Red Mortal

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Red Mortal Page 23

by Deidre Knight


  Horrified, all he could think to do was flee her presence. She couldn’t see him, not like this, not with a head full of silver hair, and a snowy beard upon his face. Not with eyes that were wrinkled at the corners, not just faintly lined . . .

  Not like this, never like this.

  Wasn’t it bad enough that he was so dark, and she so pure and good? All the blood on his hands, he could practically see it as he stared down at his weathered palms. So many lives taken, so much destruction wrought. It hardly mattered that he’d been on the side of virtue—he was stained, and she was unblemished.

  Now he realized the truth. He had to protect her from this curse . . . and himself.

  “Leo, just look at me.” Daphne bounded to her feet, but before she could behold the wicked horror, he scrambled for the quiver and arrow. Then, summoning his fading youth, he leaped to his feet as he’d done in younger days . . . and bolted right out of that room.

  Daphne glimpsed the damage her brother had inflicted, caught it in Leo’s reflection at the same moment he had.

  The pain of it she understood. The tragedy of their love, she comprehended that, too, but not his humiliation about his altered physical appearance. The problem was that Leo had never fathomed his inherent handsomeness; she’d realized that from almost the first. Where she adored his hooked nose with its broken bump, he saw disfigurement. She’d heard him mutter about being shorter than the other warriors and witnessed his shy self-consciousness about his many scars, especially the one that slashed through his lower lip.

  But all she’d ever seen was one gorgeous male who possessed a body like Adonis’s, and lit her up with desires and hungers that she’d never known. Now? After this most recent touch by her brother? Leo had only become more exotically handsome than ever to her, and the pulse of longing she felt as she stared at his reflection was even more powerful. She had to make him understand the reality of her feelings for him.

  The thing was, they were on limited time . . . this most recent transformation only proved it. He couldn’t waste these moments by hiding himself away from her. His body was changing, but that wasn’t a sign of weakness. It signified his humanity, and that was a beautiful thing; after all, she was half-human herself. He’d once pledged himself in service to mankind, to battle every evil, and the years he’d held at bay were finally taking hold. If it didn’t mean them parting forever, it would’ve been a blessing to enter Elysium at last and simply rest. He’d more than earned it.

  She truly prayed that if they failed in their efforts that he would find peace in heaven. That he’d embrace old friends and comrades—kiss his sons and daughters. And, yes, he’d hold Gorgo once again. Daphne’s throat closed up at that thought. But why should her beloved be alone? If she loved him, and she truly did, then she should rejoice that he wouldn’t be alone in Elysium, but rather with his human family.

  But the thought brought no comfort, only gut-wrenching, choking pain.

  Kneeling there on the floor of his chambers, all energy left her. Tears came, hot, painful ones, but she barely allowed them because she had to be strong—for Leo, for both of them. If they were indeed at the end, then it was something to face together, for whatever small amount of time they had left.

  Wiping the tears from her eyes, she rose to her feet. Normal. She needed things to seem as normal as possible between them when he finally returned to his chambers. With a flash of her power, she replaced her demigoddess’s gown with a miniskirt and her favorite Sex Pistols T-shirt. She turned toward his mirror, knowing how much he loved her all punked out. She changed her hair, too, making it short and spiky, filled with lots of vivid blue streaks just for him.

  Her eyes still shone, and were a bit puffy, and she wished her power could fix that, too. Alas, this was the best she could do, and she stood staring into the mirror. She could’ve been any cool Goth chick roaming the streets of London, a look that Leo had unabashedly admitted turned him flat on.

  As she tugged on her miniskirt, a panicky thought occurred to her: her getup, always one of his favorites, might backfire this time. It might make him seem too old for her. Absolutely ludicrous, considering she was most likely older than he. She’d never been sure—but it was a fact. Still, her very youthful appearance might undermine her plans to make him feel sexy and desirable, so she needed to rethink the current outfit.

