by JoAnna Grace
Yankee nodded, his bloodshot eyes bouncing around the room. There was so much hostility inside him. His aura was stained with it. He smelled of alcohol and his body swayed.
“Are you intoxicated?” she demanded.
“It’s possible. You going to take me over your knee for it?” He reached out to brace himself on one of the beds and missed, sending him forward into her arms. “Ah shit.”
“You are. You’re drunk.” Lysandra struggled under his weight. She urged him onto her cot. “You blasted fool. Sometimes I have to wonder how a cretin like you made it to the ranks of Elite. Compared to Dante, you’re, well, you’re a prick. That’s what he calls you anyway.”
“Oh, Eight-ball, don’t get your granny panties in a wad. Your Prince Charming is mad because I made him face the fact that he wants to pop your cherry.” His words were slurred and his arms waved in the air wildly as he spoke.
“Pop my what?”
Yankee tried to roll over and nearly fell off the cot. “Your cherry, steal your virtue, take your virginity.” He drew out the syllables on that last word and chuckled. “He wants in your pants, or should I say, up your skirt.” He belched and swatted the stench away. “But he’s all noble and shit. Another fucking Boy Scout. He and Brenden make a damn fine pair. It’s practically a bro-mance with all their uplifting, encouraging, patting each other’s ass and shit.”
Lysandra pushed his shoulders back down. “Watch your mouth. Your words are nearly as foul as your breath. Now that I comprehend the cherry references, I can honestly say you are a pig.”
“You know what pisses me off more than any fucking thing?” His eyes crossed and he opened them wide to straighten them out again. If she weren’t so angry with him, she might have laughed. Dearest gods, what had he ingested?
“I don’t really care, but I have a terrible suspicion you’ll share with me anyhow.” Lysandra rolled her eyes.
“They are better than me.”
His confession took her by surprise.
“Those two punks are good to the core. They’re not like me. I hate people. I hate everything. Fuck, I hate my own reflection.” He chuckled and sighed. “They’ve both found women, good women. Even if one is a murderer and one is a virgin.”
She had nearly felt pity for him until that comment.
“You love him?” Yankee asked, watching her with eyes that were suddenly intense and focused.
“More than I thought possible.”
“Then stick by him. He needs someone to give him that. No one has ever backed him up. Not until recently.” Yankee took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth, sending a waft of alcohol-tainted air her direction. She cringed. He closed his eyes and put his arm up over his face. “He’s a good man, Eight-ball. A damn…good…man…” Yankee was quiet for a moment.
Then he started to snore. Loudly.
Once again, pity and disgust warred for her reaction. Watching him sleep, his face finally relaxing from its permanent scowl, he appeared vulnerable and young.
I hate my own reflection. What a terrible thing to say. What a terrible way to live. She reached down and grabbed a blanket, stretching it across his chest. With lightning speed, he gripped both her wrists, his eyes piercing hers, their noses only inches apart.
A vision came to her quickly, flashing images into her mind.
An angry little boy hid under his blanket. Screaming. Crying. Another child, a girl. Her shrill screams tore at his heart as their father slapped her. Blonde hair stuck to her face with blood. He couldn’t take it anymore. The little boy rushed his father, pushing him down. “Go!” he screamed at the little girl. “Never come back!”
Blood mixed with her tears, her hazel eyes wide with fear as she reached for his hand. “Sammy!” But they never touched. She disappeared into thin air. The father beat the boy until he went unconscious.
The vision skipped ahead many years.
A tall woman with long, black hair and onyx eyes smiled down at Yankee. Her fingers touched his lips. “You can’t save the world, Sammy. Not until you save yourself.” She kissed him, her heart full of love. And for the first time in his life, Yankee felt hope.
Lysandra blinked and focused on his face. Maybe he wasn’t attractive to her, but the woman in her vision found him to be so. It reminded her that even a drunken, filthy-mouthed Thracian was lovable to someone.
“Rest, warrior. I shall protect you for once.” She slowly bent to place a sisterly kiss on his rough cheek.
His hard features softened and he turned his face away from her, covering himself with the blanket.
