Tempted (19 page)

***

Demetrius cast the crappy protection circle around the ruins with hands that shook more than he wanted them to.

Disgusted with himself, he stopped, drew in a long breath that did shit to ease the sharp pain in his chest, and stared up at the waning moon splashing sparkling white light over him and the uneven ground. The dim roar of waves crashing against the serene shore far below drew his attention and he stepped out of the circle and crossed over to the edge of the cliff that looked down to the beach below.

From so far above, this island seemed like paradise. The sand, the trees, the blue-green mountains. But when you looked closer you realized what kind of hell it really was. And wasn’t it ironic that the creatures on this island weren’t the real monsters? He was.

As if on cue, something down the hill in the valley behind him shrieked, and a vicious roar rose up as a deafening answer. He turned to look, thought of the Hydra he’d run from earlier. Of that Chimera he’d stumbled across. And wondered if they’d killed each other or if the battle still raged on. Then he wondered if things wouldn’t be better all around if he just went down there and joined them.

“I can tell you how things will end,” a female voice said from the direction of the cliff.

He whipped that way to find himself staring at an elderly female dressed all in white. She wore sunglasses, which seemed ridiculously absurd at this time of night, and seemed to float inches off the ground.

“The king will die,” she said in a strong voice, “the Council will win, the monarchy will be absorbed, and the portals will be opened. And then Atalanta’s daemons will spill into Argolea and destroy not only your realm but what’s left of the Argonauts. Your mother will then turn her full attention to the human realm and devour as much as she can until she achieves total domination. Do you think the havoc her daemons are wreaking on humans now is bad? It will get worse. It will get much, much worse.”

His mother. Just the reminder sent his blood boiling. He clenched his jaw and looked out over the sea, purposely ignoring the female’s words.

He knew she was a Fate. Just as he knew he wasn’t lucky enough for her to be Atropos, the Fate who cut the thread of life. No, his miserable life kept spinning on and he couldn’t stop it. And this Fate was the one who kept drawing it out. “You set the torches. In the Hall of Heroes.”

“I did,” she said with a smile in her voice. “It’s sacred.”

He wasn’t so sure of that. Nothing on this island was sacred to him. As he’d so obviously demonstrated with Isadora earlier.

He cursed himself again for that little fuck-up and dug his fingers into his palms until pain was all he felt.

She drifted to the ground, and when she landed he noticed her feet were bare and that her toenails were painted a bright neon blue. She moved to sit on a boulder across the ground, but her feet didn’t make a single scuffing sound. “I hate these darn sunglasses, but I am not a creature of the earth.” She gestured over her head with a wave of her hand. “Moonlight gives me a headache. You know the story of your forefather Jason, do you not?”

At his bored expression, she chuckled. “Oh, I do like you, Demetrius. You have always been one of my favorites.”

“Lucky me,” he mumbled.

“Atalanta blames Jason most of all for the fate she was dealt.”

He flicked her an irritated look. “He let her sail on the Argos when the others didn’t want her to. I’d say she’s got a burr up her ass if she blames him for anything.”

Lachesis sighed. “She does. More than you know. But that’s not why she hated him. The truth is she fell in love with Jason on that boat. And he chose another over her.”

He clenched his jaw, looked out over the water. “Medea.” The witch. Once again, oh, lucky him. “Yeah, that ended well, didn’t it? He dicked around with some Corinthian princess, decided to marry her instead of his supposed soul mate, Medea, and to settle the score Medea killed his children. I’d say that ended really well.”

“Depends on how you look at it. One survived to bear your line. If history had traveled down another path, you wouldn’t be here now.”

“And the world would be a better place,” he muttered. “Once again Hera’s soul mate curse worked like a charm.”

He didn’t hear her move, didn’t see her shift, not until she was hovering over the ground in front of him, her wrinkled face at eye level. He sucked in a breath and held it as she removed the sunglasses. And then he found himself staring into eyes as white as the moon, with only a pinprick of black right in the center.

“There is purpose in every life in this world, whether you decide to see it or not. Yes, Hera hated Heracles with a vehemence that knows no bounds, and because of it she cursed him and all the Argonauts with one soul mate each, the worst possible match who would torment their existence. But a soul mate is not a curse unless you let it be, Demetrius. Jason made his choice. For right or wrong, he chose his destiny. And now you must choose yours. There are no guarantees in this world save one. If you do nothing, Atalanta will win.”