  She frowned, and with a quick surge of power, was clothed in a soft flowing sundress, cut just above the knees. More demure, perhaps even more desirable, on this particular day than the more edgy outfits she tended to wear for him. She considered leaving his chambers and walking into the hallway, roving the compound until she located him. But he had such pride, even as he was one of the most humble men she’d ever known; but in this one thing, she understood that it would have to be his terms, Leo coming to her when he was ready.

  But she could wait only so long . . . her heart couldn’t handle much more.

  Sable stood at the edge of the pebbled drive, watching Mason Angel lock up his family’s home. It wasn’t even six a.m. yet, and he had figured on waiting till at least seven before knocking on the man’s door.

  Mason jogged down the front steps, his face a mask of fierce concern as he strode toward his truck. So the memo had gone out—Mace knew his lover was off the radar. Sable braced, preparing for what he knew would probably begin with a full-on assault, and stepped out of the shadows.

  “Angel,” he called out.

  Mason spun, putting his back against his truck, deathly still. Lethally so. But his surprise downshifted quickly, and the hunter launched himself at Sable in less than two seconds.

  Mace wasn’t short, not by any stretch, but he had a difficult time delivering the punch he served up. Sable ducked, rearing slightly, and Mace went after his belly, hitting him several times in rapid succession. “Where the fuck is he?” the hunter roared, eyes white with fury. “Tell me what you did to him. Tell me!”

  Mace socked him hard in the gut again, and enough was enough. Sable caught hold of the marine’s hands, pinioning them. “Listen to me, Mason Angel. I didn’t do anything,” he snarled, the words rasping. “He was taken; Nikos and Ari both were. But I can bring you to them—I think I’ve found the place where they’re being held.”

  Mason struggled to catch his breath, relaxing a bit in Sable’s grasp. “You mean that you’ll tell me where he is?”

  “Of course,” he promised, releasing the hunter. “That’s why I’ve come to you.”

  Mason staggered backward, sagging against the truck. “He was taken,” he repeated numbly. “He’s alive.”

  Sable nodded. “Yes . . . for now.”

  Mason snapped an angry gaze at him. “What the hell did you do?” he accused again, coming back to life.

  “It was Ares, not me.” Sable shook his head vigorously. “I thought . . . I didn’t do it. I didn’t know.”

  Mace glared at him. “Hell, you didn’t! You came to us, gained our trust. Sophie’s trust. You know, my cousin’s one of the sweetest, most guileless people on the planet. No wonder you targeted her.”

  “No! I did not,” Sable snapped ferociously. “Sophie isn’t part of this. She has nothing at all to do with current events.”

  Mace jabbed a finger at him. “She’s everything to do with this because she’s the one you managed to snooker. You wove her into your web and look where the hell it’s landed all of us.”

  “I love her.” The words escaped before Sable could zip them inside. “Sophie,” he added, as if he weren’t fool enough.

  “You what?” Mason took a step closer, his eyes growing wide in disbelief. He started to laugh. “Oh my God, it must be early, because I thought I just heard you say . . .”

  Sable squared his shoulders boldly. This was her family; he had to redeem himself, make sure that everyone knew his intentions. “I love your cousin,” he said, feeling his cheeks burn hot. “I’ve not told her yet . . . not declared . . .”

  He gaped down at his hooves, grappling f
or the right words. “I would never have set Nik or Ari up, but even if I’d wanted to . . . I would never have hurt Sophie that way. I did not intend this outcome.” He dared to look up, briefly. “In fact, as I said, I believe I’ve tracked down the location where they’re being held.”

  Mason blinked once, twice. Then with a shake of his head, he opened the truck door. “So, I guess monkeys might fly out of your ass next, huh? I’d probably be less surprised.” Mace gestured. “Where are we heading? I’ll drive, you teleport—and be quick about it. Because I’m in love, too, only my guy’s among the missing.”

  Sable gave a firm nod. “I realize. That’s part of why I chose you; I knew you’d have a personal stake in bringing the warriors home.”

