by Setta Jay
I’ve taken care of it. Her twin’s tone was ominous.
The girls? Gau?
Drugged.
She clenched her teeth. Harmed?
Unconscious.
Tasha keyed the door and it slid open.
Room six was set up to resemble an opulent bedroom, complete with an oversized custom bed sitting on top of a dais. That centerpiece now held four unconscious bodies. Gabby, Arianna and Gau were all naked and face down with a blanket tossed over them, and another female was also on the bed, equally drugged. The nude blonde was young and beautiful with perfectly round breasts lifted in offering to the ceiling. Her pale hair obscured her slack face.
The coppery scent of blood clung to the air along with other unpleasantness.
“What happened?” Brigitte demanded, her accent thick with fury as she rushed to the bed and lifted the blankets to scan the forms beneath.
Nastia stood tall and deceptively calm in her tight black catsuit and spiked heels. A couple feet in front of her sat two human males, who were secured firmly in place with narrow daggers impaling their hands to the arms of the antique chairs. Blood leaked from the wounds down to the comforter covering their laps and onto the rug below.
Nastia turned to Tasha, ignoring her prisoners for the moment as she gazed over with hard, deadly eyes. She and her twin were identical except for their hair. Nastia’s was cut above her shoulders, blunt, whereas Tasha kept hers long. Tasha could see the dark need to inflict pain in her twin’s eyes; she was too far gone.
“These pathetic pieces of shit like when their toys aren’t able to say no.” A lock of Nastia’s hair shifted over her face as she sent the two males a sadistic smile. “The others are fine, but these two were just learning the error of their ways.”
Tasha scented blood and urine coming from the stuttering males. She made a mental note to give housekeeping substantial bonuses for tonight.
One male was short and balding and the other was likely his security, much bulkier with a large crooked nose and a slick oiliness about him. They were both overly pale and shaking. Their eyes were glassy and small noises kept coming from their lips. The one who was likely Sergi sputtered that this was all some kind of mistake.
Sergi whimpered before stammering, “She’s crazy. A monster.” And more about misunderstandings. Tasha didn’t care. She counted seven blades, including the one in the wall, and shook her head. Only her sister carried that many knives just to have them. They were long, narrow and easy to conceal in her boots and elsewhere.
“Brigitte, give us a minute,” Tasha instructed the female.
The redhead left without another word, though Tasha could tell she wanted to say something, do something. Angry tension rolled off the Mageia and Tasha knew the female well enough to know she probably wanted a turn at the males.
Are you done? she asked her sister through their mental link as she crossed her arms and leaned back against the closed door.
Not yet.
“Stop her! Don’t you know who I am?” Sergi demanded, as if they truly cared. He had no idea who and what they were.
The guard was trying to work his hands free, seeping more blood as sweat ran down his temples.
“I don’t care who you are. But since you like games,” Nastia paused before whispering, “we’re going to keep playing.” Her twin finished with a grin.
Both males looked up at her, fear blatant in the smaller one. The other was enraged and wiggling his hands with more enthusiasm after assessing Tasha well enough to know she wasn’t going to help them.
She watched as Nastia’s booted foot slammed into Sergi’s crotch. His screams were high-pitched wails of agony that made sweat bead on the guard’s face as he tried uselessly to free himself. The bigger male kicked out, using the one leg that didn’t have a blade imbedded in the flesh and muscle; it was a wild desperate move that completely missed Nastia.
Tasha might have felt sorry for him if he didn’t deserve every ounce of suffering coming his way.
“You can’t do this to me. I have contacts. You will be dead by morning.” Sergi’s thickly accented tone was dosed with enough panic now that the words came out almost incoherently.
Nastia leaned in to Sergi, close enough that his eyes went wide and he tried to flinch back. He gasped like a dying fish when Nastia ignored him to slowly dislodge a blade that she’d left in the wall by his head. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong,” she whispered by his ear. “I can do anything I want. You’re in my club. At my mercy.” Her twin pushed back, using her foot between his thighs, igniting another scream of pain when she ground the spiked heel of her boot into the sensitive flesh. With a deadly smile, her twin paced in front of the men, twirling the thin blade in the palm of her hand.
