Marked (21 page)

He shrugged. “It is possible, even encouraged, for an Argonaut to have young outside marriage. After all, ‘go forth and multiply’ was, and still is, the slogan of the gods,
and screw anything that gets in their way. That mentality has been passed down to us tenfold. But that’s all it is. Sex for fun and procreation…if the time is right for the
gynaíka
. An unbound Argonaut will never be emotionally involved with his younglings. He has no real ties to them.”

The type of man he described seemed so different from the one she was getting to know. She’d glimpsed tender moments from him, even back at her house before she’d known what he was. Surely an Argonaut who’d called her “beloved” right from the beginning couldn’t be as callous as all this.

And then a thought occurred. One that tightened her stomach and sent a wave of unease rolling through her. “Do you have children?”

“No.”

“But you said—”

“My father was one of the lucky ones,
meli
. An Argonaut who found his other half. I grew up in a loving household, unlike my kinsmen. When,
if
, I have younglings, it will be with the
gynaíka
who is my soul mate, no one else.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief, though why his answer pleased her, she couldn’t say. For reasons she didn’t want to examine, she couldn’t bear the thought of him with someone else. At least not right now, when she was seated precariously on his lap and his hands were running up and down her back in that languid way that made her want to take a bite out of him.

And that’s when she remembered what he’d said on the hike up here.

Thankful he couldn’t see her blush, she said, “So, um, about that. You said there was one way you could tell if someone was your soul mate. I suspect that means you’ve had plenty of practice in the whole soul-mate-searching thing.”

He stirred again beneath her, and oh, yeah. This time
there was no mistaking his arousal pressing against her hip. Her skin tingled at the contact, and she remembered the erotic way he’d touched her that night at her house. If she turned ever so slightly and slung her leg over his hip, she could be sitting on top of all that hard steel, exactly where she suddenly needed it.

“I’ve never had any reason to wonder,” he said in a low voice. “Until now.”

Casey’s heart kicked up, and in the silence she knew he had to hear it too. “Why not?” she asked, even though she knew this was a dangerous road to travel.

“Because I hadn’t met you. And I didn’t dare think to look in the human world for my other half.”

Oh, boy. Had he just said what she thought he’d said? Okay, ignoring the part about her maybe being his—
gulp
—soul mate, was it possible he’d never been with a human?

Her blood went hot at the thought. Casey wasn’t stupid. The man was more than two hundred years old and radiated raw sexual heat that would undoubtedly make even the strongest woman throw herself at his feet and rip off all her clothes at just the crook of his finger. And judging from Casey’s spotty memory, she’d done just that. Which meant he was well experienced in the sex-for-fun thing he’d mentioned earlier. But the idea he’d had all that practice with only women of his kind and not humans? Oh, yeah. That electrified her. Jacked her up. Left her burning hot and wild.

Because it meant this was as new to him as it was to her.

A slow ache pulsed deep in her core, slid lower until she had to press her thighs together to keep from moaning.

What would he be like as a lover? Hard and hot and demanding, she was sure. Would she be strong enough to take it? Would she even care after he had his way with her?

Sultry images lit off in her brain. His mouth on hers,
his skin pressed up against hers. His body bending hers over the couch, as he’d done once before, to drive deep inside her.

The hand he’d been using to stroke her back slid down her arm to rest on her thigh. A shiver rushed over her skin, and all she could think about was how good it would feel to have his hands on her bare flesh again.

“I can hear your heart,” he whispered in the silence between them.

Oh, yeah, ya think?
Casey bit her lip as his fingers traced a lazy pattern across her thigh.

“Do you feel all right?”

No, she didn’t feel all right at all. She was exhausted and weak. Compounding her illness was the fact she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. She felt as if she could sleep for a month and still never catch up, but at the moment none of that mattered. Because all her energy was focused on what he was doing to her body with just the barest touch from his talented fingers.

“Acacia?”

His warm breath fanned over her face, telling her he was closer than she realized. One slight move and she could claim that rugged mouth as her own. His fingers inched higher on her thigh until they brushed the juncture of her hip. She sucked in a breath and waited.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

One millimeter. All she had to do was lean forward a fraction of an inch and she could kiss him.

“What’s it saying?” she whispered.

“What’s what saying?”

“My heart.”

He let out a long breath that washed over her cheek as his fingers danced up her rib cage. And then his hand hovered over the left side of her chest, right over her heart. “Hopefully the same thing mine is saying.”

She swallowed. Hard. And knew there was no turning back. “Do you? Have a heart, that is, Theron?”