She backed away and went to sit on the other side of Dante, facing the door. Before taking up her post, she bent to Dante’s ear and whispered, “I love you and I shall always be your greatest admirer. I’ll always have your back,” she promised, smiling at the phrasing Yankee used.
One day, Yankee would find love too. Hopefully, he wouldn’t sabotage it like he did every other relationship. Now that she understood, Lysandra let her heart soften to him. Yankee hadn’t been trying to run her off or keep Dante away from her out of jealousy. He simply didn’t know how to handle love. In his own—rather messed up—way, Yankee had been trying to protect Dante from getting his heart broken. What he didn’t understand was that love, true love, the kind people devoted themselves to and fought for, was also unconditional. It meant daily setting aside selfish desires and pursuing the best for the one you loved. It meant making a choice to overcome emotional circumstances and trudging through hard times.
Dante and Lysandra had a way to go before they were ready to be mated. But she knew with all her heart that he was her choice, the only man she would ever truly love. Together, they could overcome anything.
She smiled as she remembered the woman in her vision. She had to be strong to deal with Yankee, the poor girl. He would fight her the hardest. But if that was his love, the gods would make a way.
A soft knock on the door hours later caused her to startle. She’d fallen asleep sitting upright in her chair. With the queen and Hanna came a woman that took her breath away.
Although she’d tended to Avery daily for the last couple of months, there was a vast difference in seeing her awake and alive. Her aura was shining of white light, pure and brilliant. Brenden held on to one of her arms and she supported herself with a cane.
A smile spread across her face. “Lysandra,” she said, excitedly whispering so she didn’t wake the soldiers.
“Milady.” She bowed low.
“Get up, darlin’. I’m pretty sure since you’ve bathed me, you and I are practically old friends.”
“It was an honor to serve you.”
“Ha!” Avery covered her laughter with her hand. “I’m pretty sure scrubbin’ my armpits was no honor. But you’re a doll for sayin’ so. How’s our boy?”
The concern on her face as she approached Dante made Lysandra instantly gravitate to her. Anyone who looked on Dante with open affection was golden in her book. Avery leaned over and kissed his forehead. Then she cast a glance at Yankee. “Was he hurt too?”
“No, milady. I believe when he awakens, he’s going to be slightly hung-over.”
“Oh gosh.” Avery sighed and shook her head. “Dumbass. He deserves it. Still, Brenden, can you get him some meds and a glass of water?”
“Dante woke for a moment earlier. I am prayerfully optimistic that he will recover.”
“Of course he will.” Avery rested her entire hand over his forehead and closed her eyes. “Hmm.” Her brows dipped, her lips pinched together.
Everyone in the room watched her.
“Evander should take a look at him,” Dynasty suggested.
“He will. But he can’t get this crap out of him.” Avery opened her eyes and pulled her hand away.
“What did you see?” Lysandra asked, not like being kept uninformed when it came to her love.
Avery’s emerald green eyes lifted towards hers. Their depths sparkled just like the jewel. They were m
esmerizing. “There is an evil taint to his blood. The Thracian side fights it. It’s a miracle, really. He should’ve died.” Her smile widened. “You kept him alive, Lysa. He’s fightin’ for you.”
“I don’t want him fighting for me. I want him to heal.”
“He will, darlin’. You can take that to the bank. I should’ve figured when my Ken Doll fell, he’d fall hard.”
My Ken Doll. Lysandra didn’t know what rubbed her the rawest about that comment. The fact that Avery seemed to think she had a prior claim on the man she loved or the fact that she had no idea what a Ken Doll was and therefore did not understand the moniker.
“Hey?” Avery reached out and touched her arm. “Your aura went off the charts. You okay?”
Lysandra took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I wasn’t aware you were so…familiar with Dante.”
“She’s familiar with everyone.” Yankee gingerly sat up and rubbed at his temple with his palm. “No need to piss on trees, Eight-ball. Our Southern Belle likes to get all comfy with the soldiers.”
“Hello, jackass.” Avery slapped him on the shoulder and they both nearly fell over. She’d said the words loudly and Lysandra wanted to explain that he wasn’t deaf, only fighting a head—Oh.