No dead bodies in the club, Nastia. She sighed to her twin. It made for questions from authorities, and that was not something she liked. These two would die for what they’d done, just not here. You’re also running low on time, she pointed out. If her sister was going to fog memories, she only had an hour or so to work with. She’d already been in there for at least twenty minutes.
And I plan to make the most of my time. You can go. I don’t need a babysitter.
Tasha ignored Nastia’s attempt at dismissing her. She saw the darkness fighting behind her sister’s eyes. It was something Nastia reined in most days, but it always seemed to lurk in the background. Seeing it there hurt Tasha’s heart. She knew what created that need, and hated that things like this triggered her twin in a dangerous way.
No babysitter, really? I seem to remember something to do with a blacksmith and his enjoyment of small boys, Tasha mused in an attempt to snap her sister back.
Her twin growled through the metal link. That was centuries ago. When will you let that go?
When you stop taking these things so close to the edge. There are things to think about. Technology. Forensics. Yes, I know we can buy the authorities, you can fog memories, but do we know when Gabby and the others are going to wake? More memories to erase? She raised a brow at her sister in challenge. She hated seeing her like this.
Nastia’s lip curled.
Would her sister ever find any peace?
Chapter 2
The Guardian Manor, Tetartos Realm
Bastian heard a furious roar echo to the sky as he reformed at the edge of the clearing. He didn’t need to see Drake to know it came from his dragon leader. Birds erupted from the forest into the fading light of day as Drake and Vane exchanged brutal blows in a flurry of movement. The fight seemed to have spilled outside the downed ropes of the fighting ring.
He listened to the growls and roars culminate with a harsh grunt as Vane drove Drake into the dirt and leaves. The mountain air was crisp, even more so as the whipping winds lifted the scent of the smoke billowing from Drake’s lips into the skies. It was a sweet earthy wood scent, something unique to the dragon… and very old.
Bastian moved the long tail of his hair to lie at his back, glimpsing Sirena standing alone near a copse of trees. He moved toward the Guardian’s rigid form. The healer’s small frame was ramrod straight in her snug skirt and blouse, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the female he’d called sister for millennia. For months she’d been working day and night, and it showed in the tension riding her shoulders. She hadn’t been taking care of herself, she’d always put her work first, but this was stretching her too far. Drake had always been the one to keep her from getting lost in her work. They all knew that, but now Drake was too buried in his own rage to do anything about what was happening to Sirena. They didn’t know when he’d come back from it. How they were going to pull him back from being lost to his beast.
Pothos had been doing what he could, shadowing Drake while Sirena had her hands full trying to help their leader by healing the female that would either save or destroy the dragon. Sirena was the only one who could do what needed to be done, but she couldn’t if she wasn’t taking care of herself.
“How long have th
ey been sparring?”
He was surprised that she’d left the lab. This was likely the first sliver of sunlight she’d seen in the weeks since they’d lost a God and found Delia, the female at the root of Drake’s rage.
She snorted. “Sparring? They’ve been beating the hell out of each other for hours.”
He nodded and glanced back at the battle.
Smoke curled from Drake’s lips, circling around the two opponents’ brawling forms.
The fighters were cousins and both had pale hair, but Drake’s wild waves were tied back in a high tail. The two had shed their shirts, and blood trickled down Vane’s side to the edge of his jeans. It looked like the wound had already closed and healed, leaving blood as the only evidence of its existence.
Drake lunged again; he had a few inches of height and bulk on his cousin and used it to barrel the other male into the nearest tree. Wood and bark snapped and crashed to the ground in a whirl of leaves and dust.
Drake’s glassy emerald eyes were wild, he hadn’t shaved in weeks, and the thick beard made him look like a larger version of the old berserkers. He looked like hell.
