by Ella Frank
But as the word left his mouth, a cloud the color of ash exploded from his palms and the cuffs disintegrated under the force of it as it hit the one stalking him.
Paris sucked in a shocked breath as the monstrosity of a male seemed to shrink and shrivel before his eyes. When he fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Paris clenched his fist shut and pulled it to his chest—because he was the one causing whatever was happening.
He was shaking all over as he stared at the unmoving figure at his feet.
Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. What was that?
He opened his hands and saw that he was free. Then his eyes darted to the open door. He didn’t have time to think. This was it. He needed to act. So he stepped over the vampire and ran faster than he’d ever run in his life.
ALASDAIR COULDN’T BELIEVE what was happening.
One, three, twenty, fifty—the Assembly Hall emptied out faster than he’d ever seen before. He sought Vasilios’s guidance, but he merely remained seated on his throne upon the stage and watched as every member of the lair faded to whatever hole they could hide inside until the shitstorm that had unraveled was sorted.
Diomêdês had vanished after Isadora, no doubt hunting her down to kick her ass. And Alasdair didn’t envy her that confrontation in the slightest if the fulminating look on her Ancient’s face was anything to go by.
Eton, still seated by Vasilios, seemed to have slipped into some sort of catatonic state. It was as if he hadn’t witnessed anything that had just taken place. Not the confrontation with the one who had irreparably damaged his first-sired, and not even the revelation of who and what they were dealing with. It was unnerving to see him so despondent, and as his eyes fell to him once again, Eton silently faded out of the room—not unlike one would fade from life.
Alasdair looked to Vasilios, curious what he was thinking. Ever since he’d told him what he’d learned from the little dig he had done of Leo’s long-haired friend, his Ancient had been unusually tight-lipped and had sealed his mind shut.
The news had solidified what they’d begun to suspect about the gods. But what did it mean now that they knew they were dealing with their direct descendants? What were they capable of?
Clearly, the gods believed in mass destruction. Genocide of their race. But with the way Leo’s heart was thumping, Alasdair couldn’t help but think there was more to it because this man didn’t seem confident enough for homicide on such a scale—or any, for that matter. He might have wanted to murder him and Vasilios, but that was another thing entirely.
“Where did she take him?”
Alasdair heard the question but didn’t bother answering. Instead, he stood and made his way over to Vasilios, who had a frown plastered on his handsome face.
“Hey? I asked you a question,” Leo said, reaching for his arm.
When his fingers gripped him, Alasdair spun on him, an angry growl of warning rumbling from his throat.
“Let go.”
“No.” Leo angled his chin up, and his eyes turned to slits. “Where did she take him? Tell me.”
“That’s enough, Leonidas.” Vasilios’s voice boomed through the empty hall.
Leo’s eyes flicked up to where Vasilios was now standing. Then Leo released his arm and shook his head, his eyes wild.
“I trusted you,” he whispered, and Alasdair wasn’t sure whom that was directed at. “You broke his bones. Crushed his windpipe…” His voice shook as the memory of what he’d witnessed hit him.
Alasdair remained where he was, his eyes fastened to the man now backing away from him.
“Yes,” Vasilios agreed. “But I only broke one bone. You should be thanking me for my restraint.”
“Th-thanking you?” Leo sputtered, winding his arms around his waist. “You’re a monster.”
When Alasdair took a step towards him, Vasilios appeared by his side and touched his arm, halting him in place. He sensed caution from his Ancient as they stood side by side, carefully eyeing the one they’d recently tied themselves to.
“And, apparently, you’re a god,” Vasilios announced. “Surely you are not surprised by what happened here, Leonidas. You have seen our past. We hunt. We kill. We are monsters. So, what is your point? Because I’m growing quite irritated, I will admit.”
“My point is,” Leo said, continuing to back away from them, “I don’t want to be tied to monsters. You had a choice tonight, just like I did the night I said I would help you.”
