Daimon: Guardians of Hades Series Book 6

by Heaton, Felicity

  That thought hit him like a gorgon, striking so hard and fast out of the blue that he actually took a step back to brace himself.

  He stared at Cass, reeling, stunned by how she had made him feel with only a smile.

  He watched her go inside, too shaken to follow as his mind whirled.

  He wasn’t looking for a woman. Penelope was the only woman he would ever love.

  But as he stared after Cass, drawn to following her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying to himself.

  That he had been lying to himself for years and that was why he constantly felt as if he was drowning.

  Cassandra was forcing him to face the truth—that he was lonely and to protect himself from the pain of that loneliness, he had convinced himself that he was being noble, that he still loved Penelope and that being loyal to her was vital to him.

  The real reason he was always on edge around Cass, always quick to anger and fast to lash out at her verbally to drive her away, hit him like a thunderbolt.

  He wasn’t angry with her because he felt she was trying to destroy his loyalty to Penelope, attempting to steal him from her.

  He was angry because he wanted Cass.

  He looked down at his gloved hands, lifted them palm up before him and watched the frost flowers blooming across the black leather.

  And he couldn’t have her.

  Chapter 4

  Daimon cringed as Valen hollered an obscenity across the main living room of the house, launching it like a missile at Cal as he flipped him off. He had been pleased when his brothers had regained consciousness, but now he was beginning to wish they had stayed asleep. At least the mansion had been quiet then.

  Keras had mistakenly ordered the two of them to rest, and they had spent the last two days on the cream couches in the TV area, dressed in sweatpants and worn T-shirts, lounging and playing video games, and fighting whenever one of them won.

  “You sure you can’t go home yet?” Daimon aimed it at Valen, who shifted his hand to flash his extended middle finger at him too.

  “Captain’s orders.” Valen grinned and waggled his finger. “You’re stuck with me.”

  “You seem well enough to go home,” he grumbled as he picked up several empty discarded packets of potato chips and shook his head at the number of juice glasses occupying the coffee table.

  He swore Valen and Cal used a fresh glass every time they wanted a drink.

  Valen fake-swooned, pressing the back of his right hand against his forehead as he sagged back against the couch cushions, still hammering buttons on the black controller with his left hand. “I’m sick, man. Have a heart.”

  The television announced a winner.

  “Shit, kid, I can beat you one-handed.” Valen pressed his bare left foot against Cal’s shoulder where he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by popcorn and broken chips.

  “Fuck off.” Cal grabbed Valen’s ankle and shoved his foot away. “Your stinky feet are putting me off my game.”

  Daimon pretended to check an invisible watch on his wrist. “You guys have around a minute before Eva and Marinda get back from the store.”

  He cast a pointed look at the mess surrounding his brothers.

  “Is this the impression you want to make on them?” He shook his head. “Reckon they’ll think you’re both losers and dump your arses.”

  Valen and Cal were on their feet in a heartbeat, Cal rushing to the kitchen for a dustpan and brush while Valen bundled the glasses and bowls into his arms, spilling more food onto the table and floor. Daimon made a mental note to threaten them with their women thinking they were losers in the future, whenever the two of them were being annoying. It was a great motivator.

  Cal paused halfway through sweeping the floor, his shoulders going rigid beneath his khaki T-shirt. “They’re here.”

  He raised his hand and the air in the room shifted, swirling into a miniature tempest that gathered all the mess into the pan for him.

  “Cheater,” Valen muttered as he rushed to the kitchen with another load of dishes. “If I used my powers—”

  “Esher would kill you.” Daimon didn’t let him finish that sentence, because Valen could command lightning and had come close to incinerating the mansion enough times already. He didn’t want his brother getting ideas about using his power to any degree within the vicinity of it.

  Valen sobered. Shrugged stiffly. “Wasn’t going to do anything.”

  If his brother had tacked ‘spoilsport’ onto that sentence, it wouldn’t have made him sound any sulkier.

