Excerpt
NO WAY IN HADES WAS HE GETTING NAKED…
As an Argonaut, Zander had never been one to just “go with the flow.” It went against his nature. If someone said sit, he stood. If he was told to go one way, he went the other. So listening to Callia boss him around right now was seriously pissing him off.
However, he knew there were times when it was better to bite his tongue rather than let the rage rumble through. And right now—though he hated it with a passion—was one of those times. Still, no way in Hades was he getting naked for this physical.
Take me, Zander. Fast. Before someone gives me a reason to say no.
Thirteen simple words from eleven years ago. She’d known exactly what to say to turn his entire world upside down in the span of a heartbeat.
Perspiration dotted Zander’s forehead as he remembered the feel of her silky smooth skin, the taste of her wet heat, the way she’d come apart around him right in this very spot.
And—dammit—the rod of steel now nestled between his legs was an in-your-face reminder that Callia, and not the woman he was about to marry, was his soul mate.
Entwined
Elisabeth Naughton
For Lisa,
My archaeology expert, Greek myth–loving, smart-ass, snarky
and too-damn-cute-for-words BFF.
This ride wouldn’t be half as sweet if I couldn’t share it
with you.
(BTW, I’m still waiting for that e-slap.)
Sing, Goddess, of the rage of Peleus’s son Achilles. The
accursed rage, which brought pain to thousands…
—THE ILIAD
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Eternal Guardians Lexicon
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Copyright
Chapter One
If he could die, this would be the perfect place to take the plunge.
Zander stood on the edge of the cliff, transfixed by the massive canyon below. A thin layer of day-old snow crunched beneath his boots as he shifted his weight on the rocks and wondered…What if?
The temperature was in the teens, the wind howling past his face, numbing what little he could feel of his skin. As an Argonaut, born of the guardian class descended from the greatest heroes in all of ancient Greece, he was stronger than mere humans. Stronger still than the Argoleans and the newly discovered half-breed race he now protected. Stronger, even, than his warrior kin.
No, hypothermia wouldn’t kill him, dammit. Frostbite was nothing but a minor annoyance. And shit, since he was him, he could take a bullet to the chest and still his frickin’ heart would go on beating. But this—he stared down into the abyss some six hundred yards below, which opened and darkened until all he saw was a river of deep green shrouded in a layer of thin mist—this might just do the job. A little voice in the back of his head whispered, Just do it.
He wasn’t stupid. He spent more time with humans than any of the other guardians from his world and knew taking this leap would be nothing more than a major-ass Nike commercial gone wrong. But still…it was damn tempting. There was always the possibility he could hit that one vulnerable spot on the way down that would kill him instantly and end his immortality once and for all.
His brother in battle, Titus, stepped up next to him before he could make up his mind and peered down into the canyon below. “Fucking nasty way to go. But you’re right. It wouldn’t kill you. And I’m not in the mood to pick up your broken-ass pieces and nurse you back to health today.”
Zander glared at the younger Argonaut—the way-younger one, who, wouldn’t you just know it, could take that fall and die…the lucky bastard. “Stop reading my mind. You know it drives me bat-shit crazy.”
Titus smirked. Reached up to rub his hand over his mouth. In the waning light of early evening, the markings on his forearms and hands that all the Argonauts shared stood out against his light skin. It wasn’t a full-out grin, but then Titus never truly smiled. “You’re already bat-shit crazy, old man. And do you think I like knowing what goes on in that twisted brain of yours? ’Cause let me tell you. It’s definitely not high on my thrill-ride list.” He waved his big hands. “You’re projecting your crap all over the place. Trust me. I’m trying not to listen.”
Zander’s scowl deepened, and he stepped back from the ledge, frustrated he hadn’t taken the plunge before Titus started bitching, even more irritated because he knew that little free fall wouldn’t snuff him out like he wanted. He was in a foul mood and it was only getting worse the longer they went without running into any daemons.
It didn’t help that he and Titus had been patrolling this particular mountain range for the last frickin’ week looking for stragglers and that they’d come up empty so far. He didn’t want to go back to Argolea; he didn’t want to head to the colony or look for any more half-breeds hiding out in the woods. He was itching for a fight in a dark and dangerous way, which was only making him moodier than Hades. And if he didn’t get one soon, bad things were going to happen. For everyone.
“Let’s go,” Titus said, stepping back and rubbing his hands together to ease the chill. “There’s no one hanging out here, and if there was a settlement down below, we’d have spotted it. We’ll head north, cut toward Mount Hood and see what we can find.”
Though he didn’t want to, Zander nodded. The closest half-breed colony was hidden deep in the Willamette National Forest to the south, unknown to the humans who lived around it. Consensus among the Argonauts was that there were other half-breeds, or Misos, those with both human and Argolean parentage, in hiding from the daemons who hunted them. Thanks to the colony’s leader, Nick, a man who was both a half-breed himself and something else that none of the Argonauts could quite pin down, they now knew of three other colonies spread out over the globe. One was in Africa, one in the frozen wasteland of northern Russia, and another in the jungles of South America.
