His pulse beat hard and fast. Indecision warred inside him. He needed to go, to disappear before he drew attention, but he had to know the truth. He’d been burned before and knew the consequences. Yet, even if exposing himself now destroyed the carefully constructed plan for revenge he’d finally set in motion, he had to know if it was her.
His mono mia.
Before he could stop himself, he stepped out of the shadows and into the pulsing lights of the club.
Chapter Two
Talisa glanced over the busy club, searching for any male capable of taking her mind off her shitty life.
At least for an hour or so.
There were all kinds in the crowd tonight. Some she recognized from previous visits. Many she didn’t.
Her parents would shit bricks if they knew she’d not only crossed into the human realm but that she was visiting a debauched establishment such as this, but she didn’t care. Tonight was for her. Everyone else could be damned as far as she cared.
The first time she’d heard whispers about this club from the witches who lived in the mountains outside Tiyrns, she’d been intrigued. The minute she’d crossed the portal and stepped through the doors, she’d been excited. And when she’d learned of the dark rooms down below where all kinds of erotic things were possible, she’d been hooked.
This was the one place in the cosmos where she could let her hair down. Where she didn’t have to worry about what was expected of her as part of the Argolean royal family. Where she could forget about the fact she was the wrong gender to serve with the Argonauts and give in to all those twisted, dark urges she—a female, descended from the long line of ancient Greek heroes—was not supposed to have.
Her blood hummed as she glanced over faces in the crowd. It had been way too long since she’d had a male beneath her. Months since she’d been able to visit the club. She didn’t dare hook up with any males in her own realm—all were deathly afraid of her father—and she wasn’t about to let anyone there know what kind of kinks she was into. Plus, she had no use for any kind of relationship, long-term or otherwise. She was perfectly happy being single. So long as she got her rocks off now and then.
“Here’s your drink.” The bartender’s voice pulled her attention from the dance floor.
Smiling, she turned back to the bar, tugged cash from her bra, then slid it across to him. “Thanks.”
She tossed back the shot and winced as the golden liquid went down, already warming her throat.
The bartended chuckled and handed her a glass of ice water. “This will help.”
She mumbled another thanks and sipped.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said as he used a towel to dry a glass.
“That’s because I haven’t been here in a while.”
She wouldn’t say she was friendly with the bartender, a decent enough looking half-breed who lived in the human world. But he’d been nice to her the handful of times she’d visited the club, and he always let her know if there was anyone to watch out for in the area.
She glanced back over the writhing bodies on the dance floor, the triple whiskies in the shot she’d just swallowed already relaxing her, heating her blood, and making her anxious for some action. “Some new faces.”
“Yeah. A few.” He rested his forearms on the shiny wood bar and leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “The two wiry-looking tall guys in the corner in trench coats?” Her gaze shot that way. “Vampires. And the long-haired dude in the booth back there by himself knocking back shots?” She looked toward the u-shaped booth in the shadows. “A lycanthrope.”
“Really...” Interest flared inside Talisa as she eyed the werewolf. The blood suckers didn’t do it for her, but a werewolf had promise. He was muscular, with dark hair that fell to his shoulders in waves, and a face cast in shadows she couldn’t quite see.
“Then,” the bartender said, “there’s that guy.”
From the corner of her eye, Talisa saw the way the bartender nodded in the other direction, toward the opposite side of the club. Her gaze followed, and when she spotted the dark-haired, muscled male standing just inside the pulsing lights of the dance floor, every ounce of heat inside gathered in her core as if ready to detonate.
“Oh my...” she muttered.
He had to be seven feet tall with jet-black hair, piercing dark eyes, and a chiseled face that looked as if the gods had carved it themselves. His shoulders were broad and muscular in the dark Henley, his pecs strong and straining through the thin fabric, his abs and hips trim and mouthwatering. He wore dark pants she couldn’t really see, and some kind of fancy boots, but her gaze kept sweeping back to his face. His tempting, gorgeous, hypnotic face that was so enticing, she couldn’t seem to look away. Especially when his mesmerizing eyes were locked on her as they were now.
She licked her lips, her body already on full alert.
At her back, the bartender said, “He’s one you definitely need to stay away from.”
That got through the sex-haze trying to take over Talisa’s mind. She looked back at the bartender. “Why? What is he?”
Vampires and shapeshifters didn’t scare her. She was stronger than both thanks to her herculean gift. Magickal beings didn’t even worry her because her warrior skills—the ones she’d been born with thanks to her link to the ancient heroes—could best any attacker. The only being that gave her pause was...
“Is he a god?” she asked in a low voice.
“Don’t know.” The bartender shrugged. “He’s using some kind of glamour, though. One that’s masking his true identity. Be careful with that one. Something tells me if he weren’t casting that glamour, we would all know exactly who he is. And we’d all run like hell.”
The bartender stepped away to take another drink order at the end of the bar, and as Talisa turned to look back at the mystery male, still watching her with those piercing dark eyes, a shiver of foreboding rushed down her spine.