Bastian leaned one tan shoulder against a tree to watch the fight, waiting for the moment he’d have to help break things up. This wasn’t two Guardians blowing off steam or pitting their strength for amusement. It wasn’t even two Immortals fighting to appease the needs of their beasts. No, this was a violent, raw beating. Vane looked to be taking everything Drake dealt and dishing it back while Brianne, his mate, watched beside Pothos at the edge of the ring.
Any other time Brianne would have been the one shouting, taunting and placing bets at the sidelines, but that wasn’t the case now. She was quiet.
He heard a grunt and crash as the two blasted into an oak tree at least a few feet wide. A sharp snap and crash followed as it slammed to the ground. The rules were no powers, no shifting, just hand to hand to keep things on equal ground. It was a good sign that Drake hadn’t lost control and shifted into his dragon. It meant he was still holding it together, still their leader. For now. It didn’t mean there would be any forest left when this was done.
The strength of the two Demi-Gods could level the entire area if they lost themselves. It was something to consider since they were less than a half a mile from the manor. How far would the two take it? Bastian scrutinized Vane. This was the male’s last test to show he could contain the beasts inside him, and he seemed to be passing. Even fighting as hard as he was, the male was still holding it together. His eyes were still a bright blue not the odd glowing green they’d been when he and Brianne had transitioned as the first hybrid pair. It was Drake who was wild and close to the edge.
“Have the others been here?” Bastian asked Sirena.
“Yes. After the first hour Drake snapped and snarled for them to ‘get back to finding the fucking God.’ His words,” she responded sourly.
Apollo had escaped his stasis unit nearly a month ago, with help, and they hadn’t found him anywhere in the four Realms. They only hoped that he’d been confined in Tetartos Realm, where he’d been freed. Only the twelve Guardians of the Realms were supposed to be able to pass through the Creators’ confinement spell on the Immortal Realm, and the last thing they needed was for Apollo to have the same freedom.
The Creators had sent the Gods to sleep for subjugating those less powerful, and Apollo had been one of the worst offenders. In his time, the Deity had enslaved and experimented on the Immortal races, forcing them to breed his army. As much as Bastian hated the God, he couldn’t get the Creators’ prophecy out of his head. They’d told the Guardians that the Gods would one day be needed. They just hadn’t told them what they’d be needed for or when. Only three of the Deities could potentially be trusted; the other nine were twisted beings who’d fed off the dark energies of human suffering and sacrifice for mere amusement during their reign.
“Alex and Erik will be back soon, I’m sure. They’ve been here most of the time.” They were Vane’s siblings, so it made sense they’d keep checking on their brother. They were also part of the Guardian fold now and patrolled with the others. Alex usually went with her Guardian mate, Uri, but lately she’d been helping with other projects because of her strong mental abilities.
Sirena’s voice in his head stopped that train of thought. Drake knows he’s losing his grip; he told the three of us to stay.
Meaning Sirena, Brianne and P?
Bastian nodded. I just finished patrol. Why don’t you get some rest, some energy, while I watch over them?
She seemed so caught up in watching the whirling fighters that he hadn’t been sure she’d paid the words any attention until she answered, I’m fine.
Are you? His mental voice was low and calm. Someone needed to make sure Sirena took care of herself. A couple of his brothers’ mates had been trying to help in the lab, but none had the skills that Sirena did. She still needed to handle the majority of the work, but that didn’t mean it had to be day and night.
Her eyes flashed in his direction. I am a grown female. I will take care of myself as I deem fit. The warning was clear. She wanted him to back off.
So much had happened in the last months. Brianne’s mating alone had kept Sirena busy and up all hours to figure out how to save them. A hybrid pairing shouldn’t have been possible, yet it happened, just not without difficulty.
Thanks to Apollo’s experiments on Immortals, all the races held animal DNA, even the non-shifting Immortals like Bastian and Sirena held a beast of sorts. Theirs may be deeper inside, quieter, but they were still there. When Immortals mated, so did the beasts within.
