Not anymore, I thought. I wished, for a moment, that the humans still wanted to build monuments and temples to us. Some did. Small, private altars. Most of those had been created to honor Mollis. But how I would love to see an entire temple devoted to Mollis Eth-Hades. This world had no idea, none at all, what she had done to protect it, what she still did, every single moment of her life.
Thinking of my friend, I pulled my phone, a replacement Brennan had shoved into my hands before I’d left home, from my pocket and glanced at the time. It was well after midnight, but I knew she would be awake. Mollis, like Hades, rarely slept.
She answered on the first ring.
“What’s up, E?” she asked in greeting.
“I saw Poseidon.”
“Oh, good. Was he any help?”
“He did not need to be. Triton was there as well.”
There was a moment of silence. “Okay. And? Tell me you got something out of the asshole.”
I sighed. “He would not tell me anything, other than that he was sorry I’d been hurt. He claims to have hated being part of it, but also claimed that he did not have a choice. He claims that he was there that night because he was trying to stop anyone from tampering with Lethe’s mind, but when he saw me, he took off because he was not ready to face me.”
“Do you believe him?” she asked.
I shrugged, well aware that she could not see the movement. “I do not know. Once, I thought I knew him. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“E…” she started to say something, and then seemed to go silent.
“What?”
“I get that what Triton did to you… I get that it knocked you on your ass. It made you question everything you thought you knew about those you care for. I see it all, every time I look at you,” she said, a note of apology in her voice. She did not like intruding in my thoughts, but she was unable to prevent it. It was merely the way her powers worked, and it was a burden I was eternally grateful I did not have to deal with. “I’m just trying to say, it shouldn’t. One asshole is not a trend.”
“Twelve sisters, one Fury, several gods I have known forever, one former best friend… it kind of is a bit of a trend, demon girl.”
I heard her sigh. “When you say it like that, I can’t even argue with you. Except to say this: those of us who are with you now… we would rather die than lose your trust. Me, Nain, Heph, Meaghan, Asclepius, Artemis. We would never hurt you that way. And neither would Brennan.”
I closed my eyes. I did not want to talk about my husband and the way he had of twisting me so thoroughly that I no longer knew whether I was flying or falling. “I know,” I said.
“You’re just saying that so I’ll stop talking about it.”
“Insightful as always,” I said, and she laughed.
“Don’t make me have Heph come and cheer you up,” she mock-threatened. “We love you. We’re all here for you, if you’d just let us be. You don’t have to face this shit on your own.”
“First of all, I do, because other than my New Guardians, I am the only one who can hunt and destroy the undead. Secondly, you sound like Brennan.”
“He’s not wrong.”
“Sometimes he is.”
“Not when it comes to you, though. He loves you. He knows you in ways that even I don’t, which surprised me the first time I realized it. Sometimes, I’m so bombarded by what is, that I can’t look any deeper, to what’s behind it. He sees it, because he loves you.”
I blew out a breath. “Can we please get back to the issue at hand?”
“Isn’t this it? As far as I see it, this is the issue at hand. If you break, we’re fucked here. Yes. You’re the only one who can destroy the undead. If you don’t learn to start leaning on people, start trusting them, start letting them help you however they can, you’re going to fall apart. Take it from someone who knows.”
“I am fine.”
“Nightmares, E. You have lots of them. Fears. Anger. You don’t want to talk about that?”
“I think I liked you better before you could see everything about me,” I said, and the line went silent. I winced, aghast at my thoughtlessness. “I am sorry, Mollis. I did not mean it.”
“You did, though. You’re not the only one who feels that way.”
“I do not really feel that way. I lashed out at you. You are not wrong. I feel stretched, like I am about to snap. I am handling it the best I can, and at this point, leaning on others frightens me more than facing it all alone. Does that make sense?”
“It does. Okay. So Triton wouldn’t tell you anything. Any ideas?”
“I had considered having a Fury look at him. He knows things.”
“Yet you didn’t call any of us to help,” Molly said.
“He was terrified of the idea, and with that in mind, I thought it might be a bad move. They would see it as an act of aggression, and the sea gods so far have either kept out of the fray or come in to support you when needed. I did not want to give them cause to do otherwise. We have enough to deal with.”
“I agree. We won’t rule it out, but we’ll give him time. Hopefully he’ll come around to it on his own. Do we have any other leads?”
I paused a moment to reflect on how much Mollis had changed, how she had grown and matured since taking the mantle of God of Death from her father. The old Mollis would have destroyed, ripped into minds, without fear of the repercussions. She had been effective, in a way, but her aggression had also caused its own share of problems. I was proud of the woman my friend had been, and even more so of the one she was becoming.
“I have been mulling it over, trying to think of other immortals who have the powers of mental manipulation. Some of the lesser immortals can do small things, play tricks of the mind, that sort of thing. But the only ones who are powerful enough, other than the Furies, to be able to erase or obscure memories, would be the Oneiri,” I said. “Have you heard of them?”
“Yes. My mother has told me a little about them. Dream gods, right?”
“I think I should begin seeking them out. One of them was involved. It was not you, or any of the other Furies. They are the only other ones capable of that level of mental manipulation.”