“Glad you’re awake.” Yankee rose and stretched his arms over his head, wincing. “This place has been a wreck without you.”
“I hear you’ve been causing some trouble of your own.”
“And I hear you have CRS.”
Lysandra tilted her head so Yankee explained. “Can’t Remember Shit.”
“Funny, she remembered you’re a jackass,” Lysa said, not trying to be comical.
Avery, Dynasty, and even Hanna laughed. Yankee spread his arms wide, his look smug. “Some people are simply unforgettable, Eight-ball.”
“You’re full of crap.” Avery rolled her eyes. “I think Ryse is having some kind of meeting. You might want to go check in.”
“You remember where, or did you forget that, too?” Yankee asked.
Avery sighed and swiped a hand over her face. “Everybody’s a comedian.”
Dynasty chuckled and reached for Yankee’s hand. She pressed her palm to his cheek. The healing was visible. His bloodshot eyes cleared up, his shoulders relaxed, and he took a deep, deep breath. “You shouldn’t do such things to yourself, Samuel. We need you at full capacity.”
“Don’t worry, even hung-over, I’m better than all those guys put together.” His eyes flickered over to Lysandra for a split second before he left. His bravado was back, but she remembered his intoxicated confessions.
They’re not like me…No, they weren’t. Where Dante and Brenden wore their hearts on their sleeves, Yankee’s was buried but there nonetheless.
***
“IT’S TIME.”
Ryse spoke the words to a room filled with anxious people. The Avondales, Charles, Filene, Ashton, Xavier, and three of his soldiers took up one corner of the room across from his family. Dynasty, Hayden, and Hanna were flanked by Titus and Gabrele. The Elites—Hammon, Philippe, Cutter, Yankee, Brenden, and General Falcon—were also behind them. A few other top-tier soldiers and Thracian teachers were there as well. Their scrutiny was daunting. Ares came to him and told him when and how the execution would take place. Ryse conveyed this to the group.
“The gods will be appearing throughout the world. Zeus will be here, with Poseidon, Ares, and Athena. The other gods will branch out to the other realms. They are going to allow each person to see the execution as if they were here, in our Haven, in our arena.” Ryse swallowed. He would be killing a princess in front of their entire world. “We will actually be in the arena. Salina, her followers, and Nikki will be delivered by Hermes when the time comes.”
“We don’t get to see her beforehand?” Filene said. Tears formed in her already red-rimmed eyes. Her lip quivered. “I should be allowed to tell her goodbye.”
“You may take it up with the gods,” Hayden answered for his brother. Ryse had already informed him of how Ares wanted things. Due to Salina’s behavior in the Heavens, the gods were not going to allow her to infect anyone else. She would be delivered to Earth right before Ryse executed her.
“Should we return home, Ryse?” Charles asked. “Would it be easier if we were not here?”
Filene’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She gasped, and her mouth hung open. “You want to make this easier for him?”
“Yes,” Charles growled at his wife. Red crept up her face from either anger or embarrassment.
“You must remain, I’m afraid. Ares said that Zeus will bring Avery back and the gods want your family to see it for themselves.” The lie was necessary. Ryse hated it, but it was the will of the gods.
“I do not doubt her resurrection is of the gods, Ryse.” Charles leaned over the table towards him. “I saw her spirit in the Heavens. I saw her with Rhea. If she returns to Earth, it will be a true miracle. I believe.”
“We know you do.” Hayden smiled, sending Ashton and Filene a glance.
“Will the maid die too?” Filene asked. “She’s a murderer. Will you kill her too, the way you’re going to kill my child?”
A deep bass growl vibrated the seats and table. Glasses of water vibrated. The one closest to the source of the rumble nearly spilled. The air was thick with tension.
“Bren,” Ryse snapped at his Elite. The growling ceased. He speared Filene with a hard look. “I will carry out the punishment as the gods have decreed. Nikki is to…” He hadn’t told any of this to Brenden yet. Shit. He hadn’t wanted Bren to find out like this, but there hadn’t been enough time to get him alone. “Nikki will be whipped, according to the judgment of the gods, for her involvement in the murder of my father.”
