Blood of Zeus: (Blood of Zeus: Book One)

by Meredith Wild

  In a few hours, I’ll have more pieces of the puzzle. A few more truths about the person consuming more of my mind, my spirit, and my heart every hour.

  And maybe, just maybe, she’ll lead me to more pieces of my own puzzle. The core of my own truths.

  The reasons why I am…the way I am. And just what the hell I’m supposed to do with it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kara

  “And without further ado, let’s give a warm and gracious welcome to an outstanding icon of our community, the woman who has turned this library wing from dream to reality, the inimitable Veronica Valari.”

  I join in the swell of applause as my mother glides across the courtyard toward the riser in front of the building that bears her name. The university president, who’s spent the past ten minutes singing the woman’s praises, greets her with a pair of air kisses and an affectionate embrace. My mother takes the microphone and swishes the long train of her satin gown behind her, greeting the crowd with her pearly smile and a smoky laugh.

  “Thank you, President McCarthy. I am so honored to be here.”

  The cafe lights swaying gently in the evening breeze cast a warm glow on the rest of the crowd gathered around cocktail tables covered in Alameda’s school colors, crimson and gray. Many in the throng are here out of obligation, like Maximus, who I’ve yet to spot. But I suspect more are here for an opportunity to rub shoulders with a Valari or the handful of celebrities attaching themselves to the event for PR opportunities.

  As my mother launches into her prepared speech, a warm hand brushes against my lower back. My heart lurches in a blur of hope, anticipation, and excitement—though every shred of the euphoria falls away when Arden, not Maximus, slides up beside me. The man’s eyes are blacker than the sky beyond the spotlights, and his smile is a smooth show of confident assumption.

  “Lovely to see you again, Kara,” he murmurs silkily. He lifts his cocktail to his mouth. The way he beams his gaze over the rim of the glass is unsettling, like a hunter who won’t take his eyes off his prey.

  “Mr. Prieto. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

  “Please, call me Arden. We’re going to be spending quite a bit of time together after all. No point in carrying on with the formalities.”

  The crowd titters at something my mother’s saying. Probably a humblebrag disguised as an attempt at self-deprecating humor. But the wealthy client under the spotlight fails to distract Arden. He’s all about looking at me now. Endlessly. Excruciatingly. Long seconds drag by as he keeps raking his gaze over me.

  “That’s an exquisite dress.”

  I wish I couldn’t feel his palpable appreciation of it, but the oily energy is rolling off him. I contemplate cutting through the heaviness of his admiration and confessing that I chose the scarlet gown with the provocative cuts for someone else. But as charming as demons can be, they can turn equally vicious with very little prodding. I’m not in the mood to test this one.

  “Thank you.”

  He sets his empty glass on the table, edging closer to me as he does. I try not to visibly bristle at his intimate—or at least very friendly—proximity.

  “I have some friends at the college,” he says, his tone cool and confident, exactly the way he carries himself. “I don’t usually come to these things, but when I heard you’d be here, I thought I’d drop by and say hello.”

  I answer with an awkward shrug. “Hello then, I guess.”

  He smirks at that. “Your mother tells me you’re quite the passionate academic. This is your last year at Alameda, right?”

  “It is. I’ll be sad to leave.”

  “And what will you do after?”

  My heart falls as I contemplate the truth ahead of me. The fate that looms closer with every passing day. “I’d love to continue on with graduate studies, but I think my mother’s patience has worn thin waiting for me to get more involved in family affairs. She has a lot of projects in the works.”

  He nods with a quiet hum. “I suppose I’m one of those projects.” Something glimmers in his eyes that matches the secretive smile he wears. “She’s quite determined to build a collection that will stamp the Valari name on the world of art and antiquities. It’s inspiring. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t eager to start.”

  “Who could tire of spending someone else’s money so glamorously?” I manage to hide some of the sarcasm beneath the words.

  But the look he levels at me makes me wonder if I succeeded.

  “I think we both know it’s about more than money. Not like it has any value in other realms.”

  At his reference to the underworld, I’m quietly curious how well he knows it.

  “Then what is it about? Enlighten me.”

  He cants his head, a curious frown pulling his dark brows together. To a lot of other females, human or demon, I suppose he’d be found beautiful. His features are carved and sleek, finished with a strong jaw, an expressive mouth, and a dazzling smile—though his scrutinizing stare holds no warmth or admiration. It has me wishing I could look away, but something about his energy makes me want to hold my ground.

  “Establishing dominance,” he finally says, his voice sharpening.

  Of course it is.

  I blink my way clear of the barely veiled challenge he’s seemingly issued. I don’t like it, nor how he’s issued it, but that’s a secondary point right now. “I suppose that’s my mother’s department.” I’m more sad than resentful about having to admit that fact. We’ve always been so different, and I fear that will never change.

  Just like that, the edges in his tone mellow into a softer cadence. “You do still have so much of your humanity.” That tone even takes on a hint of awe—one I find as troubling as his confrontational side. He doesn’t help by gliding the backs of his fingers down my bare arm, following the motion with an appreciative gaze over the rest of me. “I have to say, you wear it almost as beautifully as you wear this dress.”

