Enraptured

  Once, before that torture in Tartarus, he was sure he’d been someone. That he’d been part of something. He didn’t know what that was, exactly. Didn’t know who might be missing him right this second. But he was sure of it. Once, he’d made a difference.

  “What is it?” Atalanta asked, coming to stand in front of him. He hadn’t noticed she’d stopped stroking his back, that her hands now cupped his face, tipping it up to hers.

  She was beautiful. Even he couldn’t deny that. Porcelain skin, large onyx eyes, jet-black hair as silky as the most delicate satin. And her body bested that of any Siren. But her soul was evil. Her eyes as empty as his. And even though he’d vowed to be her doulas for all eternity, he never forgot that. Not even for a moment.

  “Nothing,” he managed.

  She brushed a finger across his cheek, wiped away a tear he hadn’t known had slipped from his eye. A tear he didn’t even know he could cry. “My doulas is unhappy?”

  He thought of the alternative to her humiliation. He couldn’t go back to the torture of Tartarus. An eternity with her, no matter what she made him do, was a billion times better than what he’d been through under Hades’s control.

  “No,” he said. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

  “Good boy.” She brushed her hand down his cheek, then stepped past him. “I think I have something that will make you very happy. We’ve a meeting with Krónos in an hour.”

  She walked back into the gaudy bedroom with its gold-plated everything and moved behind a screen. Her bloodred robe landed on a side chair. She held her hand out. “Bring me my dress.”

  Gryphon crossed to the emerald green gown hanging from a hook on the far wall, removed the hanger, and offered it to her. The gauzy white curtains blew gently in the breeze from the open arched windows. “What do we want with Krónos?”

  Fabric rustled as she wriggled into the gown. Stepping out from behind the screen, she turned her back, lifted her long black hair. “Zip me.”

  He grasped the zipper at the base of her spine and slowly zipped it up her back until the two halves of the dress came together just beneath her shoulder blades.

  “A great many things,” Atalanta said. The emerald green gown was so long, it draped across the floor even when the straps were over her shoulders.

  She didn’t elaborate, and he knew not to question. Turning to face him, she leaned close and brushed her index finger over his lips.

  His unease at what she had planned, the fear of the next round of humiliation she decided to unleash, exploded in his belly.

  “Now you’d best get ready.” She sent him a wicked smile. “I want you dressed appropriately for this meeting. It’s quite important to our future. Wear the leather I got you.”

  She slid her hand down his naked chest, around to his back, then lower to pat his ass through the loose cotton pants he wore. The only thing he wore. “Do not disappoint me, doulas.”

  She disappeared out the arched doorway without another word, her heels echoing on the marble stairs as she left.

  In the silence, Gryphon turned back to the depraved view of Sin City as sickness rolled in his stomach.

  Fight back. Run. Leave.

  He wanted to, but where would he go? Like it or not, he was stuck here. With Atalanta. His only hope at this point was that she’d continue to be satisfied with the degrading and humiliating things she made him do. If she wasn’t…

  Bile pushed up into his chest. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if she wasn’t. Because for him, no matter what she plotted next, there was no escape.

  Chapter 12

  Kalispell, Montana, was the closest city to the accident. Rescue personnel loaded survivors into helicopters and airlifted them away from the wreckage. It took several hours, but by morning Orpheus eventually found himself in a town he didn’t recognize, with two females who were both shooting daggers his way anytime he caught their gazes.

  Maelea, he got. The female hated him with a passion. She wasn’t happy about being with him—anywhere—and even though he and Skyla had succeeded in killing those hounds, Maelea didn’t seem reassured he could keep her safe. And her constant distrust as to where he was taking her grated on his last nerve.

  And then there was the Siren. He glanced out the window of the car-rental office to the lot beyond, where Skyla and Maelea waited. The Siren had been hot as fire when he’d kissed her after dragging her from the wreckage of that avalanche. Then cool as ice since they’d killed the hounds. He couldn’t follow her mood swings. Didn’t know what the hell he’d done to piss her off this time. All he knew was he still wanted her. Common sense told him to be rid of her, but something in his chest said he wasn’t done with her yet.