“Hey,” Titus said with that smirk again as they started walking toward a trail that led back into the trees. “It could be worse. You could have drawn shit patrol in Siberia like Cerek and Phineus.”
The mention of his two guardian brothers didn’t lighten Zander’s mood. “At least then I would have been away from you and your constant mind-probing.”
Titus chuckled. “You need to change your outlook, Z. Immortality? It’s a gift. Shit, I’d give my left arm to have that power instead of reading mi—”
Zander turned on his guardian kin so fast, Titus sucked in a breath. “It’s not a gift. It’s a fucking curse.”
Titus glanced down at Zander’s meaty hand pressed tight against his jacket. A dark warning flashed over Titus’s features. He didn’t like to be touched. Not anywhere. Not even by a brother. “You need to step back. Right now.”
Zander’s eyes met Titus’s. The guardians were roughly the same size, both six an
d a half feet, two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, but that’s where the similarities ended. Titus’s wavy dark hair was tied with a leather strap at the base of his neck. Ice crystals clung to his thin mustache and dark soul patch. Sure, he looked human to the average passerby, but he wasn’t. And his hazel eyes sparked of knowledge and danger. The kind that were a fiery combination for anyone who crossed him.
Zander slowly dropped his hand. But he didn’t back away. In a fight, he’d win, even against a hothead like Titus. He could take a beating like no other and still go on ticking. But he could be hurt. And it’d take a while to heal. As much as he wanted a good knock-down, drag-out bloodletting today, he didn’t want it with Titus.
He did, however, want the brother to get it. Especially if he had to keep prowling this fucking earth for shit only knew how long with the mortal bastard. He clenched his jaw. “Watching everyone you care about die is not a blessing, Titus. I served with your father. I served with all the Argonauts’ fathers. I was around when Eurandros was king and Leonidas wasn’t even an itch in his pants. And now King Leonidas is dying of old age, but not me. I’m still just as strong and healthy as ever.”
The rage Zander kept buried deep inside built by the second. “You might not want to die now, Guardian, but one day you will. One day you’ll be ready to go to the Elysian Fields or wherever the fuck it is the rest of you get to go when your days are done. But not me. No, I’ll still be here. Doing the same damn thing I’ve done for the last eight hundred twenty-nine years. Watching you all die and wishing like Hades I could go with you.”
He stalked off into the trees before he did something he knew he’d regret, knowing, okay, he sounded like a major pussy having one gigantic pity party. But he was sick of it. Sick of holding up his head and acting like he was all rosy and chipper at the way fate had bashed in his brain. There’d been a time—a long time—when he’d thought like Titus. When he’d actually believed the fact he hadn’t yet found his vulnerability, or Achilles’ heel, like his father and grandfather and every other male from his line had, was a gift. But that was before. Before he’d realized he was going to be stuck here for all eternity while everything that truly mattered was taken away from him. Before ten years ago. Before he’d figured out Hera’s curse was real.
“Zander. Wait up.”
He ignored Titus and kept going. Head down to block the wind. Temper and self-loathing warming his blood. Yeah, he was in the mood for a major-ass pounding. And if he didn’t get away from Titus quick, he wasn’t gonna care that the Argonaut was friend, not foe.
He made it thirty yards into the trees before the miserably cold temperature went bone-jarring frigid.
He came to a standstill. His head darted up. Ahead and to the right, six daemons stalked through the trees, obviously on patrol themselves. Searching for half-breeds to decimate.
A slow smile spread across his face—the first he’d felt in days. All were easily seven feet tall, with horns and fangs, catlike faces, dog-shaped ears and the bodies of men. Really big-ass, don’t-mess-with-me ugly men you might meet in a dark alley on the wrong side of town after hours, looking for nothing but trouble. His smile only widened.
“Just who I was looking for. You freaks want to come out and play or stand there and look stupid like your bitch of a leader, Atalanta? ’Cause you know, you do it so well. In fact, I see the family resemblance. You there, in front.” He pointed toward the ugliest one, with something vile dripping from its fangs. “You’re like, what? Her brother? No, I know.” He snapped his fingers. “Her son.”
The one in front, the one clearly in charge, looked at Zander and growled, “Argonaut,” then sniffed the air and added, “Two.” The other five daemons spread out in a U formation, surrounding Zander, then crouched, ready to strike.
And yep, that was indeed steam coming out of the leader’s ears. Hot damn. This was gonna be a good one. Six against one. Maybe he could get his ass kicked once and for all. And maybe he could take a few daemons out with him in the process.
Titus jogged up behind him just as Zander reached for his parazonium—the ancient Greek dagger all Argonauts carried—from the scabbard hidden at his back. “Aw, hell. You just had to go and antagonize them, didn’t you?”
“Sure as shit, I did.”