“I think that’s a good plan. Do you have any idea where to find them?”
“I know some of Morpheus’s old haunts. I will begin searching for him. The others will not speak to me without his approval anyway, so any hope of help at all rests on Morpheus.”
“And from what my mother has said, he’s not super-likely to help,” Molly said.
“Perhaps not. But unless we want to start a potential war with the sea gods, it is the only step we can take for now. I can be very persuasive.”
“Yes, you’re a real pain in the ass when you want to be,” Mollis agreed wryly. “I love you, though.”
I smiled to myself. “I love you, too, demon girl. Try to get some sleep.”
“I will. Maybe. Keep me posted, all right?”
“I promise.” I bid her goodnight, and then hung up. I glanced at the time, then at the sky.
Looking for a dream god who did not want to be found would take a bit of time. I might as well keep my eyes open for more undead to cut down along the way.
Chapter Five
I spent twelve days searching for Morpheus, picking my way through three of his favorite getaways, without a sign of him. I lost count of the number of undead I destroyed along the way. Their ends should have pleased me, but they did not. I knew there were still far too many out there, and that for each one I killed, it was likely that another dozen were being created, that very moment, to take their place.
I am the kind who enjoys a challenge. I like being outnumbered in a fight. Even I have my limits, and this was looking more and more like a fight I could not win.
I hate that.
Twelve days, dozens of undead gone, and still no sign of Morpheus or the other Oneiri. I had ignored more than a few calls from Brennan, and then yet another phone had been destroyed by th
e undead. I could only imagine that he had called several more times. Even if I had had a phone, I knew I would have forgotten to call him back.
I paced a deserted beach near one of Morpheus’s deserted haunts, wondering where to go next, when I heard the distinctive “pop” that signified an immortal rematerializing. I swiftly drew my Netherblade and spun, ready to take on whoever appeared.
I lowered the blade when I saw Artemis and Brennan. Artemis gave him a not-very-gentle shove toward me. Then she glared at me. “He’s a right pain in the ass when he’s worried about you. You deal with him for a while. I’m going back to Sean.” Then she looked at Brennan. “Do not come back until you get rid of the enormous stick you seem to have up your ass, grandson.” And with that, she was gone.
I got over my surprise, which quickly turned to annoyance. “I am working.”
He turned to me, and I caught the glint in his eye. The dangerous one. The one that told me he was at the end of his patience, that he was worried, angry, tense…
…That look usually led to me, screaming in pleasure.
“Not now,” I said icily.
He had taken a few steps toward me and stopped as if I’d slapped him.
“Yes, now,” he said after he recovered. “This is when I finally have a chance to be with you. I’ve been running around nonstop for the last week because there’s a fucking war erupting in London—”
“What?”
“The humans there decided to take it upon themselves to start attacking known vampire covens and shifter packs. As you can guess, it didn’t go well.”
I did not know what to say.
“So after a week of dealing with dead bodies and blood and guts and the fallout of supernaturals killing normals, yes, I need you. Now.”
“I’m busy,” I told him. “Or have you forgotten that I also have work to do?”
He looked up at the clear night sky as if he was praying for patience. “I know. Except that lately it’s really convenient how your work is keeping you away from me, isn’t it? You think I don’t see the way you keep putting up walls between us, Eunomia? Don’t you know by now that I will knock down any wall you put between us, that when I see you isolating yourself, I know you’re hurting? Don’t you know by now that I refuse to watch you hurt alone?”
“What if I don’t want you to see me this way? What if I want to be alone?” I asked, my voice coming very close to a shout. I clamped my mouth shut, surprised by the near-outburst.
“Are you mad, Eunomia?” he asked, a taunting tone to his voice. “Was that anger? I don’t even know, because it’s so rare to see any emotion at all from you anymore.”
I stammered, trying to come up with an appropriate response.
“Except for when I have you naked, and there’s nowhere for you to hide.”
I stalked away, refusing to have this conversation. My face burned, my stomach fluttered, my body ached for the release I knew he could give me. He could be endlessly, maddeningly thorough, bringing me to the edge and back over and over again. I knew that, and I craved it.
It was weakness, to need anyone this way. The thought came, unbidden, an echo of how I’d spent my entire life. I hated to admit how much of that belief system was still in there, how, even though I loved him with everything I was, needing him made me feel weak.
He caught up to me and planted himself in front of me. Those blue eyes bored down into me, and I felt, at that moment, as if he could see far more than even Mollis could. “Stop,” I said hoarsely.
“Stop what? Being here? Loving you? Insisting on trying to share our life when it seems like that’s the last thing you want?”
I growled and shoved at his chest. I am powerful, but he barely swayed and stood there, instead, towering over my small frame.