  “Kara.”

  My senses don’t need a single second to react. The deep timbre of Maximus’s voice sends me back a full step away from Arden and his weird touch. One glance up at the towering man, proud and gorgeous in his all-black tuxedo, has my breath catching. But what really has me reeling is the equally dark look in his eyes.

  “Maximus.” I clear my throat and quickly correct the blunder. “I mean… This is Professor Maximus Kane. He’s my instructor for—”

  “And you are?” Maximus cuts off the rest of my introduction and squares his body with Arden, who’s tall and lean but a fraction of the professor in stature.

  After they size each other up for a long, tense moment, Arden extends his hand.

  “Arden Prieto,” he answers coolly. “A friend.”

  “A friend,” Maximus repeats, like the words have a bitter taste.

  I open my mouth to explain, but I’m momentarily lost for a better way to explain Arden’s presence here tonight. He’s a demon fine arts broker with a weakness for humanity, it would seem, but none of that sounds sane.

  Maximus pivots back to me, so many questions swimming in his gaze. “You didn’t turn in your term paper proposal.”

  My jaw unhinges again while my brain tries to catch up. Because I definitely did turn it in, and my first defensive instinct is to say so.

  But that’s not what this is really about.

  “Oh wow.” I laugh nervously, rushing to play along. “I can’t believe I forgot. I was so focused on getting ready for tonight, it must have slipped my mind.”

  “No worries,” he replies tightly, like pretending to go easy on me is painful for him right now. “You’re not the only one who got caught up in the excitement, so I’m extending the deadline a bit.”

  “Thank you, Professor.”

  Maximus answers with a soft grunt. “You can drop it by tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

  “Of course. Thank you again.”

  Without any other acknowledgment, he faces Arden once more. “Pleasure to
meet you. Sorry for the intrusion.”

  Before Arden can reply, Maximus pivots and makes his way out of the courtyard. I watch every move he makes, unsure whether to be thankful or wrathful. Is he really leaving like this? Without another word?

  Not that I’d hear him anyway. The crowd begins to clap loudly over my mother’s final utterings of gushy gratitude into the mic.

  “We should go rescue her,” Arden says. “They’ll have her standing for photos for hours with this many people.”

  “She has a way of gracefully exiting when she wants to.”

  Speaking of…

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to let our drivers know she’ll be ready soon. She probably won’t be staying much longer.”

  He eyes me carefully, like maybe he knows I’m hiding something. Or even worse, lying through my teeth. “When can we meet to discuss the acquisitions for Veronica?”

  I stifle the frustrated sigh that wants to break free.

  “Dinner Friday?” he offers.

  I don’t give myself a moment to mentally draw up my calendar. All I care about right now is how the distance between Maximus and me is growing by the second.

  “Sounds perfect.” I force a smile to smooth the air—and my departure. “Text me the details.”

  Without a backward glance, I turn and follow Maximus’s exit from the party. The crowd thins the farther I get from the heart of the event, but Maximus is nowhere to be found.

  “Damn it,” I rasp. I’ve lost him.

  Stepping out to the library’s front entrance, I chance a look at the adjacent building. The windows are all dark in Archer, save one that’s dimly lit and achingly familiar. On the fourth floor.

  By the time I scale the stairs and reach Maximus’s office, I’m breathless but hopeful. The door is cracked when I arrive. Through it I can see him, one hand pressed high on the window, the other clutching a glass of amber liquid.

  As I push the door open, its soft creak hits the building’s silence like a lightning crack. Maximus starts and turns at the sound.

  I lean against the jamb, allowing myself a moment to truly drink him in. He’s ditched the tuxedo jacket and loosened his satiny tie. His hair is still collected in a bun, making the emotions he wears all the more prominent.

  “I thought I lost you,” I say softly.

  He empties the tumbler and turns back to the window.

  “You’re upset.” I fully enter the room and shut the door behind me. “Because of Arden.”

  “Your friend, right?” I don’t miss the icy emphasis on the noun.

  “He’s not my friend. I’m not sure why he introduced himself that way. He’s doing some work for my mother. That’s all.”

  “Right,” he mutters.

  I take another step toward him. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Is that why you came here tonight? To tell me the truth?” He’s still talking to the window, and the avoidance is driving me crazier than his insinuations.

  I come closer. Close enough to touch him. “I came here to see you.”

  After a long moment, he tilts his head, giving me the full weight of his stare. I lift my palm to the wall, letting it buffer the impact of all the longing and frustration collected in his blues. They’re the color of midnight in a graveyard, and my senses rail with matching desolation. But with speed I’ve gained from years of focus and experience, I shove back the feelings and straighten my posture.

  After pulling in a cleansing breath, I pull my hand from the wall and reach out for him instead. Another wave of emotional tumult threatens my composure, but I’m tender about running my fingertip over the pretty silver cuff link at his wrist.

  “I like this formal look on you.”

  “Do you like the jealous look too?”

  I blink up at him, schooling my features. I didn’t chase after him to get into a fight. His bait isn’t going to work. “I’m learning to appreciate all of you, actually. Even the pieces of you that are unexpected.”

