Reborn Series Box Set (Books 1-3.5)

by S. L. Stacy

  “Badass,” Victoria says at almost the same time. “She has a motorcycle!”

  I frown. “But what about Athena?”

  She gives a dismissive wave. “Athena…shmeena. She already thinks I’m the bad guy, so I might as well live up to it. Look, I just want to get laid tonight. It’s been awhile since I’ve been with a human. Might be fun.”

  “Might be something you regret in the morning,” I counter, but she’s already turning away from me.

  “See you tomorrow, Carly!” she calls over her shoulder. Victoria goes back to her conquest, placing a hand at the small of her back and saying something that makes Rae laugh. I watch them pass the whiskey bottle back and forth a few times before finally giving up and leaving, closing the door to the fraternity house with a satisfactory slam behind me.

  A cold drizzle still falls from the night sky, but I don’t mind getting a little wet on the way to the car. Away from the loud music and crowded dance floor, the block is noticeably quiet and deserted, lit only by the moon’s pale shadow as it struggles to break through a layer of storm clouds.

  By the time I pull into the parking garage at Thurston, the rain is coming down in relentless sheets. Grabbing my spare umbrella from the backseat, I sprint across the street to the Quad, not slowing down until I enter the sorority house. My little umbrella protected most of my hair and face, but the back of my shirt and pant legs are soaked through. I dry off upstairs, changing into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top. Eyelids heavy, I turn off all the lights and get into bed. It’s not long before the patter of rain against the window, steady and endless, rocks me to sleep, becoming the soundtrack to my dreams.

  In the dream, I’m standing outside the sorority house, watching helplessly as a white, V-shaped formation of birds moves swiftly across a stormy sky. I call out to them, but the birds press onward through the torrential rain and explosions of lightning, getting further and further away until the V is a mere speck in the distance. Tears spilling down my already rain-soaked cheeks, I go back inside, only to be met by a vast arena filled with giant, empty cages.

  An instant later, I realize I’m trapped inside one of those cages. I rattle the door, but it’s locked tight. I wrap my fingers around the cold metal bars, screaming for help. Somewhere far off, I hear an urgent knocking. I call out again, but the knocking fades, and no one comes to free me. Defeated, I close my eyes, letting more tears fall, and when I open them again I’m not in a cage anymore, but floating in a deserted, eternal black abyss—

  I awake with a start, panic seizing me at first when I open my eyes to the darkened bedroom. Thrusting a hand toward the nightstand, I fumble the lamp, finally finding the switch and turning it on. I sit up in bed, breathing hard, grateful for the soft light bathing the room. I listen intently; the rain has stopped, in its place a hollow silence. Sighing, I lean over to turn off the light again.

  Tap, tap-tap-tap tap tap. Tap tap.

  I grow still at the sound of knocking, ears pricked like a wild animal’s as it listens for the soft footfalls of a predator. Withdrawing my hand from the lamp, I suck in a breath and wait.

  Tap tap tap. TAP TAP TAP.

  It’s coming from the window. Heart pounding, I get out of bed, looking around for a makeshift weapon. Remembering the daggers Hephaestus gave us, I get mine quietly out of the desk drawer. Holding it ready at my side, I take a deep breath, then throw back the pink curtains. Two pale hands are pressed against the rain splattered window. A dark head looks up at the movement of the curtain. Two familiar green eyes meet mine.

  “Dolos?”

  Chapter 7

  My hands shake as I undo the lock on the window and lift it up high enough for Dolos, who is currently balanced precariously on the slanted roof, to crawl through. I let him hold onto me as he stumbles inside, skin slick with water, dark hair matted to his head. Once both feet are firmly planted on the floor, he drops his hands from my arms and gives me a look like a drowned puppy.

  “We have a door, you know.” It’s not what I had imagined my first words to him would be if I ever saw him again, but they slip out as I shut the window and rearrange the curtain.

  Looking a little dazed, he gives me a crooked smile. “I wanted to make an entrance. Besides, I didn’t know who else was home.”