“I didn’t think so,” he said in that husky voice. “But I’m not so sure anymore.” He hesitated, barely brushing her mouth, and moved his hand to graze her arm. “Kiss me,
meli
. Kiss me like you did—”

She didn’t let him finish. She pressed her mouth to his until she was light-headed. In reflex, her hands slid up his chest, around his neck to brush his silky hair back from his face. His muscles tensed and his arms twined around her as he pulled her tight against him.

A groan tore out of him. He changed the angle of the kiss, ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and urged her to let him in. She wondered, momentarily, if she was making a monumental mistake. Then moaned as he shifted her into better contact with his hips and finally acquiesced, opening to him on instinct and taking him deep. In a rush she pushed aside the thousand reasons this was wrong and focused on how good it felt now. How good
he
felt here.

Not just in her skin and in her body. But in her soul. That connection to him she’d felt from the very beginning erupted again as she tipped her head and ran her tongue along his. The growl of satisfaction resonating from his chest only fueled her need, and she slid her fingers around to cup his face while she kissed him deeper and reveled in the way his body hardened beneath her and his lust grew exponentially with hers.

“Meli,”
he whispered against her mouth. “I dreamed of touching you like this again.”

He did? Oh, God. She was quickly losing control and didn’t even care. His mouth nipped its way to her ear, where his hot and wanton breath against her neck made her whole body quiver and her sex clench. Hands still on the sides of his face, she reveled in the sensations and tipped her head, giving him as much access to her throat as he wanted, loving every lick and suck and kiss he pressed against her.

Time was forgotten. The circumstances that had brought
them here became trivial. All she could focus on was shedding the clothing separating their bodies and sliding across his naked flesh until he filled her with his heat.

His fingers ran down to the edge of her shirt while he kissed her neck, up and under until he skimmed the bare skin of her abdomen and her stomach tensed. She turned her head, bringing his mouth back to hers, and groaned long and deep when his fingers brushed her silk-covered nipples.

She shifted in his lap, slipping her leg over his until she was straddling him. One of his hands continued to tease her breasts while the other slid to her hips and pulled her down so she was sitting on his erection and he was rubbing right where she wanted him most.

“Meli.”
His voice turned frantic, his mouth possessive against hers. Before she felt his hands move, he had her jeans unsnapped and his fingers were sliding inside and down through her moist curls. “I need to feel you come.”

She wrapped her arms tight around his neck, moaned at his erotic words. Closing her eyes, she lifted just enough to grant him access. His finger slid lower while his mouth returned to her neck, licking and sucking, and then everything went white-hot. She shuddered violently at the first touch. Just as his fingers slid into her folds and electricity rippled through her center to every cell in her body.

He chuckled against the column of her neck, slowed his strokes but continued to tease and torment with the sweetest touch. “Gods, how you please me.”

Her chest rose and fell as she drew in ragged breaths. She should have been embarrassed. She’d never climaxed like that, so fast and with such little stimulation. But this man—Argonaut—
whatever
, had the strangest control over her.

“Don’t sound so proud of yourself.”

He laughed again, and the husky sound warmed her from the inside out. As did the curve of his lips as he
kissed her throat and ear and moved around to take her mouth again.

His hand stayed in her pants, but he eased it around to her backside, pulling her close until his arousal was pushing against her jeans. He deepened the kiss, and in the silence between them, she heard his strong and steady heart pounding in time with hers.

Yes, he had one. If he’d been interested only in getting what he wanted, he wouldn’t have bothered to pleasure her so thoroughly. Even now, after she’d had her release, when she was limp and sated, he could easily flip her to her back and drive into her without even a protest from her lips, and he knew it. But he didn’t. Instead he continued to kiss her slow and gentle, like he wanted to draw out the moment. Like she mattered to him.

She reached for the button on his pants, knowing then she was going to take him in, as deep as he wanted. Not because she needed to know if he was her soul mate, but simply because she wanted him. Because she had always wanted him.

“Yes,
meli
,” he purred. “Touch me. I want to feel your hands on me. However you want.”

Her pulse quickened. Her throat grew thick with desire. She was just about to dive beneath his waistband and take matters into her own hands when she heard a small voice behind her ask, “Casey? Where are you?”

Casey froze. Then common sense slammed into her, and like a guilty teenager, she scrambled off Theron’s lap and fixed her clothes. Her face heated at what she’d been about to do and how easily she’d forgotten they weren’t alone. Thank heavens for the darkness.

Flushed, Casey pushed to her feet and wobbled, all the blood rushing from her head with the sudden movement. Theron grabbed her at the arms from behind and steadied her. The man moved like a silent shadow. She hadn’t even heard him rise.

