The Kyriakis Curse (3 page)

“Why didn’t you get the answer from the owner’s mind?”

“I didn’t have much of a chance to delve into his head; Eleni was demanding to go

home. Still, I managed to ‘persuade’ him to sell it to me over his initial objections, even though the price I named would have convinced most people right away. Apparently the portrait was simply for display. I would do the research myself, but as you know, I’ll be meeting with the alpha from Pack Eriksson to formally arrange Persephone’s betrothal. If you do this for me, I’ll give you one year’s reprieve: I won’t bother you to pay more attention to the business or find a mate until that time has passed.”

Seeing an opportunity from his father’s need to find Zahara, Constantine couldn’t help pushing for more time. “Give me five years.”

His father’s eyes narrowed to ice-blue slits. “Two years, and no more,” Paris countered tightly.

Two years was nothing to an immortal, but Constantine would take what he could get.

It’d at least provide him enough time to figure out how to stall again once the reprieve came to an end. “I agree. Tell me exactly what you want me to find out.”

* * * * *

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“Run, baby, run!” her mother screamed, as the older woman tried valiantly to fight off the two huge snarling gray and white dogs that Sarah had already witnessed gruesomely mauling her daddy.

She couldn’t leave her mommy by herself. Picking up a nearby stick, the little five-

year-old girl rushed to aid her mother. “I’ll help you, Mommy!”

“No, Sarah! Run away!”

Ignoring her mother’s pleas, Sarah whacked one of the dogs on the bottom. It instantly turned glowing yellow eyes her way. Fear paralyzed her momentarily, but the thought of losing her mommy gave Sarah the courage to fight. Smacking the dog on the nose with the stick, Sarah yelled, “Bad doggy! Go away, you bad doggy!” Her eyes widened when the dog snarled and stood on its hind legs, poised to attack.

Instinctively, she shielded her face, but something happened. From out of nowhere, a third dog leapt onto the one in front of her. This dog was smaller than the other two and had shiny dark fur.

Sarah looked around the room for her mother. She was gone! Tears sprang to Sarah’s

eyes as she backed away. The two larger dogs jumped on the smaller one, biting and clawing at it. The little dog fought back bravely, however.

“Mommy!” she cried out, again, but her mother was still nowhere to be seen. Just then her eyes locked with the smaller dog’s.

Run! Now!

The words were screamed in her mind in her mommy’s voice. This time she obeyed

and didn’t look back. As Sarah fled through her home into the woods, she heard growling and howling. The sound of padded feet rapidly hitting the earth drew closer. Running as fast as her small legs could carry her, she sped up, but so did those following her.

Focused on the chasing sounds behind her, Sarah didn’t see the rock until she stumbled over it, falling to the ground. On the verge of getting back to her feet, she was knocked down. Turning over, Sarah was confronted by two sets of glowing yellow eyes...

She screamed herself awake. Sweat drenched her body, and her breathing was shallow.

It took several minutes for Sarah to regain her bearings and realize she was in her

bedroom. She glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table. Two o’clock.

Damn. She’d had that dream again. This was the second consecutive week she’d had

the nightmare, and it was getting worse, becoming longer and more graphic each night. Was she destined to never get a good night’s rest again?

Sliding out of her bed, she slipped on the silk robe lying across a chair in the corner and went to her kitchen, thinking that eating something might help her get to sleep again, but one look at the contents of her refrigerator made her stomach turn. A half carton of sour milk, leftover Chinese take-out, ketchup, and a half-eaten, one-week-old pizza were her 12 Eve Vaughn

only choices. So absorbed as she always was in her painting, Sarah hardly ever remembered to stock her refrigerator, ordering take-out whenever she bothered to eat.

With a sigh, she strode to her balcony, shivering as the night breeze drifted over her skin and created goose bumps. She looked at the nearly full moon.

“Lord, help me,” she softly pleaded. For some strange reason, whenever the moon was

full, she blacked out. And the last time it had happened, she’d woken up the following morning, naked in the woods.

