Ravaged: An Eternal Guardians Novella (1001 Dark Nights)

by Elisabeth Naughton

  “Kill him, of course,” Zeus answered. “But before you do that, I need confirmation of something. I suspect the Argonaut has a very special marking on his body. Not the Argonaut markings on his forearms. This is different. Before he’s terminated, I need you to search his entire body and either prove or disprove the appearance of the marking.”

  “What kind of marking?” Daphne asked.

  Zeus glanced toward Athena. A silent look passed between the two gods before Zeus refocused on Daphne. “We’re not sure. But the marking disappears at the time of death, so you cannot kill him and then look for it. You must find it while he is alive.”

  So all she had to do was get close enough to the mass-murdering psycho to check every inch of his skin for some unknown marking. Yeah. That sounded easy.

  Not.

  “I-I’m not sure how I would do that,” Daphne said hesitantly.

  “This is where your nymph background comes in handy.” Zeus lifted his brows in a “duh, it’s easy” move. “Use your seduction skills. Charm him. Get him to drop his guard. Earn his trust so he least suspects your mission.”

  Daphne’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean—”

  “Yes, you’ll have to fuck him,” Athena said. “Probably several times.” An irritated expression crossed the goddess’s face. “You sailed through seduction training, Daphne. This shouldn’t be that difficult for you.”

  Unease rippled through Daphne. She’d only been twenty when she’d been plucked from her foster home and brought to Olympus to train with the Sirens. Barely old enough to come into her sexuality, and the males she’d fooled around with as a teenager didn’t count. Yes, she’d made it through seduction training easily, but only because she’d had an amazing instructor, a minor god who hadn’t forced her. One who’d taken plenty of time to teach her about her own body and the powers of sex. That didn’t mean she had any real experience seducing males—she’d been here for seven years, for crying out loud. And she had zero experience with savages like the psycho Argonaut Aristokles.

  “We need an answer,” Zeus said. “Either you are with us—”

  “Or you are without us,” Athena finished.

  Daphne’s gaze slid from one god to the other. She knew what they were saying. Either she did this and became a full-fledged Siren, or she didn’t and was banished from the Order forever.

  “Well?” Zeus asked.

  Daphne bit her lip and nodded. Then prayed she made it through this alive. “I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “This is as good a place as any.” Sappheire nodded toward the log resting along the edge of a small stream in the mountains of the Snoqualmie National Forest.

  “Here?” Shivering in the cool, damp air, Daphne crossed her arms over her belly and rubbed her biceps to stimulate blood flow. There was nothing but trees and moss and a scattering of snow in the dark forest of Northern Washington for as far as she could see. Nothing to indicate anyone besides them was even in the area. “Are you sure?”

  “His hunting patterns indicate he’ll come through this region soon.” Sappheire looked toward the redheaded Siren at her side. “Rhebekah, take her jacket.”

  Without a word, Rhebekah stepped forward, tugged the jacket from Daphne’s shoulders, and pushed her to sit on the log.

  Grunting, Daphne reached for the wood beneath her to keep from falling over. Her stomach swirled with apprehension as she looked up at Sappheire, waiting for some kind of reassurance—any kind of reassurance—from her mentor. But just as she’d done while they were preparing Daphne for this mission and while they’d traveled to this location, Sappheire refused to look at her or offer any words of advice.

  That apprehension turned to a wave of fear. Did the Siren know something Daphne didn’t? Had Zeus lied? Was this really—she swallowed hard—a suicide mission after all?

  Daphne’s mind spun with possibilities, but she couldn’t come up with a legitimate reason for Zeus to have lied. He clearly wanted the Argonaut dead. Ari had been wreaking havoc on Sirens for years. Regardless of Zeus’s connection to her mother, she had to make this work. But Zeus’s order that Daphne find a mark on the Argonaut’s body—a vague mark which he hadn’t bothered to explain—sent another wave of worry rushing over her.

