RedFire
Chapter 28
Sable felt the heavy bounce of Shay Angel’s lifeless body upon his back as he galloped hard to the far thest side of the cemetery, then beyond the boundary of old Bonaventure and into the adjacent newer graveyard. His side deal with Ares would be complete now—he’d proved his worth once and for all. The god had charged him with destroying Ajax in whatever way he saw fit. Although it hadn’t been the bargain Ares had publicly issued, it had been his true intention.
All that bullshit about a treasure race had been an elaborate smoke screen to obscure the true underlying fact: Ares was through with Ajax. Finished with him once and for all, the god had said. His centuries of disre spect had to be paid for, and Ares figured that robbing Jax of Shay Angel was as good a way as any to accomplish that.
Coming to a halt, Sable trotted a few more yards, holding Shay’s limp body steady by pressing one hand behind his back. She was a light little thing, disgustingly lovely and pure. It was almost more than he’d dreamed of, having her body in his possession and the soul-binding mirror in his grasp. His vengeance and payback would soon be complete.
He could return the mirror to Ares—who had al ways known where it was safely hidden—and, if he were truly lucky, then perhaps a thousand years from now Sable would be given his magnificent wings once again. He licked his parched lips in anticipation. Tomor row, today—time meant nothing to him anyway; all that mattered was being made glorious and beautiful once again. The dark realm’s princes would honor him; the dominion’s captive females would bow down as they had once done years before. He galloped a few yards in thrilled delight.
Yes, he had completed his mission successfully, and the small mortal on his back was little more than war booty. However Ares chose to dispose of Shay was the god’s own business.
Reaching behind his torso, he took hold of her arm and tossed her onto the open grass beside the river. Her lifeless body gave a dull thud, almost as if she were a duffel bag, and the sound made him smile in glee. The sound of victory, he thought, sniffing the dank air of the marshes. Thrusting his chest out, he trotted toward the bank’s edge and briefly wondered how far that pitiful Spartan dagger had already floated. Down below the water like that, the man would never regain his previous form.
Maybe he’d show up on some beach somewhere, but more likely not. He’d float like flotsam and jetsam, hither and yon beneath the waters, until he landed in a whale’s belly—might even slice the innocent creature open. Perfect ending to the absurdly loyal helot, Sable figured.
Sable turned back to face Shayanna Angel, and was forced to squint as a shimmer of golden energy illuminated the dark swath of ground where she lay. In an eyeblink Ares materialized in the trailing light’s wake, kneeling beside Shay’s prone body.
The god studied her casually, lifting one of her hands and letting it drop back to her side. “I’ll admit I’m sur prised you pulled this one off,” Ares said after a moment, then rose to his feet again.
Sable rose to his full height, meeting the god’s stare eye to-eye. “You promised freedom for good service, my lord. How could I disappoint?”
The god’s mouth twisted into a perverse smile. “Nor shall I.”
“I’ll have my wings back?” Sable panted, unable to hide his fear that Ares might not keep his bargain, or that there would be a last-minute double cross. There had already been too much evidence that the glowing god was fully capable of that kind of treachery.
“In good time, my Djinn. In good time.”
Sable nearly gasped. “But my lord . . .”
“I need to examine her first—and the mirror.”
Ares knelt beside her again, brushing a long lock of black hair off of her eyes. “No wonder she ensorcelled him. She’s a beautiful one, this Shayanna.”
“And then we ensorcelled her in exchange,” Sable agreed with a bitter, triumphant laugh. “Fitting, indeed.”
Ares bent over, gazing into her eyes, which were staring ahead blankly—then, with alarm, he straightened like a rod. “Her eyes,” the god murmured. “Have you seen her eyes?”
Sable hadn’t been able to get a clear look at her face, not any of the times he’d encountered her, because it had either been too dark—or, as at the museum, she’d been too far away. He stepped close, lowering his fore legs so he could get a good glance. What he saw sent the very breath out of his lungs with a spasm of shock.
And hit him straight-on with a flashing, terrible jolt of terror.
“My lord . . .” He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say it. Ares turned to him, his bronze face having gone slightly pale.
The god hadn’t known. Sable was sure of it then and there. When Ares had set the plan in motion, he’d had no idea of Shay’s true lineage. For once the capricious god was speechless.
“Shay belongs to Apollo. Look into her eyes. Their exact blue hue—it marks her as one of his own.”
There were certain things you didn’t dabble in, realms where you didn’t trespass. Shay Angel’s lifeless blue eyes guarded such borderlands. Unique, otherworldly eyes that only one line of humanity had ever possessed—or ever would. Apollo might not be as powerful as Zeus, but he took protecting those of Delphi very seriously, indeed.