  He inhales a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Kara…”

  “Maximus?” I embrace the gift of saying his name again. Right now, because it’s just us, I can pretend it’s an offering to him. A prayer of adoration. “I’m serious about this. What will it take to prove it to you?”

  His gaze narrows, giving away his inner debate before I can even sense it. “All right, then. Tell me something about you. Anything. I want to know you better than a random stranger off the street who reads about you in the headlines.”

  “You already do.” It’s the truth, but I already know it’s not enough. It won’t satisfy him. Not this time. “Who’s the person in your life you’re closest to?”

  He blinks in confusion. “Jesse, I guess.”

  “Because of what happened when you were little?”

  “Not necessarily. We were friends before the accident. I’d like to think if it never happened, we’d still be.”

  I smile, recognizing little tendrils of my own jealousy forming. The person I’m closest to is forbidden. The same way Maximus will be if anyone finds out we’re flirting with a relationship together.

  “Why are you asking me? We’re supposed to be talking about you, remember?”

  “I know.” I close my eyes with a sigh. “My grandfather is that person for me.”

  “Giovani Valari? The screenwriter?”

  I nod. “He lives in my mother’s guesthouse in Beverly Hills. No one’s allowed to talk to him. I spent years figuring out ways to see him without getting into trouble. I still do.”

  He winces. “He’s your family, though. Why on earth would they do that?”

  “We were really close when I was little. Then things changed. I never understood why. It’s just the way it is now.”

  “And you just accept it?” He shakes his head, and I know there’s nothing more I can say to help him make sense of it. But he deserves to know what we’re up against.

  “Just know that it’ll be the same with you. If they find out about us, they won’t just cluck their tongues and then come around. They’ll forbid it. Kell’s already told you as much.”

  His jaw tightens. “Because I’m not a rich celebrity? I can’t whisk you away on my yacht and play the red carpet charades?”

  The defensiveness in his words tears at my heart. “No,” I protest at once. “That has nothing to do with it, I promise. The Valaris already have more money than they know what to do with. To the point where it has less value than other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…tradition…control…power.”

  “I don’t understand what any of that has to do with you. With us.”

  It has everything to do with it.

  But I can’t say that out loud. He doesn’t understand, and he never will. He can never be allowed to.

  I reach up and rake my fingertips through his beard gently. “When we’re together, I don’t think about it. Alameda has always been my escape from that world. But you’re…well, you’ve become more than an escape.”

  So much more…

  In the deepest recesses of my soul, I know that falling for Maximus will be my ruin. Nothing good can come from these moments together except the bliss I feel under his touch. The solace of his companionship.

  This bliss.

  This solace.

  This complete heaven, banishing the hell for which I’ve been groomed. The fate for which I was conceived.

  “What am I, then?”

  With him, I feel like I’m more.

  And even if it’s not forever…I’ll take it.

  I bite my lip and fiddle with his cuff link absently. “Lately I’m beginning to think that being with you is where I’m supposed to be. At least right now.” A minute. An hour. However long we have. “And I can’t stay away.”

  At first, Maximus does nothing. Then without a single word, he joins our hands and turns his body to mine. “My life has always been about restraint. I can’t remember a time when it wasn
’t. And when it comes to you…” He winces slightly. “Honestly, I’ve never felt so powerless. The minute you walk into the room, restraint isn’t a word I even understand anymore.”

  I draw my hand up his chest, enjoying the feel of his heartbeat. “You can let go with me.”

  When he draws me against him, I’m grateful that we’re done with words. The sweet and slow melding of our mouths is forgiveness and reassurance. Acceptance of this growing connection between us. Defiance against whatever or whoever threatens it. More, it’s a heart-swelling reminder of how right it feels to surrender to the moment with him.

  With an effortless sweep, he lifts me onto the deep windowsill, shoving a stack of books away to give us more room. One of them falls onto the floor with a thud, but his hands don’t stop. He strokes his fingers over every bare inch of my skin until he’s skating his incredible touch up my arms. Then inwardly, so exquisitely and slowly, over the silky panels that cover my breasts. Then lower again, palming his way along my thighs, thanks to the high slits of the gown. He leans in, pressing my legs wide to accommodate him.

  I sigh. I soften. I surrender.

  For all the twisting and aching my heart’s done tonight, the thing feels like a balloon in my chest now, taking up space I need to breathe. He nips at my jaw, kissing and caressing his way to my shoulder, where he’s shifted the fabric to kiss the flesh underneath. I cover his hand with mine, coaxing the panel free. Then the other. I’m bared to him, and it feels so good.

  He doesn’t move, barely breathes. Seconds bleed away with only his eyes passing over me in silent worship. “You’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  My skin tightens at his words, but I ache for more. I’m dizzy to have this man’s hands on me. His mouth. Anything that will feed or ease this frenzy that’s taken hold of me.

  “Touch me,” I beg softly.

  He gifts me with the barest touch, dragging his thumb along the outer curve of my breast, circling in slowly. I’m ready to beg him again when he dips his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth, lashing the tip with his tongue.

  I suck in a sharp breath. “Oh!”