Warrior Enchanted: The Sons of the Zodiac (26 page)

“Oh my God, Emerson! Drake?” Veronica’s attention ping-ponged between the two of them.

“I don’t think he meant it, though,” Emerson quickly defended her brother.

“Em. Come on.” Trevor hadn’t let go of his wife’s hand. “He sounds dangerous. And based on some of his choices in the past, isn’t it possible this is the natural next step?”

“Did it seem intentional?” Veronica probed, the whispering notes of hope in her voice obvious.

Drake was curious to see the byplay between Veronica and Trevor. The subtle touches and private glances. The easy comfort they shared, even in the midst of difficult news.

In all the years he’d been alive, he’d never had that level of comfort with a woman. Had never wanted it.

Until Emerson.

“The snake attack seemed more like lack of control as opposed to deliberate action. But”—Drake saw Emerson’s encouraging nod before continuing—“he did act deliberately when he got into my home and attacked my family.”

“It just keeps getting worse. Did my brother hurt anyone?”

“Everyone healed. We’re sort of wired that way,” Drake added with a smile.

Veronica didn’t return the smile; nor did her direct stare waver. “That wasn’t my question, Drake.”

“Magnus did some damage before he left. And the snake in his aura adds some serious muscle based on its length. He gets a pretty wide range of motion. And”—she hesitated before coming out with it—“it appears that the snake’s venom, if it gets that close, has an effect on Drake and, presumably, any immortal.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We?” Emerson leaned forward. “Ronnie. We’ll deal with this.”

“Not without me you’re not. He’s my brother, too.”

“This isn’t your fight.”

The heat in the room rose so fast Drake was surprised he didn’t get singed as Veronica volleyed back
to Emerson. “The hell it isn’t. I’ve got the gift, too, little sister. You’re not the only one.”

“A gift you’ve refused for, like, twenty years. You’re out of practice.”

“I’ve been practicing. And it hasn’t been twenty years. I’m not quite that old.”

“Damn close. Look, Ronnie, you’re not equipped for this.” As if to prove her point, Emerson conjured up a small fire in her palm. “Can you do this?”

“Fire’s never been my gift and you know it. I have other skills. Other talents.”

“Then think about something else. You’re a mother.”

Drake caught Trevor’s raised eyebrows as the two of them exchanged a knowing glance. If Drake wasn’t mistaken, a very large battle line had just been drawn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean—I’m a mother?”

Emerson didn’t miss the instant fire that leaped to light in her sister’s eyes, or the distinct change in her voice. What had been a brewing disagreement had morphed with lightning speed into an out-and-out fight. “You’ve got your children to think of.”

“What sort of example would I be to them if I didn’t act on the things I believed in?”

“Possibly a dead one, if Magnus can’t control himself and what he’s become. How good will you be to them then, Ronnie? What kind of example will you be to them then?”

“So it’s okay for you to ride in like the fucking cavalry? Last time I checked, you were as mortal as I am.”

“You can’t just swoop in and do this. You gave up
your gift, and now you want to change your mind when it’s convenient.”

The comment hit its mark. Emerson saw it the moment the words were out of her mouth—words she couldn’t snatch back, no matter how much she wanted to.

The room got so quiet Emerson heard her heart pounding in her ears. And while the sudden, glassy sheen of tears in Veronica’s eyes went straight to her heart, she couldn’t quite muster up the proper amount of regret.

Her sister had made her choice. Had denied what she was. And in doing so had denied everything Emerson held dear.

Everything she believed in.

Everything she was.

“So it’s back to that?”

“I guess it is,” she said, quiet regret forcing the words to stick in her throat.

“Y
ou were awfully hard on her.”

Drake knew the comment would elicit a fight and was oddly surprised by how much he looked forward to one. Although he knew a good portion of why he cared for her was tied to her stubborn tenacity and tough-yet-vulnerable shell, he wasn’t going to stay silent on what he’d observed.

Emerson and her stubborn pride and her immediate willingness to push people away.

People she loved.