Millennia ago, when Apollo had started his experiments, he’d learned that Immortals weren’t capable of housing two beasts without the animals taking over completely. That was how the ancient Gryphons were formed. They were an experiment gone wrong, and the Immortals used were lost to the mutated half lion, half bird. But Brianne, who was a Geraki, half bird of prey, and Vane, a Demi-God lion shifter, had mated and come through it maintaining their ability to gain human form. Now both had a cat and a bird inside them and were far more powerful than what they’d been. That power was the reason Drake was testing their control before allowing them more freedom to hunt the God. Brianne had passed. It was Vane’s turn today.
Matings had always been a rare gift, a blessing, but now in a matter of months, seven of the twelve Guardians had been given mates, including Brianne’s hybrid pairing. With that bond came added power, which made them all edgy, all too aware that there had to be some bigger reason that fate deemed to give them their other halves. For the Guardians to be given more power, it wouldn’t be without a purpose, which somewhat tempered the excitement of his brothers and sister finding their other halves.
He let his gaze fall back to Sirena, bringing his mind back to what was important, tamping down the twinge of anticipation that he could be the next to find a mate.
What was important was Sirena taking care of herself. Would it be too much to allow us to look after you for a change?
She blew out a frustrated breath. I need to get back to Delia, not rest. Vane’s beasts needed this fight for dominance, it was inevitable with all the new power inside him, and Drake had to be the one to test him, but he isn’t himself.
He nodded and looked back at the fighting pair. No. Drake wasn’t himself and with damned good reason.
We’ve got him, Sirena. I’m here and so are P, Brianne and Vane.
She nodded again but didn’t leave.
More brethren would show up as they finished patrolling. But P, Pothos, the son of Hades, wouldn’t let Drake lose himself. Even now his stony blue gaze was intent on the fight. He’d been watching over Drake for the weeks since they’d found Delia and learned what she was to their leader.
The dragon bellowed, more beast than man as he slammed Vane into another thick tree. It crashed to the ground, taking other smaller foliage in its path. Any of them would have been in the infirmary already, but Vane was alre
ady countering as if it hadn’t fazed him at all. He could only hope this would help Drake burn off some of the rage.
How is Delia? he asked Sirena as they watched Drake and Vane grapple on the ground. Vane’s blue eyes were a little wild as he shouldered Drake into another tree. A loud crack echoed before another rustling crash of wood.
Not well. Sirena paused for a second. The pain seems to be gone now, but the medications and spells to get her to sleep aren’t working right because of the serum Cyril pumped into her. I can’t even seem to get her in a sleep state for more than a few hours at a time. I keep going over the blood tests and how they matched with all of you. I haven’t found the answer to reversing the effects of the drug.
The drugs their enemy had pumped into the female were the unknown. The bastard had found a way around the mating spell. The spell that made it so that Immortals could only bond and have young with the one who was theirs. It had been meant to free the Immortals from being breeders for Apollo’s army millennia ago. And it had. But the Guardians’ oldest enemy, Cyril, had found a way around it. A horrible way.
Delia had been an innocent mortal Mageia before she’d been abused by Cyril. She’d been abducted, raped, turned Immortal, and then mated to a Lykos only to watch the male die at Cyril’s hand so that he could mate her himself. She was incredibly powerful now. She’d killed Cyril and managed to fake her own death, but now she was feral and had been feeling the painful side effects that came with knowing Drake was her mate. Immortal matings were a frenzy of need and pain if the pair didn’t complete the process, which ended in a blood exchange that bonded them forever. It usually started after the initial touch, which hadn’t happened between Delia and Drake, but some of the races felt the effects differently, and with the drug Cyril pumped into Delia, everything seemed different. She’d been in pain when first scenting Drake, and had been hurting for weeks. Bastian was glad it finally eased, but that didn’t make everything okay.