“He won’t let you do it,” Sable said firmly, trembling despite himself. Of course, the Great One kneeling be fore him already knew that much. Sable wasn’t sure it was a risk he was willing to take either, not even if it meant the restoration of his wings. Inwardly, he seethed, Persian expletives bursting in his brain like fireworks. He actually felt the pulsing blood at his temple begin to run white-hot. “The magnitude of what’s involved here, my lord, the risk . . .” Sable allowed his words to trail off, pressing a hand to his exploding temple.
Ares shook his head, rising to his feet. “It’s already done.” He glanced about, angry frustration knitting his golden brow. “She’s yours to dispose of; I can’t risk staying here a moment longer.”
“Apollo will learn about what you’ve done to Shay anna,” Sable argued hotly, unwilling to take the fall if things came to that. “This wasn’t my idea, remember.”
Ares gave him a shove in the chest, forcing him to back up a few feet. “You dare to defy me, Djinn?” the god stormed. “Forget about the curse; it remains intact. You remain a centaur, and there will be no wings in this bargain for you. But if you go against me now, if you refuse to finish this job, be certain I’ll find new methods for extracting my justice. Perhaps you’ll pull my chariot for the next thousand years,” he suggested.
Ares made a motion with his hand, and behind him his chariot appeared, drawn by four fire-breathing horses. They eyed Sable suspiciously, whinnying in agitation. Ares’ further point had been made: Sable would serve the god or be made to serve him, perhaps pulling his chariot for the next thousand years.
“My lord, as ever, I serve you.” Sable forced the words past his lips, bowing even lower. “I’ll finish the job,” he hissed between bared teeth.
Ares vanished completely as soon as Sable had made the promise. But the god wasn’t the only fickle one in their midst.
Sable knelt low, gathering Shay’s still body into his arms. Brushing her hair back from her eyes, he gazed into them for just one moment more. They were tres passing in a dangerous war zone, a place no demon or lesser god ever dared step. A strong breeze filled the air about them, and Sable didn’t even look. It would be Ajax, come for him. So be it.
Sable swallowed hard, preparing to fight Ajax to the final death. Still, he felt the need to make one thing clear, just in case the gods were listening. “If I’d known she was Apollo’s own,” he confessed to the Spartan standing behind him, “I wouldn’t have.” Deep inside he hoped that Apollo himself heard the words—if the god had yet become aware of his horrific transgression. But Apollo would know; he always did in such instances.
He was answered by a joyous, musical voice. “Of course you wouldn’t have,” the owner of the voice told him, falling to her small knees beside Shay. Then she looked up at him and smiled, a warm expression on her face. No being, human or immortal, ever glanced at him with kindness. He scowled back at her, unsettled, but she met his gaze without blinking.
“We have to move quickly to counteract the spell,” the woman told him in a bright voice.
Why didn’t she curse him? Despise him, as she should? Goodness and light could never coexist with the blackness of his soul.
“Who are you?” he barely managed to ask, noticing by the moonlight that she had sparkling blue stripes in her black hair.
She put a hand on her hip and gave him an impatient look. “You know. You know exactly what and who I am.” Then she knelt beside Shay, touching her cheek fondly. “I’m the same as she is. We’re both the reason you’re terrified right now—for once. You should have wise fear more often, but you don’t. Time and the Highest will reckon a cost from you for that.”
Her words chilled him; he’d lived long enough to rec ognize a prophetess’s announcement. What would time and the Highest do? he wondered with a flick of his tail. Suddenly a familiar voice came from behind him.
“Get out of my way, you damned Djinn,” Ajax shouted, and between Sable’s ribs a shocking pain sliced him. Glancing at his right side, he saw the shiny hilt of a Spar tan’s sword jutting out, and Sable went down hard, all four legs folding.
“Ajax,” he groaned, knowing that he wasn’t dead, not close—that he was merely felled for the moment. That didn’t make the pain any less intense, he thought, working at the sword, too weak to extract it. “This was your . . . due.”
But Ajax was already through with him, moving toward his lover. Sable collapsed face-first against the grass, his mind already muddling through a new revenge, something for later in the day, when his body regenerated.
The last words Sable heard from the despicable war rior were directed toward that Oracle. Jax said, “Whatever we need to do, please, Oracle, tell me.”
Jax knelt at Shay’s side, gathering her still body into his arms. “What can be done?” He swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened again.
His blessed Oracle bent over Shay, murmuring unknown words in her ear. “She’s special, Ajax. You know that, don’t you? And I don’t just mean to you.”