“Casey?” Marissa asked again, this time in a frightened voice.

“I’m here, honey.” Reaching out a hand, Casey crossed the room toward Marissa’s voice and finally found the child. She drew the girl into her body in a hug. “It’s all right. Everything’s fine.”

Marissa pushed Minnie against Casey’s torso. “Look! Minnie found us.”

Casey dropped to a crouch in front of the girl. “I know. Theron brought her.”

“Theron’s here?”

From across the room, the flashlight flicked on. The bright light burned Casey’s retinas for a minute, but when her vision adjusted, she looked over to see Theron standing near the far wall, looking every bit the dark and sexy hero she’d very nearly boned the hell out of only moments before.

She blushed again and quickly looked back at Marissa. The girl had a sappy smile on her face as she glanced between the two of them. The child couldn’t possibly know what they’d been up to only moments before, could she?

“I told you he’d come back for you,” Marissa said, nudging Casey with her shoulder. “The old lady with the string told me.”

Casey’s brows drew together. “The one you saw before?”

Marissa nodded.

Was the child talking about Lachesis? The Fate who drew out the life thread? Assuming Casey bought into all this freaky Greek myth stuff, if Marissa could really see into the future, maybe she knew the answer to Theron’s burning question. Maybe she could tell them right now if they were really destined to be together…

Casey took Marissa’s hand in hers. “Marissa. Honey. What else did the lady with the string tell you?”

Marissa turned a clouded gray eye on Casey. “About you?”

Casey shook her head. “No. About us. Me and Theron.”

Marissa’s stare bore into Casey, and just when Casey was about to wave her hand in front of the child’s face to break the trance she seemed to have slipped into, Marissa’s pupil expanded until there was nearly no iris left and the only thing was a gaping black hole in a sea of white. “She said you’re going to see Tartarus. And Theron is the reason you’re going.”

Isadora jumped at the sharp rap against her window.

It was nearly midnight. Her latest sentry, Gryphon, was keeping guard and talking smack with anyone who ventured by. The last time Isadora had checked, he’d been flirting up a storm with the kitchen help—a young girl no more than thirty—who’d brought up Isadora’s dinner.

Isadora had heard laughing beyond her suite. And of course she’d peeked. She thought back to the way the giant blond Argonaut had twirled the
gynaíka
’s red hair around his finger and looked down into her eyes with that mischievous glint. And the way the girl had seemed mesmerized by him even before he’d opened his gorgeous mouth to whisper in her ear.

There was something disgustingly wrong with her world. The strongest and most virile males were the Argonauts. They also happened to be the most attractive and the most dangerous—on more than one front. Oh, she’d heard rumors about their sexual appetites and the way
gynaíkes
supposedly threw themselves at their feet, but she’d never had the chance to view any of it in action firsthand.

Now? Good gods. The sexual heat the two had been throwing off could be felt all the way inside Isadora’s room—even with the door closed.

Was that how Theron reacted to other
gynaíkes
? Is that what she could expect once they were married? Him flirting and making plans with other females? She knew there was no chance she could ever satisfy the guardian. In fact, what if he was off with another
gynaíka
right now?

Surprisingly, the thought didn’t upset Isadora. If anything, it gave her hope. Because if there was someone else out there for him, perhaps there was still a chance he wouldn’t want to marry her after all.

Frowning, she glanced at the door. And thought back to the way Gryphon had touched that girl outside. She’d seen that lust-filled look on a man’s face before. When she’d been in that human strip club looking for her sister.

Her skin tingled as she thought back to the patrons of the seedy establishment. What kind of man went there? There’d been plenty of roughnecks, a few higher-class individuals, and a whole lot of young men—college kids?—who’d obviously been out for a good time. But the one man her brain kept skipping back to, and the one that had shocked her more than any other, was the scarred blond behemoth Acacia had talked with briefly that night.

Who was he? How did they know each other? And why had he been staring at Acacia so intently?

The tapping at her window again brought her head around. She stared toward the dark glass, didn’t see anything, then nearly came out of her skin when something hard hit the pane.

Rising slowly from her chair, she rubbed her hands down her thighs and stepped toward the darkness. Her reflection peered back at her, thin and pale. She ignored the image and looked beyond. To the twinkling lights from the city below shimmering in the distance. Narrowing her eyes, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“Red’s a good color on you, Isa.”

Isadora whipped around so fast, she nearly lost her balance.

From the middle of the room, Orpheus laughed. “Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting me.”

Isadora pressed a hand against her stomach. “You startled me, that’s all. You know I hate it when you poof in like that.”