He looked past her. “I don’t care.”

Tingling at his cheek brought his eyes back level with hers. “Oh, I think you do. More than you’ve let on these long years. You’re not weak, Guardian, contrary to what you think. What you fear most may just have the power to save you. But only if you let it.”

Save him. Yeah, right. Not likely. But he still needed to save Isadora.

“Where’s the holy ground on this island?”

She didn’t answer, only smiled, which drew his frown deeper. The tingling dissipated along with her image, which faded into nothingness right before his eyes. Until he was staring out into the dark, all alone once more.

Perfect. Leave it to a Fate to speak in riddles instead of coming out and saying exactly what she means. Choices? What choice did he have? Where Isadora was concerned, he had no choice: he had to get her off this island before that weakness Lachesis thought he didn’t have kicked into high gear and he forgot all the reasons he’d vigilantly stayed away from her over the years.

He headed back into the ruins. Tomorrow, no matter what, he was dragging Isadora out to look for holy ground. The portal drew energy from that which was hallowed. He knew there was holy ground on this island somewhere—it had once been inhabited, before the Argonauts gathered and dumped the monsters here—and he was bound and determined to find it. Now more than ever.

He made it as far as the doorway to the Hall of Heroes before he heard Isadora scream. His adrenaline surged and he cursed himself for leaving her—again. He grasped the blade at his back, tore down the steps, and skidded to a stop in the massive room.

She was alone. Just as she’d been the night before. Thrashing in her sleep. No monsters surrounded her. But something was definitely wrong.

Her eyes were tightly shut, the blanket twisted around her waist, her face scrunched in agonizing pain. Her screams brought the hair on the back of his neck to attention. But it was the two words he made out in her cries that burned in his blood.

Hades.
No.

He glanced around the hall but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. A dream. She was dreaming again. Crossing the floor, he knelt on the blankets and set his blade on the ground at his side. “Stop, Isadora. Stop before you hurt yourself.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. If anything, her thrashing grew more violent.

He reached out to hold her still, and just as it had last night, his touch calmed her in ways his words never could. Her body trembled, but she stopped the fierce flailing.

“That’s better,” he whispered as he ran one hand down her arm and tugged the blanket back over her bare breasts with the other.

“Don’t want to go back to him,” she mumbled, tipping her head his way.

A place deep in his chest squeezed tight at the thought of her anywhere near the sadistic god. “You won’t have to.”

He continued to stroke her arm until her trembling finally eased and she lay still. Drawing a deep breath he eased away, intent on letting her sleep and putting as much distance between himself and her naked body as he could.

She reached out for him, and the shaking picked up all over again. “No, don’t leave. He’s waiting for you to leave me.”

Demetrius’s head came up and he looked around the room as a new sort of wariness crept into his mind. Two of the torches had gone out but three others still burned near the heroes’ chests. Shadows flickered and fell over this corner of the room, but there were plenty of dark corners to hide in. Enough shadow to mask anything that might lie in wait, mortal or immortal.

Trepidation tickled his spine. He scooted closer to Isadora and didn’t protest when she curled into him and rested her head against his bare chest. This time, he didn’t even think to. “I’m not going anywhere,
kardia
,” he said softly as he looked out into the dark. “At least not yet.”

Chapter 14

Isadora sensed Demetrius’s presence even before she rolled her head to the left and found him lying next to her, sound asleep on his side, his arms crossed over his middle and his head tipped her way.

Confusion hit first, followed by surprise. Why in Hades had he lain down next to her when he’d made it perfectly clear last night that he didn’t want to have anything to do with her?

The things he’d said came back full force, as did the mortification when she remembered what she’d done with him. Rolling quietly away, she tugged the blanket around herself and crossed the floor toward the stone table in the middle of the room.

The clothes he’d brought for her were scattered over the floor. Cheeks heating with memories of his mouth, his hands, how she’d all but begged for more, she stooped to pick them up, then dragged them on. The shorts were baggier than she liked, but they were better than nothing. She didn’t look at the table as she dressed, and when she was done she straightened, only to have a wave of nausea that came out of nowhere wash over her.

She reached out to steady herself. Breathed deep until it passed. Then wiped a hand over her damp brow.