Something was clearly wrong with her. The problem was, she didn’t know what it

could be or what she could do about it, other than going to a doctor -- something she avoided like the plague. The last thing she wanted was someone to confirm her suspicions that she truly was a freak of nature.

Growing up, Sarah could run faster, jump higher, see further, and do most things better than the other children in school. She’d been labeled a freak, of course. The social ostracism from an early age had made her a loner, and art had been her only refuge. Even in the homes she’d briefly lived in after her parents’ deaths, she had never felt as though she quite fit in.

She hadn’t been treated unkindly, but Sarah could never shake the feeling of being an outsider. And knowing that she was different, Sarah had found it difficult to open up to others. At nearly sixteen, she’d left the home she’d been staying in and had supported herself ever since.

Those early days had been a struggle, and she’d scraped by living in shelters and low-income projects, as well as finding a job as a waitress in a seedy bar. Of course, she’d had to lie about her age at work -- although she suspected the owner had figured it out -- and had been paid under the table. All that time, however, she’d never given up her dream of becoming an artist. She hadn’t wanted or expected to be famous; she’d just wanted to make enough to earn a decent living.

Sarah had sold her work on street corners until, at the age of seventeen, she’d caught the eye of a major art dealer, who’d help her sell her first painting to a local gallery. That had been an incredibly fabulous thrill. Twelve years later, she was now well known among art connoisseurs -- or at least S.E.D was known. Her paintings sold steadily, and she had plenty to live on.

Sarah knew that part of the reason her paintings attracted buyers was the apparent

mystique that surrounded them and her. There was much speculation about who she was

and even whether she was male or female, because she never appeared at any of her

showings, preferring to maintain her anonymity. Sarah had read many articles and usually got a good laugh out of the purported reasons why she chose not to reveal herself. Her favorite explanation was the one which theorized that she was some severely scarred recluse who couldn’t be seen in public.

Sarah supposed the recluse part was correct, but the other bit was only partially right.

True, she had plenty of scars, but they were internal. The good thing about living in New Kyriakis 1: Kyriakis Curse

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York was that she could just melt into the crowd, especially in the neighborhood where she lived. Sarah blended in with lots of other black faces; on the other hand, she barely ventured out of her Harlem studio apartment except to meet her agent, go to the corner store for necessities and, every now and then, allow her neighbor, a sweet old lady, to convince her to stop over for a visit. Aside from those brief forays, Sarah was more than content to devote herself to painting.

She threaded her fingers through her unruly shoulder-length hair. She’d only had it cut two weeks before to the level above her ears and already it was out of control again. Her quickly growing tresses were yet another thing that made her different from other people. It was on nights like this that Sarah thought it would have been nice to be able to call her parents and ask them why she wasn’t like the rest of the population.

She sighed and stared at the bright silver orb in the sky again. Why did the moon make her forget? Why could she do things that took even athletes several years to achieve? And, most of all, why did she get the distinct impression of late that someone was stalking her for these very things?

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“It’s time to start making arrangements, Paris. I grow tired of waiting for you to make up your mind. Either shit, or get off the pot.” Eleni Kyriakis looked at him through narrowed green eyes, her lips tight with apparent displeasure.

He turned away from her, not wanting to have this conversation now -- or ever, for

that matter. He supposed he only had himself to blame for her thinking that the two of them would eventually mate.

It was shortly after Melanie had succumbed to feral wolves that Paris had learned Eleni was interested in him as more than just her brother-in-law and alpha. Paris hadn’t

encouraged her affection, but he hadn’t discouraged it, either. Eleni had been a good hostess and perfect escort when he’d needed one, but formally joining with her was an entirely different matter. For one thing, she was his late mate’s sister and, second, he couldn’t see himself in another emotionally mismatched union. He cared for Eleni and appreciated all she’d done for him when Melanie had died, but that was it.

Granted, Eleni was an extremely beautiful woman with her long, wavy auburn hair,

intense green eyes, and aristocratic features. Reed slim, she could have been a model if she wanted. Paris had often wondered why she’d never found another husband after her own mate was killed by a feral wolf. After all, Eleni was understandably highly sought after by other shifters from within and without his pack. Even so, his feelings just weren’t strong enough to make him mate with her.