  Daimon dragged a hand down his face and sighed as he prayed for strength. He wasn’t cut out for this. Esher was meant to be the one in charge at the mansion, not him. He definitely wasn’t cut out to stand in for Keras or even Ares. The two of them should have been here taking care of things, but Ares had gone to pack some things for Megan so they could move into the mansion, and Keras was busy doing something.

  The gods only knew what.

  His brother was becoming more and more secretive.

  Daimon had a feeling that was not a good thing.

  The front door opened and Cass’s scent of magic and sin hit him hard, had his gaze straying towards her despite his effort to keep his focus fixed on what he was doing.

  Eva stared at the stack of empty wrappers in his hand and then her blue eyes shot to Valen, her black eyebrows lowering above them. Her Italian accent was sharp as she said, “Did you eat all of that when you knew we were getting food?”

  Valen pointed at Daimon. “He ate it. I told him not to, but you should see him carb load. It’s impressive. These gods, huh, thinking they can eat what they want and not put on a single pound. Well, when he gets fat, I’ll have to say that I told him so.”

  Eva didn’t look as if she was buying it.

  For a split-second, Cass did.

  Daimon scowled at her and stomped towards the kitchen. “Like I’d eat this crap.”

  He shoved the wrappers into the bin, turned back towards the living room and froze.

  Cass stood in the doorway, clutching a dark glass bottle that had silver scrollwork and bands overlaid onto it.

  She gave him a painfully slow once-over. “Your body is a temple.”

  He narrowed his eyes, daring her to say anything more than that.

  With a wicked, saucy smile she murmured, “What I wouldn’t give to worship it.”

  He huffed, glaring at her. “You worship the god, not the temple.”

  “Oh, I could worship you. You just have to stop fighting me.” She set the bottle down on the counter.

  “Not going to happen.” He stepped towards her, but she stood her ground, blocking the exit. If he wanted to get past her, he would have to move her, and the victorious glimmer in her eyes said she knew he wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t risk touching her.

  He stepped up to her, raised his hands and planted them against the doorframe on either side of her head as she leaned back to avoid contact with him.

  “Can’t worship what you can’t touch.” He lowered his hands and stepped, appearing on the other side of the doorway.

  “That’s what you think,” Cass whispered.

  He frowned over his shoulder at her. Wanted to ask what she meant by that. The look in her eyes as she casually flicked her long fall of wavy black hair over her bare shoulders challenged him to do it, so he let it roll off his back instead.

  Or at least tried to.

  It plagued him as Marek appeared with Caterina and then Ares appeared holding Megan to him a split-second later, as if they had all sensed the bounty the women had brought into the house and wanted their share of it.

  Aiko busied herself with setting the cartons in the white plastic bags out in a line down the middle of the long mahogany dining table, passing comments with Megan and Eva as they set some plates out. He was glad Eva and Marinda had proposed getting takeout, giving Aiko something to do with them. She needed a moment of normal, a brief reprieve from the pain.

&
nbsp; They all did.

  Ares fussed over Megan, helping her down onto some cushions, and Megan swatted at him, trying to stop him. Daimon fixed his focus elsewhere, helping Aiko open the containers and using a spoon to smack Valen on the back of his hand when he tried to steal a piece of chicken.

  Valen glared at him, noticed Eva was watching and clutched his hand to his chest. “Did you see what the mean god did to me, baby?”

  “The mean god will do more than that if you try to steal more food.” Daimon gathered the lids of the containers.

  “I might help him.” Eva smiled when Valen scowled at her.

  He raised his hand and clawed at his black T-shirt over his heart. “She wounds me when I’m sick.”

  “Sick is your default setting,” Ares muttered.

  Valen huffed. “Whatever. No one loves me. I get it.”

  He rolled his shoulders and pouted. Eva sidled over to him, planted her hands to his chest and leaned in close, so their black clothes blended together. She gazed up into his golden eyes.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  Valen clammed up. Averted his gaze. Might have even blushed.