Brenden froze; their eyes met. His aura went cold, dark, and angry. Its power swept through the room like the wind. His lips curled up into a snarl.
“This is an outrage,” Filene cried out, rising to her feet.
“You’re damned right it is,” Brenden agreed, but for very different reasons.
“Hold your tongue, you monster. If my daughter must die, so should her accomplice.”
“Nikki’s the real killer,” Ashton said.
“Nikki wouldn’t hurt a fly. Your bitch of a sister brainwashed her.”
An argument began. The room erupted into chaos. Filene and Ashton yelled across the table at Brenden and Yankee, who had jumped in to restrain his fellow soldier, but then opened his big mouth. Charles had his wife by the shoulders, trying to calm her down, but wasn’t doing a good job in the slightest. Ryse, Hayden, and Dynasty exchanged frustrated glances.
Ryse stood, opened his arms, and felt the power of the gods flow into his hands. From his palms a bright light burst forth, flooding the room, blinding those who were not paying attention to his actions. His family had closed their eyes, covered their ears.
“Enough,” he bellowed, power making his voice reverberate throughout the room. Those standing staggered under the weight of his command. Charles stumbled back into his chair and watched Ryse with wide eyes. Filene and Ashton had been pushed back against the wall. Brenden and Yankee had crouched down beside the table. Only Hayden and Dynasty remained unfazed and sitting properly in their chairs.
“Are you children ready to hear the rest of what my son has to say? Or would you like for the gods to permanently silence your bickering?” Dynasty asked, her eyes focused on Filene.
The other woman lifted her chin and smoothed down her skirt. “Fine.” Ashton held her hand and helped her into her chair. She brushed him off.
Ryse, however, noticed the way he glared at Brenden, then turned his eyes to Ryse. Ashton’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed a fraction. “Way to scare a defenseless woman, barbarian.”
“Filene is hardly defenseless.” Ryse leaned over the table, face to face with the sonofabitch. “Her mouth has been quite the weapon of late.” He waited for Ashton to spit out a retort. None came. “Sit,” Ryse growled, tired of this nonsense.
He stared each of them down, his patience gone. “Tomorrow morning, we gather. The gods will be here at sunrise. Until then, I suggest we all retreat to our rooms and try to get some rest. The Thracian students have been instructed on preparing the arena. I’m declaring a Haven-wide curfew at sunset. The soldier of Zeus still stands by the portal and will remain there until the gods leave. He has been instructed to enforce my rule.”
“Is there a reason for this curfew?” Charles asked mildly.
Usually, in this mood, Ryse wouldn’t have taken the time to justify his actions to anyone. He could implement whatever system, laws, curfew, or ban he wanted. He was the son of two Deities, blooded warrior of the gods. He’d been given a task most people in this room couldn’t even fathom and the authority to do whatever necessary to achieve it.
Had it been anyone but Charles, Ryse would have reminded them of this.
“We have a soldier fighting for his life from a demon attack. Tonight, we are taking him to the portal so that Apollo and one of our healers can look at him. I don’t want anyone interfering.”
“Is it my son?” Xavier, who had been silent up until now, stood from where he leaned against a wall.
“Yes.”
Ryse noted the way Ashton’s face paled slightly. He quickly covered his reaction.
The man seemed to sag with relief. Odd, since he could barely stomach the boy. “May I be there when Apollo examines him?”
“No.” Ryse stared the man in the eyes. “You will accompany General Falcon on a mission to secure the perimeter of the Haven.”
“He’s my son.” Xavier grit his teeth.
“You should have appreciated that fact long before now. If he asks for you, I might reconsider. Until then, I don’t want anyone around who might cause him stress.”
“He will be a valuable asset to finding the demon, will he not?” Ashton spoke up.
“Yes. So will our other witness,” Ryse informed him, watching his face for his reaction. Ashton’s jaws clenched.
“Other witness?” Xavier asked. “You mean to tell me someone was with him? Did they leave Dante to die?”