  Stealing her nerves, Daphne looked from Sappheire to Rhebekah and back again, focusing on what came next, not what she had to do down the line. “But why would he be here? There are no Sirens in this area. Except for, well, us. He doesn’t know we’re here. He certainly didn’t know we were coming.”

  Sappheire nodded toward Rhebekah. “It’s time for us to leave.”

  “Wait.” Daphne pushed quickly to her feet. “How will I know where to find him?”

  “You’ll not find him,” Rhebekah answered. “He’ll find you.”

  Before Daphne could protest again, the Sirens disappeared, flashing back to Olympus without her.

  In the silence, Daphne shivered and lowered herself back to the log. As she wasn’t a full-fledged Siren, she couldn’t flash after them, which meant from here on out, she was on her own.

  Glancing around the forest, she tried not to freak out. Dusk was quickly moving to dark. In a matter of minutes it would be pitch black, not even a moon to guide her.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and rubbed her bare skin in the hopes of scrubbing away the fear. The dress Athena had made her wear was flimsy and white, with tiny cap sleeves and a hem that barely hit mid-thigh. The matching shoes were nothing but ballet slippers. She knew the outfit was meant to be alluring, but no female in her right mind—nymph or not—would be caught out in the cold in this getup. And right now she was more worried about freezing to death than what any crazed Argonaut was doing out here in these woods.

  Don’t think about Aristokles. Think about what you need to do next.

  She rubbed her arms again. Tried to think clearly. She had no coat, no blanket, nothing to stay warm, and no idea how long she’d be here. It could take hours for the psycho Argonaut to venture her way—if he was really out here. In the meantime, she needed to find shelter and a way to stay warm. Needed—

  A howl echoed somewhere through the trees. She jerked in that direction, her heart rate shooting up even higher, sending blood pulsing through her veins.

  Okay, maybe cold wasn’t her biggest problem right now. Her Siren sisters hadn’t just left her without a coat, they’d left her without a weapon to defend herself.

  A twig cracked off to her right. Lurching to her feet, she scanned the ground and spotted a downed branch, as long and thick as a baseball bat. Grasping it in both hands, she swiveled toward the sound and slowly backed up, her hands shaking.

  Long seconds passed. Finally, a rabbit jumped out of the brush, spotted her with big brown eyes, and quickly scurried away.

  Daphne released a heavy breath and dropped the branch to the ground. She was flipping out for no reason. If that didn’t prove she needed to pull it together, nothing did. She was a Siren, for crying out loud. Not a wimpy female.

  Or...she would be. As soon as this mission was over.

  A shiver rushed down her spine, dragging her awareness back to the cold once more.

  Shelter. That’s what she needed to focus on. Not some stupid, irrational fear that wasn’t doing anything but making her nuts.

  She straightened her spine and glanced around the forest again. The ground rose steadily to the north. Through the trees she could see what looked to be some kind of rock outcropping. Deciding that was her best bet, she headed in that direction. If she could find a cave, she could at least get out of the elements and decide what to do next.

  The air grew progressively colder the closer she drew to the rocks. Rubbing her hands vigorously against the bare skin of her arms, she tried to keep her teeth from chattering as she picked her way around stones and branches and roots sticking out of the ground that bruised her feet in the silly shoes. Just as she moved past a boulder the size of a car, a growl echoed in the steadily
darkening forest, drawing her feet to a sharp stop.

  The hair on her nape stood straight. Her heart rate shot into the triple digits. Slowly, she turned in the direction she’d just come and stared in horror at the creature moving out from behind the rocks to stand in her path.

  It was at least seven feet tall. A mixture of goat and lion and dog and human, with the body of a man, sharp teeth, horns, and glowing green eyes like something straight out of a nightmare.

  A daemon. One of the Underworld’s monsters. She stumbled backward.

  “Nymph.” The daemon drew in a deep whiff and growled. “Now this is a treat. What is a nymph doing out in these woods all alone?”

  Daphne’s mouth fell open, but words wouldn’t come.

  Before she could think of an answer—before she could think of something to do—another daemon stepped out from behind the boulder and growled. “The nymph is mine.”