With a deep sigh, he put down his fork and knife, looking mournfully at his rare filet mignons. He had been ravenous earlier, but now he just didn’t have the stomach for this meal any longer. Damn the bitch. He’d told her that he needed to be alone tonight, but she’d insisted that they have dinner together.

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“Is it possible to get through one meal without you bringing this up? I thought we’d already discussed this.”

Scarlet-smeared lips twisted derisively. “Not to my satisfaction, and you know it. How can you treat me so shamelessly?”

“You’re saying I used you? In what way?”

Eleni threw her own knife and fork on the table. “I’ve been here for you since

Melanie... Well, I supported you through your grieving period, have been the mother that Persephone needed -- and, if I may be so bold to say, that girl is headed for trouble if she isn’t taken in hand soon -- I’ve also been your business liaison when you were off chasing your errant son. I did all this because after twenty-five years, I’d hoped you would realize my feelings and see I’d make the perfect alpha fem for you.”

Paris spoke softly, trying to hold in his temper. “When you gave me all your help, it was very much appreciated. I didn’t realize, however, that there were strings attached.”

Eleni had the good grace to blush, but the damage was already done. “There were no

strings attached, Paris, but surely you must know a pack is only as strong as its leader. We have to be even more powerful now that the Council of Immortals is no longer around, thanks to those blasted vampires. I hope you’ll finally admit that the damn Grimaldis are nothing but trouble and sever your association with them.” She snorted. “I hear retaliation is in order for that lot.”

Paris’s lips tightened. This wasn’t the first time she’d brought up his association with the Underground, an organization founded by his close friend Dante Grimaldi to eradicate the rogue threat among all the groups of immortals.

“Even if you were the alpha bitch, you still would have no right to question who I do and don’t choose to associate with.” His patience was hanging by a thread. “Understand?”

Eleni folded slender arms across her chest and pouted mutinously.

Paris brought his fist down on the table, clattering the plates. “Do. You. Understand?”

He would not let her have her way in this.

“Yes, I do. I understand that you’re a cruel bastard, Paris Kyriakis.” Tears welled up in her slanted green eyes. “I gave you my heart; for you to just sit there and throw my feelings back in my face like this is unconscionable.” Then, to Paris’s annoyance, Eleni broke out into loud and noisy sobs.

With an exasperated sigh, he stood and walked to where she sat. Kneeling next to her chair, Paris took her hand. “It was not my intention to upset you like this, but you must know that I can never return your feelings. It just wouldn’t be fair to you.”

His words obviously weren’t the right ones, because she cried even harder. Paris gave up and rose; he didn’t have time for this shit. “Eleni, please. This is getting us nowhere.

You’re an intelligent, beautiful woman and can have any man you want. You deserve a mate who’ll give you the love and respect you require.”

16 Eve Vaughn

Lifting her head sharply, moisture still glistening on her eyelashes, Eleni glared at him.

“I don’t want another man; I want you. How can you be so blind?”

Paris was at a loss at how to deal with her, so when his daughter strolled into the

dining room with Isis Vasquez, her best friend, he’d never been happier to see them.

“Papa, Aunt Eleni.” Persephone acknowledged them before she sat at the table with

her usual dramatic flair. “What’s for dinner?”

Eleni’s nostril’s flared as she scowled at her niece. “Persephone, your father and I were having a private conversation. Please leave.”

The younger woman laughed with a toss of her dark head. “Didn’t look like much

talking was going on when we came in. Are you still trying to get Papa to make the move from a platonic relationship to something a little... I mean a lot more romantic?”

Eleni shot from her seat. “This is outside of enough! I will not discuss private matters in front of you, and especially with your low-bred friend sitting there.” Dark green eyes turned toward Paris. “This is exactly what I was telling you about. Your daughter has no respect for the hierarchy of our pack. I’m leaving now, but I expect an apology, Paris.” Inclining her head curtly in his direction, she ignored Persephone and Isis, then stalked out of the dining room.