South of Surrender (Hearts of the Anemoi)

  Chrysander had asked himself that question before. His mind conjured the image of Zephyros kneeling in the Hall of the Gods last spring, his naked back bared and waiting. He’d endured seven lashes at their father’s hand for infractions involving the use of divine power in the human realm. Chrys had thought the charges were a whole lot of bullshit. Eurus’s crimes had been far greater. So Chrys had asked their father why he wasn’t going after—

  “Shit, that’s it,” he said. “He planned to punish Eurus after you. Somehow, Eurus got that ring off of Father, but not without a fight—one that resulted in the injury on his face.”

  “Aeolus must answer for this,” Zeph said, shaking his head. “We should find him, now—”

  “Good luck with that,” Chrys said.

  “What do you mean?” Boreas asked.

  “In between getting my ass kicked for three months, I’ve been searching for Aeolus. Unsuccessfully.”

  Boreas frowned, silver light flashing from his eyes. “Do you think Eurus has him?”

  “I don’t think so,” Chrys said. “He’d be crowing that shit to the heavens if so.”

  “We’ll find him. And he will answer for his role in this.” Zeph glared. “But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t say something before the situation went critical.”

  Chrys tugged his shirt back on. “I didn’t want any of the rest of you getting your asses kicked—or worse. Not with new families counting on you. Me? I have a whole lotta nothing to lose.”

  The words were out of his mouth before he’d thought to say them, and he immediately wanted to reel them back in. He didn’t need to be baring his pathetic sob story on top of everything else.

  A long pause left the declaration hanging there, one the thunderous cacophony all around them did little to fill. Boreas tilted his head. “Chrysander.”

  The reproach in the way he’d said his name made it damn difficult to hold his brother’s sad silver gaze.

  Tentative fingers landed on his back and arm. He flinched, but calm followed as Laney slipped her fingers into his, then just stood there. Silently. Her forehead leaning slightly against his bicep.

  She was standing by his side.

  Awe settled into every cell in his body. That she’d taken a stand with him, for him. That she cared enough to…what? To show that she cared? Yes, at least that. And that her touch, far from eliciting the usual anxiety-filled downward spiral, released some of the tension in his muscles, some of the ache crushing his heart.

  When had that ever before happened? Foreign emotion swelled uncomfortably in his chest.

  He gave her hand a squeeze and swallowed hard. “I thought I could handle it,” he said in a low voice. “I should have been able to handle him. He should’ve let me make this right so he didn’t have to die.” Voicing the word lodged a knot in his throat. His brother was going to die. Almost unavoidable now. And he was going to own a part of that, any way you sliced it.

  “Jesus Christ, Chrysander. Eurus lost the capacity to know what was right a long time ago. Maybe eons ago. You cannot do that which is impossible,” Zeph said, his tone more restrained now, his words echoing what Laney had said earlier in the evening.

  “It is admirable that you have not wanted to give up on him,” Boreas said. “I am the oldest of the four of us and have always felt responsible on some level for not doing better by him. I should’ve done more to intervene in Father’s treatment of Eurus. It was never the boy’s fault that our mother died in childbirth. But Aeolus was blinded by his grief, and Eurus was a convenient target. He didn’t deserve it. Any of it. But, more and more, I find myself agreeing with Zephyros.”

  Chrys cut his gaze to B. “It wasn’t your fault—”

  “Nor was it yours,” Boreas said, nailing him with a stern, unrelenting stare, one that communicated that his older brother intuited some shit Chrys would just as soon keep private.

  …

  Laney didn’t know what the hell was going on. Truly, her head was spinning so fast it might fly right off her shoulders. Between the argument, the raging storm, and the power flickering, she had one nerve left. Maybe. If she was lucky. Pair that with the strange sense of foreboding she’d been feeling as she listened to their conversation, and she was damn near adrift in confusion.

  But there was one thing she did know—Chrys needed her support.

  In her mind’s eye, she pictured him as a lone island stranded in the midst of vast wastes of unfriendly sea, and she hated the analogy. Hated all the anger and aggression the others were throwing at him. Honestly, she didn’t understand the situation enough to know if he was in the right or the wrong, but she did understand the separating feeling of standing out from the rest. She did understand loneliness. And she sure understood loyalty, too.

  Trembling with equal parts uncertainty and sympathy, she’d debated going to him. She didn’t want to intrude, or embarrass herself by tripping or stumbling. And then something Chrys had said had stolen her breath: I have a whole lotta nothing to lose.

  She was out of her seat without making a conscious decision to do so, her hands reaching out toward the unusual heat that always seemed to surround him until they found his hard body. The thought that he’d been sacrificing himself for the others and that he believed no one would miss him if he’d died, that he was expendable… Her very soul revolted against those ideas until emotion strangled her throat and pressed against her chest.

  When she’d curled her hand into his, for a moment, he’d tensed. But then his arm had relaxed and he’d pulled her in more tightly against him. Deep satisfaction had roared through her alongside white hot fear at the idea of him being killed. I’m here for you, Chrys. Do you hear me? I’m here.