  As soon as he’d given Mace the address, Sable moved into wind and air, teleporting as fast as he could.

  Chapter 24

  Leo quietly entered his chambers, and with one look, Daphne knew what he’d come to say—she saw the resignation on his face. She sat up from where she’d been curled atop his large bed, hugging his pillow to her chest. The entire time, she’d drunk in the scent, that earthy, husky smell of her beloved.

  “I keep pretending that I’m holding you,” she told him, her voice muffled against the pillow. “I’m afraid I’ve cried so hard that your pillowcase is soaking wet.”

  “Daphne, love.” He strode slowly closer, favoring his right leg. “We must talk.”

  With another look, Daphne was sure—she’d read him right, about what he’d come to tell her. She shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want to have this particular chat.” She pulled the thin comforter up to her chin. “I don’t want to talk right now at all. Not about this.”

  Leo walked to the bed where she lay, his eyes full of unfathomable regret. “You know that we must.”

  She rolled onto her back, still clutching the coverlet like a lifeline. From the expression on his face, the haunted look in her lover’s eyes, she knew he was here for only one ghastly purpose. “So you can tell me that you give up? That you won’t fight anymore?” She shook her head again, plastering herself against the pillows. “I think not, my lord.” Perhaps the honorific, no longer appropriate between them, would bring him to his senses.

  He settled beside her on the edge of the bed. “We’ve exhausted our options,” he said evenly. “Aristos can’t heal me for forever, and your brother has now made it profoundly clear that he plans to win this battle. I think he only allows me to linger so he can enjoy my struggle. He has always loved watching me . . . all of us squirm.”

  Daphne flung back the covers, scrambling to Leo’s side. “Look where we are, my king! Here, together . . . alone in your bedroom.” She rose up onto her knees, right in front of him on the edge of the mattress. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to be here? Oh, let us think back to the very beginning when my brother cast me into invisibility. That is how long!”

  She slapped the mattress with angry, flat palms. “I watched you throughout every ancient battle or skirmish you fought, and onward, throughout all the ages. I saw you at Bannockburn, hovered near you at the Marne. By the time I stood beside you at Chosin Reservoir, unseen and faithful, you were no more aware of my existence than you’d been in the very beginning.”

  “You . . . you were there?” he asked in a stunned voice. His expression became bleak, haunted. “All the blood . . .”

  “I always watched over you. Never left you. All that you endured? I endured it, too.”

  He buried his face in both hands, and she’d have sworn he’d begun trembling. “You should not have been forced to see . . . all that I’ve done.”

  “I saw a brave warrior, a man who would lay down his life for his people, for humanity. And I suffered with you. For you, Leonidas.”

  He dropped his hands away, a devastated, pale expression on his face. “I’d do anything to blot all of that ugliness and death from your memories.”

  She gave him a bittersweet smile. “But then I’d forget all those moments of you.”

  He shook his head fiercely. “What I’ve lived—you should not have endured it also!”

  “I didn’t want you to be alone. Sure, you had your warriors and friends. But I saw the grim loneliness in your eyes, and so I kept vigil over you. But that is why,” she said softly, “you may not choose your fate alone now, without my say. Not after all the centuries when I loved you in silence.”

  Leo blew out a mournful sigh, planting solid palms on her shoulders. “If I’d known you were there . . . beside me, you wouldn’t have been alone. In silence. I’d have answered resoundingly. I had no idea.”

  “But you know me now,” she whispered. “You realize that we are losing time. With every argument, every debate. Let’s stop, and just love each other.”

  With a long, sultry glance at him, she licked her lips, wanting the truth to be obvious: her desire for him remained and was undiminished. She cupped his face in her palms, lightly stroking his gray beard; the contrast with his dark skin was breathtakingly beautiful. Exotic, even. “Can’t you see how my body responds to you? I want to have you inside me again, feel you deep . . . the warmth of your seed.” She blushed, unable to help feeling shy, and added, “I want you to taste me again, your head between my thighs . . . and I want to take you in my mouth, too.”

