Hestia dusted off her hands, a job well done.
"You." Ares pointed to the female nymph. "You appear weak."
Gulping, she took a trembling step backward. "Me?"
She appeared strong to Layel, healthy, her color good. He frowned.
"You're being eliminated, as well. There is no place for weaklings here. However, I have decided to be lenient and restore your strength to full capacity. That is why you will wait in my heavenly chambers. I will join you shortly."
Her fear turned to eagerness as she realized what he wanted from her, and she vanished with an excited gasp. Now Layel understood, as well. The war god wanted the nymph for his own.
Poseidon frowned. "That wasn't fair. I wanted her."
Ares shrugged, unconcerned. "He who hesitates does not deserve such beauty. But do not worry. Who would know better than you, Poseidon, that there are plenty of other fish in the sea?"
The sea king glared, but didn't issue a rejoinder.
"Finally, the four strongest contenders remain," Apollo said, rubbing his hands together. "Delilah, the stubborn Amazon. Broderick, the loyal nymph. Layel, the fierce vampire king. Tagart, the determined dragon. Which of you will survive, though? Which of you will fall?"
"Soon you will face the greatest challenge yet, and only one can win." Hestia splayed her arms wide. "What will this winner receive, you ask? The answer is as simple, or as life-altering, as you want it to be. A boon. Anything you wish of us, we will do. Anything you desire shall be yours."
"And what of the others?" Layel asked. "What will happen to the losers?"
Rather than scold him for asking a question, Poseidon eyed him sharply. "That, too, is a simple but life-altering answer. They will die."
Die. The word echoed in his mind, an ominous threat that overshadowed the physical pain still beating through him. Gods. He was going to have to win this competition. His boon--sparing Delilah's life. Once he would have used such a favor to obliterate the dragons. No longer. Delilah came first.
"Before the prize can be awarded, the challenge must be met. Heed our words well, for things are not always what they seem. Each of you will travel up the mountain behind you," Artemis said. "There you will find something the likes of which even the bravest of men would run from. Something you fear above anything else. You are to face it, defeat it."
There hadn't been a mountain on the island before, but Layel was willing to bet that if he turned, he would see one.
Poseidon grinned, a wicked edge to his amusement. "But fear not, creatures of Atlantis. I'm returning all the weapons you crafted, for what better way to prove the true depth of your might than to utilize such instruments of death on your fellow opponents? Although...perhaps you have all you will need without them, hmm?"
Layel was suddenly weighed down with swords, daggers and lances. And then, one by one, the gods vanished.
"May the best warrior win," whispered on the breeze in their wake.
His pain instantly ceased. Panting, sweating, he straightened, squared his shoulders and looked at Delilah. She was watching him. Unemotional. Unreadable. They stood there in silence for several seconds--an eternity.
"One of us will die," she ventured, but she didn't sound as if she cared who lost their life.
It would not be her, he vowed. He would die himself before he allowed any harm to fall upon this woman. "No." He shook his head. "One of us will win a prize. Anything we desire, even the life of the other."
Her head tilted to the side, thoughts swimming in her eyes. "Or the life of someone else. Your mate could live again."
For one moment, he was overjoyed by the possibility. Susan...returned to him. He couldn't catch his breath, saw white lights behind his eyelids. Then, with a glance at Delilah, the joy shifted. Susan's return wasn't what he wanted anymore. It was time to let her rest in peace, as he'd realized at the waterfall. He wanted Delilah. She was his present, his future. "I want you."
She shrugged.
Tagart approached Delilah's side, eyes narrowed on Layel. "Come," he commanded the Amazon. "We'll work the mountain together."
All of Layel's possessive instincts surfaced with a roar. Mine! "You will not touch her. You will not aid her. I will."
Delilah, ever emotionless, shrugged off Tagart's hold. "You have issued ultimatum after ultimatum, dragon. I was to follow you or risk death. Well, I am tired of following you. Our alliance ended when the teams were dissolved. I think you now want me to die. Anything to punish the vampire. So I'll work the mountain on my own. Besides, I'm an Amazon. I don't need a man."