  If she hadn’t already suspected it before, the thought of losing him, the thought that he might’ve died before he ever fell into her life, brought into stark relief that she was developing feelings for the god she held in her hands. Not just lust. Not just curiosity. But scary, messy, probably-a-bad-idea feelings.

  Thunder detonated above the house, like bombs were going off all around them. Reeling from the emotional revelation, Laney flinched into Chrys’s side.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded against his arm, not wanting to burden him with worrying about her.

  “We’re almost out of time,” Owen said. “The storm rages too fiercely.”

  “Yes,” Boreas said. “We need a plan.” As Laney looked toward Boreas, his aura suddenly warped and flashed. For a moment, it disappeared completely. Laney blinked and the effect went away. What the hell was that? Had she really seen it, or were her eyes playing tricks on her?

  “Find and confront Aeolus,” Owen offered.

  Everyone agreed. She continued to study Boreas, but whatever had happened didn’t occur again. She’d been straining to see everything she could since they’d arrived. Her eye was just fatigued. In truth, she had the beginnings of a headache.

  “There is something else,” Chrys said, his voice sounding uncomfortable, regretful. “We need to find out who was behind Tisiphone’s visit to Laney’s house this morning. I was thinking that, well…that maybe Ella could talk to Mars and see if the Olympians—”

  “I’ll do it,” Ella said.

  “I do not want Ella in the middle of this,” Zeph said at the same time, his aura flashing purple. Thunder and lightning blasted the world and blackness swallowed them. The power had been knocked out. Only the fact that Laney could make out the gods’ lighted auras kept her from flipping out.

  For a moment afterward, it was silent except for the baby’s cries upstairs. Owen excused himself to go help Megan, and then there were a series of small sounds Laney couldn’t interpret. Finally, Ella said, “I’m already in the middle of it, Zeph. And you’re not the one who put me there. Nor Chrys. Eurus has dragged me into this time and time again. I need to play a role in solving this problem, once and for all.”

  “But, Ella—”

  “I need to, Zeph.” br />
  Admiration rolled through Laney at Ella’s courage and determination.

  “Damnit,” Zeph bit out. “I understand. I do.” He sighed. “So be it.”

  “Thank you, Ella.” Chrys’s respect for her was clear in his tone. “I’ve also learned from Apheliotes that Eurus keeps his son Alastor imprisoned.”

  “What?” Zeph asked. “What in the hell is wrong with our brother’s head?”

  “I don’t know the why of it,” Chrys said. “But if such treatment is common, it strikes me we might have allies in at least one of his sons. Apheliotes has agreed to find out what he can.” As he laid out the skeleton of a plan, pride warmed Laney’s heart and helped beat back her fear. Competent, smart, strategic—it was an incredibly sexy combination. Paired with his physical beauty, it was downright lethal.

  “Given this news, with Alastor, maybe. With Devlin? Not damn likely. That apple didn’t fall nearly far enough away from the tree,” Zeph muttered.

  “But it is possible,” Boreas said. “And worth exploring. Anything else? I fear we must part now.”

  Chrys hesitated, then dropped Laney’s hand. “Just this.”

  “What is that?” Boreas asked.

  Laney struggled to figure out what they were talking about. The others came closer, and she realized they’d come to examine something in Chrys’s possession.

  “Cool blade, but what about it?” Zeph asked.

  Tracing her vision to Chrys’s hands, she gathered small glimpses of the vicious-looking knife he held.

  “I paid Hephaestus a visit. Seems this dagger possesses some useful anti-god mojo of the Underworld type.”

  That strange sense of déjà vu came over Laney again, but she couldn’t pinpoint why.

  “Good Gods,” Boreas muttered.

  “That is the best fucking news I’ve heard all day,” Zeph said. “What’d you have to do to get his help?”

  “Let’s just say I caught him in a generous mood.”

  “Well, thank the gods for minor miracles,” Zeph said.

  “Yeah,” Chrys said, his tone serious and intense. “And Eurus isn’t going to have a clue what hit him.”

  Despite Chrys’s confidence, Laney couldn’t help but worry about him and the risk he was about to undertake. If anything happened to him, well, she didn’t know what she’d be able to do. But she’d give anything to help keep him safe.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As the weather continued to deteriorate, the gods exchanged rushed good-byes and departed, Boreas first, then Zeph and Ella. Within minutes, the storm ratcheted down in intensity, making it somewhat easier for Laney to breathe.

  Chrys’s light appeared right in front of her. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked, longing for his touch again.

  “For being here. And for supporting me.”

  She gave a small shrug. “I didn’t like the way they were talking to you.” Thunder rumbled and she hugged herself. “And I didn’t like the idea that you felt that no one would care if you were gone.” More words, scarier words, lodged in her throat. She forced them out. “I’d care.”

  “Laney, I can’t—”

  “Don’t. Okay? I get it. Just…don’t.”

  He sighed. “We should go. The storm won’t dissipate until I leave.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The weather is part of what I am, part of what all of my brothers are. We control and influence it with our energy. But when we all get together, it becomes bigger than any of us individually. So the best remedy is our departure.”