Disappointment and fear flashed in Leo’s eyes, and the hurt Alasdair felt from that emotion threatened to consume him. It was unnerving. Almost as much as the rage he’d felt when he had seen the one who’d tried to murder his cousins.
“Oh, agóri,” Vasilios said. “It is too late. You are already tied to us. Now, come here.”
As the order was being issued, Leo adamantly shook his head and raised his hands, and the ground under Alasdair’s feet started to shake. He looked down to the solid stone as a hairline fracture splintered between his feet, and then his eyes flew back to the man who was warding them off.
Leo’s eyes were like two grey storm clouds building and swirling with the thunder that seemed to be vibrating out of him as the massive walls around them shook. Then, as if the clouds had parted and a burst of sunshine were shining through, a blast of golden heat emanated off him, singeing their faces and their hands. The burn was similar to what he’d felt the night he’d drunk from Leo’s vein, except it was one hundred times more potent.
Leonidas. The roaring command that hit all three of their minds was pure power. All Vasilios. Stop this. Now.
Once the command had found its way into Leo’s mind, he blinked and everything stilled. Silence engulfed them as they each stared at one another, and then Vasilios spoke.
“There. Now, I have my proof.”
LEO’S HANDS SHOOK as he stared at the two opposite him. Holy shit. That was… What in the world was that? He was about to ask when, without a word—or a thought, for that matter—Vasilios vanished and he was left standing in the cavernous space alone with Alasdair.
“Well, that answers that,” Alasdair said, and then he turned to walk away from him.
“What? That doesn’t answer shit. Elias and Vasilios both think we’re some kind of gods?” he asked as if the idea were impossible. I mean, it is, isn’t it?
As Alasdair made his way up the walkway, Leo spun around to follow.
“Hey. Don’t walk away from me.”
Before he could catch his breath, Alasdair appeared in front of him and he grabbed the lapels of his robe.
“It explains why your blood caused me to lock up and almost die the night I tried to feed from you. It explains, Leonidas, why you would see my past when you put your mouth on mine, and it also explains why Vasilios is so taken by you.”
The anger at his own shortcomings was nothing new coming from Alasdair, but the jealousy in the final comment was. Leo hadn’t seen that emotion in him before, and it had him balling his fists in agitation.
“That’s something that clearly pisses you off more than the fact that you could be dead.”
Alasdair released him with a hard shove. “Do not get blithe with me, file mou.”
“Why not? Does it upset you?” he asked, getting right up in the vampire’s face. Risky move, yeah, but fuck it. “What are you going to do? Break my finger? Snap my leg, maybe?”
“What good would that do? You are more powerful than even I am with Vasilios’s blood mixing with yours.”
“Ahh. And there lies your problem, am I right?” Leo had to admit that it felt good to finally be one up on Alasdair. He walked around and jabbed him in the chest. “You don’t like that, do you? But which part don’t you like? The power part or the interest part?” With his anger riding him, Leo glared at the one who’d taken him in the first place and reminded him, “You tracked me down, remember? You offered me to him, this… It was all you.”
“No,” Alasdair thundered back, his teeth bared,
and Leo couldn’t help but marvel at the ferocious side of this male. “It was all them. Don’t you understand? I didn’t track you down because I wanted you. Your gods, they led me to you. You were designed with one purpose, and that was to lure me in and kill me. You know all of my weaknesses, you are able to see all my faults, and I know nothing of you. Yet, now, you are able to destroy me. Destroy us.” Alasdair’s tone was filled with fury and disgust at himself, and when his voice dipped an octave lower, Leo’s hair stood tall. “You stand there preaching that you do not wish to be tied to us. That you are the one worried about the monsters. Somehow, file mou, I believe the tables have turned, wouldn’t you agree? Did it ever cross your mind that I do not wish to be tied to you?”
No, it didn’t.
But, before he could say the words, Alasdair was gone.