She turned and strode away from them, Layel's gaze tracking her every movement. She approached a--His eyes widened. There was a mountain, huge, towering, dark and surrounded by foreboding shadows. Even the bravest man would run from what's up there, the gods had said.
Tagart took advantage of Layel's distraction and attacked, claws raking Layel's chest. Rather than engage, Layel simply dematerialized. Only one thing mattered right now--and for once, it wasn't the dragon.
*
DELILAH FELT DEAD inside as she increased her speed, going from a stroll to a run in seconds. She dodged trees, their limbs slapping at her, jumped over thick roots and ignored the eerie animalistic purr that reverberated through the air. Soon she was panting, didn't know where she was or where she was going, and didn't care.
Her sister had been sent away to be mentally and emotionally tortured, and she hadn't been able to save her. Layel was toying with her for some reason, offering her everything she'd once desired. I want you, he'd said. She still couldn't bring herself to care--not even if he'd meant every word.
I should care. But in the void that was her heart, there were no regrets. No happiness, no concerns.
"Delilah."
One second she was running, the next she was soaring through the air. She struggled until she drew in the scent of man, strength and blood. His arsenal of weapons pressed into every point of contact, abrading her skin.
"Put me down," she said flatly.
"Hold on to me." Layel's voice was strained. Sweat beaded every inch of his face, and lines of fatigue etched his eyes and mouth. Never had he appeared more exhausted.
"Put me down." There was a spark of awareness inside her, arousal about to bloom, but it was quickly snuffed out as if it had never been. What was wrong with her?
"I hurt you," he said into her ear. "I am sorry for that, so very sorry."
"As sorry as you are about your mate's death?" she found herself asking. She didn't care about his answer, but something compelled her to ask, anyway.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation.
"There's no reason to lie. You're nothing to me now. I was merely curious."
Pain glowed in his eyes, deepening the blue to a sorrowful black. "I want to be everything to you."
A few hours ago, she would have rejoiced. Now..."I told you, I no longer want you." Truth. There was nothing inside her to give him. Or anyone, for that matter.
"I want you. You are all that I desire, and instead of cherishing you as you deserve, I was cruel. I beg your forgiveness for that, and will do anything to get it." When she said nothing, he added, "I hate that I hurt you, that you now look at me as if I'm invisible."
Wind ruffled her hair across her face as she studied his features. She saw what she'd wanted to see all these many days: tenderness, kindness and caring. She saw...love? In that moment, she did regret the numbness. "You were calling her name. You told her you were sorry."
His brow furrowed in confusion. "When--Oh. Yes, I was. I was telling her goodbye."
"Telling her--" Delilah couldn't form the words, couldn't comprehend what he was saying.
"Telling her goodbye," Layel repeated. "Susan is no longer my mate. She is gone, and I am here. I want you. I want to be with you, have a future with you."
"Layel--"
"You asked me for a chance, but I didn't give it to you. Now I am begging you for one." He shifted her in his arms, forcin
g her to wind her legs around his waist and lock her ankles to maintain some sort of balance. "Please. I will do anything for it. Anything at all."
They were hovering in the air, over the trees and inside delicate puffs of white. She braced her arms around his neck, staring deep into those bright eyes. "I'm sorry. I have nothing inside me to give you anymore. Besides, there's no time for this. Tagart and Broderick are searching for the monster, or whatever it is the gods wish us to slay."
"We will make time. Nothing is more important to me than you. Not even the win."
"But without the win, one of us will die."
He sighed at the reminder. "Much as I wish otherwise, you are right. But..." He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "The blankness still lingers in your eyes and that tears me up inside. What can I do? Tell me what to do to help you?"