  “Oh, gods, Daphne,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “The thought is almost more than my heart can take. Because I want that, too . . . but if I don’t end this now, you will hurt so much more when I die.”

  “No! You’re hurting me right now! You’re breaking my heart, Leonidas.”

  “I am protecting you!” He thundered, more loudly than she’d ever heard him speak before.

  He wrenched out of her grasp, and stormed to the other side of the room. “I was thirty-five at the Hot Gates. How do you reckon my years now?” Leo strode back toward her, favoring his right knee more than he’d done at Olympus, more than she’d ever witnessed. “I suppose we could call the bet at fifty.”

  “You are so beautiful to me. More than ever. The lines on your face, the age written across your features . . . they arouse me. The silver in your hair beguiles me, makes me want to touch it. Touch you.” She had to reason with him, make him see the truth of their situation. “You are still young enough,” she told him fiercely. “Still strong and vital and—”

  He cut her off with a harsh laugh. “What were you, eighteen at the time of our bargain?”

  She said nothing; he was correct. To a point . . . she’d been frozen immortally at that age by Zeus and even now was unsure exactly how many years she’d been alive.

  “As I suspected. I’ve always been far, far too old for you, Daphne.” He turned, walking slowly toward the window, seeming worn down. But savagely beautiful, still. “In the throes of immortality, we both simply chose to ignore that fact.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  He glanced back at her, dark eyebrows lifting. “Am I? Wrong that I’m old enough to have fathered you? I think not.” He laughed, a hollow, haunted sound that made tears fill her eyes. “Now it’s anyone’s guess how much that gap will widen in the coming days.”

  “No, you’re wrong about us. About us not being right together.”

  He cast a raw glance at her. “I’ve always been less than worthy of your love.”

  “No! No, Leo, there is only one thing that you have always been, and that is mine. I was a fool to stay away, to fear my brother when we could have been together. Ares may have placed this curse upon us—”

  “Upon me,” he corrected in a whisper, sadness filling his dark eyes. “He has touched me eternally, once again. But this time . . . my hours are fading.”

  “We’ll bring Aristos back. He can help you! A life lift,” she said frantically. “He can give you another. And there’s Sophie—we can try Sophie.” She was grasping, desperate, determined to make him see reason.

  “You and I both know that she’s too new in her gift, and that touching me in this state
would put her in grave danger. No, I won’t risk young Sophie’s mortal life. Every avenue is closing to me and it is time to accept reality.”

  A thick lump lodged in her throat, and for a moment she couldn’t find her voice at all. “But we still have right now,” she whispered. “What more do any lovers ever have? Look at all that Ari and Juliana have endured just to be together now. How long Ajax waited for Shay, to find her in this century and time. Like them, we must love now.”

  “Now, Daphne? Now it is I who must protect you, who must say that we have no future. For I have nothing to offer you, love.”

  “You’re being as cruel as my brother,” she said, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. “When I stayed away from you, when I said we could not be, it was to save your life.”

  He smiled faintly, love filling his entire expression. “You think my motives are not the same? You believe that I don’t love you?”

  She began shaking, couldn’t stop the rush of shock and emotion that engulfed her. “If you did, you’d keep me here, for whatever time is left.”

  “I’m sparing you even more death and destruction. You’ve already seen enough of it, delivered by my own hand. I would’ve spared you all those other battles had I known—and I can at least spare you from watching my own terrible end. Here, now at the end of your brother’s epic sword.”

  “I don’t care what you’ve done. I never wanted anything but to be near you. That’s all I want now.” She began to sob, hot rushing gulps of air drawing into her lungs. “I want to hold you, even if it’s as you die. I would be the last person you look upon. Leo, I’m begging you.”

  “I won’t have you watch me wither away . . . turn frail and feeble. The change inside me cannot be undone; your brother cannot be thwarted in this attack. But I won’t have you see me turn, quite truly, into an old man.” He laughed grimly. “Perhaps my nickname was always a bit of prophecy.”

 

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