  “There’s no one home but me right now. Which is why you scared the crap out of me. I thought you were a serial killer,” I say, setting the dagger on the nightstand. Dolos’s eyes widen at the sight of it.

  “Well, thanks for not stabbing me.” He smooths some of the hair out of his eyes, face growing serious. “Hi,” he adds softly.

  “Hi.” For a while we just stand there, gazes locked, every second we waste staring at each other in silence pushing us further and further apart. “You told me to go,” I finally say. I know it’s not the right thing to say, but I’d rather listen to the pain in my own voice, the words that conjure memories I’d rather forget, than the unbearable silence pressing us from all sides. “You left me.”

  “I—I know,” Dolos says, voice rough with pent up emotion.

  “You told me you didn’t love me,” I recall, taking a step closer to him. “That you never did. That you tricked me.”

  “Carly, I had to say something to get you to go. You were dying. I—I couldn’t lose you. I’d rather be apart from you if it meant you would be safe. I didn’t mean any of those things.” He takes a tentative step forward, too, the gap between us closing step by agonizing step. Even so, I feel light years away from the boy who held me so lovingly in his arms in Pandora. “Please. You have to believe me. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say except…I’m sorry.” His green eyes, still as brilliant as emeralds, shine with regret, his cheeks moist with rain and tears. A droplet of water slides down his face, and, as I watch it fall from his chin, my eyes are drawn to his black clothes, saturated from the rain.

  “You’re soaking wet,” I realize, feeling a pang of guilt for forgetting. “Let me get you a towel. Wait here.”

  “Where else am I going to go?” He tries to say it jokingly, but there’s a bitter edge to the words. I go to the linen closet in the hall where we keep extra bath and bedroom supplies and pull out one of the fluffy, white guest towels. Hands in his pockets, Dolos is still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room when I get back. I kick the door closed behind me and shake the towel open. He jerks slightly when I wrap it around his head and start vigorously drying his hair.

  “I’m not a child,” he says as I gently dab the back of his neck. “I know how to dry myself.”

  “You’re not putting up a whole lot of resistance,” I point out, giving him a half-smile. A shiver racks his shoulders, making me feel even worse. The hairs on his arms stand on end. “God, you’re freezing. How long were you waiting out there? You could catch cold on a night like this.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s just an expression. My grandmother used to say it to me and my sister when we weren’t dressed warmly enough on a cold day. She was afraid we’d get sick.”

  “Humans seem to have a lot of expressions,” he muses, “and none of them make any sense. Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. Olympians don’t get sick.”

  I ignore him, withdrawing the towel. “Take off your shirt.”

  “Now that’s an expression I can get behind,” he says, smirking. He pulls his black t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor.

  “You know, you don’t just get to show up here and make jokes,” I say as I lightly press the towel against the long, smooth muscles of his upper arms and chest, “and say you’re sorry, and think that everything’s just going to go back to the way it was.”

  “I know.” He hisses in a breath, body tensing as I work the towel further down his abdomen, stopping when I get to the place where his pants sit just below his hips. I breathe hard, my hands lingering there, holding the towel between us like a shield. The fabric swells outward in the area above
his groin, and heat rises to my cheeks.

  “Because it can’t. We might be able to start over, but it won’t be the same.”

  Dolos nods. “Carly—”

  “But we could try,” I tell him, lifting my eyes to meet his, glazed with desire. “I want to try.”

  “I do, too,” he assures me. “But Carly? If you want to start over—take things slow—maybe we should…” He looks pointedly at the towel, at the precarious placement of my hands.

  We should take things slow. I should say he’s right and step back before the spark igniting between us turns into an inferno. Instead, holding the towel firmly in place, I hold his gaze steady and quietly command, “Take off your pants.” Surprise comes over his face, but he obliges, quickly shedding his pants and briefs. Kneeling, I wrap the towel low around his waist, massaging each leg with it before running a tentative hand where it billows out. Eyes closed, he gives a moan of pleasure.