  “Focus, dumbass,” he muttered, turning back to sign the paperwork for the car.

  The sales clerk looked up with a perturbed expression. “Excuse me?”

  Great. Caught talking to himself. Fucking fabulous.

  Since he frequented the human realm whenever the hell he wanted, he kept cash reserves here. Was familiar with how things worked. Even had a number of false identities, so he could skate through society when he needed. Pulling them off usually wasn’t a big deal. Unless he wasn’t paying attention. Like now.

  He tried for a smile that came out more as a sneer. “Nothing. Is that it?”

  The clerk folded the papers, slipped them in an envelope. “Yes. They’re bringing the car around now.”

  “Perfect.”

  Orpheus pushed the glass door open and crossed the frigid parking lot toward the females. The morning sun beat down on the piles of snow still littering the pavement, but as the temperature was near freezing, it did shit to warm anything up. Maelea still wore the coat they’d bought for her in Everett, had her arms folded across her stomach, her gaze directed to the pavement. Skyla, dressed in those stripper Siren boots, fitted black pants, and a jacket that all but swallowed her whole, stood at Maelea’s side, gnawing on the inside of her lip and glaring in his direction.

  Such love. From both of them. They were obviously more than thankful he’d saved their lives. Why the hell hadn’t he just let them both die? There had to be an easier way to find that rat bastard Apophis. He didn’t need this grief.

  He was all but ready to announce that when Skyla glanced from him to Maelea and back again. The look in her eyes was not one of anger or hatred, but jealousy.

  The ground tilted beneath his feet. He felt the parking lot shift and twirl. And then he was standing in a room, large columns rising to a ceiling he couldn’t see, gold and marble and richly colored drapes and rugs filling the space. A woman was next to him, sitting in a chair, looking at a book. Her long red hair was pulled up on the sides and clipped at her crown, while the rest of the heavy mass fell down her back. She laughed, looked up, and smiled.

  Pretty. She was pretty with that red hair and those shimmering green eyes. But he didn’t recognize her.

  He leaned over her, pointed to something in the book. The woman placed her hand on his forearm and laughed again.

  From his right, a sound echoed. Skyla stepped into the room wearing a long white gauzy dress tied at the waist with a gold sash. She looked from him to the woman, then back again. And before he could say anything, she disappeared the way she’d come in.

  He wasn’t sure what the hell he was seeing. He was there, but he wasn’t. Watching it as if it were a movie, but seeing through the eyes of an actor. He felt himself floating through the corridor, following Skyla. She turned when she reached the wide front marble terrace. More columns lined the front of the building and down the twenty or so steps, a city lay beyond, tall mountains to the right and left, and water—an ocean of blue—as far as the eye could see.

  “Skyla!”

  She whipped around, shot him a scathing look. The same look she’d just sent him in the parking lot. The same look he’d gotten used to seeing this whole last day. “I thought you weren’t going to marry her.”

  “I’m not.??
?

  “Then what is she doing here?”

  “Visiting. Her father sent her.”

  “Visiting.” She all but vibrated with rage. And hurt. And jealousy. A jealousy that for reasons he couldn’t explain rocked him to his knees. “Fine. Then go to her.”

  She turned, rushed down three steps before he grasped her by the arm and whipped her back to face him. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

  “Why? She’s a princess. She’s exactly what they want you to have. All I am is—”

  “Mine.” Her heat was intoxicating. Her body like a thirst he could never quench. He wanted to shake some sense into her. Hated that she’d think he’d want anyone but her. Didn’t she have eyes? “You’re mine, Siren. Just mine. Understand?”

  “Orpheus?”

  The steps, the view, the palace beneath his feet faded like a thinning mist. Orpheus blinked once, twice, shook his head to clear the fog. When focus came back he found himself in the parking lot, looking into the same gemlike eyes, only these weren’t soft and desire-filled as they’d been on those steps when he’d taken her into his arms. These were wary and confused and more than a little intimidating.