“Nice going, Ace. You waited until we pulled into the driveway to drop that little bomb.”

“Yes, I waited. I look someone in the eye when I dress them down.”

One eyebrow quirked over the gray storm clouds gathering in her eyes. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“I’m about to.” He got out of the car and slammed the door, then walked around to open hers. As
expected, she beat him to the punch and was halfway to the porch before he caught up to her.

Her fingers shook as she shoved the key in the lock on the front door and he closed his hand over hers. “Why were you so hard on her?”

Shoulders slumping, she leaned her head against the door. “Because I can’t let it go.” Before he could say anything, she whirled on him. “Because I can’t let it go, Drake! She gave it up and now I’m supposed to sit back and let her put herself in danger? With our brother, no less?”

He refused to back off. Instead, he stood there and stared down at her. That small pixie frame quivered with anger and hurt and so many years of self-reliance she’d forgotten what it was to share herself with anyone.

And he’d allowed it to go on for long enough.

“Veronica’s decisions aren’t yours. And denying her the freedom to choose doesn’t make you a saint. She’s the one who’s lost out all these years.”

“I’m not a saint, Drake.”

“You sure? Because you have awfully high expectations for everyone.”

“I have a set of standards. There’s a difference.”

“Standards of your own making.”

She turned back to fiddle with the lock, but he didn’t miss the fact she needed to unclench those small fists before reaching for the key. “What the hell’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except you seem to think what you want is what everyone else wants. You take no one’s thoughts into the mix, save your own.”

“You know, this conversation is veering awfully
close to a discussion about us. And here I thought you were berating me about my sister.”

“Same symptoms, same problem.”

“I hardly think what’s between my sister and me can be compared to what’s between us.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Take the sex out of the mix and it looks like the same fucking problem from where I stand. Lack of communication and an unwillingness to acknowledge the other person has any feelings or role in the relationship.”

She finally got the door unlocked and marched through the door. “You and I don’t have a relationship, Drake. We screw around on a regular basis. I believe the term is ‘friend with benefits.’”

Her words hit him so hard Drake was surprised he didn’t actually stagger.

Was that truly the way she saw what was between them?

Memories of their afternoon outside filled his mind’s eye. The easy laughter and comfortable camaraderie between them. Yes, the sex was spectacular, but it wasn’t all that was between them. In fact, the reason it
was
so amazing was because there was so much more they shared.

“Well, that proves my point right there. I thought we did have a relationship. I guess I was mistaken.”

Without waiting for a response, he headed toward the spare room he’d seen earlier on a tour of the farmhouse. He’d sleep alone tonight.

Eris stared at her phone for what felt like the nine hundredth time in the last hour. Probably because she
had
looked at it that many times.

Tossing the phone back on the counter, she turned to pace her small kitchen again.

Damn Rogan. She’d texted him hours ago and nothing. Complete and utter radio silence. They’d just been together in Vegas, so it was lunacy to want to meet up so soon. But once he caught wind of what she was planning with Magnus, she’d likely not see him for a while.

A loud pounding echoed from her front door, and she padded down the hall, glad there would be some reprieve from her maudlin thoughts. And was shocked as hell when the object of them was standing on the other side of the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Rogan barged in without waiting for a formal invitation.

“You got my text message?”

His gaze shot to where her phone lay on the counter. “I’m not here to fuck around, and you know it.”

“Then why are you here?”

Rogan turned on her, the vivid green of his eyes a hard emerald. “You were the one who turned Magnus.”

The diary. Of course.

Although she’d known the truth would inevitably come out, she had forbidden Magnus to talk of it or the deal they’d made. She’d reveal what she’d done at the proper time.

So why was it so hard to ever envision a proper time as she stood there staring at Rogan? Like a drunk who couldn’t keep her eyes off a bottle of vodka, she couldn’t stop looking at him.

Those immense shoulders covered in a black T-shirt. The jeans that molded to slender hips and powerful thighs. And those stunning green eyes.

They were eyes that told a story in vivid, living color.