  For a moment, she felt like he spoke a foreign language. “So, wait. This horrible storm…are you saying you caused it?” Her scalp prickled.

  “To an extent. This one was so bad because three of the four Anemoi were together at once, something we generally avoid because the concentration of our energies causes…well, this.”

  Laney tried to wrap her mind around the idea that this man possessed the power to create something that absolutely terrified her. “Why not meet…wherever you’re from, then?”

  “Humans aren’t permitted in the Realm of the Gods. Which would’ve meant you and Megan couldn’t come with us.”

  “Oh. What would happen if all four of you were in one place?”

  “Nothing good,” he said. And though she was curious, maybe she didn’t really want to know. This storm had already been enough to scare her out of her mind. At least she didn’t have to go out in it. Except… Her stomach plummeted. “To go home, we have to go out into this storm, don’t we?”

  “Yeah, but since we’ll be—”

  “Oh, God,” she said, hugging herself again.

  His heat moved closer. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to admit it. But, given what they had to do, how could she not? “You’re going to laugh.”

  “I won’t.”

  She chuffed out half a laugh. “You will, trust me.”

  His knuckles dragged down her cheek. She leaned into the touch and let the words fly. “I’m scared of storms.”

  “You’re…”

  “Yeah.” It was quiet, but some kind of tension rolled off him. She arched an eyebrow. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

  “No,” he choked out, voice filled with humor. “It is rather ironic, though.”

  “Shut up. Stupid god. It’s not funny.” She pressed her lips together to hold back the smile that threatened and whipped out her hand. She managed to smack him in the stomach. Holy crap! He was a freaking wall of muscle.

  Laughter spilled out of him and he grabbed her hand, held it. “Don’t worry, Laney. You’ll be safe. I promise. You’ll be a part of the elements, so they won’t hurt you.”

  She sighed. “I just…I don’t know. I have a weird feeling.” Suddenly, she didn’t want to go home. Blackness filled her vision, like she was standing in the dark. She blinked and the light returned.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She was being silly. What choice did she have? It wasn’t like she could walk back to the Eastern Shore. The night’s weirdness was just getting to her. “Okay.”

  “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

  She chuckled. “They have popsicles stands in…wherever you’re from?”

  “The Realm of the Gods.”

  “The Realm… Right.”

  He grabbed her hand. “No, but they totally should. Popsicles are awesome.”

  Light and color filled her vision, telling her he’d pulled them into the elements again. The shift hadn’t seemed as jarring, as explosive, this time. Thank God.

  They went up into the sky, and though the rain and wind were all around them, were them, it was just as Chrys had said. The wind didn’t buffet her, because she was the wind. The rain didn’t batter her, because she was the rain. The thunder and lightning didn’t scare her, because she knew exactly when they’d occur. A tremendous thrill roared through her. That she got to experience this, that he’d made her see the beauty in something that had long terrified her, that he’d shared it with her at all.

  This is amazing, Chrys, being a part of this, being a part of something bigger than yourself. Thank you for bringing me with you tonight. Thank you for…getting involved. Even if he’d only done it out of obligation or duty, this moment, this night, this whole time since she’d first laid eyes on him was something to be cherished forever.

  Warmth surrounded her, like he was hugging her. Words came to her, in that odd language she’d sometimes heard him speak, but not in the way they normally communicated. It was like the words were on the wind. Something about the sound of them flooded longing through her being. And heat.

  Overwhelmed with everything she was feeling, everything she’d experienced this night, Laney didn’t speak again. Instead, she just soaked in every bit of the splendor of the nighttime world. After all, this was the world she’d been without the longest. Her night vision had been the first to go. Normally, she was
completely blind in the dark. Now, she could see that the night wasn’t black, but was painted with a palette of blues and greys and purples that possessed its own beauty.

  And Chrys had made it all possible. Gratitude joined the wonder flooding through her.

  Who knew when she’d get to do this again? If ever. She didn’t want to miss a minute of their trip.

  By the time they passed over the Chesapeake Bay, the storm was gone. The moon rose high in the sky, gifting Laney with a whole other vision of night. One that was as romantic as it was mysterious. For a long moment, she reveled in the sight, in the warm caress of the winds blowing through and over her. She imagined the sensation was Chrys’s fingers. Heat streaked over her, as if answering her yearning.

  At the edge of her consciousness, intense sadness slinked back and forth and threatened to swamp her. How she missed seeing the world around her. What she wouldn’t give to have her sight returned to her. She’d said she didn’t wish for the return of her vision. But in a moment like this, how could she not? These experiences with Chrys were amazing, yes, but also a special form of torment because, when they got home, she’d be mostly blind again. And she’d feel the loss more acutely than she had in a long, long time.

  Enough. The joy and opportunity of the moment were far worth whatever pain might follow.

  The landscape below them turned familiar. We’re almost there, she said.

  Yes.

  They came in over the cottage construction site, then the pastures, and the barn and house came into view. It was a beautiful setting. She’d always loved it here. It was the only place she’d ever thought of as home.

  Now, Chrys was going to be there with her. At least for a while. How was that going to work? Did he sleep as a human did? Would he want to sleep with her?