"I wish I knew. One of the goddesses came to me earlier. Hestia, I realize now. She wanted me to forget you and focus on the game so she...she..." Delilah's eyes widened, the truth crystallizing. "She took my love for you so that I would no longer place you above victory."
Layel's arms tightened around her, anger flashing over his countenance. "I don't understand."
"I have no emotions. She took them, all of them." Delilah should have been infuriated by that, but again, there was nothing inside her, not even a single spark of the fury that was so warranted.
"You love me?"
"I did." She could think of no reason to deny it. "Yes."
"And the goddess made it so that you felt nothing?"
"Yes," she repeated.
"Oh, Delilah, sweet Delilah. I am so sorry. It seems I have more to apologize for than I knew." His warm breath fanned her ear, a drugging caress she should have enjoyed. "I will have to feel enough for both of us, then, because I love you, sweet. I love you so much and I cannot let you go."
It was everything she'd ever longed to hear. Here, now, a strong, powerful man was looking at her as if she were a prize, talking to her as if he would fight anyone or anything for her honor. As if he would hold her tight and never let her go. But still she did not care.
"I will find a way to heal you," he vowed.
Could he, though? Whichever of them won could ask the gods for the life of the other as their boon. But then the prize could not be the return of her emotions.
It seemed that no matter what happened, they were doomed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SHIVAWN CROUCHED on the patch of land his father had died on. He'd expected memories to swamp him, pull him under a wave of misery, but surprisingly they didn't. He felt remorse, of course, for the strong male influence he'd lost. But stronger by far was the swell of anticipation for what would be. Alyssa was nearby. He hadn't yet seen her, but he'd at last caught a hint of her delectable fragrance.
A fragrance he planned to surround himself with for the rest of his life. Though he'd blamed her eyes for triggering his nightmares, all this time it had been his eyes that were the faulty ones. He hadn't seen deep enough to the wonderful woman she was.
And, to be honest, he was glad her eyes reminded him of what he'd lost. Glad, because he would never forget how quickly someone he loved could be taken from him. He would not take her for granted again. Besides, those eyes were a part of her and he wanted every part he could get. She was his. His demon, his vampire. His love.
He scanned the area, an area vastly different than he remembered. A village had been built here. Once there had been forest, now there were homes with thatch roofs scattered in every direction. Minotaurs and centaurs worked together in harmony, gardening, pruning, drawing water from wells. Children frolicked and played, laughing in carefree abandon.
Shivawn leaned against the wall, trying to appear inconspicuous. But several females had already gotten a whiff of his nymph scent and were lingering, trying to catch his eye. Lust colored several of their faces, and in turn fury colored several of the men's.
He was a nymph. That was business as usual for him. He was only astonished he hadn't picked up a trail of females on the daylong journey here. Perhaps his scowl had scared them all away.
He'd been forced to self-pleasure what seemed like ten thousand times just to garner enough strength to get here--and for the fight he knew was to come. But he was ready now. He had thoughts of Alyssa in his mind, thoughts that kept him aroused and strong enough. At least, he hoped.
Alyssa rounded the corner of a far stable, kicking stones with the tip of her boot. She wore a long yellow robe, the hood draping her face. He recognized her sensuous stroll, the sweet tilt of her head. More, he knew it was her, sensed it with everything inside him.
His joy, lust and love returned in full measure, stabbing at him fervently. His body shook as he drank her in. Did she think to hide her heritage from the creatures? Most races feared vampires and demons alike. Or had she heard of his arrival and assumed he wouldn't know her if she hid her face?
That was not something he could allow his woman to do.
Her gait never slowed, and she drew closer and closer to him. Was almost within reach...almost...he pushed deeper into the shadows as she stilled, raised her head. The hood fell back and she sniffed the air. Horror blanketed her features, and she stumbled backward.
Unwilling to give her a chance to run, he dove on her, rolling them midair to take the brunt of the fall himself. She was gasping and sputtering, but managed to pull a dagger and hold it to his throat when they finally stilled.