Titus reached for his own dagger. “Okay, smart guy. Which ones do you want?”
“All of them.”
“Zander—”
“Just stay back until I need you,” he growled. “I can’t die, remember? You can.”
He took a step into the melee and ignored Titus’s protest, but knew the Argonaut would listen and let him have the first go. If only for a few moments. Hopefully, that’s all it would take to end this for good.
“Come on, motherfuckers. Show me what you’ve got.”
With a roar, the daemons bared their fangs and charged.
This was one family squabble Callia definitely didn’t want to be a part of.
“This is ridiculous. Isadora, tell him no!” Casey Simopo-lous turned in exasperation toward her half-sister, the future queen of Argolea.
From the far side of the extravagant bedroom suite, Callia chanced a sideways glance toward Isadora. The princess stood with her blonde head down, studying something between her pale pink slippers. Her hands were clenched behind her back, the gossamer pink dress all but swallowing her fragile frame. The perfect picture of submission. Not once had she flinched since her father, the dying King Leonidas, had issued his dire announcement.
This was their soon-to-be queen. This waiflike gynaíka who would rule over their land, command the Argonauts and lead them in this dangerous time of war. Atalanta was roaming the human realm, looking for a way to destroy the half-breeds and cross into Argolea to exact her ultimate revenge for being cast out of the Argonauts. Now more than ever it was imperative they have a leader with resolve.
But that clearly wasn’t Isadora. Callia had suspected that for a while. And she couldn’t help wondering if maybe Leonidas’s decree was best for everyone after all.
“Isadora, you cannot let him do this to you,” Casey said louder, stepping toward her sister. “This is archaic!”
“Enough!” the king rasped, attempting to sit up higher in the pillows of his gigantic four-poster bed.
Ignoring the buzzing in her head that had been going on for the last ten minutes, Callia set down her instruments and eased over to help him shift up in the bed.
The king frowned, irritated he needed any kind of help, but he didn’t fight Callia. Today his mind was clear and he was making use of it while he could. “Isadora will marry by the next full moon. And that is final.”
Casey’s jaw twitched. “It’s not right and you know it.”
The king’s head swiveled toward his dark-haired daughter—the one who would never be queen, simply because her mother had been human, even though Casey was the stronger and wiser choice and they all knew it—and he squinted to see clearer. Callia knew he saw nothing more than dark fuzzy shapes. “Isadora’s binding to a guardian of my choosing will ensure the Council cannot overrule her authority. You already commandeered my first choice, Acacia. You do not have a say in whom I choose to replace him.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. One Callia felt all the way to her bones. She knew all too well about domineering, controlling patéres. And she knew when they laid down the law, there was very little for a gynaíka to do but obey. Silently, she cursed their patriarchal society that gave females the opportunity to be anything they wanted so long as the male in guardianship over them approved.
Isadora still did not lift her head or look to either her father or sister. And though Callia and Isadora had never been close, a part of Callia went out to the princess. A part she didn’t want to acknowledge or dredge up.
Ready to be done with the family drama, Callia gathered the rest of her things and snapped her bag closed. As personal healer to the king, she’d spent a fair share of her time here lately, making him
comfortable, seeing to his maladies during his last few months, but she didn’t relish it a bit. Especially not when she had a headache like this one. And every time she came to the castle there was the chance she’d run into an Argonaut. Which was a rendezvous she avoided at all costs. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow morning.”
His gnarled hand snaked out and snagged her arm before she got a step away. Even at 684 years and with his body finally giving out from old age, he was still strong. Stronger than most. “I’ll need you to stay.”
Anxiety pricked Callia’s skin. “That’s not necessary, Your Highness. And I have work at the clinic I really have to get back to.”
“The new moon is but a week away. After I make the announcement to the Argonauts, I’ll need you to verify my choice is in peak physical shape. I need to know he can sire an heir immediately. You’ll use my office for the exam.”
Callia darted a look at Isadora, who, if possible, hung her head even lower. How great it must feel to be seen as nothing but a breeding machine.
But, oh, good gods. Callia had worse things to worry about right now. The king wanted her to perform a physical exam. On the Argonaut of his choosing. Today. She could think of a thousand other tortures she’d prefer to this one. “Um. I’m sure another time would be—”
“It is not a request.” He released her hand and barked, “Althea!”
His maidservant scurried into the room with a bow. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Get me Demetrius. He’s with the Executive Guard at the portal, training the newest recruits. I want him and the rest of the Argonauts assembled here within the hour.”
Althea’s eyes widened with the same anxiety suddenly spiking Callia’s chest. “All of them, Your Majesty?”
He waved off her question with a weak flick of his wrist. “Go. Now.”
“Um, Your Highness,” Callia started as Althea rushed from the room. “I really think—”
“Isadora,” he said, ignoring Callia’s urgent protest. “Show Callia to my study and see she has everything she needs for her examination. I want you both back here when the Argonauts arrive.”