Orpheus shrugged, his light brown hair falling into his
eyes in the process. “Some
ándres
can lift tall buildings. I simply poof through them. There are worse powers to have.”

Yeah, she could think of something worse. Like not having any powers at all anymore.

She pushed that lovely thought aside as her gaze swept over Orpheus. He was built like the Argonauts, so tall she had to crane her neck to look up at him. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, roped muscles. As he hailed from Perseus’s line, he could have served with the guardians, had he not been passed over in favor of his younger and stronger brother, Gryphon.

And wasn’t it just convenient Gryphon was standing outside her room right now? Good thing Orpheus had poofed in here after all. The last thing Isadora needed was a hand-to-hand in the middle of her sitting room.

His sandy brown hair was longer in the front, falling over his eyes, and shorter in the back; he wore a black T-shirt, low-slung black jeans, clunker military boots and a long black leather trench coat. She, like every other Argolean—maybe
more
than other Argoleans—was fascinated with human styles and peeked through the portal just to see what they were doing and wearing. But unlike other Argoleans, Orpheus made a habit of bouncing back and forth from world to world unnoticed to satisfy his deviant pleasures, and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. That was obvious in his speech and dress. And in the way he carried himself as if ready to pounce on anyone who looked at him sideways. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to wind up dead from it.

Orpheus tipped his head to the side. “You don’t look so well, Isa. Don’t tell me you’re pining for your Argonaut. Word on the street is he ditched you.”

Isadora glared. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Theron’s taking care of Argonaut business before our…binding ceremony.”

A ghost of a smile curled Orpheus’s mouth, and Isadora
cursed herself for the stammer that proved just how freaked-out she was by the whole marriage thing. Showing weakness in front of Orpheus was a bad idea.

“Sounds exciting. Both the business at this important time and the binding ceremony he’s not bothering to prep for. You’ll forgive me if I don’t attend. I figure if the groom can’t make it a priority and all that, why should I?” He flopped onto a plush white sitting chair across the room while Isadora clenched her jaw. “I mean, let’s get real, Isa. If the big, bad stud were here now taking care of
family
business, I wouldn’t be, would I?”

“You are an ass.”

Orpheus’s smile widened. He kicked his feet out to rest them on the low glass coffee table. “Aw, now Isa. You hurt my feelings. You really do. Here I am, giving up my precious sleep to help you—again—and what do you do? You hurl insults at me.” He tsked and shook his head. “Breaks my heart. It really does.”

Orpheus wasn’t here simply because he was worried she would spill the beans on his secret, but because he knew she was desperate enough to call him. And that put him in the driver’s seat. Refusing to show him an ounce of weakness, she lifted her chin. “What’s it going to cost me?”

“Depends.” He arched one wicked brow. “What exactly are you asking for?”

She thought for a minute. Then said, “Persephone.”

His rolling laughter was like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard. “Wait, let me check.” He held up a finger, glanced around as if he were listening for something, then shook his head. “Yeah. No. She won’t give you five minutes.”

“But she would for you,” she said quickly, ignoring his sarcasm. “If you asked her.”

His expression said that wasn’t a guarantee. “Even if I wanted to, her SOB of a husband won’t allow it.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

Orpheus’s eyes narrowed. “And how do you plan to
keep Hades from knowing? Did your Argonaut teach you that Jedi mind-trick thing?”

She ignored the comment, because she wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. She wouldn’t need mind tricks if she had Orpheus’s cloak of invisibility. He used it to sneak into the beds of the human women he ravaged, and he’d let her borrow it before to cross through the portal unchecked when she’d gone looking for Acacia. The cloak was so strong, it worked on both humans and gods alike.

“Oh, no,” Orpheus said, reading her expression. “Not on your life.”

“I may not have much of a life left. And you’re the only one who can help me, Orpheus.”

His eyes flashed green in that daemon way of his, then returned to their normal shade of gray. For a moment, fear raced through her, but she beat it back. She was the only one who knew of his true lineage—she and his father, a past Argonaut who was now, conveniently, dead. Not even Gryphon knew his brother was half daemon. The only reason Isadora had discovered the truth was because she’d secretly followed him into the woods one night, where he often trekked alone for reasons she didn’t understand, in the hopes of convincing him to help her, and had seen what he could turn into.

She inwardly shuddered at the thought. She could have slinked away. Could have returned to Tiyrns and turned him in. But a vision had stopped her. It had been the last one of the future she’d had before her powers had dried up. And in it, Orpheus—in his daemon form—had saved her.

He looked toward the dark windows. “I don’t owe you shit.”

