. He called the Thracians and they charged into the woods.”
“Oh my.” Dynasty shivered, fear showing in her eyes. “We will pray. We must have faith in Dante’s abilities as a Thracian soldier and pray that he has the protection of the gods.” She took Lysandra’s and Hanna’s hands and together they petitioned the gods for strength and protection for Dante.
Over a thousand Earth years she’d been alive. Countless times she’d seen blood and war in her visions. Countless times she’d known of injustice. In all that time, Lysandra had never once felt terror—raw, bone-deep terror like she felt as she waited to hear of Dante’s fate. In the short time she’d known him, barely over two months, he’d become a beacon of hope and kindness in her life. Every day, he greeted her with a smile and beautiful flowers. He read to her, played games with her, listened to her sing, taught her about the world, and sent her heart soaring with every gentle touch.
If the gods allowed, she intended to be with Dante forever. He had a piece of her heart and she prayed that piece wasn’t dead in the cold woods.
Commotion in the antechamber brought all their heads around. A man entered, one she hadn’t formally met yet. He clasped forearms with Yankee and they exchanged words before he turned to the women.
“Hayden!” Lady Dynasty ran to him. Their embrace lasted a long moment before Dyna planted a kiss on each of his cheeks. “My goodness, you look different. You’ve been touched by the gods. I can see it in your eyes.” She hugged him again and the prince laughed.
“Mother, please. I wasn’t gone that long.” He smiled, and Lysa could see how a woman could get snared by the attractiveness of it. Dark hair flowed to his shoulders, framing a handsome face and dark eyes. He was tall and lean, a fair physique, if she did say so. But compared to her Dante, he was a bit on the narrow side. Then again, the prince was no Thracian.
“Two months. You were gone over two months.”
His brows rose high on his forehead. “Are you kidding? It felt like a couple hours at best. Everything was a mad rush.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I saw him. Father. He’s at peace in the presence of Zeus.” Hayden pushed Dynasty’s hair off her cheek. “Everything is okay, you know. He’s whole and happy and acting as counsel to the gods on how to move forward with our people. I was able to tell him goodbye properly. I wish you could have been there.”
Dynasty cried openly and took his hands in hers. “It is enough that you bring me this message. I, too, can have peace now. Oh, my son,” she said as she pulled him to her again. “The gods have blessed me with so much. I cannot mourn any longer for what I have lost.” She held his face in her hands and they smiled at one another.
Lysandra was so lost in their reunion, she didn’t know she was crying again until her sniffles drew their attention.
Dynasty took Hayden’s hand. “Come, you must meet someone very special.”
Lysandra knelt down as Prince Hayden approached. “Sire, it is a great honor to meet you. I am Lysandra, Oracle of Delphi.”
“Dear Zeus, an Oracle? I should be bowing to you. Please rise.” Hayden helped her up. “What brings you here?”
“I was sent to aid your mother in the care of Avery’s body.”
Hayden had the standard questions: Are you one of the Pythia? How long will you be here? Is Avery awake yet? Thankfully, Brenden’s arrival interrupted his onslaught of inquiries. She waited patiently while he greeted the prince and received confirmation that Nikki was alive.
“Brenden?” she said, clearing her throat. She had to know. Her heart co
uld only be patient for so long.
He turned to her, his shoulders dropped. His lips pinched together.
“He is not dead,” Lysandra whispered. “He cannot be dead. Please,” she begged as Bren took her by the hands.
“Lys, he’s barely hanging on. I don’t know if the Paeans can save him.”
With those words, her face crumpled and sobs escaped her body. She couldn’t lose him. After over a thousand years of existence, she’d finally found love. To give that up so soon, she didn’t think her soul could bear it.
“I need to see him. Please, Brenden.”
“Take her,” Dynasty said. “She might be the only one to make him hang on.”
“Thank you, mistress.” Lysandra bowed and kissed the queen’s hands. She followed Brenden down to the bowels of the palace, where a secret corridor opened into a make-shift medical room.
“We didn’t want him in the Thracian Training Center like this,” Brenden said. “He’s made some of the students very jealous and Thracians are a rather competitive bunch.”
“Will he get the proper treatment here?” she asked as Brenden opened a door for her.
“Nothing but the best, Lys. I promise.”
Brenden stepped aside and Lysa stopped dead in her tracks. A man—no, a giant stood over Dante’s bedside, hand resting on his shoulder. He turned to the door and met Lysandra’s stare. A lump rose in her throat and she tried not to choke on it.
He favored Prince Hayden. The familial resemblance was there: dark hair, dark eyes, strong jaw. But this man was twice Hayden’s width, twice his mass, and had predatory eyes like those of a wild animal. Those all-too-observant eyes seared her, narrowing at her entry to the room.
“Who are you?” he asked, his lips pulling back in a snarl.
Lysandra stood frozen, swallowed again, but couldn’t form words. This man scared the hell out of her. Her instincts told her to run but her heart was drawn to Dante.
“Uh, Master Ryse,” Brenden said. “This is Lady Lysandra, an Oracle from Delphi. Rhea sent her after you left. She’s uh, well, she and Dante are sort of, uh, together.” Brenden cast her an apologetic glance.