  “Come here.” He gently clasps my wrists, pulling me up. I let the towel fall to the floor as we come together, lips, arms and bodies interlocking. His hands are everywhere—cradling my face, running down my back, getting tangled in my hair. It’s not long before they find my tank top and begin peeling it off with a tantalizing slowness. Moments later, it’s joined the ring of discarded clothing scattered around our feet. Combing my fingers through his hair, I mold myself against him, getting as close as I can, the sensation of our bare bodies touching the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever felt.

  He lays me on the bed, then, instead of stretching out on top of me, sits back on his heels. With my shirt off, I feel exposed, and I try to position myself in a way I hope is sexy. Beyond the rush of desire pounding in my ears, I realize that the rain has started up again. There’s a flash of lightning in the corner of my eye, followed by the crackle of thunder a few seconds later.

  “We’re taking things really fast,” Dolos says, trying to regain control of his breath. “Maybe we should slow down.”

  “What?” I say, sitting up in the bed. I instinctively hug myself, covering my breasts.

  “You’re right. I don’t just get to show up here and expect everything to be the way it was…or could have been, if we had been able to be together right away. And even though I thought I was protecting you, what I said was unforgiveable. I don’t want us to do anything we might regret later.”

  “You don’t want me anymore,” I whisper, cringing at the pathetic crack I hear in my voice.

  “I think it’s pretty obvious that that is not the case,” he says huskily. Even so, I look away from him so he can’t see the tears that have sprung to my eyes.

  “This is the first time that I feel ready,” I tell him. “The first time I…dove in, without any hesitation or fear.” Suddenly, the sting of tears evaporates, and I meet his gaze head on, lowering my arms from my chest. “I know we have work to do. But I promised myself that, if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t hold back. Even if we only have one night together.” I shift, moving closer to him on the bed. I reach out and brush the hair out of his eyes. “I don’t care how much time we think we have. Time is precious. And I would rather be with you one night than not at all.”

  There’s another rumble of thunder outside. The sound of the rain clinking against the window fills the bedroom. I trace my fingers through his hair and down his face. Stopping my hand with his, Dolos takes my wrist and plants a kiss there. His lips then move all the way up my arm, up my neck, until they’ve found my mouth once again. As one, we crash back into the bed. Covering my body in slow, hot kisses, Dolos strips off my shorts, fingers lost in my throbbing, slick heat. Without breaking our erotic dance, I reach into the top drawer of the nightstand, hand emerging with one of the foil packets I always had on hand just in case Alec and I ever fell down this slippery slope of passion.

  Moments later, he covers me with his body, bringing his face down to kiss me. I clutch his back, feeling the muscles in his shoulders bunch, then relax, as we become one.

  ***

  “Carly.”

  The voices call to me, small and desperate, from inside the veil of silver mist. I hang back, keeping a few feet of soft, green grass between me and the otherworldly mist, wanting to help but afraid at the same time.

  “Help us,” they plead. If I think I’m scared, it’s nothing compared to the naked terror I hear in their voices. “Help us, please. Someone help us.”

  “I’m here,” I try to assure them, taking a hesitant step closer. “Help is coming. Where are you? Who are you?”

  I wait for a long time, but there’s no reply. Everything is as still and quiet as death, not a trace of wind disturbing the endless stretch of trees around me. My heart thuds like a drum in the silence, growing louder as I creep closer to the rift. I run a hand through it, fingers vanishing beneath its cold, silvery surface. Inch by inch, I reach in further, watching the rest of my hand, then my forearm disappear, although I know they’re still connected to me, reassured by the mist’s wintry bite. Bracing myself, I plunge forward, leaving the comfort of the dark but familiar forest behind me.

  At first, there is nothing but more darkness, more unnerving silence on the other side. Eyes adjusting, I realize there’s a dim, yellow light coming from somewhere in the room I’m in, although I can’t find the source. It wavers along the floor and walls, briefly illuminating sections of glittering black stone and the outline of figures, pale and hunched, huddled together on the other end of the room.

