The faux Juliana looked up into his brother’s eyes. “You’re obviously his brother.”
“Bingo.” Ajax did not bother looking impressed.
She brushed long fingertips across her brow, smiling. “A fine bloodline you Petrakos brothers share,” she observed, cultured Southern accent more elegant than ever.
Ari scowled, hating the fever that hit his groin in automatic response to Juliana’s voice.
And hating even more that his idiot little brother appeared . . . ever so slightly . . . charmed, that lopsided, arrogant smile growing wide. “Thank you.” Ajax inclined his head. “Nicely played, whoever you are.” Then he cast Ari a stern, judgmental glare, saying nothing.
That chastising glance set off yet another grenade inside Ari’s chest, and his whole body shook with fury. “You arrogant kolos,” he bellowed at his brother. “She’s the one you should be blaming, not me.”
Jax folded both arms across his chest, still poised against the table’s edge. “She didn’t violate our long-standing rules and protocol,” Jax said smoothly, his commanding officer’s tone more than grating. What a superior-officer prick. “We don’t bring outsiders behind the wire. You know that. The compound is off-limits to unapproved mortals.”
“Newsflash! I didn’t bring her here. She popped into my bedroom while I was convalescing.” Ari forged onward, ignoring the charming smile his brother offered the female he himself held rooted in the chair. “Besides, she’s not our biggest problem, boys,” he declared.
Ajax’s dark eyebrows cranked upward to his hairline. “There’s actually something bigger than your current protocol violation?”
“Wake up, Jax-ass.” Ari anchored his captive in the chair; she tried to look up at him, but he pinned her against the back of the seat. “This little chick ain’t human. Not even close to mortal.” The Spartans stared back at him, dumb-struck, right as Mason and Jamie Angel entered the room. The brothers were fifth-generation demon hunters and really knew their way around the evil and the undead. If there was any pair of humans he’d ever welcome in a supernatural hoedown, it would be the Angels.
Ari nearly kissed them out of sheer relief, pointing down at his prisoner. “See, guys, we were just having a little discussion that I’m hoping you can straighten out. I was explaining to my fine Spartan warriors that this is no lady; this is—”
“A demon,” Mason finished, hackles rising like some alley cat confronted with a Doberman.
Ari gestured toward Juliana with an “I told you so” wave of his hand. “See? Bigger problems, men.” He leaned down over the creature’s shoulder, voice rising in a crescendo. “Yeah, demons wandering into our bedrooms while we sleep!” he roared. “Always wanting to get inside our pants! Totally everyday thing, right?”
“Aristos, I fear that since I last spent time with you”—Juliana hesitated with embarrassment, clearing her throat, and then steadied her gaze on him—“you might well have lost your mind.”
Jamie propped himself against the door with a low whistle in response to that remark. “Well, if it’s a demon, it’s a mighty sophisticated and refined one.”
Jamie and Mason exchanged a glance, but Mason still had that spooked, hair-on-end expression. Ari had never seen the human react so strongly to a supernatural situation before, not even in a demon fight.
“I’m telling you”—Mason pointed a finger at her, jabbing at the air—“that’s not human,” he said in an eerily disconnected voice. “Not even close.”
His brother, Jamie, reached to the pistol he had holstered at his hip. “So you wanna finish her, or should I, Mace?”
But Mason stood paralyzed, eyes as wide as full moons. “Jamie, don’t go near it. Nikos,” he called out in that oddly disconnected voice. “Nik? Get far away.”
Ari didn’t understand why Mason would specifically single out Nikos with that warning, and he looked toward the warrior, who appeared equally confused.
“Mason,” Nik answered in a calmer-than-usual voice, “is there something different about this one?”
But Mason didn’t answer. The tough-ass former marine, the stealthy demon killer, nearly sprinted out of the room.
“Yeah, I’m pretty much thinking Mason’s reaction proves my point.” Ari eyed the beautiful-looking creature with even more disdain. “So, go on, Jamie. Finish her off.”
Jamie holstered his weapon, staring out the window as bright lights arced through the blinds. “Not just yet. Let’s see what Shay says; she just pulled up. She’s got no preconceived notions about all this, and my sis can spot a demon as well as any of my most talented Shades.”
