Tempted (16 page)

His eyes darted to Isadora. But she looked the same as when he’d left her at the stream. Asleep, maybe, but she wasn’t close to death. She was—

The water around her rippled, and near her bare leg a scaled tentacle broke the surface only to disappear again.

Oh…fuuuuuck!

He charged into the water without a second thought, screaming Isadora’s name until he dove beneath the surface. His muscles burned as he swam with everything he had in him. When something brushed his leg, he swam harder. Even under the water he could hear the Keres above shrieking.

He gasped as he broke the surface near Isadora. His hand closed over her arm, but she still didn’t move. Not even when he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her toward the shore. “Wake up, dammit!”

She was dead weight in the water. It took twice as long to reach the shore, and every time something grazed his limbs he was sure it was some kind of serpent about to eat them. His feet finally hit the silty soil; he stumbled, righted himself, turned and slipped his arms under Isadora’s to haul her out of the water. The cotton of her shirt tore.

The Keres screamed their frustration as Demetrius dragged her back onto the shore. As he cleared the edge, a bubbling sound echoed. He looked back to see the water in the center of the lake churning and fizzing. The Keres shrieked and disappeared into the fog.

Dread filled Demetrius’s chest as he supported Isadora and watched the water recede as if being sucked in by a giant vortex. Rocks and reeds and tree trunks came into view, but what held his undivided attention was the mighty beast with six heads emerging from the column of water in the center of the lake.

“Holy fucking shit.” He looked down at Isadora, out cold in his arms, then back to the creature that was a cross between a serpent and six different dragons. No way he could outrun it. Not with her unconscious. His adrenaline surged. Options raced through his mind. He still had the sword in his hand.

He laid Isadora out on the grass behind a giant shrub and drew her legs in so she was completely hidden from view. Then he swallowed hard and held his hands over her, muttering in Medean, casting the mother of all protection spells and drawing deep from whatever power was left in him.

He was a crappy witch. He’d never developed his craft. He hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t cared. Now, though…now he wished he’d embraced his heritage at least a little.

With the measly spell cast, there was nothing else he could do but distract and divert. And hope like hell she woke up and got the hell out of there before the monster found her.

He took one last look at her lying on the grass, out cold and soaking wet. And for the first time in his life he wished he hadn’t been such an asshole to her. That he’d felt what it was like to have her arms wrapped around his body. That he’d tasted those sweet lips. That he’d just once gotten lost in her softness.

Wishing
is
for
shit.

Yeah, he knew that better than anyone, didn’t he? The only bright spot in this whole nightmare was that Atalanta wasn’t going to get what she so desperately wanted.

He stepped back onto the lakeshore, stayed in the shadows, and sprinted around the far side of the water, well away from Isadora’s hiding spot. Pulse pounding, he slowed to a stop and gripped the sword in both hands. “Hey!”

The water column arced in all directions, splattering across Demetrius and the ground. The beast swung around. Two heads on the monster blew fire six feet out.

“Is that the best you can do?” Demetrius yelled. “Why don’t you come over here and try that?”

The middle head roared, then the creature dove underwater and raced toward shore.

Demetrius braced his feet on the soft soil and reared back with the blade, ready to strike. The beast shot from the water like a bullet, flew over his head, and landed on all four feet with a crack that shook the ground. Demetrius whipped around. One head shot forward, the hideous mouth opened. Before it could roast him, Demetrius swung the sword.

The blade sliced through the thick neck. The head fell to the ground with a thwack. The other heads screamed and pulled back. But instead of slowing the monster, the wound seemed to give it strength. Two heads instantly grew from the one severed. And then there were seven.

“Fuck me.” This wasn’t any monster, this was a Hydra. His mind raced over what he new of the legendary beast. Each time one head was lost, two grew back in its place. Only one head was mortal. Decapitating that one was the only way to kill the creature.

Of course, you had to figure out which one that was. And you had to get close enough to cut it off. And you had to avoid being torched by all the other heads in the meantime.

Oh, man…he was so screwed.

He glanced back to the brush where Isadora lay hidden. Then his gaze shot to the fog.

He waved his sword in the air. “Try again, shithead!” He took off running.

The Hydra heads roared, but the monster took the bait and gave chase. The fog thickened. Demetrius couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of him, but he kept running, wanting to draw the beast as far away as possible. Up ahead he heard a loud crashing sound, and not knowing what the hell he was running toward, he veered off into a thicket of trees.

The crashing grew louder. A lion’s roar sounded. Demetrius looked back just in time to see flames erupt from the fog in the direction he’d been headed. Holy
skata
, there was something else out here. The Hydra bellowed in response, but instead of following Demetrius into the trees, it charged the newcomer.

Snapping and screams pierced the eerie fog. The two monsters collided with a crack that sounded like a two-ton bomb detonating. They rolled across the ground, taking down trees and stumps and anything in their way.

Demetrius scrambled back out of the way. Only when the second monster jerked to its massive feet and Demetrius got a good look at its size did he realize it was a Chimera, an enormous lion-headed creature with the body of a goat and the tail of a dragon. The Hydra righted itself. The seven heads roared a challenge in unison. The Chimera didn’t seem to give a rip. It braced itself, opened its mighty mouth, and vomited a steady stream of fire that seemed to have no end.