She knew he was lying. He knew she held his fate in her hands. One word from her and he’d be executed. If Argoleans discriminated against humans, it was nothing compared to what they’d do to a daemon living among them.

Silence stretched between them. She half-expected Orpheus to poof his way right out of her suite. And then he said, “Tell me why.”

“It’s personal.”

“Tough shit. If you’re asking me to go out on a limb to get you Persephone, then you better cut the personal crap.”

Isadora bit her lip in indecision. In the end, she knew she didn’t have a choice.

Before she lost her courage, she reached for the hem of her skirt and slowly lifted so he could see the marking high on the inside of her right thigh. The winged omega symbol. The one she’d never understood until recently.

Orpheus’s eyes grew wide and he swore in his native tongue.

Yup. He obviously knew what the mark meant. But then, being half daemon, of course he would.

She dropped her skirt back into place. His smug expression had been replaced by a “holy
skata
” one she knew she would never forget. “I need to see Persephone because she’s the only one who can influence Hades to alter the pact.”

His shocked gray eyes slowly lifted from where he was still eyeing her skirt up to her face. If there was one other person in all of Argolea who didn’t want to see the prophecy come true, it was Orpheus. “And what if he won’t?”

“Then you and I are both likely dead.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now tell me, are you going to help me or not?”

They left at dawn, when the first light of morning was spilling over the horizon. Theron let Acacia lead the way, while he took up the rear to keep an eye out for any wayward daemons lying in wait.

So far so good. He knew none of the three from the day before had been able to send a signal back to Atalanta about their location. At some point they’d be missed, but hopefully by the time anyone in Tartarus noticed they
were gone, Theron would have Marissa and Acacia far from this valley and out of harm’s way.

Gods, but he couldn’t get the little girl’s words out of his head. Each time he looked at Acacia he saw the surprise in her eyes at Marissa’s premonition. He understood Acacia didn’t believe it. He knew otherwise.

A heavy weight pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Though he knew what was expected of him, had even accepted what he
would
do for his race, the thought of Acacia’s fate had never once been a question in his mind. The Elysian fields, yes. Perhaps even the Isles of the Blessed—the afterlife where the blessed heroes dwelled—because of her connection to the royal family. But not once had he considered the fact she might be condemned to Tartarus.

And why hadn’t he? It made perfect sense that a pact made by Hades would not end well for the loser.

“I think we’re getting close,” Acacia said from up ahead.

Shaken from his thoughts, he looked up to see the soft sway of her hips as she moved. They’d made good time, even with Marissa in tow, but Acacia’s pace had slowed the last mile or two. He knew she was weak and growing weaker by the minute. Just as he knew there was nothing he could do to help her.

A lump formed in his throat at the thought, that weight in his chest multiplying. Marissa sat perched on his shoulders, her hands and cheek pressed to the top of his head, where she’d been sleeping for the past hour. Working to keep the child balanced was the one thing that had distracted him from thinking too much about Acacia. And about what he was doing to her himself.

He never should have touched her. In her house, in her room at the colony, last night in that dark and sultry cave. Just the thought of the way her body felt, so soft and moist and giving, jacked him up and made him think about what it would be like to sink inside her and forget about the rest of the world. Never before had he
met a
gynaíka
—or a woman—who’d made him forget his duties.

Why did it have to be her?

“Do you hear that?” Acacia stopped in his path. Theron nearly ran into her before realizing she was intently listening to something in the distance. She reached a hand behind her to stop him. Just the slight brush of her fingers against his chest sent electricity zinging along his nerve endings.

He forced his mind away from what those fingers could do and drew in a long breath. He smelled fresh wood and fire, and the unmistakable scent of burning flesh.

Alarm bells rang in his head even as Acacia turned questioning eyes his way, and he realized she smelled it too. “What is that?”

He had a feeling he knew. And
skata
, he didn’t want to tell her.

Worry rushed over her features as she read his expression. Then she turned and rushed ahead down the path.

“Acacia!”

From above, Marissa was jolted awake. She sat up taller on his shoulders. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing, child. We’re almost there.” Theron gritted his teeth as he ran after Acacia and tried not to lose Marissa.

They reached a clearing, and the trees opened to an area void of shrubs and brush. A circle had been outlined in rocks, and at the center sat a large, blackened stone, four feet high and as long as a man, flat on top as if it had been chiseled to form a table. Around the base, piles of wood fueled flames that leapt and licked at the stone tablet and the body that lay on top, burning in the dawn.

Nick stood with his back to them, something bunched in the hand at his side. On the far side of the table, a small group of people huddled together, weeping as they watched the body burn.