The Nightshades, or Shades for short, were a band of paramilitary demon fighters, led by Jamie Angel. All three of the Angel siblings were fifth-generation hunters, inheriting the family biz, so to speak. Shay bore a double legacy—the demon sight that she inherited from her father and her lineage as a Daughter of Delphi, which made her one of the Shades’ most potent weapons.
Shay came in the door, calling out to Ajax. When she rounded the corner into the great room, she pulled to an abrupt halt, staring right at Juliana.
Ari almost blurted, “See! Told you!” when he saw a shocked, wide-eyed expression overtake her.
“Okay,” Shay announced, gaze fixed hard on Juliana. “That’s just wrong.”
“You know what she is?” Ari asked, half-triumphant, half . . . something he didn’t want to acknowledge. But it felt a whole lot like heartbroken.
“No, but that’s just some seriously wrong fashion.” Shay eyed Juliana warily. “And who is she? What happened to the no-outsiders-allowed club rules?”
“Is she a demon or not?” Ari blurted. “On the soul train or off?”
Shay narrowed her eyes on Juliana, seriously studying her. “Honestly?” she said at last. “I’m not sure what she is.”
“What’s up with you, Angel?” Nik asked, forcing a casual tone. “No stomach for the smell of sulfur this late at night?”
Mason Angel never fled fracases with demons; in fact, his appetite for destroying evil entities was a downright compulsion, one that had him patrolling the streets of Savannah on a nightly basis.
“No, I’d say retreat isn’t in your vocabulary,” Nikos added.
For a long moment, Mason didn’t even seem to hear him, and then slowly turned his gaze upward, gradually focusing on Nik. But not really. From what Nik could tell, the former marine was anywhere else but out here on their downstairs patio. By the looks of things, he had a feeling Mason was much closer to the Sunni Triangle of Iraq.
Dropping to his haunches, he tried to get a bead on the human’s status, but Mason had shut down. Totally. That same thousand-yard stare he’d gotten in the kitchen still haunted his green eyes.
“Mace, come on,” he encouraged. “You do demons all the time; you destroy them without hesitating. What’s so different about this particular one?”
Mason only stared ahead of him, until Nik reached out and touched his hand. “Mason,” he whispered roughly. “Come back to me.”
Mason jolted instantly. “Did you say something?”
Nikos leaned in a little closer, still squatting but working to meet Mason’s eyes. “Talk to me,” he urged softly. “You and I . . . we’re always good that way, right?
Mason’s green eyes were no longer distant, but alert and locked with Nik’s. “You don’t have to treat me like a pussy,” Mason said, playing it tough. But his eyes. His eyes begged Nikos to fix whatever had come unhinged inside his mind, his soul. “I don’t need a psych evaluation.”
“No Dr. Freud here.”
“Yeah, you’ve probably done time on the guy’s couch, long as you’ve been alive,” Mason muttered, a hollow attempt at humor that Nik wasn’t about to let distract him from the real issue.
Nikos nodded, saying nothing at first, then, “You have that look. The one you had when I first met you . . . the one I’ve observed in a lot of men over the years. Men who’ve seen too much, fought too long.”
>
Mason’s eyes drifted shut. “Nik, tell me I’m okay. Tell me I’m still here,” he murmured. “Tell me I’m still tight.”
“You’re right here with me. Totally lucid.”
Those green eyes opened again, filled with a kind of terror that Nik had never seen in the man before. “Because that . . . thing? It spooked the hell out of me, dude. It was . . . Oh, shit, I’m losing it. Losing my fucking mind! Just when I think I’m all glued back right—when I think you’ve helped me square away my loose shit—it all falls apart. Like out of the blue, something blindsides me.”
Nik didn’t know what Mason meant, but he nodded as if he did, realizing that the mortal needed him to be rock solid right now. He’d learned that about Mason over the past six months: that stability, security, those things were worth more than gold to him. “Well,” he said after a moment, “you weren’t exactly expecting a demon in our kitchen. So you were blindsided.”