Okay, he was not sticking around to see who won this fucked up, no-way-in-hell-this-should-be-real battle. Demetrius sprinted back to Isadora. He was pretty sure his heart was in his throat by the time he skidded to his knees at her side. One quick check confirmed she was still unconscious, but breathing. Another loud roar kicked him into overdrive. He scooped Isadora into his arms. And then he ran.

Chapter 12

Isadora came awake with a start. She sat up, blinked several times, and had a moment of
What
the
hell?

The corner she was lying in was dark, but across what looked like a massive room, torches burned bright on marble pillars spaced ten feet apart to form a long hall. In the center, a raised platform held a stone table. Just like from her dream. Or nightmare.

Her gaze darted back to the dark corner around her, and trepidation rushed in when she realized she was naked beneath a thin cotton blanket. She tugged the blanket up to cover her breasts, shifted to the side, and discovered she wasn’t on a hard cold floor but some kind of fur rug or hide.

She lurched to her feet. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she made it into the light of the torches before she saw the trunks set between each of the pillars and faltered.

One, two…seven trunks. Each made of antique steel, wool, and leather with a different symbol carved in gold on the front. But it was the one at the end of the room, perpendicular to all the others, that drew her attention. The one that was twice as big as the rest and bore the symbol of Heracles on the front.

Wide-eyed, her gaze jumped from the end chest to each of the others, stopping on the one to her right.

Ιάσων.

In Ancient Greek, Jason’s name began with an iota, the ninth letter of the Greek alphabet
.
And he was Demetrius’s forefather.

Curiosity pushed her forward and she took a hesitant step toward the trunk. The wood was cool to the touch. Metal groaned on aged hinges as the top moved up and back.

Weapons, candles, books, a bag filled with…what felt like marbles. She lifted a worn sandal so she could examine it in the light.

“There’s only one.”

She gasped in a breath, whipped toward the voice. Her heart jumped into her throat as a shadow moved on the edge of the light, then picked up speed when Demetrius stepped down stone steps and moved out of the darkness.

“Oh my gods,” Isadora whispered. “You scared me.” She pressed a hand against her chest, relieved it was him. Disturbed at the same time, because seeing him set off tiny tremors of awareness all over her body.

“There’s only one,” he said again. “He lost the other.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. Her attention was focused solely on the languid way he moved down the steps, the play of torchlight falling across his broad bare shoulders that cast shadows over his muscular chest.

“The sandal,” he said, nodding to what was still clutched to her chest. “Jason lost it in the river Anauros helping an old woman cross the water.” He frowned, stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his torn pants. “Only it wasn’t just a woman. It was Hera in disguise.”

The disgust in his voice when he said the goddess’s name was more than evident, but it was the way he was watching her with those intense midnight eyes that sent Isadora’s pulse skipping in her veins.

Something was different about him. Long gone was the contempt he’d always sported when he gazed at her. Nowhere in his eyes now did she see animosity or disgust over who and what she was. In fact, standing in the flickering light, she saw only curiosity and concern and a hint of what could only be described as…heat.

Her pulse raced, and a low steady ache settled in her stomach, drifted lower. She clutched the soft blanket tighter to her chest. “I…What is this place?”

He moved up the steps of the raised platform, set a bundle of cloth on the stone table, then stepped down again until he was level with her, where he took the sandal from her hand. His fingers brushed hers in the process and heat flared to life across her skin. “What do you think it is?”

She watched as he set the sandal back in the trunk, closed the lid. “I’m not quite sure.”

“I think you are.”

She looked around the room again. It was indeed a soaring space. She couldn’t see the ceiling, but the columns seemed to go on forever. “Where…?”

“In the ruins.” When her eyes settled on his once more, he added, “Under the ruins, actually. I found it yesterday.”

Yesterday. When she’d been sleeping, dreaming of him. “On Pandora? Why would they build the Hall of Heroes here? Where it would never be found?”

“So it
would
never be found. As far as hiding places go, this is a pretty good one, don’t you think?”

Yeah, actually, she did. If you wanted to guarantee that the secrets of the original Argonauts would never be lost, it made perfect sense to hide them somewhere no one could find them.

That epiphany led right into the realization that no one would ever find
them
either. And knowing that bit of info was too much to deal with right now, Isadora changed the subject. “What happened? You left me at the river and I—”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

His intense eyes seemed to bore into hers, as if he couldn’t look away. And awareness resurged in the space between them. She was naked beneath the thin blanket. He wore only low-slung frayed black pants that had seen better days. She should be hesitant and self-conscious. But instead she felt…alive.

“I…I don’t really remember. I waded out into the stream. I was hot. I remember thinking a few minutes to cool off wouldn’t hurt anything.”

His gaze roamed the blanket. But it wasn’t a casual sweep as he’d done to her thousands of times. No, there was heat in the way his eyes hesitated on her breasts, slid lower to her hips. And for a moment she wondered if he could see through the thin fabric.