He closed his eyes, wanting to slay himself for not having protected her better. “So I’ve gathered.” Then he added in Greek, “Neh, she is gifted and anointed by the Highest, I know.”
“But she has no idea of her destiny?” the Oracle asked, glancing up at him. He shook his head and then she bent low, her lips pressed to Shay’s ear.
He recognized the look on the Oracle’s face be cause it was one he’d glimpsed countless times over the years—she was prophesying, and in this case her living words that always brought direction or power were literally bringing life. Just as Shay used words as a huntress, and the Spartans themselves used words as a weapon in their duty as protectors, the Oracle now wielded her own prophetic utterances to return Shay’s soul to her body. To free her.
With a quick glance at Ajax, the Oracle nodded, let ting him know that her utterances were having the intended impact; then she bent low again and whispered more of her prophetic, life giving words in Shay’s ear. It took time, and at first Jax almost despaired as he clutched Shay’s body close in his lap. But then, right when his heart began to grow heavy, the mirror beside her started to glow white hot with light. Something beamed from Olympus itself burst into light and filled the looking glass’s surface.
In response, Shay began coughing as if she’d been saved from the ocean, as if she’d had life breathed back in her lungs. Sputtering, gasping, she struggled wide-eyed in his grasp.
“Shh,” he told her, shaking as he pressed her close to his chest. “You’re safe, sweet Shay. Safe.”
Shay sagged against Ajax, more than a little confused. The last that she remembered they’d both been looking into that mirror—or she’d been pretending she wasn’t going to, and then she’d done it. Now she was held close in Jax’s arms, encircled by that fairy woman from the other day—the Oracle, as she’d learned in Cornwall.
“What happened?” she asked vaguely, trying to see where they were. The flowing river ebbed peacefully just beyond where Sable lay.
The small woman leaned forward and stroked a lock of Shay’s hair out of her eyes. “Do you know who I am, little one?” Her voice was so gentle, like a summer breeze—it soothed Shay that deeply.
“Their Oracle,” she answered obediently. “You guide the Spartans.”
“I’m a daughter of Delphi.” She announced, smiling down at Shay. “And I have a little bit of news. . . . You are, too.”
“What?” Shay asked, wrinkling her brow. “What does that mean?”
“You’re a direct descendent of Apollo’s oracles, from Mount Olympus itself.”
Shay glanced up at Jax, then touched his face when she saw the wet tears still gleaming there. “But . . . I don’t understand.”
Jax drew her close against his breast. “I think your brothers have a lot to share with you.”
“In simple terms,” the Oracle said quietly, “you have a rare and special bloodline. And it makes us, you and me, cousins of a sort.”
The woman bent closer to her ear, whispering in that quiet, magic voice of hers, and said, “It also means I can give you my name. I’m Daphne, but don’t tell the others. It’s special . . . powerful. Plus, not knowing vexes Jax.” Daphne giggled right in her ear.
“What?” Ajax stared at them both with a sulky expression.
Shay nestled close in his grasp. “It’s girl stuff, dude. Don’t worry about it.”
He began to laugh, kissing her forehead, her eyes, ev ery inch of her face he could find. “Why do I have the feeling I’ve just been ganged up on somehow?”
Daphne laughed brightly. “Because you have!” Then, with a little pirouette, she blurted quickly, “Must go! Have to leave! Good-bye!” She halted her spinning gyration and stepped very close to them. Gazing back and forth between the two of them, Daphne announced con spiratorially, “You never needed the looking glass to be together eternally.”
“What?” Jax shouted. “What do you—”
Daphne cut him off with a little wave of her fingers. “You marry her, Ajax, and you seal the union with your immortal’s kiss. The gift is passed to Shay at that moment.”
“I don’t get it,” Shay said, her thoughts wild with hope. “I can live forever with Ajax? That’s what you’re saying?”
Daphne nodded slowly, her twinkling blue eyes fixed on Shay as she kneeled to the ground and took hold of the looking glass. “You have to receive his immortal es sence at the moment of the wedding union. It will be in his kiss.” Suddenly Daphne twirled again. “I like that song. . . .” And in a blur and wavering of the space where she stood, the petite Oracle vanished, the precious mirror along with her.
Shay watched in disbelief. “That was a little abrupt,” she said, surprised that Daphne had left almost without warning.
Jax sat up on the grass, cradling her closer. “It’s sort of her signature. She tends to do things in a rush and a flurry. Besides, that’s not the most important thing. Did you just hear what she said about you becoming immortal?”
Shay beamed. “Yes and yes.”
Jax cocked his head sideways. “Explain.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you and yes, I’ll accept the immortality you can give me.”