“I’m not talking about that.”
The problem was that Nik really had no idea what Mason was talking about. “Then explain,” he said laconically.
“It was her eyes. The look in them. For a moment, she stared at me, and I swear it was like . . .” Mason raked his hand over his scalp again, back and forth as if trying to soothe his troubled thoughts. “Forget it. It’s fucked.”
Nikos leaned forward and took a risk, the sort he rarely had the guts to try with Mason: He slid a palm onto the other man’s thigh, resting it there. “Tell me. Say it.”
Mason looked down at Nik’s hand as if it were a disembodied object, as if he wasn’t sure how it had even arrived on his leg. But Nik went on instinct; Mason needed reality, needed connection, so he didn’t move.
“It was like, for this split second, that woman—demon, whatever—her eyes changed. They became . . . hungry. For me. She looked at me like she wanted me.”
Nikos almost laughed, as inappropriate a response as it would’ve been. Because he certainly understood looking at Mason Angel and wanting him. He probably did that at least ten times a day. Nik nodded for him to continue. “Go on,” he urged, keeping his palm steady on Mason’s leg, afraid any sudden movement would send him running for emotional cover. “Tell me, Angel.”
“I haven’t seen a look like that since . . .” Mason’s eyes closed again, and he gave his head a shake. “Fuck. I am losing it.”
“Where’ve you seen a look like that before?” Nikos insisted, desperate to keep Mason open and alert.
Mason only mumbled, “Forget it, dude. Just forget I ever said anything.”
“Do you still think she’s a demon?”
The human shrugged, slowly opening his eyes. “I’m not sure of anything anymore, Nik,” he whispered, sinking back heavily into a chair. “Not even me.”
Chapter 9
“Well, now that we’ve managed to clear half the crew out, maybe you’ll tell me exactly what you are, hon.” Jamie Angel smiled like a perfect Southern gentleman, leaning one hip against the dining table. “My brother, Mason, clearly thinks you’re a demon, and my sister . . .”
Shay shrugged in response, folding muscular arms across her chest. She’d been fighting demons on an almost daily basis recently, and it showed in her strong, honed physique. “Jamie, really?” she said. “I got no clue on this one.”
“My sister’s obviously not sure what to make of you, either.” Jamie lowered his voice to a gentle timbre. “So why don’t you just tell me all about it, sweetheart.”
Ari felt no such gentle tendencies. Not when the imposter looked up at him, those beautiful, thick-lashed blue eyes almost more than he could handle. Gazing back at her, his whole body reacted—his groin, his heart, his mind.
No! he tried telling himself. Even if she is Juliana, she left you. Gave up on your love!
Flexing first one hand, then the other, he hated the buzz saw of electricity that kicked on inside his head. And his skull still hurt like a mother. He recalled his concussion then, that fact resounding in his head like the second boom from a mortar, the one that was much more dangerous than the first.
“Aw, damn it all,” he muttered as the room grew swimmy and dark. “Who hit the lights?”
Ajax was instantly at his side, helping him to his seat. “Come on, big bro, let’s go sit down.”
Shay followed Ajax. The married duo always seemed to move as one, and as Jax helped him into the chair, she handed Ari a damp cloth. “Here, press this to your forehead,” she urged, and he complied, leaning his head back. The cool wetness eased the thundering tempo in his brain slightly.
“Who is this female impersonating?” Ajax asked bluntly.
Ari heard a delicate sniff of feminine indignation from beside him. “Apparently manners do not run in the Petrakos bloodline.”
“I was in love with her,” Ari explained, holding the cool cloth against his eyes. “Here, in Savannah. Over a century ago. She’s been dead ever since.”
And so have I, he thought. So have I.
“I am very much here now, sir,” the female said tartly. “Do not speak of me otherwise.”
He peeled the edge of the cloth away, ready to give her the evil eye, and saw that Emma was walking into the kitchen, River right behind her.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Ari groused, noting that both of them had wet, neatly combed hair.
A cozy shower together; even lovelier. Or maybe a long, sensual bath in each other’s arms?