“Why did you do it?”

“What makes you so sure it was me?” As bluffs went, it sucked. But she wasn’t willing to admit defeat quite yet.

“It wasn’t all that hard to figure out. Enyo’s not nearly that creative. Or that smart.”

She preened under the words, even as she knew they weren’t meant as a compliment. She’d spent her life in the shadow of her sister. The great goddess of war, revered by all.

Very few saw the crazy-ass bitch who bounced from project to project like a maniacal rabbit.

So Rogan was right. She’d seen an opportunity and taken it. Themis wasn’t the only one who could create Warriors. And thank the gods humans were so easy to rile up.

She’d seen report after report about the “Thirteenth Sign,” and known she had her answer.

Ophiuchus was real, his place in the heavens secure. But the world had forgotten about him as that nice, round number of twelve took root in the public’s conscience.

Twelve equal houses with twelve equal signs.

Themis and her balance.

Funny enough, for all her talk of balance, the goddess had been surprisingly forgetful in leaving the serpent bearer out.

So Eris had made a Warrior to her specifications.

She’d tried before, to varying degrees of success. But Magnus was different.

He was
real
. Not simply a physical embodiment of her powers. As projects go, Magnus wasn’t all bad. He was eager to please and seemingly had no regrets about his choice. It was the inherent connection to the Warriors through his sister that was the bad luck.

Rogan began to pace, running his fingers across the counter as he measured his words. “Look, Eris. Whatever you’ve done, I can help you. Magnus isn’t fully turned. He’s not fully empowered yet. Let me make it right.”

Her gaze never left his broad back as he moved, the elegant lines of his shoulders shifting as he reached to play with her cell where it lay on the counter. No matter how much time they spent together, she was fascinated by the hard strength of his body. “There’s nothing to make right.”

“Damn it, Eris. Turn him back.”

“There’s no turning him back!”

The words seemed to freeze in time, full of all the unspoken truths between them, and Rogan froze along with them.

“No, there is no turning back. There’s only moving forward.” Rogan turned from the counter and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You’ve made your choice and I’ve made mine.”

She followed him to the door. “What do you mean?”

“We’re over.”

“Rogan.” She heard the edge of desperation that
tinged her voice and tried to pull it back. Drawing on the nerves of steel she was known for, she modulated her voice, dragging it down a few notches. “We both knew exactly what this was when it started. Exactly who the other was. And we agreed to keep all of that separate.”

“You changed that when you came after my family.”

“I didn’t—” She broke off, knowing his comment wasn’t true but wasn’t entirely untrue. She’d done her homework and she’d learned months ago that Magnus’s sister was involved with the Warriors.

“So you did purposely come after my family?”

“It’s a bad coincidence Magnus is related to a woman dating your friend. That’s all. That’s all this is.”

“If your goal wasn’t my family, then what was it?”

They didn’t share this. Didn’t open up about this part of their lives. “Rogan, you know the agreement. That’s off-limits. What we each do is off-limits.”

He whirled on her, grabbing her just below the shoulders and dragging her forward, the green of his eyes clouded with anger and…guilt? “Not when it involves my family.”

Gods damn it, how could she make him understand?

She placed her hands on his shoulders, tentatively stroking the soft cotton of his shirt. “Do you know the inherent power that lives in your skin? I need that. I can use that.”

“You can’t just take it.”

“Why not? You and your brothers aren’t totally aboveboard. And you’re not the only ones entitled to it. Neither is Themis.”

A completely irresponsible tug dragged at her belly as his hands slammed onto his hips, his biceps tightening underneath that stretch of black.

“You can’t just go making up Warriors, Eris. Adding to the pantheon. It’s not done.”

“It was fine for Themis and Zeus. Why should they be the ones to make the rules?”

“My brothers and I are the good guys.”

She couldn’t hold back the laughter at that one. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Oh, come on. Look in the fucking mirror, Rogan. You think because you’re the good guys it means you can make the rules? Hello, Captain Vigilante.”

“We don’t kill for sport.”