Jax whooped and cradled her close, covering her lips heatedly. His tongue plunged deep inside of her mouth, twirling and twining aggressively with hers. Everything with the warrior was a battle, of sorts—sometimes a playful one, sometimes a sexual one; it was just in his Spartan nature, ingrained there in ancient times.
At last they had to break the kiss, but not before she’d practically climbed up into his lap, her legs about him, and begged for it. He kept telling her that she needed to be careful and rest, that they would make love later, once she’d healed. Shay didn’t like the idea of waiting at all. They rose to their feet, and, turning, both stared at the empty spot on the grass where Daphne had stood a moment earlier.
Then Shay remembered Sable and whipped her head in the direction where he lay. “Is he dead? Oh, please tell me he’s so totally dead.”
Jax eased her off his lap and rose, stalking toward the felled demon who lay on the bank in a large, heavy heap. Black red blood covered his dark coat; his human torso lay facedown in the grass. Even fallen as he was, his hands were twisted into balled fists, as if he might gasp a few breaths and lunge forth fighting without warning.
Jax kicked at his horse’s side. “Unfortunately, love, this one’s as immortal as I am. At least until I find the way to truly fell him once and for all. I would have taken more than his wings that day long ago if I could have.”
Shay slowly rose to her feet, brushing off her hands and knees. “You’re joking, right? We have him—right here, laid out for dead—and there’s not a damned thing we can do to finish the job? Surely we can summon one of your swords and slice off his head. Wouldn’t that do it?”
Jax shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, we can try. But he’ll only sprout another. He’s regenerating now, but the wound was deep, so he’ll be out for a bit.”
For a moment, she honestly thought about extracting that kind of payback from the unconscious demon. She knew Jax didn’t think it would be right to torture him more right now—and she didn’t think so either. He was their enemy, but dirty fighting was dirty fighting, and even if Sable would have done the same to them, they weren’t going to stoop so low.
She turned from him. “You know what I want?” she murmured softly.
Jax wagged a finger as she stepped toward him. “Ohi, Shayanna, you must rest first.”
She kept moving closer. “Oh, come on, I just survived a fight with one of your worst enemies. I should’ve earned a little hide the-sword time with my big, strong”—she reached out and stroked his chest with her palm, feeling the muscles flex and react to her touch—“Spartan lover.”
He roared in lusty reaction, swept her into his arms, and flew her out over the flowing river.
The morning light turned the world below them a glowing golden pink. Shay held Jax’s left hand, letting herself fly freer than she ever had with him, her feet dangling behind her. He had a huge grin on his face, one that revealed his dimple and his adorable joy at having her flying at his side.
“I always wanted to share this with you,” he shouted, lifting them higher as they passed over the marshes. “It was one of my greatest dreams while I waited for you to come to me!”
She squeezed his hand, then cried out when, for a moment, she feared she would drop out of his grip. He swept her up into his arms, cradling her close as he had the first night. “Sweetness,” he promised, nuzzling her seductively, “if ever I drop you, I’ll merely swoop and catch you close. Like this.”
Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Her bruises and injuries from the battle left her mind, and all that she could focus on, breathe for, was the warrior holding her in his arms. She reached out a hand and stroked his cheek, the softly curling beard—he clearly hadn’t shaved in days—feeling prickly and sexy beneath her hands. His defined cheekbones seemed even more graceful by the light of morning. His ponytail whipping lightly in the wind, his chest bare as it had been the first night, his wings gleam ing with morning light . . . all of it made him seem epic. Beyond gorgeous.
“Please, Jax.” She circled her arms about his neck. “Make love to me. Stroke me with your wings again, like the other day. Or not . . . maybe just your human body.”
He growled in pleasure, black eyes fluttering closed. “I like that idea.” He hitched one thigh upward, sliding her hip against his groin, and she could feel how hard he was for her. “Just my human body this time, just yours.”
“Where?” She slid one hand around his lower back, stroking the hyperwarm flesh that melded with his wings at his spinal base. The feathers tickled and almost seemed to tremble themselves at her light touch. “It should be someplace romantic.”
“You tell me,” he said, covering her mouth with his. At once his wings beat harder, and she felt a bottomless sensation as he surged much higher on the winds. He was aroused and excited—his wings always gave him away, she thought, returning his full kiss with love. Oh, and how she loved this man who carried her on the breezes of heaven itself this morning.
They devoured each other, focused on nothing more than kisses and caresses, her hands slipping about his waist, cupping his leather-clad ass, he stealing strokes of her nipples. As she worked the muscles of his behind, squeezing and kneading them in first one hand, then the other, she felt the leather that wrapped his loins tighten in reaction. The front was obviously expanding, and that meant less room for his full hips.