  “Help us.” A voice splits the air like the shriek of fingernails against a chalkboard. One of the figures shifts to look up at me, black, hollow eyes staring out of a white, sunken face, gaunt body wrapped in gray rags. The creature screeches again, tone devoid of the innocence that reached out to me across the veil. “Let us out, little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl,” I retort, slowly backing away. “And I’m not sure that I should.”

  “Let us out.” Other pairs of black eyes snap open, the bundles of rag and bone they belong to getting up, hobbling toward me. “Let us out!” Glancing back every so often to check their approach, I search the air for the telltale shimmer of the rift, but it seems to have disappeared.

  “I—I can’t,” I realize, turning back to them. They don’t seem to hear me, continuing toward me at their slow, dragging pace. “The doorway is gone. You can’t leave. None of us can!”

  “Let us out. Let us out.” I clamp my hands over my ears, unable to stand the sound of their strident voices clashing together, a chorus of out-of-tune violins. Falling to the floor, I squeeze my eyes shut, head throbbing as the cacophony closes in on me, so loud I can barely hear myself when I shout, “I told you—I can’t! Stop! Please, make it stop—”

  A clap of thunder jolts me awake sometime in the middle of the night. My eyes open to Dolos’s lean body stretched out next to me, my head nestled in the crook of his neck. He stirs, turning on the pillow to look at me.

  “You okay?” His voice is clear, devoid of the hoarseness of sleep.

  “Yeah,” I tell him, sitting up. “I just had a bad dream.” Explosions of rain continue to batter the window, a burst of lightning suspending the room in a ghostly film before it goes dark again.

  “You were talking in your sleep,” he says, sitting up next to me.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed. I’ve never talked in my sleep before—at least, I don’t think I have. Victoria’s never said anything.

  He plants a reassuring kiss in my hair. “You don’t have to be sorry. What was the dream about? You kept saying ‘I can’t,’ and telling someone to stop. You sounded scared. Was it about…” After a pause, he finishes, “Jeffrey?” Dolos was one of the first people I confided in about my stepfather. At the time, I had felt tricked into telling him, but it turned out opening up to him was rather cathartic and something that had to be done before I could learn to trust someone again. And I know it wasn’t easy for Dolos to tell me about his family—about how his mother, convinced he and his siblings were e
vil, locked them away in Pandora.

  I shake my head. “Not this time. I’ve been having this recurring dream lately. It’s a little different every time, but it always starts out the same. I’m in the woods or something, and there are these voices calling out to me. They sound like children, calling for help.” I think back to the dream, trying to recover more details, but the memory is already fading. “When I finally find them, they aren’t children at all but these…creatures.” I hug myself as a shiver rips through me. “It sounds dumb saying it out loud. I don’t know why I would have a dream like that.” For some reason, I leave out the part about how real it felt—the cold embrace of the mist as it slithered around my arm, the ear-splitting crescendo of voices.

  “It’s not dumb,” he insists. “You can tell me anything that’s bothering you.”

  I smile. “I know.” We lay back down together, and I snuggle up against him. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

  “You didn’t,” he tells me, absently stroking my hair. “I can’t sleep.”

  “A penny for your thoughts.” His answering silence tells me he’s confused. “It’s another expression. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “It’s…nothing. There’s just something I was supposed to do for a friend. Well, not exactly a friend. I promised I would get something for them.”

  “Oh. Well, if you have to go…” I let the thought hang, disappointment seizing me. “I mean, it’s still raining, but maybe you could get it in the morning—”

  “Never mind,” he talks over me, hand moving to my shoulder, kneading it gently. “I’m not doing it. Forget I said anything.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “Carly, I need to know something.” Rolling onto his side, Dolos gently lifts up my chin so that we’re looking at each other. His eyes reach out to me across the sliver of darkness between us, the shine of a plea in them. “Do you trust me?”

  “I…well, yeah,” I say, nodding slowly. “Of course.”