  Fear shot Daphne’s heart straight into her throat. The first daemon turned to the second and roared a menacing, aggressive response. The second bared his fangs and lurched for the first. Bones and fists and claws clashed as the two tore into each other.

  Daphne swiveled and ran. Made it ten feet into the trees before another daemon jumped out from behind an old growth Douglas fir, right in her path. She skidded to a stop. Tried to lurch out of the way. He roared, reached out with claws as sharp as knives, and caught her across the side and abdomen, sending her flying into the brush.

  A burn like the heat of a thousand suns lanced her side. She smacked into a tree, then dropped to the ground with a thud. Pain spiraled through every inch of her body, but she knew she had to get up. Had to run. She clawed at the dirt and tried to stand, but the wound in her side gushed blood, twisting her to the ground in a cry of agony.

  The daemon growled and advanced. With the forest spinning around her, Daphne looked for something—anything—close to use as a weapon. Her vision came and went. But through descending darkness, she spotted a rock the size of her fist with sharp edges.

  She dug her fingers into the ground, used every ounce of strength she had left to crawl in that direction. Another roar echoed at her back. She whimpered through the pain and tried to move faster, but it was as if she were crawling through mud. Just when she was sure she would never get there, her hand closed around the rock. She tugged it close, then rolled to her back and stared in horror at the sight before her.

  A man—no, not a man, she realized—an Argonaut, battled back not one, but all three advancing daemons. His shoulders were broad, his arms muscled, his waist tapered to strong legs. And he moved like a seasoned warrior, swinging the blade in his hand like a ninja swings nunchucks. She watched in disbelief as his blade sank deep, he pulled it free, then swung out and decapitated the first daemon before moving to the second and third. In a matter of seconds, the fight was over, as if the daemons were paper dolls rather than living, menacing monsters.

  The Argonaut turned Daphne’s way. Daphne’s vision flickered, but one look was all it took to send her scrambling backward in a haze of pain. A nose that had been broken more than once. Puckered scars that covered the left side of his jaw, ran down his neck, and disappeared under the collar of his long-sleeved T-shirt. And mismatched eyes—one a brilliant blue, the other a deep green—blazing and focused directly on her as if she were the next threat.

  The Argonaut kicked the daemon’s body out of his way and marched toward her. Blood and some kind of vile green goo covered his clothing, and that wild, fevered look in his mismatched eyes told her he was no friend, not to her.

  It was him. The crazy Argonaut.

  Aristokles.

  Fear caused her to jerk back, but her head hit something sharp, stopping her momentum. Pain shot across her scalp, and she cried out, but the sound gurgled in her throat. He knelt beside her and reached one bloody, dirt-streaked hand her way.

  She gripped the rock tightly, but before she could lift it to protect herself, everything went black.

  * * *

  Ari carried the injured female into the living area of his home high in the mountains and laid her on the couch.

  “Holy Hera,” Silas said, grabbing a blanket from the back of a chair and laying it over her limp body. “She’s a nymph. What in Hades was a nymph doing out in the wilds unprotected?”

  “I don’t know.” Ari moved back as Silas knelt close and worked on the female. In his old life, Silas had tended to the sick and injured of his village. Now he tended to Ari, which Ari knew was the most thankless job on the planet. “I didn’t seal the wounds. If it was an archdaemon who did this, I didn’t want to make things worse.”

  “Smart.” An archdaemon’s claws held a dangerous poison that could prompt infection. Silas peeled the female’s torn dress back over her ribs so he could see her wounds. “But the chances she was attacked by an archdaemon are slim. I’m gonna need rags and hydrogen peroxide from the kitchen.”

  It took several seconds for Ari to realize Silas was talking to him. Tearing his gaze away from the female, Ari turned out of the living room with its high-beamed ceiling, roaring fireplace, and leather furnishings and headed for the kitchen. He was still covered in blood and slime from his battle with those daemons, tracking mud through the house Silas worked hard to keep clean, but couldn’t think about anything other than the nymph lying half dead in the other room.