“You’d better . . . find someplace . . .pick somewhere,” he stammered. “Soon. Like bloody right now, love.”
Opening her eyes, she was shocked to see that they were out over the ocean. “Uh, Jax?”
“Umm?” His own eyes were squeezed shut, a look of such abandon and pleasure on his face that she grew even wetter between her legs.
“Ajax, you’ve flown us out over the ocean. There isn’t anywhere we can land.”
His almond-shaped silver eyes flew open in shock, and with a downward glance he began to chuckle. “So I have.”
“Go to the beach, Jax. We’ll find a spot in the dunes.”
He gulped hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and glided a turn back toward land. Only at that moment did she realize it was that sketch she’d drawn of them flying to gether, the vision she’d seen the first night that she’d met him.
The last of the night faded overhead, but a full moon was still visible, even as the sun began to fully rise. Shay had led Jax to a private beach area, back into the dunes, where hopefully—although who really cared?—no beachgoers would spot them.
With a wink he’d transformed into a naked state, then hungrily stripped Shay out of her clothes. They lay together on the night-chilled sand, sea oats bobbing over head. Jax levered himself atop her, wingless, looking like a mere mortal of a man—and as exhilarating as his hawk-self was when it came to lovemaking, somehow all she wanted from him today was his human side.
His cock pushed heavily against her opening, swollen and already releasing a little dampness. She lifted both legs, wrapping them in an embrace about his hips, urging him inside of her. There was a slight push as his head penetrated; then the rest of him slid into her as if it were where he naturally belonged. She was so heated for him, so slick and ready, that the joining was easy and sweet.
The sound of morning gulls filled the air; the roaring give and pull of the waves matched their own bodies’ rolling motions. Into each other, apart, clasping at backs and shoulders. Neither said a single word. It was silent and hushed between them, a pure, heightened moment of joining. Whereas they’d been so frenzied for each other the first time, this time they were . . . worshipful, aware that even a word between them might break something precious—or alert anyone walking on the beach beyond the dunes.
Shay slid her hands along the back of Ajax’s thighs, feeling the soft, tickling hairs. She rubbed the muscles, then very daringly slid her hands between them, reaching for his sac. He made a soft moan of pleasure when she took hold of it, squeezing and stroking, and he bur rowed his head against her shoulder as the intimate touch began to make him tremble with need.
Ajax closed his eyes, riding the sensation of Shay’s touch. The sand was rough beneath his elbows, and he had to be cautious with her. The last thing they needed was to get too raucous together and wind up with sand in places where nobody wanted it. Ever.
Still, the way her breasts lifted and pushed into his chest, that soft, supple feel . . .he had to get a better touch of them. Carefully he levered his weight onto just one elbow and reached sandy fingertips for her breast. Swirling those fingertips across her right nipple, he watched it bead and pucker in reaction. The sand, he thought with a wicked grin, was quite a handy thing. Very gently he rubbed the grains against her sensitive nipple, and watched in masculine triumph as she leaned her head backward, a sweet cry of pleasure passing her lips.
Digging his toes into the sand, he began to increase their rocking momentum, and he hitched one of her legs even higher about his hips. Gods, how he loved the feel of those strong, feminine legs—so shapely and provocative—cinched about him like a belt. His eyes drifted shut, the warmth of the early sun stroking his back even as his lover—the woman who would be his wife soon, too—stroked him also.
The sun was a reminder, though, that soon they might be discovered, and so he rocked more feverishly, com ing at her with a furious motion that she met thrust for thrust. Those small hips of hers, so delicate and feminine, rose up over and over, practically slapping against his. She was tough even as she was soft, he thought with a hungry, seizing kiss of her mouth. Still, he knew she was bruised and a little cut up from her earlier fight with Sable, and he tried to be careful. But as he stilled a bit, she slapped him on the buttocks, urging him onward all over again. Who was he not to comply?
Her reaction was a grasping quake, one that seemed to tighten about his cock and wouldn’t let go. She cried out, arching in the sand, lifting her legs even higher about his upper back and shoulders. That rearrangement of her limbs gave him the deepest possible access, sent him plumbing far up within her—and made her quak ing intensify right with her cries. Finally she grew a bit still, stroking his slick back and sliding her legs off him. Her feet dug into the sand beside his, their toes touching briefly in a sweet little caress of their own.
Mine. She’s all mine.