  Everyone noticed the shift in the air around him, how it went from playful to awkward in the blink of an eye, but it was Ares who had the balls to jump on it.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t told her you love her yet?” Ares straightened, shook his head and issued Valen one hell of an unimpressed look as he sighed.

  “He hasn’t.” Eva shrugged, a playful edge to it.

  “I have,” Valen bit out, and tiny arcs of electricity sparked around his fingers. He glared at each of them in turn as everyone stared at him, none of them looking as if they believed that. “I fucking have.”

  “When?” Eva turned a curious look on Valen.

  He looked at his feet and grumbled, “First time you told me.”

  She frowned, her lips flattening, and was silent for a few seconds before she said, “When you covered my ears and spoke—”

  “You told her in the language of the Underworld?” Marek cuffed Valen around the back of his head, causing the long lengths of his violet hair to shoot forwards and fall over his face.

  Valen swept them back. “So what? I still said it.”

  “Say it so she can hear it.” Cal shoved Valen at Eva.

  Valen growled, his golden eyes rapidly brightening, and looked as if he wanted to attack them all.

  But then he sighed, shifted foot to foot, and muttered, “I love you too.”

  Eva bit back a smile. Ares and Marek groaned. Cal sighed.

  “What?” Valen looked at them all in turn, shrugging his shoulders as he raised his hands at his sides. “Not good enough?”

  Valen huffed.

  “Fine.” He grabbed Eva’s wrist, pulled her into his arms and brought his lips to her ear as he closed his eyes. He whispered, “I fucking love you. You know that, right?”

  Eva wrapped her arms around him and ploughed her fingers into the choppy sides of his hair. “I do. Fucking love you too.”

  Valen kissed her hard and disappeared in a swirl of black smoke.

  Cal waved his hand through the vapour trail of the teleport and grinned. “That’s him gone for two minutes. I say we eat it all before he gets back.”

  Daimon sank into his seat that almost resembled a western dining chair with the legs cut off, the wooden seat sitting directly on the tatami mats with a cushion on top of it, and the low back offering him some comfort. It had taken months to convince Esher to switch from just cushions to this more modern type of Japanese dining chair, but every one of his brothers had thanked him when Daimon had succeeded.

  He crossed his legs and tried to shut out the crazy that was his family as he ate.

  Valen actually took close to seven minutes to reappear, his cheeks flushed and eyes glowing gold. He settled Eva onto his lap, ran his tongue up her neck which had her murmuring something about the stud that pierced it, and then fed her, all of which Daimon also chose to ignore.

  Keras arrived just as the meal was finishing, a distant edge to his emerald eyes.

  “What’s up?” Ares came out of the kitchen with a fresh glass of water and set it down in front of Megan.

  “I want to test something.” Keras idly spun the silver ring on his thumb with his index finger.

  Not a good sign. Keras had a bad habit of doing that when he was troubled by something. Was that why he had disappeared on them, going AWOL again? Ares had told them all not to worry, but it was hard not to when the enemy could attack at any moment, targeting the gates.

  Or one of them.

  Keras was powerful, but he was vulnerable when alone.

  It was about time his brother realised that.

  Before something bad happened to him.

  “What do you want to test?” Ares said.

  Not a single ounce of emotion touched Keras’s eyes as he lowered them to Marinda. “Her.”

  Marinda didn’t hesitate. She stood, neatened her mulberry woollen sweater, nervously smoothing it over her blue jeans, and met Keras’s gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

  “We’ll take you to the Tokyo gate and see if you can open it. If you can, then we’ll come back here and wait another few days before trying again.” Keras finally stopped playing with his ring, drew the two sides of his long black coat back and slipped his hands into the pockets of his pressed black slacks.

  “I’ll go with you.” Cal stood and his blond eyebrows knitted hard above stormy blue eyes when Keras shook his head.

  “No. Both you and Valen will stay here. Eva too.” Keras didn’t budge an inch when Valen growled at him.

  “You’re benching me?” Valen barked.

