Marked

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Acacia’s chest rose and fell as she took long, steady breaths, but her eyes were locked on Nick’s. “How do you know all that?” she whispered.

  “Because I’ve been there. Because I was once like you, wondering where I fit in. I found it here. With my people. With our people, Casey.”

  “I—I don’t understand this. How…?” She glanced toward Theron. And his chest grew tight at the questions in her eyes. At the way she looked to him for answers. “If you live in a different”—she swallowed—“world, then how did my mother…? Was my mother one of you?”

  Theron shook his head. “From what I know, your father met her when he was in the human world. Many from our race do cross over from time to time, but it can be dangerous and it isn’t encouraged.”

  Nick frowned. “Obviously it happens more than the Argonauts would like to admit.”

  “Dangerous,” Acacia said, missing the barb as her eyes flicked back to Nick. “Because of those beasts. What were they?”

  “Daemons,” Nick said matter-of-factly. “Beasts of the underworld spawned by Hades and given power by a demigod. They hunt us.”

  Her eyebrows drew together, forming a crease in the middle of her forehead that was so damn sexy, Theron’s legs itched to cross to her and kiss it from her skin.

  “Why? I don’t understand that. I mean, I’ve never heard of them. Do they hunt humans too? Is this some big conspiracy theory the government’s not telling us?”

  Nick placed a hand on her arm. And that stab in Theron’s chest shot up to a warning roar. He fought the urge to throw himself at Nick and pry the man’s hand off Acacia’s arm, then break every bone in the half-breed’s body.

  “You have to stop thinking of yourself as human, Casey,” Nick said. “I know it’s hard to understand, but you’re one of us, and as such your life is vulnerable in different ways. The goal of the daemons is to eradicate the Argoleans and everything associated with them. And that, unfortunately for us, means our people as well.”

  “But why? What did we ever do to them?”

  “Nothing,” Theron said, drawing her attention his way. Her violet eyes flicked up to his, and when their gazes met, the roar in his head quickly morphed from one of protection to white-hot desire, just as it had that night up at her house by the lake.

  And that’s when it hit him. All of it at once. The real reason he hadn’t recognized who and what she was the first night he’d met her. It wasn’t because he’d been hurt. It was because she was his One.

  He swallowed hard at what he hoped couldn’t possibly be the real explanation. She was just a woman. She was human, something he couldn’t stomach even on a good day, which this most definitely was not. And she was going to save his race, whether she knew it or not. He had to focus on that. And not the…other possibility.

  “It goes back centuries,” he said, harsher than necessary. “To a disgruntled hero who sold her soul to Hades in exchange for immortality. She seeks to destroy that which shunned her. And she’s unleashed her daemons on the world to extinguish a race she hates.”

  “And that’s why you’re here,” she said plainly, those mesmerizing eyes of hers still locked on his. “To protect the race.”

  “To protect his race,” Nick cut in, shooting Theron a contemptuous look. “Make no mistake, Casey. Theron isn’t here to protect the Misos. Your father the king hasn’t tried to contact you once in twenty-seven years, and now suddenly he wants to see you? Before you agree to anything, ask yourself just what the heck he or this guardian could possibly want from you.”

  Acacia looked from Nick to Theron and back again. And then, as if someone had turned off a light inside her, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch. The color drained from her face, leaving her weak and spent, reminding Theron that even though her mind was strong, her body was not. “I don’t know what to think of any of this.”

  Nick rose from the couch and moved toward the door. On the wall he pushed some kind of button connected to a wire that disappeared into the rock. “You don’t have to think about it yet. I want you to get some rest. You don’t look well.”

  Acacia’s eyes flipped open just as the door creaked. A female who looked to be no more than twenty-five edged into the room. “Yes, Nick.”

  Nick helped Acacia from the couch. “Helene, this is Casey. I want you to get her settled in a room upstairs. She’s had quite a day and needs to rest. Bring her anything she needs.”

  Helene smiled at Nick, her dark eyes sparking, and only when she came more fully inside did Theron realize the half-breed female walked with an obvious limp.

  “Of course. Hi, Casey. We’re glad to have you with us.”

  Acacia glanced from Helene to Nick. “But—”

  “It’s okay,” Nick said. “Theron and I have things to discuss, and you need to sleep before you fall over. You’re completely safe here. Rest, and when you wake, I’ll answer your questions.”

  Acacia glanced around the room again in indecision, then finally turned her attention to the dark-haired woman. “I guess I am a little tired.”

  Helene’s grin widened. “Come on then. I know just which room to give you.”

  Theron watched the two women exit the office, consumed by a dark desire to follow Acacia out and up those grand stairs—which was suddenly starting to make a sickening sort of sense.

  No, no, no. He had to be wrong.

  “Enough with the crap, hero.”

  Slowly, Theron pulled his gaze from the closed door to look toward the suddenly aggressive half-breed in his presence, ready to do battle to the bitter end. Whatever questions he had about Acacia would have to wait.

  Nick’s scarred face twisted into a scowl. “I’m done playing games. It’s time you tell me just what you’re doing here and what the hell you really want with Casey.”