At that very thought he sped his motion all over again, felt the drive of a freight train fill his loins. She moved with him, a little more relaxed than he, but meeting ev ery hip thrust that he gave with her own strong thrusts. All at once he gave a spasm inside of her, his thick cock jerking until he felt warmth shoot out of him, coating her inside and truly claiming her. My seed, spilled within her—within Shayanna, my one great love.
Again and again it shot forth out of him until, in a sleepy, relaxed daze, he lay atop her and curled his head close against her cheek. Who needed the looking glass? he thought, his eyes fluttering shut. She was Elysium.
Leonidas sank back in his desk chair, his gaze wander ing from the laptop screen before him to the walls of his study and back again. For hours he’d been like this—unable to focus on a single task, worried about his dearest friend’s safety. And not just Ajax, but River as well. The voices that had begun speaking to him of late—the ones that accompanied his uncontrollable gifts of hearing and knowing things that perhaps he shouldn’t—were shout ing loudly this morning. So loudly, in fact, that a dull headache had begun to throb in the center of his forehead.
However, not even all those distractions had caused his thoughts and feelings for their Oracle to fade by an iota. In short, he was muddled and worried, altogether unlike his usual stoic self. But what he’d been see ing lately about their future, the signs and omens, the dreams, all of it, had him unsettled.
Shaking his head, he stared down at the real estate page he’d been trying to browse on the Internet. He had to believe that his sense about an upcoming move sig naled Ajax and Shay’s safety; he hoped River’s, as well. Savannah. He was to relocate the entire camp to Amer ica, to the sleepy city in southeastern Georgia. Unbelievable what fate seemed to be speaking in his ear.
“Is there a picture of me on that screen?” the familiar, joyous voice asked from right beside him. Apparently fate wasn’t the only thing whispering in his ear. His entire body stiffened in response to the woman who had appeared next to him. All of him reacted to the warmth of her against his back as she leaned over his shoulder and studied the screen.
“How did Ajax fare in his battle? And River? Tell me they are well,” he said, folding both hands across his lap. He hoped, by the gods, that she wouldn’t see just how excited she already had him. The joy in her voice had already answered his question—she wouldn’t sound so bubbly, like the brook that traced the far edge of his property, if their comrades were still in danger.
“Yes, Sable has been defeated. The last I saw of him he lay on a riverbank, run through with Ajax’s sword.”
“He’s dead?” Leonidas asked in surprise. Sable was a demon lord, and so far they hadn’t learned a way to fully execute any of his unholy kind.
“Unfortunately not dead. But defeated in the plans he’d apparently made with Ares.” She slipped a warm hand along the nape of his neck, giving it a tender caress that caused a shockwave throughout his entire body. Focus; he had to focus.
Leonidas coughed. “And what were those plans, precisely?”
“Ares knew where that bloody looking glass was all along. He’d hoped to capture Ajax with it, binding him with its power. But all that glitters is not always golden. That mirror has many powers, and I guarantee you Ares won’t like how this particular battle turned out.”
Leonidas stared up into the Oracle’s eyes, and for a moment the facets in them reflected with almost magical radiance. They were beyond human—and beyond any earthly beauty he had ever encountered. “I’m not sure I understand you, Oracle.”
She slid her hand down his arm, stroking it tenderly. “Take a look at this, Leo, and you’ll understand.” Step ping around him, she placed a swathed item on his desk. It was her own robe, glowing white around a large, flat object. “I’ve brought you a war prize, my dear king.”
As she bent over his desk, straightening the object where it lay, her hip grazed his arm. Every part of him wanted to reach out and take hold of her, to pull her onto his lap without giving a damn just how much of him she would feel—or how aroused she made him by simply appearing in the same room.
Clearing his throat, he forced his hands to stay rooted in his lap. “What have you brought me?”
The Oracle turned toward him, sliding up to sit on the edge of his desk. She began to swing her legs lightly, her blue eyes bright with victory and . . . something else. An emotion that his heart could barely hope that she returned.
“I’ve brought you a few things, actually,” she said, tilting up her chin coyly. “First, the Looking Glass of Eternity, the prize that Ares was supposedly after. Ob noxious god—as I said, he knew where it was all along. But I can tell you all about that later on. Right now, just know that I’ve brought it to you for the safest possible keeping. There is no man, immortal or otherwise, who I would trust with it more than you.”
“I don’t understand. What is it exactly?” He stared past her at the wrapped object; it was gilded in other worldly light—perhaps from her robe, perhaps from the item’s own power.
“Many have died for it . . . protecting it, seeking it. It contains the power to transport one to Elysium with a simple glance. Or to capture a mortal’s soul and bind it eternally. For Ares’ purposes, however, there is one sure reason that he won’t be glad to have lost hold of it today.” She met his gaze, absolutely serious for once, the usual flirtation and brightness narrowed to a laser point of intensity.