  “You’re still recovering,” Ares said, a sharp edge to his voice. “And someone has to stay here to protect Megan and Aiko.”

  Valen’s golden eyes lost their spark as he leaned back in his seat, folded his arms across his chest and grunted, “Fine.”

  His older brother could pretend he was in a mood about being told to stay put, but Daimon could see straight through it to the truth—Valen was honoured that Ares wanted him to protect Megan and Aiko.

  “I need to go too.” Air swirled around Cal, teasing the tips of his blond ponytail.

  “You need to stay here.” Keras placed a hand on his shoulder and gently gripped it as he looked down into Cal’s eyes. “We are only going to do a little testing. We shall not be long.”

  That didn’t allay the fear building in Cal, shining in his stormy irises.

  Daimon nodded towards Marinda. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Cass stood, brushed down her dress and tipped her shoulders back. “Nothing will happen to Mari on my watch. You have my word on that, Calistos.”

  It grated that Cal hadn’t looked relieved when Daimon had sworn to keep an eye on the woman he loved, but he had when Cass had made her promise.

  Cass was powerful, but she had her vulnerabilities. He couldn’t be the only one of them who had noticed that her magic tapped her out, draining her of strength, leaving her as weak as a mortal if she used too much of it.

  Ares helped Megan onto her feet and his eyebrows furrowed as he gazed lovingly down at her.

  “Oh, stop coddling. Even when you’re not coddling… you’re coddling.” Megan huffed and pushed at Ares’s broad chest, but he stood firm, not moving an inch. Her hand lingered, her touch softening to a caress as she looked up into his dark eyes. “I’ll be peachy.”

  She didn’t look as if she believed that.

  “You’ll be peachy too, right?”

  So that was the reason behind her worry. She was afraid something would happen to Ares.

  Ares lowered his hand to her swollen belly and pressed his palm against it, splaying his fingers out. She dropped hers to cover his and a smile wobbled on her lips.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes, and I’ll be careful.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, one she leaned into as she closed her eyes. �
�I’ll be back before you know it.”

  He smoothed the fingers of his other hand over her brown hair, skimming it down to the tips at her shoulders, and then tangled his hand in it and pulled her to him for a kiss.

  Daimon looked away.

  His eyes landed on Cass.

  She frowned at him, and he had the terrible feeling she was trying to pick apart his feelings.

  He wanted to tell her not to do it.

  “And then we can all have a glass of ambrosia,” Cass said.

  Everyone stared at her.

  “Well, everyone except Megan, since she’s pregnant.” Cass looked at her. “Sorry, no ambrosia for you.”

  Ambrosia? That was what she had in that bottle with the silver filigree on it?

  “Ooh, ambrosia.” Valen rubbed his hands together, causing tiny sparks to leap from them.

  “Where did you get ambrosia?” Daimon put in, holding her gaze.

  Her right shoulder lifted slightly, a coy edge to her smile as she said, “I have my sources.”

  Meaning, she had a dealer.

  He jerked his chin towards the others in the room with them. “Ambrosia isn’t for mortals.”

  “Good thing that I’m not mortal.” Her blue eyes flashed fire at him, warning him he wasn’t going to dissuade her.

  At least not easily.

  “Just a sip. You could have one now for courage if you need it.” She pretended she was going to turn to get the bottle and then looked back at him.

  Why was she pushing this?

  He rolled his eyes when it hit him.

  She was trying to get him drunk.

  This was her new method of attempting to break down his walls.

  He shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

  “Keras will have a drink, won’t you, Keras?” She smiled sweetly at his older brother, and for some reason, Daimon felt a powerful need to flash fangs and snarl at him.

  Keras just arched a black eyebrow at her and stepped, leaving ribbons of black swirling in the air behind him.

  Valen raised his hand. “I’ll drink with you.”

  Ares loosed a deep sigh. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Getting drunk, Valen? I thought you were sick?”

  “I’m feeling a little better.” Valen shrugged. “I could handle a shot or two.”