  Casey couldn’t remember ever being so tired. She was sore from the attack in her bookstore, emotionally spent and mentally whacked out. As she followed Helene up the wide staircase, she tried not to think about everything Nick and Theron had just told her. It was ludicrous, wasn’t it? Other races didn’t exist. And mythological heroes were just that…mythological, for crap’s sake.

  But even as she fought what they’d told her, she had the strangest sense she was wrong. It explained so much about who she was and where she’d come from and why she’d never connected with anyone in this world.

  And holy cow, she needed a lobotomy if she was so easily buying into all this.

  They reached the top of the staircase, and Helene gestured down a long hallway lined with closed doors and lit with candles every ten feet. “I think you’ll like the blue room. It’s very peaceful.”

  For the first time, Casey noticed the girl’s limp and wondered if she’d recently been hurt, possibly by those beasts they’d encountered earlier. “Are you all right?”

  Helene smiled. “I’m fine.”

  “But your leg—”

  Helene stopped and lifted one pant leg. A metal bar was anchored in a Nike running shoe. “Titanium. It’s new and I’m still getting used to it. My last prosthesis bugged me to no end. This one’s lighter.”

  Casey tried not to stare as the girl dropped her pant leg and kept moving down the long hallway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I—”

  “It’s okay,” Helene said. “I’ve been without my leg for a hundred years.”

  Casey’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You’re a hundred years old?”

  “One hundred and thirty-six, to be exact.”

  The hallway spun. Casey reached a hand out to steady herself. “How is that possible?”

  Helene’s arms were suddenly around her, supporting her, as she helped Casey inside the room. “Whoa there. I take it Nick hasn’t explained that part to you yet.” She eased Casey into a chair Casey vaguely registered as being white and incredibly soft. “Our life spans are relatively long. Not as long as an Argolean’s, of course, but it’s one of the reasons we live here in the colony and n
ot with humans.” A wry smile slid across her pretty face as she crossed the room to an armoire. She opened the double doors, fiddled inside for a few moments and came back with a mug of steaming tea, which she handed to Casey. “A one-hundred-and-thirty-six-year-old woman who looks like she’s thirty? That might garner a little attention in the human world, don’t you think?”

  Casey took the tea and brought it to her lips. A familiar scent surrounded her as she took a deep drink. “I smell lavender.”

  “Yes,” Helene said. “It’ll help you rest.”

  “You use it for healing,” she said, as images of her night with Theron flickered through her mind.

  “Among other things.” Helene crossed to a gigantic four-poster bed done all in light blue fabrics and folded back the plump covers. Crisp white sheets beckoned, promising respite. “There’s a small button on the wall next to the door. If you need anything, just push it and someone will come running.”

  “So modern?” Casey asked, remembering the candles.

  Helene smiled. “Yes. It’s not the Ritz, but we do have electricity and indoor plumbing. A main generator powers the colony, but because we’re not self-sufficient and everything costs money, we try not to overburden it. Candles are cheap and soothing, so we use those quite a bit. Up near the surface we have a lookout station complete with surveillance equipment, satellite phones and everything we need to connect with civilization.

  At Casey’s perplexed expression, Helene came around the bed. “I imagine you have a thousand other questions, but for now, try to rest. When you wake, Nick will tell you anything you want to know. Now sleep, Casey. And don’t worry. Tonight nothing will harm you.”

  “Thank you, Helene.”

  Alone, Casey leaned back in the plush chair and studied the room she’d been given. Pale blue walls on three sides matched the comforter on the bed. Two club chairs separated by a small side table occupied the corner. An enormous stone fireplace, already burning, took up nearly one whole wall. But the far wall held the most interest. It was made entirely of stone, and a small, naturally occurring opening formed a porthole-type window that had somehow been sealed with glass and covered by a variety of branches which, she imagined, camouflaged the opening from the outside. One look out into utter darkness signaled that this part of the cavern must form the edge of some massive cliff.

  So strange to be in a room in a cave. Kind of like the Anasazi tribes in the Southwest. Big villages built deep into the rocks for protection.

  Tired to her bones, she rose and pulled the small blue drapes to block out the darkness, blew out the candles on the walls, then tumbled into bed, not wanting to think about what had happened to the Anasazi. Or about hiding places or predators. Or kings or countries or gods or heroes. She just wanted to think about…nothing.

  But it didn’t work. As soon as she closed her eyes she saw the fight in her grandmother’s store. The fire. And…Theron.

  Why had he really come back for her?

  Not to finish what they’d started in her house, that was for sure. Not that she even wanted to anymore.

  Liar.

  Casey rolled to her side and closed her eyes tight. Stupid thoughts. Where Theron the Wonder Hero was concerned, she needed to watch her back, be on guard, not let him get to her the way he had the first time they met. The way he’d manhandled her on the hike up here was proof of that, wasn’t it? If he was his race’s idea of a hero, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know more about her lineage.

  She let out a long breath as her muscles relaxed one by one and sleep tugged at her. And though she fought it, she pictured Theron’s face. His dark eyes. His lush lips. The perfectly shaped nose and the small scars from battles fought and won. Saw, clearly, the smoldering look across those chiseled features when he’d bent and kissed her with the slightest brush of skin against skin that night at her house. And felt the rush of arousal in response that heated her blood.