Warmth shot straight to her center. For a moment she
wanted
him to see through the thin fabric.

“What did you do?” he asked, bringing his dark eyes back level with hers.

“I…” Words lodged in her throat. A desire she wasn’t used to experiencing seared her veins.

“I…I dipped down to cool myself off, and when I came back up—” The image of that wraithlike beast filled her mind and her breath caught. “There was something watching me.”

“A Ker. Yeah, I saw it. Actually, I saw three. Did you run?”

She was still wrapping her mind around the fact the
thing
she’d been staring at was a death spirit. And he said there’d been three? She gave her head a swift shake, not wanting to think about that just yet. “Um…yeah. I’d left the dagger on the edge of the water. I turned to get it. The last thing I remember is something sharp hitting my neck.” She clutched the blanket together with one hand, rubbed her hand under her hair with the other.

He let out a breath. “That explains things. Their poison works as a sedative. You must have fallen into the stream when you passed out.”

“Out? How long has it been?”

He shrugged, hands still deep in his pockets, but his shoulders relaxed. And she had the strange sense this news calmed him, though why she had no clue. “At least eight hours. It’s the middle of the night now. You didn’t move a single muscle. Not when I found you. Not during or after what happened. It was like you were hypnotized. I thought…” His voice trailed off, and the worry she heard there caught her dead in the chest, the pain so sharp it was as if she’d been pierced by a bullet.

“But now that we know it was just the poison,” he said, “that makes sense. It should be mostly worn off by now.”

Her world had just tipped on its axis. Her brain buzzed and her head was so light she was sure it would float off at any moment. Nothing made sense, and yet something…something in her soul for the first time in a long time felt…right.

She swallowed hard, tried to get her thoughts back in line with the conversation. “Wh-what do you mean ‘during or after what happened’? Where did you find me?”

He hesitated, studied her intently. “Floating in the middle of a lake.”

Okay, that didn’t sound so bad.

“With three Keres hovering above you and a Hydra in the water beneath you.”

The blood drained out of her face. Oh. Um, yeah.
That
didn’t sound good. “H-how did you…?”

“Do you really want to know?”

She studied his eyes, thought about the image he painted. Remembered the harpy and boar on that beach the first day she’d awakened here and the nightmares that still lingered from that little scene. Combined with what she remembered of that Ker…her stomach churned. No, she really didn’t want to know what he’d done to get her away from those monsters. And she didn’t need to relive it if she didn’t have to. She shook her head. And then a thought hit.

“You…you rescued me.”

His gaze intensified, and warmth reignited all over her skin under that heated stare. “Rescuing you is turning into a full-time job.”

It was. Apophis, the daemons in that field, those monsters on the beach, and now this. Four times he’d saved her life recently. Four times he could easily have let her die and never looked back. But he hadn’t. He’d been right there to drag her to safety each and every time. And he hadn’t asked for a single thing in return.

Her heartbeat kicked up hard in her chest, beat against her ribs with a rhythm that fanned warmth to her breasts and slid lower. She thought back to the snippy comments she’d tossed at him yesterday, to the way she’d treated him most of her life. Emotions pinched her chest, closed her throat, made it hard to breathe.

He nodded toward the table before she could think of a single thing to say. “Those are some clothes I found in the crates on the beach. Thought you might want them. The shirt you were wearing…well, let’s just say it didn’t make it.”

She looked down at the blanket wrapped around her and realized he’d seen her naked. Again. Heat rushed to her cheeks. But for some reason knowing he’d stripped her bare didn’t disturb her, it electrified her.

Slowly, because she knew he was watching her, she moved up the steps to the stone table, ran her hand over the pair of denim shorts and the orange tank top folded neatly on top. “These weren’t in the bundle you brought up this morning. You went back?”

“We needed water. I had to go back out anyway. Didn’t think you’d want to walk around this place naked with me here.”

Her gaze shifted back to him. And in that instant she saw every one of her perceptions where he was concerned shatter like glass against the floor. This was not the stone-cold bastard she’d always believed him to be. This was an
ándras
—no, a hero—of honor.

Who would ever have believed she’d think that? Who would ever have thought she’d feel anything for him besides animosity?

Emotions that came out of nowhere and everywhere all at the same time pushed her feet forward. “You saved me,” she whispered. “You could have let me die.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Why would you want me to live?” she asked, turning his question back around as she closed the distance between them and moved down two steps.

He didn’t step back or look away, but the wrinkle in his forehead said he wasn’t sure what she was implying and didn’t know how to react. “It’s my job to protect you.”

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Probably, but…you risked your life for me. Not once, but four times.”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. As if it were a fact every other day of his life. And in the silence that followed she knew he was thinking the same thing as she. That something was changing right here between them. And if one of them didn’t put a stop to it, their relationship would never be the same again.

“You rescued me,” she said softly.

His black-as-night gaze roamed her face, but he didn’t answer. And he didn’t touch her, though deep inside she felt he wanted to. He just didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

“Maybe,” she said softly, hoping to bridge it herself, just a touch, “maybe one day I can return the favor.”

“You can’t save me,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because some things aren’t worth the effort.”