Ravaged: An Eternal Guardians Novella (1001 Dark Nights) (3 page)

Or...she would be. As soon as this mission was over.

A shiver rushed down her spine, dragging her awareness back to the cold once more.

Shelter. That’s what she needed to focus on. Not some stupid, irrational fear that wasn’t doing anything but making her nuts.

She straightened her spine and glanced around the forest again. The ground rose steadily to the north. Through the trees she could see what looked to be some kind of rock outcropping. Deciding that was her best bet, she headed in that direction. If she could find a cave, she could at least get out of the elements and decide what to do next.

The air grew progressively colder the closer she drew to the rocks. Rubbing her hands vigorously against the bare skin of her arms, she tried to keep her teeth from chattering as she picked her way around stones and branches and roots sticking out of the ground that bruised her feet in the silly shoes. Just as she moved past a boulder the size of a car, a growl echoed in the steadily darkening forest, drawing her feet to a sharp stop.

The hair on her nape stood straight. Her heart rate shot into the triple digits. Slowly, she turned in the direction she’d just come and stared in horror at the creature moving out from behind the rocks to stand in her path.

It was at least seven feet tall. A mixture of goat and lion and dog and human, with the body of a man, sharp teeth, horns, and glowing green eyes like something straight out of a nightmare.

A daemon. One of the Underworld’s monsters. She stumbled backward.

“Nymph.” The daemon drew in a deep whiff and growled. “Now this is a treat. What is a nymph doing out in these woods all alone?”

Daphne’s mouth fell open, but words wouldn’t come.

Before she could think of an answer—before she could think of something to
do
—another daemon stepped out from behind the boulder and growled. “The nymph is mine.”

Fear shot Daphne’s heart straight into her throat. The first daemon turned to the second and roared a menacing, aggressive response. The second bared his fangs and lurched for the first. Bones and fists and claws clashed as the two tore into each other.

Daphne swiveled and ran. Made it ten feet into the trees before another daemon jumped out from behind an old growth Douglas fir, right in her path. She skidded to a stop. Tried to lurch out of the way. He roared, reached out with claws as sharp as knives, and caught her across the side and abdomen, sending her flying into the brush.

A burn like the heat of a thousand suns lanced her side. She smacked into a tree, then dropped to the ground with a thud. Pain spiraled through every inch of her body, but she knew she had to get up. Had to run. She clawed at the dirt and tried to stand, but the wound in her side gushed blood, twisting her to the ground in a cry of agony.

The daemon growled and advanced. With the forest spinning around her, Daphne looked for something—anything—close to use as a weapon. Her vision came and went. But through descending darkness, she spotted a rock the size of her fist with sharp edges.

She dug her fingers into the ground, used every ounce of strength she had left to crawl in that direction. Another roar echoed at her back. She whimpered through the pain and tried to move faster, but it was as if she were crawling through mud. Just when she was sure she would never get there, her hand closed around the rock. She tugged it close, then rolled to her back and stared in horror at the sight before her.

A man—no, not a man, she realized—an Argonaut, battled back not one, but all three advancing daemons. His shoulders were broad, his arms muscled, his waist tapered to strong legs. And he moved like a seasoned warrior, swinging the blade in his hand like a ninja swings nunchucks. She watched in disbelief as his blade sank deep, he pulled it free, then swung out and decapitated the first daemon before moving to the second and third. In a matter of seconds, the fight was over, as if the daemons were paper dolls rather than living, menacing monsters.

The Argonaut turned Daphne’s way. Daphne’s vision flickered, but one look was all it took to send her scrambling backward in a haze of pain. A nose that had been broken more than once. Puckered scars that covered the left side of his jaw, ran down his neck, and disappeared under the collar of his long-sleeved T-shirt. And mismatched eyes—one a brilliant blue, the other a deep green—blazing and focused directly on her as if she were the next threat.

The Argonaut kicked the daemon’s body out of his way and marched toward her. Blood and some kind of vile green goo covered his clothing, and that wild, fevered look in his mismatched eyes told her he was no friend, not to her.

It was him. The crazy Argonaut.

Aristokles.