  “What’s with you?” Skyla asked. “I’m the one that was nearly toasted. Twice. And you look like you have PTSD. See anything wrong with this picture?”

  He had no idea what she was mumbling about. He heard her words but they didn’t register. He turned to Maelea for help, only the look she sent him said he was on his own. And from the way they were both staring at him as if he’d grown a third eye, he knew he’d just had another of those weird-ass visions.

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. He rubbed both hands over his face. Tried like hell to settle the pounding of his heart. Didn’t even come close. What was happening to him?

  “Orpheus?” Skyla said again. “Are you tripping on drugs or what?”

  He wished.

  He pressed his fingers into his temples until pain shot through his skull. “Just tired. I’m fine.”

  Only he wasn’t. Even he knew he wasn’t fine. He was way the fuck freaked-out. Because that didn’t seem like a vision to him. There were emotions in there. Emotions still pinging around in his chest like a billiard ball bouncing off bumpers.

  That had felt…like a memory.

  Which was not fucking possible.

  An engine purred, then the attendant pulled the SUV up, stopping at Orpheus’s left. Thankful for the distraction he reached for the keys, but Skyla was right there, taking them before he could.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

  “Driving. No way I’m getting in a moving vehicle with you when you’re lapsing into la-la land every few minutes.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Climb in,” she said to Maelea.

  Maelea eyed them both as if they were certifiable but opened the back door of the Tahoe and slid inside the car without a word. Skyla sent Orpheus a superior smirk.

  “You don’t even know where we’re going.”

  “So you’ll tell me. Now, are you coming along or not? I can just as easily leave your ass here as I can rescue you.”

  It was what he’d said to her in the parking lot back in Seattle after they’d gotten Maelea away from those hounds. But the memory of that vision—the emotions—rolled through his chest again before he could be impressed that she remembered, tipped him off balance in a way he’d never been before.

  Who was she to him? And why couldn’t he figure it out?

  “Look, daemon. I know it chaps your ass to be saddled by a female, but deal with it.” She climbed into the SUV. Slammed the door. Shot him a hurry up already look through the windshield.

  And in the cool morning breeze, he knew he could be an ass or try to lighten the mood. They still had several hours before they reached the colony. Regardless of what was happening in his fucked-up head, he really didn’t want to spend those hours dodging her daggers.

  He climbed into the passenger seat. Latched his seat belt. As she put the vehicle in drive and pulled out of the lot, he rested his elbow on the windowsill. “For the record, Siren, I like being saddled. Reverse cowgirl is my favorite. When you’re ready to ride, you just let me know.”

  She snorted and flipped on the radio. Loud.

  He chuckled all the way to Whitefish, Montana.

  ***

  Skyla didn’t know what to expect when they reached their destination. In her head she’d pictured little cabins. Maybe a small lodge. A dozen or so people. Tepees probably wouldn’t even have surprised her, considering Orpheus had described the inhabitants here as refugees. But when Orpheus told her to pull off the pothole-riddled one-lane dirt road she doubted a car had driven over in years and park inside a cave, she started to wonder what the hell was up.

  He was being cryptically quiet. Had been since they’d passed Whitefish and that irritating laughter had died down. After giving her directions, he’d lapsed into silence and they’d driven the remaining three hours deep into the wilderness without another word. Several times she’d glanced into the rearview mirror to make sure Maelea was still there. Thankfully—or unthankfully—the female was. Though Skyla wasn’t thrilled with the way Orpheus treated her, the girl was growing more defiant by the minute, something Skyla sort of liked. At least she was showing some spunk now, whereas before she’d seemed more like a mouse. Skyla had very little use for females who passively let others tell them what to do.

  Isn’t that what you’ve let the gods do all these years?

  She shook off the thought. She was not Maelea. Not by a long shot. And why was she even comparing herself to the girl when it was Orpheus she should be concerned with?