He nodded for her to continue, and drawing in a sharp breath, she reached out for his hand. Very cautiously he extended his right hand, a betraying tremor making him curse inwardly. Then, as their fingers wound together and the heat between them intensified by several degrees, she whispered, “It can rob Ares of his power, my lord. He must be stopped and now you—we . . . all of us—have the power to do so. All we need is the right plan.”
He couldn’t help smiling as she drew his hand to her lips. “But today,” she said, “I’ve not come to discuss matters of war, not with you, not now. With Ajax safe, and Shay at his side, we must celebrate now. We will strategize together, all of us, in the coming days.”
Again his thoughts returned to the safety of his war riors and also of Shay Angel. “So they all survived the battle? River? Ajax? Shayanna?”
Something in the Oracle’s gaze darkened, and Leon idas’s heart lurched. “Tell me,” he commanded, all softness gone from his tone.
“Ajax and Shay are fine. River is . . . missing just now.”
“ ‘Missing’ how? In what way?”
“Sable tossed him, in dagger form, into the river. I wasn’t there, not precisely, but I saw it nonetheless.” She frowned, chewing on her lip, a disturbed expression on her face. Then she shook her head, as if clearing away some vision. “We will speak of it later. I will seek the Highest God for counsel on that matter . . . but not right now.”
The king inside him needed to know battle plans now—the man, however, had much lustier thoughts in mind.
“Then what have you come for?” he nearly growled, reaching for her with his free hand. Without asking any sort of permission, he slid her easily onto his lap. In stantly his cock leaped at the contact, at the fact that they were separated by only the thinnest membrane of fabric. “Oracle, tell me what you want.” He growled the words, tired of the waiting and the long dance that their duties always imposed on them.
With a radiant smile she pressed her face close to his and whispered, “I’ve come to give you that kiss. A long, uninterrupted kiss, sweet king.”
Stroking her thumb across his beard, she wrapped the other arm about his neck. He froze. Upon his lap was a woman of legendary beauty and power; what she was fully capable of, none of them knew. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already kissed her twice, yet he felt hesitant, as if kissing her now would be more assertive act, as if it would begin something real between the two of them. Truly, what right did a battle hardened war hound like himself have even touching someone of her grace, her perfection?
“To Hades with that,” he murmured to himself. He wanted this woman in a way that he’d never thought he would want any woman in his immortal life. And so, without another regret or second thought, he lowered his head and pulled her mouth to his. The kiss was long and slow, the heat in their bodies twining, the fever in their blood singing a low, ancient love song.
As she broke the kiss he knew she would vanish from his arms in the space of a few heartbeats, and he felt a fleeting but nearly desperate need to cry, My lady, to truly love you, I must know your name.
And she was gone in the very next breath.
“The letter was faked by Mama.” Jamie placed the an cient document they’d spent so long guarding on Shay’s bedside table. Although she’d gone rough-and-tumble with Ajax on the beach, she was exhausted and a bit beaten up. Rest was the order from all the men gathered in her room.
“But why would Mama do something like that to me?” Shay really couldn’t believe her mother would have willingly hurt her so badly.
Jamie gave her a bittersweet smile. “You were her baby girl, Sissy. She would have done anything to protect you, would have moved the stars and moon—even if it meant hurting you a little bit, to her it was a necessary cost.”
“But I wanted my destiny,” Shay argued, for a mo ment imagining that it was her mother standing beside her bed, not Jamie. She argued and grew teary eyed, as if that were the fact. “Mama, I wanted to be all that I am,” she said, tears filling both her eyes.
Jamie stepped closer. “Sweetheart, think about it from her perspective—as a mother, one who loved you so damned much. When Daddy died and she didn’t have him to go to for advice . . . well, I think she wanted to protect you all the more.”
“She should’ve told me.” Shay shook her head. “I have a thousand questions for her, and now she’s gone. I’ll never get to ask them.”
“I know, I feel the same way. Like, I keep thinking of all the things I never said. But try to remember this: She loved you very much, Shay. Somehow, along the way, she became convinced that if you just never knew the truth, then you wouldn’t open, or at least not completely.”
Mason stepped forward, leaning against the end of her four poster bed. “Yeah, I always told her that was a piss-poor idea.” Mace laughed wistfully. “But you know how Mama was. Once she had an idea in mind, you couldn’t do much to sway her.”
Now it was Jamie’s turn to laugh, and he slugged his brother. “Nobody in this family’s like that. Come on, man, who’re you fooling?”