There were plenty of gods she knew to run from, the most prominent being the Olympians. Zeus had no use for her aunt, the queen of Argolea, or her father, the leader of the Argonauts, and he was searching for one of the Horae’s offspring, which included Talisa, because he needed their sacred abilities to control the Orb of Krónos—a magical medallion created by Prometheus that was rumored to hold the power to unleash the Titans from Tartarus.
The King of the Gods wasn’t a being she’d ever consider tangling with on a good day, and this definitely wasn’t a good day for her. If that really was Zeus in disguise, the smart thing for her was to get the hell out of this club as fast as her legs could carry her. But for reasons she couldn’t explain and suddenly didn’t care to question, her legs wouldn’t move.
The mystery hotty continued to watch her the way she was watching him, and as the seconds ticked by in time to the pulsing beat, something in her gut told her he wasn’t Zeus. Something else whispered he wasn’t even an Olympian.
He could be Hades, the god-king of the Underworld, who’d also made it clear he couldn’t wait to see the people of her world wiped off the map. But the heat growing even stronger in her veins and gathering between her legs as she stared at him told her he wasn’t Hades either.
He was someone else. Something different. Someone powerful, yes. But something enchanting. Magnetic.
Seductive.
She hadn’t realized she’d pushed off the barstool until the bartender called out at her back. She didn’t turn to look at him. Didn’t slow her steps. Her body moved as if it had a mind of its own, drawing her through the grinding bodies on the dance floor toward Mr. Dark and Dangerous. Until she was steps away and he was all she could see.
Holy gods, he was huge. Miles of roped muscle over an abundance of raw, coiled strength. She wasn’t small for a female—close to six feet even without her boots—but he made her feel small. Feminine. Petite in a way no one else ever had. And his scent, a mixture of spice and citrus and rum, filled her senses, making her blood hum even faster. Making her b
ody that much hotter.
Pulsing lights flickered over his chiseled face and broad shoulders. He didn’t speak as she drew to a stop, only watched her with those eyes she now knew weren’t just dark, they were black as sin and tinged with a wickedness her whole body ached to feel.
She still couldn’t tell what he was, but as electricity arced between them, her heart beat hard and fast. And as she took in every delectable inch of him, she knew without question he was the wild ride she’d been hoping for tonight.
She pushed any doubts to the back of her mind, licked her lips, and moved closer.
“Lys?” Max headed for the back table where his cousin Elysia sat in the Grand Library, surrounded by ancient tomes and towering bookshelves. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over the damn castle for you.”
Elysia lifted her head, her chocolate hair swaying around her face as she narrowed her dark brown eyes on his. “Has something happened? What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” He stopped in front of her table, glancing over the research she was clearly doing as part of her studies in all things royal. “The Argonauts and your mother refused Talisa’s request to begin formal training.”
“Skata.” Elysia pushed to her feet and dropped the pen in her hand.
She, being Talisa’s cousin as well, knew just how much Talisa had been hoping this time they’d let her into the boys’ club. While Max’s guilt with regards to the situation came from the fact he was being allowed to train with the Argonauts when he knew Talisa was just as skilled, Elysia’s stemmed from the fact her mother was the one blocking Talisa from exactly the same thing.
“Where is she?” Elysia asked. “Have you talked to her yet?”
“I tried. She wouldn’t listen.”
Elysia quickly gathered her papers. “You know how reckless she can be when she’s upset.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Max reached for Elysia’s arm, stopping her frantic movements. “She already left for that club.”
“Oh skata.” The color drained from Elysia’s face. She glanced around the quiet library with its dark wood shelves and tall stone pillars then back at him. “Someone needs to go after her. She’s not safe in the human realm alone.”
“I know.” He dropped his hand. “I’m going. I just wanted to let you know, so if anything happens—”
“Alone? No way.”
His lips thinned. “I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of myself. Plus, you know if anything tries to come at me, I can access whatever gift they’re using and turn it around on them.”
“Assuming you aren’t distracted.”
He frowned. “I won’t be. We know she’s at the club. We know why. I’ll go there, get her, and bring her back before she alerts anyone to her presence. Odds are, we’ll be back within the hour. I’m only telling you so you can cover for us in case it takes a little longer.”
Elysia moved her books to a nearby empty shelf then turned to face him. “You’re still not going alone. We talked about this, remember? That’s how people get abducted.” She waggled her brows, reminding him that was exactly what had happened to her when she’d run off on her own. “Or dead. I’m going with you.”
“You?” His eyes widened. “Not a chance. If your father or your mate found out I let you tag along, they’d both kill me.”
Elysia’s father Demetrius was a highly skilled Argonaut and the darkest of the bunch, and Elysia’s mate Cerek, while a whole lot softer around the edges than her father, was just as deadly with a blade. Though both knew Elysia was a skilled fighter in her own right, neither would approve of her crossing into the human realm.
“You let me tag along? As if.” Elysia grasped Max’s arm, turning him toward the arched doorway. “As far as my father and Cerek are concerned, we just won’t tell them. And since we don’t want word to spread and Talisa to be punished for this stunt, that means you can’t alert any of the other Argonauts or their mates. Which means I’m all you’ve got. I’ll watch your back, and you’ll watch mine. Isn’t that what they teach you in Argonaut training? Never to go anywhere alone?”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothing. I do know a little of what I’m talking about, Max.”