  Silas was right. There was no reason for a nymph to be alone in those woods. She’d clearly been running. From who though, he didn’t know. Before he could stop it, Ari’s mind tumbled back dozens of years to another nymph he’d found alone and injured in the wild. To a moment that had cursed his existence for all eternity.

  His vision darkened, and a flood of emotions that would only mess with his control threatened to overwhelm him. But he slowly beat them back. This was the reason he chose to isolate himself. Because he was unpredictable. Because he’d been cursed by the gods. Because some days, he was as much a monster as the daemons he’d sworn to destroy.

  “Ari! The rags! She’s bleeding, man!”

  The sound of Silas’s voice penetrated Ari’s consciousness. He grabbed the items Silas had asked for then moved back into the living room. After handing Silas the materials, he stepped away again and watched as Silas cleaned the wounds then held his hands over the female and used his sensing gift to search for infection.

  Long seconds passed. Finally, Silas eased back on his heels and lowered his hands to his thighs. “It wasn’t an archdaemon. You can seal these now.”

  When Ari didn’t make a move forward, Silas turned to face him. “I can’t do this part myself. You know that. It has to be you.”

  The claw marks across Silas’s face seemed to dance in the firelight as he stared at Ari, waiting for a response.

  Scowling, Silas pushed to his feet. He was tall—over six feet—with broad shoulders and sandy blond hair in need of a trim, but he was no match for Ari. Thanks to his link to the ancient Greek gods, Ari was taller, more muscular, bigger everywhere. And he was never intimidated.

  Except now. Right now, Ari wished he was anywhere but in this room, not only near a nymph but being forced to touch one.

  “She’ll die if you don’t do something,” Silas said. “You know this.”

  Still Ari didn’t move. Didn’t trust himself near a nymph. Nymphs were as dangerous to him as Sirens. Nymphs left him just as unbalanced and reminded him of a life he’d left behind without a second look.

  “You brought her here,” Silas said, stepping forward. “You could have left her in the woods to die, but you didn’t. She’s just a female, Ari. Show her the same mercy you showed me.”

  Just a female... She was. Ari had used his gift to heal dozens of females and males over his years. This female was no different.

  History tried to hold him back, but that damn duty inside pushed him forward. Silas stepped to the side as Ari moved toward the couch and looked down. The nymph’s head was tipped his way on the throw pillow, long, dark lashes feat
hering her alabaster skin, her dirty hair falling over her bruised shoulder and the remnants of her bloody dress. But even injured and unconscious, Ari could tell that she was attractive. Alluring. A nymph created to torment any male who crossed her path.

  A heat he hadn’t felt in years stirred low in his belly. One he didn’t like and definitely didn’t want. The fastest way to get rid of her was to heal her. Then forget he’d ever stumbled across the female in the first place.

  He lowered to his knee and avoided looking at her face or the swell of her breasts pushing against the thin, once-white fabric, and focused on the red, bleeding wounds. Laying his hands over the gashes, he focused his strength until heat and energy radiated from his palms, permeating the skin beneath and knitting the wounds back together.

  The nymph didn’t even stir, even though it was a process he knew caused intense pain. She laid still, her eyes closed, her body deep in sleep. Soft. Vulnerable. Minutes later, Ari lifted his hands and pushed to his feet, intent on getting as far from her as possible.

  He stepped back from the couch, turned so he didn’t have to look at her longer than necessary, and moved for the archway that led to his wing of rooms. “As soon as she’s alert and able to travel, I want her gone.”

  “Ari.” Silas sighed. “Maybe she’s—”

  “As soon as she’s able,” Ari repeated, not waiting to hear Silas’s protest. He knew what Silas was thinking. That a female in the house might do him some good. But Ari knew only bad could ever come from this situation. “I’ll not have her here disrupting my schedule. Not a minute longer, Silas. Get rid of her. That’s an order.”

  He disappeared through the doorway, but at his back he heard Silas mutter, “Maybe a little disruption’s what you need, dipshit.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Daphne blinked several times and tried to make sense of her surroundings. She definitely wasn’t on Olympus.