The heat that had been lodged in his groin all night long hit overdrive as an image of hauling Juliana out of her chair and off to his own posh bathroom danced through his mind—of her bare body gleaming with droplets of water, his dark hands all over her porcelain skin. Maybe pulling her into the glass-walled shower, where he’d lather her up, drop to his knees . . .
“Oh, my God!” Emma cried suddenly, eyes still locked on the Juliana imposter. She pointed, turning toward River in explanation, then jabbed her finger significantly. “That’s her. That’s Aunt Juliana, in the chair. That’s my great- great-aunt.”
“Actually, Mason doesn’t think she is Juliana,” Ajax corrected. “He says she’s a demon. One masquerading as your dead relative.”
“Hey, wait!” Ajax looked at Emma. “Was she Shay’s great-great-aunt, too?”
Emma nodded, frowning as she swept her gaze up and down Juliana’s form. “Yes, Juliana was our greatgrandmother’s sister.” She hesitated, gesturing toward the woman. “I’m sorry; not to dispute my cousin’s word—I mean, Mason’s really good at what he does—but that is Juliana. She has the same spirit I channeled earlier tonight. I sense it.”
Ari’s head only pounded harder as the group talked over one another, debating whether Juliana was the real deal or not. He rubbed his temples, almost daring to hope Emma was right, but his heart clenched at the thought, even as it tried to embrace the possibility.
She had broken him, with both her rejection and her death. Now, if she truly had returned? How could he ever trust her again, much less risk his heart?
He groaned. “My head, gang. Is Sophie coming? She gonna heal me or what?”
Emma moved to his side instantly, pressing the cool cloth against his brow again. “I couldn’t reach her for a while, Ari, but she’s on the way now. She’ll take care of you.”
He noticed that “Juliana” was watching the action very closely, blotches of color staining her cheeks. The little hellion had the nerve to be jealous? And of Emma?
“So Juliana was a Daughter of Delphi, too,” Ajax resumed, sounding as if he were a hound chasing down a fox’s trail. “Like you, like Shay. The gifts came down through the female bloodline, correct?”
Emma nodded, gaze locked on the woman she clearly believed was her great-great-aunt. “All the way back to ancient Greece. It’s in our family journals; the exact lineage is traced.”
“Your point, Jax?” Ari asked, dropping his hands to the table. At that exact moment, “Juliana” spread her palms openly in front of her, causing their fingertips to
graze. It was like being touched by wildfire, Ari’s entire body tensing and electrifying in response. For such a simple touch, it sure incited a complicated, intense reaction.
His brother kept talking, oblivious. “Well, as a man who happens to be married to a very powerful Daughter of Delphi,” Jax said, “I’ve learned they’re capable of quite the supernatural feat. Channeling the Highest God, seeing the future, hearing the dead . . .”
Ari turned to look up at his younger brother. “Again, Jax, get to the point.” He knew he sounded raw and irritable, but physical awareness of the female beside him was starting to burn a hole in his consciousness.
Ajax smiled slowly, a warm, genuine expression that reached his eyes. He bent over Ari’s shoulder, his voice so low that only the two of them would know the secret. “Brother of mine, I’m suggesting that you might be sitting beside your one true love.” Jax paused, letting those intense, meaningful words sink all the way in. “So close, Aristos, that you could turn and kiss the lass if you wanted.”
Then Jax straightened up, raising his voice for the whole group to hear. “There’s only one way to confirm the woman’s identity for sure that I can think of, and that’s to summon a very old, dear friend of mine. Of ours.”
Oh, by the Highest, Leonidas would think she’d come of her own volition, Daphne thought, afraid to even breathe. Ares had spun her through the dimensions, torturing her as she hung in between for what felt an eternity—but was probably only a few hours. Now she’d landed gracelessly in the king’s intimate chambers, clearly her brother’s notion of a cruel joke. Or a dangerous temptation.
Leo was unaware of her silent arrival, kneeling before a makeshift, candlelit altar, lost in prayer. His head was bowed, one hand pressed over his heart, quiet and earnest words spilling past his lips. She closed her eyes, willing herself to vanish or move through the heavens without lifting so much as a pinky, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the man she loved.
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