She did. She wasn’t just a competent warrior herself, she would one day be queen of this realm. And unlike him—and Talisa—Elysia thought things through before she jumped.
“I need to get my weapons,” she said, drawing him out into the hall with its gleaming marble floors, leading him toward the stairs. “Then, we’ll go to that stupid club, get Talisa, and bring her back. Together. And no one will be the wiser.”
Max sure hoped no one was the wiser, because if Talisa’s parents or the queen or any of the other Argonauts found out what she was up to, all shit was going to hit the fan, and he didn’t want that for his cousin. Not with all the other crap she was already dealing with.
There was only so much a person could handle before they snapped, and he sensed Talisa was dangerously close to the end of her rope.
Considering he kept bouncing to the end of his own…
Yeah, he knew that better than anyone.
Violet eyes. He’d been right. Hauntingly familiar violet eyes he’d recognize anywhere.
Zagreus blinked as he stared down at the dark-haired female standing in front of him. Blinked again to be sure.
She was still there. Still holding his gaze with those memorable, wanton, amethyst eyes. Still standing silent and waiting. Still looking at him as if she expected him to say or do something after all this time.
His senses had been right. She was definitely Argolean, and from her clothing and stance, from the strength he felt radiating from her and the fact she was alone, he could tell she was trained at least somewhat in warfare. He couldn’t see any weapons on her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hiding them somewhere. Every Argolean he’d ever met who ventured into the human realm did so armed.
As his gaze scanned her shapely body from head to toe, though, he knew he wasn’t looking for weapons. He was searching for proof she really was her.
He’d been desperate before and wasn’t about to be fooled again, especially if she was Argolean. And he definitely didn’t want a repeat of those years he’d spent locked up by the Fates. Tartarus had been bad, but the twenty-five years he’d been imprisoned by the old hags—he inwardly shuddered—had been worse than any torture his depraved father could conjure in the fires of the Underworld.
Unfortunately, she was wearing too much clothing to get a good look at her, and the dark lights in the club didn’t help. The only skin exposed was on her toned shoulders and the soft mounds of her cleavage. That didn’t stop him from trying to see through the tight-fitting top and the slim black pants that molded to her hips and thighs, though. Didn’t stop him from—
Long, feminine fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt and tugged, distracting him from his search. He caught the wicked flare in her gemlike eyes as she stepped back onto the dance floor, pulling him with her.
Her scent surrounded him—not the familiar woodsy scents of sage and lavender he remembered, but something darker, something spicier. A heady combination of cinnamon, vanilla, and orange blossom that drew him toward her like a moth to a flame.
Bodies locked together writhed around them. Her dark hair, violet eyes, and smooth skin filled his vision. She began to move to the hypnotic beat of the pulsing music, brushing against him in the dark, and he found himself moving with her—not dancing as the others around them were doing, simply trying to keep her from getting away.
His hands drifted to the soft curve of her hips, slid around her slim, toned back, and tugged her in close. A small gasp slipped from her lips as her chest crashed into his and her feminine fingers under the long bell sleeves landed against his biceps. Beneath that thin blouse she wore, her heartbeat picked up speed until it was a whir echoing in his ears.
The air grew heavy. The beat seemed to swell. She didn’t once look away from his eyes. Only
continued to hold his gaze trapped with the familiar, wicked heat of her violet irises. And even though he still wasn’t completely convinced she was her, he no longer cared where she’d come from or why she’d approached him.
She was warm. She was soft. His body was responding all on its own. He deserved a few minutes of pleasure after all the shit he’d been through. Suddenly needed it the way he needed air.
A tiny voice in the back of his head warned to be careful. That when it came to her, real or not, his senses were always impaired. That if he didn’t stay alert, she could—as his father had said time and again—be the key to his undoing. But the moment she stopped swaying, the instant she pushed to her toes, the second she fit her mouth to his... That voice completely faded into the ether.
He opened the second she kissed him. Grasped the back of her head and licked the soft seam of her lips. And when her fingers dug into his arms, when she groaned and then finally opened, he pushed his tongue into the sultry wetness of her mouth and finally tasted her.
Energy surged inside him. A scorching, combustible energy that jolted every dead nerve ending suddenly back to life.
He swept his tongue over hers. Tasted a hint of whiskey. Of Mint. Tasted apprehension, danger, and desperation all swirling together in her sensual mouth.
And overriding everything, he tasted desire. A feral, voracious craving that bubbled up from the depths of her soul. One he’d sampled before. One he’d never been able to resist. One that could finally condemn him to the darkness he’d been trying to outrun all his life.
She jerked back from his mouth and pushed out of his arms before he could take more. Chest heaving, she lifted her gaze to his. And the moment their eyes met and he saw the shock in those wide, amethyst pools, he knew.
He knew she was more than a horny female looking for a good time. Much more than a wayward Argolean. And that this—their meeting—had not happened by chance.
Wicked Page 2