Fear caused her to jerk back, but her head hit something sharp, stopping her momentum. Pain shot across her scalp, and she cried out, but the sound gurgled in her throat. He knelt beside her and reached one bloody, dirt-streaked hand her way.

She gripped the rock tightly, but before she could lift it to protect herself, everything went black.

* * *

Ari carried the injured female into the living area of his home high in the mountains and laid her on the couch.

“Holy Hera,” Silas said, grabbing a blanket from the back of a chair and laying it over her limp body. “She’s a nymph. What in Hades was a nymph doing out in the wilds unprotected?”

“I don’t know.” Ari moved back as Silas knelt close and worked on the female. In his old life, Silas had tended to the sick and injured of his village. Now he tended to Ari, which Ari knew was the most thankless job on the planet. “I didn’t seal the wounds. If it was an archdaemon who did this, I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Smart.” An archdaemon’s claws held a dangerous poison that could prompt infection. Silas peeled the female’s torn dress back over her ribs so he could see her wounds. “But the chances she was attacked by an archdaemon are slim. I’m gonna need rags and hydrogen peroxide from the kitchen.”

It took several seconds for Ari to realize Silas was talking to him. Tearing his gaze away from the female, Ari turned out of the living room with its high-beamed ceiling, roaring fireplace, and leather furnishings and headed for the kitchen. He was still covered in blood and slime from his battle with those daemons, tracking mud through the house Silas worked hard to keep clean, but couldn’t think about anything other than the nymph lying half dead in the other room.

Silas was right. There was no reason for a nymph to be alone in those woods. She’d clearly been running. From who though, he didn’t know. Before he could stop it, Ari’s mind tumbled back dozens of years to another nymph he’d found alone and injured in the wild. To a moment that had cursed his existence for all eternity.

His vision darkened, and a flood of emotions that would only mess with his control threatened to overwhelm him. But he slowly beat them back. This was the reason he chose to isolate himself. Because he was unpredictable. Because he’d been cursed by the gods. Because some days, he was as much a monster as the daemons he’d sworn to destroy.

“Ari! The rags! She’s bleeding, man!”

The sound of Silas’s voice penetrated Ari’s consciousness. He grabbed the items Silas had asked for then moved back into the living room. After handing Silas the materials, he stepped away again and watched as Silas cleaned the wounds then held his hands over the female and used his sensing gift to search for infection.

Long seconds passed. Finally, Silas eased back on his heels and lowered his hands to his thighs. “It wasn’t an archdaemon. You can seal these now.”

When Ari didn’t make a move forward, Silas turned to face him. “I can’t do this part myself. You know that. It has to be you.”

The claw marks across Silas’s face seemed to dance in the firelight as he stared at Ari, waiting for a response.

Scowling, Silas pushed to his feet. He was tall—over six feet—with broad shoulders and sandy blond hair in need of a trim, but he was no match for Ari. Thanks to his link to the ancient Greek gods, Ari was taller, more muscular, bigger everywhere. And he was never intimidated.

Except now. Right now, Ari wished he was anywhere but in this room, not only near a nymph but being forced to touch one.

“She’ll die if you don’t do something,” Silas said. “You know this.”

Still Ari didn’t move. Didn’t trust himself near a nymph. Nymphs were as dangerous to him as Sirens. Nymphs left him just as unbalanced and reminded him of a life he’d left behind without a second look.

“You brought her here,” Silas said, stepping forward. “You could have left her in the woods to die, but you didn’t. She’s just a female, Ari. Show her the same mercy you showed me.”

Just a female...
She was. Ari had used his gift to heal dozens of females
and
males over his years. This female was no different.

History tried to hold him back, but that damn duty inside pushed him forward. Silas stepped to the side as Ari moved toward the couch and looked down. The nymph’s head was tipped his way on the throw pillow, long, dark lashes feathering her alabaster skin, her dirty hair falling over her bruised shoulder and the remnants of her bloody dress. But even injured and unconscious, Ari could tell that she was attractive. Alluring. A nymph created to torment any male who crossed her path.