  Damn, but for all her posturing she was in deep trouble. Even with all that she’d lost today, she had a sinking suspicion events hadn’t turned her world upside down. He had. And that feeling had nothing to do with daemons and heroes and kings and half-breeds. It had to do with one man who, somehow, had wormed his way into her soul from the very moment she’d laid eyes on him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dana was in a foul mood and it was getting fouler by the minute. As she drove back into Silver Hills—a town she thought she’d left behind nearly an hour ago—turned onto Old Cornell Road and passed XScream, she flipped the building the bird just for the heck of it.

  She hadn’t bothered to tell Karl she wasn’t coming back—ever—and she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over that decision. As far as she was concerned, he could go in the back room and fuck himself for all the nasty things he’d said and tried to do to her.

  And who the hell was Nick to order her to go to the colony anyway? He might be a good lay now and then, but that didn’t give him the right to tell her what to do.

  Her blood pressure shot up a level as she neared the lake and thought about the stupid-ass men in her life. Had she seriously thought Nick was forever material? Man, she really was delusional. She needed to get out of this town and away from the Misos before she did something stupid, like murdered Karl, and outed the colony to the humans once and for all.

  As if that would improve things for her.

  Dana blew her bangs out of her eyes as she pulled into Casey’s driveway. She knew Casey wouldn’t be home yet from the store and figured that was a good thing. She wasn’t in the mood to chat, and she hated drawn-out good-byes. The one at the store had been bad enough. She’d only come back here because she realized too late that she’d left her cell phone at Casey’s house the other night, and she needed it back if she was going to keep tabs on the colony. Even she wasn’t stupid enough to cut all ties. The GPS Nick had put inside everyone’s phones was her one link back if things got hot for her out in the real world.

  As she killed the engine and stared at the front of Casey’s cute one-story, she couldn’t help thinking back to the way Casey had looked today, standing behind the counter in her store, surrounded by all those books.

  And she couldn’t help but think of the way she’d smelled either. The scent of death was growing around her. When Dana first picked it up at the club, she’d hoped she was wrong, but every time she’d seen Casey since that night a few weeks ago, that wretched scent was getting stronger.

  A wave of despair washed over her, and for once she wished she was full Argolean and not prone to stupid human emotions. Misos were supposed to be stronger than the average human, but in Casey’s case, that wasn’t true. And dammit, it wasn’t fair. Especially because Casey was one of the sweetest people—Misos or human—Dana had ever met. The only bright spot was that Casey didn’t know what she really was.

  Man, Dana, your powers truly suck. Of all the gifts a Misos could have, she’d been saddled with the worst one of all. She could sense disease, but she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She wasn’t a healer. She wasn’t anything important. She was simply…a sensor. The prelude to the Grim fucking Reaper.

  With a scowl, she pushed the useless thought out of her head as she popped the door and eased out of her red Saturn. She was ninety-eight years old and she had a couple hundred years to go before she made it to the Isles of the Blessed. If she made it to that elusive plane where the favored heroes dwelt. Knowing her dumbass luck, she’d wind up stuck in Tartarus for all the bad shit she’d done in this world.

  And since that was just the king of all depressing thoughts, she wasn’t going there either.

  She trudged up the three porch steps and dug around in the potted yellow chrysanthemums Casey’d planted until she found the hide-a-key. Shaking her head, she told herself to convince Casey to find a better hiding spot. Any two-bit thug would find this in a heartbeat. That despair came back full force when she realized neither of them would be around for that conversation.

  Don’t dwell
on it. Not your problem anymore anyway.

  The house was cold and empty when she stepped inside. She flipped on a light in the living room and glanced at the coffee table where she was pretty sure she’d set her phone the night she and Casey had watched National Treasure and polished off a bottle of wine.

  No phone.

  Deciding that maybe Casey had moved it to the kitchen, she headed for the back of the house, twirling her key ring around her fingers as she moved while humming a few bars from Linkin Park’s “In the End.”

  She was so preoccupied, she didn’t notice the change in temperature until it was too late. Until she was already stepping into the room and her breath was curling in wisps of white around her in the suddenly frigid air.

  The first daemon stepped out of the laundry room, green eyes glowing, and studied her from head to toe. “You are not the One,” he growled.

  Oh, shit.

  Panic clawed up Dana’s throat. She didn’t think, just let instinct rule as she turned to run. And made it as far as the couch in the living room before the second daemon emerged from Casey’s bedroom, blocking her path to the front door. This one drew in a long whiff and uttered only one word.

  “Misos.”

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  Dana’s adrenaline spiked. The daemon from the kitchen had followed her and effectively cut off her only other means of escape.

  “Where is the One?” the second growled.

  Dana backed up against the TV cabinet. She opened her mouth, but fear rendered her speechless. She started to shake.

  “She doesn’t know,” the first said.

  “She knows,” the second growled, moving closer. “Where would she go?”

  Dana’s trembling intensified.

  “To the colony,” the first said, easing forward. “If you want to live, tell us how to find her.”