Neda’s Waterfall—Present Day
THE DISTANT SOUND of falling water was the first thing Elias heard. Not just a gentle trickle, but the thunderous rush of a treacherous current. He glanced at his surroundings and shifted so he could run a cuffed hand over the surface his ass was planted on. Dewy grass and moist dirt coated his palm as he continued to scan the area. There were lush, green trees and shrubs as far as the eye could see, and directly in front of him was a large pool of water at the base of a majestic waterfall.
Where the hell am I? Heaven? No…
The cuffs around his wrists and the ache in his finger remained, telling him that he wasn’t dead just yet—still, there was no sign of Isadora.
His scrambled brain thought back to the last thing he remembered, and it was a vision he’d never forget. Isadora, resplendent in her beauty as she twisted his broken finger at a warped angle. An eye for an eye. At this stage, he didn’t even begrudge her her vengeance, and he’d made peace with the fact that, if he were to die, then to have it be at her hands would be the way he’d wish to go out. The only mystery left was: Where exactly was she?
“Isadora!” he shouted into the moonlit night as he got to his feet.
He waited, wondering if his death was to be slow and drawn out. That, however, didn’t seem her style.
“Isadora! I know you’re here. Show yourself and let this be over.”
As if he were imagining her, she was standing in front of him, fierce as always, her boot tips grazing the toes of his shoes.
“Over? No, Elias. We are just getting started.”
Her brilliant, blue eyes glimmered at him as he swallowed a gulp of air. Then he made himself look beyond that captivating face.
“Where are we?” He wasn’t sure if she would answer, considering everything that had passed between them.
But she looked over her shoulder at the waterfall and whispered, “We are back where it all began.”
The ache in his hand was distracting as fuck, but even without the pain, her words would’ve confused him. “What is this place, Isadora?”
She was silent for several seconds. Then, as she turned and walked towards the water’s edge, she said in a voice so haunting that it chilled his bones, “Hell.”
ISADORA CLOSED HER eyes and let the sound of the rushing water fill her mind. If she listened carefully, she swore she could hear the ghosts of her past calling to her.
“Hell?” Elias asked.
She spun back to face the man who was contemplating her with total focus. He was cradling his arm, and though the pain of the finger must’ve been excruciating, he never took his eyes off her.
She briefly wondered why she had brought him here. It hadn’t been her intention when she’d arrived at the Assembly Hall, but once she’d been standing there, expected to end his life, she’d hesitated. Then he’d told her how he had loved the wrong woman—and everything had come crashing in on her. Her past, her present, everything she was and had been were now hovering between her and this man.
He didn’t understand her at all. That she could love and had loved. But that wasn’t his fault. She’d never shown him her feelings. Never allowed him to see beyond the desire and lust. Instead, she had played the role of the busy career woman who enjoyed him night after night. When, really, there had been a lot more to it. She had been drawn back to him time and time again, and had even found herself thinking of ways to ask Diomêdês if they could keep him. In the end, however, she had let Elias go.
It had seemed the fairest option of all. He’d been a good man when she’d known him, one who’d deserved a woman who could give him the life he must have wanted. So, when her Ancient had demanded to meet him after suspecting a deeper connection, she had ended things.
The idea of trying to explain who and what she was, as well as the complicated bond she shared with Diomêdês, had seemed impossible back then.
“Back in your office, you said that you didn’t know me, and you are right. You do not. I never let anyone close enough to really know me. But, somewhere along the way, you were no longer just anyone to me. Were you, Elias? And, now, we know why. You are much greater than just…anyone. You are a direct descendant. A demigod sent to kill me, to kill my sire. Is that right? Well, I cannot let you do that. I will not let you do that. He has suffered too much already, as have I, and I think it’s only fair that, before you die”—she looked back at him—“you understand what I speak of. That you understand how wrong you are about me and our kind.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose, and it reminded her of the arrogant, sexy-as-hell man she hadn’t been able to deny whenever he’d been within arm’s reach.