"Stab me if you wish, but know that I'm here because I care for you," he said, holding her tightly to prevent escape.
"You're here for revenge," she spat.
"No. For you."
She pressed the blade deeper and he felt a bead of blood trickle. Around them people watched, no doubt unsure of what to do. "Go about your duties," he called, not removing his focus from Alyssa. Gods, she was lovely. How had he resisted her for so long?
"I won't accept punishment for what I did," she told him. "It was necessary."
Her weight was delicious atop him, but he rolled them over, inserting his legs between hers for better leverage. Her eyes narrowed, and she kept the blade balanced. Thankfully she didn't try and scoot away.
"Why did you come here?" he asked. "To this place?"
"I won't discuss that with you, either. Now get off. I will kill you."
He cupped her chin with one of his hands, tender, gentle. "Sweet, I know who your brothers were. I know you were here that night."
When his words registered, she gasped. Tears sprang into her eyes and she shook her head.
He groaned, hating the pain banked in every hollow of her face. "Do you hate me for killing them?" he asked softly.
Her mouth floundered open and closed. "I should."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"No." She sighed, a troubled sound. "Even then, I understood."
His relief was a palpable force.
"I would have done the same," she admitted. "I didn't know them, was only there to watch them, learn about them. So many times I've wished my mother hadn't told me about my family. But my father raped her, and I guess she was afraid there were pieces of him inside of me."
No wonder she had reacted so badly when he'd accused her of trying to rape him. It must have seemed as though he were comparing her to the demon her father was. How she must have suffered, knowing she was the product of such a violent, horrific crime.
"You aren't evil, Alyssa. You're perfect." Pinned like this, he could feel all of her curves, all of her femininity. He'd been with her twice, but he had not savored her. He would never make that mistake again. "Remove the blade, love," he told her gently.
At first, she gave no indication that she'd heard him. Then, with another of those labored sighs, she tossed the weapon to the ground. It landed several inches away, close enough for them to grab if another creature made a play for it. "I'm too tired to fight you anymore."
The glowing dome cast her in reverent light, making her appear otherworldly,
a phantom that might slip away from him if he wasn't careful. He could tell her what he felt, but he doubted she would believe him. Most likely she would view every word as an attempt to lure her to relaxation so that he could better punish her. Strike.
He reached for the knife at his back. She cringed. He didn't say a word, just pulled from her and sat on his knees, legs straddling her waist.
"Is this the part where you kill me?" A question without any heat or emotion. "You owe me, after all. For what my family did to yours."
Slowly, so as not to scare her, he lowered the blade and held it to her, hilt first. "Take it."
"Wh-what?"
"Take it."
Suspicions darkened her expression. "Why?"
"I wish you to have my weapon."
"Why?" she repeated, still unsure of his purpose. "Why have me toss mine if you wanted me to have yours?"
"So you realize that what is mine is now yours. We are on equal ground now, as you wanted."
No part of her softened. "I doubt this is your only weapon."
Very true. "The gesture is symbolic then," he said drily.
"I'll reach for it and you'll laugh and then stab me." She shook her head, hair grinding into the dirt. "Sorry."
He tsked under his tongue, trying for a nonchalance that he didn't feel, and stood. He placed the blade beside her and stepped back, holding his arms wide. "If you wish, I will strip here of everything. Know that I don't want to, don't want to place you in danger and not be armed to protect you, but if you wish it, it will be done."
Her slitted gaze circled the growing crowd around them. At the women eyeing him, even inching toward him, reaching out for a touch of his skin.
With a hiss, she grabbed the blade and leapt to her feet. She also snatched her own and held both in her hands when she faced him. "Shall we fight?"
"No. We shall enter that home." He pointed to the small hut he'd been crouched beside.
That gave her pause. "Why?"
"Alyssa. Please. You are armed, I am not. You are warrior enough to subdue me if I do anything you dislike. All I desire is a few moments of your time. Alone."