A heat he hadn’t felt in years stirred low in his belly. One he didn’t like and definitely didn’t want. The fastest way to get rid of her was to heal her. Then forget he’d ever stumbled across the female in the first place.

He lowered to his knee and avoided looking at her face or the swell of her breasts pushing against the thin, once-white fabric, and focused on the red, bleeding wounds. Laying his hands over the gashes, he focused his strength until heat and energy radiated from his palms, permeating the skin beneath and knitting the wounds back together.

The nymph didn’t even stir, even though it was a process he knew caused intense pain. She laid still, her eyes closed, her body deep in sleep. Soft. Vulnerable. Minutes later, Ari lifted his hands and pushed to his feet, intent on getting as far from her as possible.

He stepped back from the couch, turned so he didn’t have to look at her longer than necessary, and moved for the archway that led to his wing of rooms. “As soon as she’s alert and able to travel, I want her gone.”

“Ari.” Silas sighed. “Maybe she’s—”

“As soon as she’s able,” Ari repeated, not waiting to hear Silas’s protest. He knew what Silas was thinking. That a female in the house might do him some good. But Ari knew only bad could ever come from this situation. “I’ll not have her here disrupting my schedule. Not a minute longer, Silas. Get rid of her. That’s an order.”

He disappeared through the doorway, but at his back he heard Silas mutter, “Maybe a little disruption’s what you need, dipshit.”

CHAPTER THREE

Daphne blinked several times and tried to make sense of her surroundings. She definitely wasn’t on Olympus.

Slowly, she pushed up on her arm, wincing at the sting in her side. A soft bed lay below her. An eerie gray light shone through the window across the room. Sitting back in the pillows, she glanced around the bedroom with its dark furnishings and high-beamed ceiling and tried to figure out where the heck she was.

Her memories were a foggy mess. She remembered talking with Athena and Zeus. Remembered being in the woods with Sappheire. Remembered those daemons showing up. Remembered running and being struck in the side. Remembered...

Her eyes grew wide as her mind flashed back to the warrior she’d seen battling those daemons. To his mismatched eyes. His wild look. And the way he’d focused on her as if she were his next victim.

Throwing back the covers, she pulled up the long shirt she was wearing and checked her side. Four thin, red lines crossed her skin from her hip to just beneath her breast.

Confusion tugged her brows together. She brushed her fingers over the sealed wounds that should have killed her and tried to remember what had happened but couldn’t. Tried to figure out how long she’d been out of it but drew a complete blank.

Her gaze drifted to the bed beneath her, the floor, then finally to the window. Cringing at the pain in her side, she pushed to her feet. Her breath caught as she pulled back the curtain and gazed out at the snowy forest and acres of mountains that disappeared in a dark gray sky.

No other houses. No other signs of life. Just miles and miles of wilderness and snow as far as the eye could see.

Her heart pounded as she let go of the curtain and turned to look around the room again. The walls were made of logs. Dark, scuffed hardwood floors ran beneath her bare feet. The sleigh bed she’d been sleeping in was old but more than comforting.

Think, Daphne.

Her hands shook as she pressed them to her cheeks. The crazed Argonaut had obviously brought her here, wherever
here
was. He must have sensed she was a nymph. Zeus had said he had a weakness for nymphs, and that meant she was over her first hurdle—finding him and not getting killed. She wasn’t sure how he’d healed her, but just the fact he’d bothered meant she was halfway to her goal. And that meant all she had to do next was make nice and…and seduce the psycho so she could complete the second half of her mission.

Feeling lightheaded, she lowered to the bed so her legs didn’t go out from under her. Squeezing her shaking hands into fists against the comforter, she drew a deep breath then let it out. She could do this. She’d trained with the best, after all. And when it was done, she’d finally be a Siren. He was a monster, right? Just because he’d saved her from a horde of daemons didn’t mean anything. It just meant Zeus was right and that his brain turned to mush near a nymph.

That
she could use to her advantage. Rising again, she stepped toward the door only to realize she was wearing nothing but a male’s white button-down shirt. The tails hit at her knees, and the sleeves were so long, they’d been rolled up several times to her wrists.

He’d changed her clothes. He’d seen her naked. Her stomach swirled with that realization.