“This is where I was turned,” she said as she crouched to run her fingers through the water. “Did your gods tell you that?”
When he didn’t answer, she stood and walked back to where he had his hand on his chest, gnashing his teeth together, fighting through the pain.
“Does your finger hurt? That’s truly unfortunate.”
Quicker than she’d expected, Elias reached for her arm with his restrained hands and pulled her forward. “What are you waiting for, Isadora? Just do it. Finish what you started years ago. Rip my heart out and be done with it.”
She gently removed his fingers from her jacket and told him, “Not yet.” Then she raised her hand to his cheek. When her fingers trembled, she speared them through the strands of his hair instead. Once his eyes had met hers, she said, “I want to know: Are you like your little friend? Alasdair’s human?” She leaned in until her lips were a whisper from his and asked, “Will you see my past if I put my mouth on yours? You never used to, but that was…before.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and when they came back up to hers, the challenge was written all over his face.
Dare you to find out.
She brushed her lips over the corner of his mouth and confessed, “I understand you better than you ever imagined. Long ago, I too loved the wrong woman, and she loved me. And, just like you are going to, she died for it.”
With that, she crushed her lips to the familiar ones that had tempted her time and time again and showed him who she really was.
Neda’s Waterfall—31 BC
THE SPLINTERING PAIN ricocheting through his head was like someone had taken a bat to it. Jesus fucking Christ, Elias thought as he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. He massaged it as if it would help and then lowered his arms when the sound of cracking branches caught his attention.
He turned, and as his gaze found the shrubs and trees crawling the rock face of the waterfall, he realized that it looked different.
Damn, it is true. He’d known they would be able to see snippets of the one they were supposed to end, but he hadn’t realized how clear and how real they would be. He also knew that it was fleeting. He’d been warned they would only see a couple of pertinent moments before it was time, but this… This went way beyond what he’d expected.
There. There it was again, the snapping of branches, and then he saw her. Isadora was eagerly racing between the thick foliage, making her way down a worn track. The sun’s rays warmed her skin as it filtered through the branches and
leaves arching over the narrow path. The confident way she ran through the trees made it obvious she’d trekked down to the waterfall several times before.
She is beautiful, was his first thought as she slowed down and walked out into the clearing. She waited off to the side of the riverbank and looked past him as if he weren’t there, and that was when he heard the footsteps of another.
Behind him, a second woman was standing by the lapping water with her back to them. Her hair, the color of the morning light, fell in waves down her back. It was as if Apollo himself had kissed her. Her skin was honey toned, and when she turned, he caught sight of her almond-shaped eyes, which were a rich, sensual brown. She looked like a sun goddess come to life.
“Come, my Isa,” the woman invited. “Do not tell me we finally snuck down here only to keep such distance between us. Are you not baking in this sun today?”
Elias watched, transfixed by the glowing smile the woman aimed at Isadora, and when he tore his eyes away to look back at the one he was starting to realize he’d never really known, Isadora was reaching for the leather strap fastened around her breastbone.
Fucking hell, this is her. This is who Isadora had been telling him about. The woman she had loved. The woman who had died.
He didn’t know where he wanted to look more: at Isadora or the one she couldn’t keep her eyes from. In the end, he followed her gaze and caught the blonde turning away from them and reaching for the hem of her dress.
Damn, she was fucking breathtaking, Elias thought, and when a soft gasp came from behind, he knew that Isadora was thinking the same. The golden temptress was several feet away from them, but as the thin material whispered over the skin of her smooth thighs and bare, rounded ass, Isadora walked right past him to get closer.
Her skin was flawless, not a blemish to be seen, and Elias caught himself following behind Isadora, wishing he could touch. As the mystery woman slipped the garment over her head, Isadora stopped several inches behind her and raised her hand. She didn’t actually make contact with the woman. Instead, at the last minute, she moved a hand between her own thighs, rubbing the heel of her palm against her covered mound as she pressed the material of her dress high between her thighs.