  He’d had another one of those weird zoning-out spells in that parking lot in Kalispell. She’d seen him do that now three times. Was that somehow related to his daemon? Was that why he couldn’t shift? Part of her was still irritated he hadn’t shifted back there in the woods when they’d been hunting those daemons and she’d nearly been lunch. Another part—a part she was trying hard to ignore—was glad. There was something sexy about him in his Argolean form kicking ass. Really freakin’ animalistic sexy.

  She tamped down the desire stirring in her core as she climbed out of the vehicle, tugged on her jacket again. The car doors closing echoed around her in the dark space. She’d driven deep enough into the cave where the vehicle wasn’t visible from the road anymore.

  Orpheus pulled out the flashlight he’d bought in Whitefish and flipped it on. A steady beam of light lit up the darkness and the cave walls around them.

  “Are you sure about this, daemon?”

  “Just keep up,” he answered.

  Skyla didn’t really have any other choice. She nudged Maelea in front of her and the two followed Orpheus and the light deep into the cave.

  They walked nearly twenty minutes. Shivers racked Skyla’s body. Every now and then her boot would slip and she’d twist her ankle on the uneven rocks. From up ahead she heard a noise.

  She grasped Maelea by the arm to stop her. The light kept moving. Unease rippled through Skyla as the cave grew dark and a voice she couldn’t make out echoed ahead.

  “What is it?” Maelea whispered.

  “I don’t know.” Skyla pulled the dagger from her back. “Stay behind me.”

  She stepped in front of Maelea. Stilled. No sound echoed from the direction Orpheus had gone. For a moment she thought of calling out to him. And then a light cut through the inky darkness, followed by the clomp of boots. Skyla lifted a hand to block the glare.

  “This isn’t a pit stop, ladies,” Orpheus said in an irritated tone. “We’re almost there.”

  Relief rushed through Skyla’s veins. She sheathed her dagger, nudged Maelea forward.

  Orpheus nodded toward the bend in the tunnel behind him, his flashlight pointed up to illuminate the darkness. “There’s a sentry right around the corner. He’ll take us the rest of the way in.”

  He stepped aside to let Maelea pass, but when S
kyla reached him he moved back until he partially blocked the tunnel.

  She had to turn sideways to get by. Her chest brushed his in the process and warmth spread from his body into hers at the contact, followed by a zing of déjà vu she remembered from the night he’d pinned her to the wall of that apartment in Washington. Her feet stumbled, her cheeks heated at the memory. And the desire she’d worked so hard to forget flared hot all over again.

  “Scared you lost me, Siren?”

  His voice was as soft as a husky whisper, and his gray eyes, dark in the low light of the cave, simmered with mischief. A mischief that tugged at her and drew her in.

  “No,” she lied. “Afraid you lost me, daemon?”

  “I was. In that avalanche.”

  Her stomach tightened at the emotion she heard in his voice. A hot, needy, wanting sound she’d not heard in thousands of years.

  He disappeared into the darkness again before she could think of something to say. And alone, her chest squeezed so tight it hurt to draw air.

  Daemon. Traitor. Hero.

  The words revolved in her head. She tried to ignore the last one, reminded herself the first two were all that mattered. But those words were drifting out of her reach. Moving away from what she associated with him. And the last echoed loudly in the space left behind.

  Her head felt heavy by the time she pulled it together and reached him, a good twenty feet ahead in the tunnel. As he’d said, a sentry waited for them, a man dressed all in black with dark hair and a menacing look, standing in the center of what appeared to be a rock-walled room with tunnels jutting off in different directions. Though he carried a lantern that illuminated their location, Skyla’s Siren senses kicked into high gear. Guns were anchored to both his hips and a knife with a series of jagged teeth was strapped to his thigh. She’d stayed alive all these years by paying attention, and she easily recognized the threat in the man’s eyes as he caught sight of her.

  She reached back for her dagger, but Orpheus grabbed her fingers and tugged her close before she grasped it. “Thought you got lost back there. You ready or what?”