Shay looked up at them, and for the first time since entering the room Jamie could see the dark blotches beneath her eyes. Yes, there was peace in her expression—and genuine love as she turned briefly to smile at Ajax, who stood on the bed’s other side—but there was also extreme exhaustion. What if the morning’s earlier battle had gone much differently and they’d lost her?
Jamie coughed uncomfortably, feeling like a heel that he’d never given her the document before. She didn’t seem bothered, smiling up at him as she reached for the rolled parchment he’d placed on her table, an ancestral tracing of every female throughout their bloodline who had passed Shay’s special anointing on to her.
Shay sat up against the pillows Ajax had fluffed for her and glanced over at the Spartan uncertainly. “Did you know about what I am?”
Ajax shook his head. “Not until this morning.” The warrior pushed off the wall he’d been propped against for the past several hours while Shay rested. Jamie had decided that not only was Ajax a first-rate demon hunter, but he was going to make a fine husband for his sister, too.
Jax continued, “When you drew the prophetic sketch, it all became clear to me: how you’d been able to see our Oracle, your sense that something more important was intended by your art, your ability to see the demons. The only people who can see our Oracle are other oracles—or their descendants . . . well, or me and Leonidas at this point. But for you as a mortal woman to see her? That meant you had to be descended from the Delphic oracles, and also meant you were one of Apollo’s blessed ones. He never lets anyone touch one of his oracles, you know, not without severe retribution.”
“So let me get this straight: I’m a huntress and a seer? By the combination of both sides of my bloodline because of Daddy’s heritage as a hunter and because Mama was descended from the ancient oracles?”
“That’s your question?” Jamie blurted. “I was hoping you’d aim for, ‘So Apollo is real?’ ”
Ajax gave him a brotherly clap on the shoulder. “One day, brother, I will explain precisely what the gods of Olympus are—how they fit into the spiritual framework of the universe. There is much I can tell you, but not today. We focus on Shay and her questions right now.”
“Yeah, James!” She gave him a mock scowl. “For once I get all the attention as a demon fighter; how ’bout them apples?”
“Fair enough, Sissy Cat. Fair enough.” Jamie smiled despite himself. “So here’s the truth. We never knew for sure if you’d see the demons like we do . . . well, until you did. And before you ask, yes, I had a pretty good no tion that was going on, even before you told me. We all figured it was the oracle lineage that overrode the male-only inheritance on the Angel side of the family.”
Shay sank into the pillow and began unfurling the scroll, her brow creasing with curiosity. Hell, yeah, she had to be curious—as many times as Jamie had studied the thing, it still boggled his mind. “That’s a full lineage detailing of the female ancestors who passed your oracle heritage to you,” he told her. “Dating all the way back to ancient Greece and the first of them who were ordained by—yes, I’m sure he is real—Apollo.”
She peeked at the document, then let it snap back into a tight roll. “Later on that one. The sprawling ink makes me nauseous.”
“There’s this, too.” It was now Mason’s turn to step forward; he handed her a dusty bound volume that they’d been hiding in their father’s files. The fragile book was literally the font of all they’d kept from her.
She cracked the spine, slowly opening to the first page. “And what’s in here?”
Jamie couldn’t look her in the eye, not with this revelation. “You were foretold to the family. Three hundred years ago.”
“What?” Shay practically screeched, closing the book. “What’s the deal, like the whole world was waiting for me to pop out of Mama’s belly? Ajax with his prophecy . . . now you and this book.”
Jamie settled on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his. “Sissy Cat, you’re going to be a key warrior, a prophetic warrior in this spiritually dangerous time. They called you the Eye, because of what you see, what you draw . . . the way that you’ll be trained to fight.”
Shay sighed heavily, her eyes fluttering shut. “That’s just way too much to think about right now.”
Jamie scuffed his shoe against the Oriental rug on her floor. “Yeah, probably so. Probably so. But looks to me like you’ve got a pretty good guide—that big lug there by your bedside.” Jamie and Jax exchanged a brotherly smile. They both loved Shay now; it wouldn’t always be Jamie’s job to watch over her so much. It was a strange thought, imagining letting her go into the other man’s care. “But, you know, I think he’d stand down thousands of Persian Djinn to keep you safe.”
His sister stared up at Jax, adoration in her eyes. “Are you kidding? From now on he’ll have to shove me out of the way if a good battle is on. All I need is a handy weapon.”
Then she and Jax grew much more serious, some shared sadness passing between them. Something that Jamie figured he’d learn about in the coming days.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “A good weapon is key.”
Shay let her eyes drift shut. “I’m going to sleep now. Sleep and dream that I find a precious dagger I’m going to be looking for.”
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