That was weird. Yeah, she’d been a little stressed since she’d been here, and she wasn’t eating like she should be, but she hadn’t felt anything like that since…

Dread spiraled through her and she mentally ticked off days. At least seven had passed since she’d last been at the castle in Argolea. Seven days away from her sister. The ramifications of her situation suddenly hit full force. Regardless of what had happened here with Demetrius, she needed to get home before things turned dire for Casey.

Her gaze strayed to Demetrius, still sound asleep, and her temper kicked up. She moved around the table and flipped open the lid of the first trunk, looking for…she didn’t know what. Just something that would help her get the hell off this island. Not his type? Screw him.
He
wasn’t
her
type. Mean definitely wasn’t her type. Why on earth had she ever thought he wasn’t the bastard he’d always been back home?

She moved to the next trunk and silently rejoiced when she found a sword. She turned the blade in the low torchlight still burning from last night and figured it would do. It wasn’t as big as the one Demetrius carried, but it fit better in her hand. Orpheus had taught her just enough to wield the damn thing, but she wasn’t afraid now like she’d been before. She wanted off this damn island so bad she was willing to search for holy ground without him. She could open the portal on her own.

She turned for the steps, then belatedly remembered the spell book she’d seen in Jason’s chest.

What
you’ve got there is more powerful than you or your sisters realize.

Orpheus’s words from days ago skipped through her mind. She looked down at the winged omega marking on her inner thigh, visible beneath the hem of her short shorts. Orpheus knew all about spells and drawing power, and if her link to the Horae gave her some sort of advantage where that was concerned, she was going to use it. No matter the cost.

She moved to Jason’s chest, set the sword down in front of her, and pawed through the contents until she found the book. The cover was dusty and she blew until the grime cleared and the Helios symbol became visible in the aged leather.

“Aren’t we curious this morning?”

Isadora’s heart lurched into her throat. She dropped the book, grasped the sword, and whipped around with her arm outstretched. The tip of the blade stopped centimeters from Demetrius’s bare chest.

His eyes flicked down to the weapon, then lifted to rest on hers. “I see sleep did you well. You obviously remembered all those reasons you hate me.”

Her heart pounded hard against her chest. Relief that it was him and not some monster pissed her off more than if she’d found herself face-to-face with a Hydra. “No, I just remembered your legendary cruelty.”

“Very good, Princess.”

His low mocking tone clawed at her self-respect, heated her cheeks, and made her remember all over again what she’d done last night. With him. In this very room. The difference was, to her it had meant something. To him it was…

She didn’t know what it was to him. A game, she guessed. One more way to humiliate her.

He took a step forward, until the tip of the blade pressed into his chest but didn’t break the skin. “Do it. Now’s your chance.”

She wanted to. She was so angry she could barely see straight. Every one of his cruel words over the years crashed in to remind her of the thousands of times he’d belittled her. And that, coupled with the newfound fear over her sister, made her unsteady. But when he moved closer still and the tip pushed deeper, she tensed. Her eyes shot to his chest and to the tiny droplet of blood that trickled down the blade.

Her stomach rolled. Yes, she was angry, and yes, she hated that he made her feel anything at all, but she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to hurt him just because he’d hurt her.

“Go ahead, Princess,” he whispered. “All you have to do is push.”

Her eyes lifted to his and though she saw indifference in his black irises, she also saw something else. Lurking deep, there lingered…regret.

Her heart stuttered, caught, and picked up speed as she stared at him. The night before spiraled through her memory again, only this time she didn’t focus on his words. This time she focused on the look of desire in his eyes, the way he’d touched her, the fact he hadn’t been able to get enough of her. And she remembered the way he’d told her to tell him to stop, and when she hadn’t, how he’d finally let down his guard and taken her places she never knew existed.

He’d wanted her, and it scared the crap out of him. So much he’d reverted to his old ways to convince her he was the enemy. She lowered the sword, even as her heart raced beneath her breast.

“Your father’s right,” he muttered. “You’re no leader.”

His words cut to the heart of her, to every one of her insecurities and what she feared most in this world. But she didn’t dwell on them. For whatever reason, he was trying to make her hate him. And his baiting words belied his actions. Those were what she focused on.

She turned the sword and held out the handle to him. “Maybe I’m not. But I know a lie when I hear one.”