“I have actual work to do,” I said, forcing my voice to be even. My breath came in fast pants, my heart hammered against my ribs, having him this close, this on edge, this virile and warm and—
“And yet, I can smell how bad you want me,” he said in a low voice, and I felt as if my entire system was about to melt down. “You need me, and I know I need you. Physically, at least, we seem to have it all figured out.” He took a step forward, and I took a step back, away from him. Another step, another step, another step, until my back hit one of the remaining pillars of what had once been a monument to the gods. There was a flicker of victory in his eyes, and then he lowered his mouth to mine, crushing my lips with his, his beard abrading my skin, his lips punishing, taking, devouring. I moved to push him away, and he took my wrists in his large hands, and then pulled them up over my head, keeping me pinned to the pillar as he kissed, teased, tortured my lips, then my throat. His teeth nipped the sensitive skin at the base of my throat, and I moaned.
“I’m not gonna be gentle,” he growled against the side of my neck.
“Good,” I gasped.
“You make me nuts, Eunomia.”
All I could do was nod. The next instant, he ripped the shirt from my body. I wore no bra, and the cool night air made my nipples harden, only to be tortured further when he lowered his mouth to one and started licking, sucking, nibbling flesh that became more sensitive, more tender with every delectable touch, every torturous nip of his teeth. I could feel the vibration in his chest, hear that low growl he often made when we were together like this.
Strong, sure hands traced down the sides of my body, and my jeans were gone within seconds. Something about this, about being held against the immovable stone pillar, naked and as vulnerable as I am capable of being, with Brennan in front of me, holding me fast, fully clothed and in utter control, made me feel the kind of need I have never felt before. It made me feel at once powerful and weak, vulnerable and in control, perfect yet dirty. His eyes met mine, holding my gaze as his hand traced lower, cupping me in a way that clearly demonstrated his ownership of my body. And when he began tracing strong, calloused fingers over my most sensitive flesh, all I could do was moan, squirm, and clench my thighs together. I was no longer in control of my body or my responses.
It was the kind of freedom I only knew with Brennan. And it was terrifying.
“Let go, Eunomia,” he growled as he lowered his mouth to my earlobe. “Let go for me. We both know you want to.” He barely finished speaking before he slid a finger deep inside me, and I could not stay in control anymore. I bucked against his hand, and the scream I released sounded animalistic and inhuman. Everything we are together was encompassed in it, and Brennan’s low, approving murmurs told me how much he appreciated it.
Before I could think, he spun me around and held me pressed to the pillar, my aching breasts pressed to cold, rough stone. A zipper, a possessive growl, and then he was deep inside me, thrusting, telling me without words how much he wanted, needed me, as well as how frustrated he was with me. Our lovemaking was usually playful, tender. Lately, when we had managed to find time together, it had been darker, desperate, and this time was no different.
This was not lovemaking. This was almost a battle, a war spoken without words. It was taking; I took every bit of pleasure I could get from him, and he took everything he could from me, but there was a distance between us, an anger that fueled both of us and when Brennan found his release, he growled loudly into the night, slamming into me mercilessly and taking me over the edge with him all over again.
When he finished, he let me go immediately, and the shock of being empty, of being cold, hit me with a brutality that I did not expect. I turned to look at him, still trying to catch my breath, trying to stay upright on trembling legs.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse from the way I’d screamed, cried out for him. “I know you are frustrated. I do not want to hurt you.”
He finished zipping his pants, then he looked up at me. He looked cool, calm, other than that spark in his eyes, the tic of the muscle in his jaw that was one of the few tells that he showed when he was angry. He was dressed, together, upright, while I stood there naked, disheveled, tremb
ling from the things he’d made me feel.
He was the only one who’d ever been able to bring me to my knees like this. Part of me resented him for it.
“We seem to keep hurting each other, maybe,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking down my body. “You keep running away, and I keep chasing you. Do you even want to be caught, Eunomia? Sometimes, I’m sure you do. Then, others…” he shook his head. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do here. The last thing I want is to get in your way or be the thing that holds you back. But you said you wanted this. If you changed your mind, you need to tell me that, too.”
“I know.”
“We promised to be honest with each other. We promised each other no bullshit.”
“I am not good at that,” I said, bending to pick up my jacket, which he’d flung aside to get to my shirt. My shirt lay in tatters beside it, a lost cause. I zipped my leather jacket up to my neck, and then pulled my jeans on, well aware of the soreness between my legs, the stickiness on my thighs.
“You are when you want to be,” he said quietly, still watching me.
“You think I do not want to be?” I asked. “I am trying.”
“Are you? Because it mostly looks like you’re walking away, over and over again. If that’s the case, tell me so. I love you. You destroy me in a million different ways, in ways nobody else ever has. But if you don’t want this,” he said, gesturing between the two of us, “you need to tell me, because I’ve been through that shit once before and I refuse to do it with you. I refuse to lose everything we have because I’m overstaying my welcome.”
My breath froze in my lungs. “I would never… I love you. You scare the Nether out of me, and I am a disaster when it comes to anything like this, but I love you.”
He closed his eyes and seemed to relax. I had not been aware of how completely tense his posture had been before. Guilt lanced through me. I would not make him go through what he’d gone through with Mollis again. “I love you, husband,” I repeated quietly, going to him and running my fingertips through his hair. “I want you. Always.” He leaned his head into my palms, and I ran my fingertips over his scalp. “I am not Mollis,” I whispered.
Zealot (Hidden: Soulhunter Book 3) Page 5