For just a split second, confusion crossed his features. And then the mask came up again, the one that said
Fuck
you
to the world and
Leave
me
the
hell
alone
. But that wasn’t the real him. The
real
him was the one who’d rescued her more times than she could count, watched over her, and pleasured her so completely last night without taking a single thing for himself in the process.

His fingers wrapped around the handle of the blade, and as he lowered it to the ground, she knew she had a choice. To let him go on believing that lie or prove to him he was wrong.

She moved into him without a second thought. Just as she had last night, except this time she wrapped both arms around his waist and held on tight.

He tensed, and beneath her ear his heart rate kicked up speed.

The reaction warmed her, told her yeah, she was definitely right. He was trying to keep her away from him. Though she didn’t understand why, she wasn’t about to let him win. Last night
had
meant something to her. And it had obviously meant something to him as well, if it had spurred him into using his old cruel tactics on her again.

“Wh-why are you doing this?”

“Because you won’t.” She wiped the droplet of blood from his chest, then softly pressed her lips to the wound that was already healing. She wanted him to know she was serious, that this—
he
—mattered. Because something inside her sensed he never really had before.

Seconds passed as they stood frozen together. For a moment she thought he was going to draw away. And then the blade clattered to the floor at her feet and his large, warm hands landed gently on her shoulders and slid down her back.

Yes.
Yes.

She closed her eyes, burrowed closer, and hung on to the feeling. The same one she’d experienced last night when he’d kissed her and touched her and made her want.

“Why are you so damn stubborn?” he whispered.

“Why are you so hell-bent on pushing me away?”

“Because I’m no good.”

His blunt words drew her back, forced her eyes up. The dim light cast a warm glow over his face, made his skin look darker, the week’s worth of beard thicker, his eyes blacker. But there was an odd sort of truth in his words. A truth she didn’t understand but wanted to know.

What had happened to him? What had he done or seen in his two hundred years that made him honestly believe that he wasn’t good enough for her?

“Good is a matter of opinion, Demetrius. And as far as I’m concerned, nothing about you isn’t good enough.”

“Isadora—”

She didn’t want to argue. She knew she wasn’t going to change his mind with words. What she wanted was the chance to make him believe.

She eased up on her tiptoes, slid her hand around his neck, and tugged. He was so tall she couldn’t reach his mouth on her own, but he took the cue easily. And then his lips were on hers and all the hurt and anger from this morning seemed like a distant memory.

Gods, he tasted good, felt even better. Days ago she’d sat on that beach, watching him strap those boards together, scared to death about the prospect of being stuck here alone with him for any length of time. And now…now a part of her ached at the thought of their time ending before their bond had a chance to solidify.

His hands slid up to frame her face and he tipped her head, kissed her slowly and deeply and so thoroughly she felt it all the way to her toes. And when he eased back to look down at her with those stormy, emotion-filled eyes, she knew she was right.

“This,” he said softly, “is a bad idea. You know that, don’t you?”

She smiled because this—what was happening between them—was really the least of their problems on this island. “Why are you so convinced doom is lurking around every corner?”

“Because it usually is.” A frown turned his lips. “Once you go home, this—I—will just be one giant regret you’ll look back on and wish you could change.”

And he was trying to prevent that. Suddenly, his words and actions last night and this morning made a whole lot more sense. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t.”

She rubbed her fingers down the back of his hand and leaned into his touch. “Sometimes the most important things in this world are the ones we have to fight for. I don’t believe you’re not worth fighting for, Demetrius. Even if you do.”

“
Kardia
—”

Her heart swelled at the term of endearment he used without even realizing it. And as she pressed her lips into his palm and kissed him gently, she had the strangest sense he’d called her that last night. After she’d fallen asleep. After he’d come back and lain down next to her.

Whatever doubt she’d carried slithered away. He wasn’t the stone-cold bastard she’d always believed him to be. He was so much more. Now she just had to make him believe it too.

Easing back, she smiled again, then bent down and picked up the sword he’d dropped. “I’m hungry. And I was thinking after breakfast maybe you could give me a few pointers on my hand-to-hand combat.”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “Planning on battling a few monsters today?”

“You never know. Considering my luck, it might not be a bad idea to be prepared just in case.”

A sound that was half snort, half laugh came out of him. “Yeah, I’ve seen your luck. Up close and personal. Several times.”

“My gods.”

The humor fled from his face. “What?”

“You are gorgeous when you smile.”

His eyes darkened. “I think—”