Warrior Avenged

by Addison Fox

  Despite the constant stream of arrivals, it turned out Hades and Persephone had surprisingly few guests.

  Kane familiarized himself with the palatial surroundings. His last—and only—trip to the Underworld hadn’t included a visit to Hades’s judgment room. An oversized throne sat at one end, elevated upon a dais. A long red velvet runner ran the length of the room from the dais, bisecting the chamber in half.

  Other than the slash of red, the room held minimal color. Sconces ran the entire length of the walls, the rows of candles providing the only light.

  Alex’s judgment would be private, but clearly Kane and Ilsa wouldn’t receive the same courtesy as Hades began his inquisition.

  “Took you long enough to get here. Where’s Robert? And why is Alex in corporeal form?”

  Kane’s anger hadn’t lessened since learning of Ilsa’s true nature. Instead, his anger had morphed into something more raw—more basic—as shock faded into acceptance.

  While not technically a lie, Ilsa had had no problem deceiving him through omission. From her real name to her true purpose, she’d kept herself hidden.

  What he couldn’t fault, however, was the authority with which she did her job.

  “We had some challenges on the Acheron.” Ilsa’s pose was respectful, but her gaze stayed firmly on Hades.

  “Challenges?” One lone, authoritative eyebrow rose at the suggestion. “What of them?”

  Ilsa continued her report, her voice terse and stilted. “Robert and Alex found a way to escape their bonds. We dealt with Robert immediately as he was clearly a flight risk.”

  “Their bonds? Attached to your soul?” Hades’s gaze shot toward Alex, who had resumed the kicked-puppy stance he’d adopted on the riverbank and zeroed in on the high points of the tale. “You did this?”

  Alex’s eyes remained focused on the ground. “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Physics.”

  “You what?” Kane felt the unexpected rush of surprise, the feeling matched by the dropped mouths and eye-popping gazes of Ilsa and Hades.

  Physics?

  “Sure. It was easy.” Alex shrugged. “Her soul had limited space. Through careful calculation and an understanding of the limitless application of our souls, Robert and I created an antimatter calculation to break through. Well, I did the calculation. Robert agreed.”

  “Excuse me?” Hades pressed on, clearly at a loss for any other response. The details of particle physics were as lost on one of the most supreme gods in existence as the rest of them.

  “We traded a bit of our souls to cancel out hers.” Alex pointed toward Ilsa. “That gave us a hole to escape through.”

  “How do I get it back?” For a woman who had just stared down the god of the Underworld, Ilsa spoke in a tone that was decidedly panicky.

  Alex shrugged again, his tone matter-of-fact. “You can’t.”

  The blue eyes that had widened in surprise glazed over in fear. “What do you mean, I can’t get it back?”

  “It’s gone. Destroyed. Matter and antimatter. If it makes you feel any better, a part of mine’s lost, too.”

  “No, it doesn’t make me feel any better.” Her slender form quivered as Ilsa confronted Alex. “And I want you to find a way to put it back.”

  Alex focused on some point across the room as if unable to look at Ilsa directly, but the note of pride in his voice was unmistakable. “I can’t put it back. It’s gone. It wasn’t all that hard, either. You had several weak spots we found when we looked for the proper place to break through.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know how they got there. It’s not like I spent a whole helluva lot of time roaming around in other people’s insides. My guess is they’re weak spots from where you’ve got a lot of issues. I could see Robert’s soul when we were inside of you and it was full of them.”

  “Did you know about this?” Kane turned on Hades. “Did you know this was possible?”

  “I had no idea.”

  Yet again, score one in the column for humans.

  Kane knew the venom that lived inside his body—an unexpected result of a sorcerer’s dark magic—had been a surprise, too. A consequence Themis had never expected, or even knew was possible, when she created her Warriors and identified all their gifts.

  Clearly Hades hadn’t thought through all the angles, either, if Ilsa was now required to walk around with a hole in her soul.

  A hole that would allow others captured in the future to escape.

  A fact that was fast-dawning on Hades if the red face and sputtering voice was any indication. “You’re human. You have no abilities in these matters.”

  Kane stepped forward. He was done with the bowing and scraping, the underlying trap of eternal gratitude he and his brothers were expected to endure.

  They fought the battles and they lived with the consequences of the gods’ choices.

  Maybe it was time to start speaking up and speaking out to the gods who ruled their lives. Time to use his voice and the lessons he’d learned over more than ten thousand years of life.

  He’d earned it, and so had his brothers. So, apparently, had Ilsa.

  “Perhaps it’s time we started giving the humans a bit more credit.”

  “You can’t destroy souls,” Hades muttered, walking in a circle around Alex, examining him like a rare specimen.

  “You do.” Ilsa shot back at him. “You do it all the time.”

  “That’s different,” Hades muttered, still shaking his head as he made another rotation around the scrawny scientist.

  “How?” Ilsa pressed. “If souls are the only immortal part of a human, how is what they did any different than what you do?”

  “I’m a god.”

  “Well, then, you need to figure out how to get rid of the loopholes. Because until you do, you’re fresh out of an errand girl.”

  Ilsa paced the guest room in Hades’s mansion, wrapped in a heavy, oversized, fuzzy pink robe. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, its royal blue duvet and mound of pillows beckoning with the promise of sleep. It would be so easy to just lie down and forget about all of it.

  The deal with Emmett.

  The damage wrought by the scientists.

  Even Kane and this crazy, mind-numbing love for him that consumed her.

  But it wasn’t to be.

  At this point, she wasn’t even sure a visit from Hypnos would be effective. Finding out you had an irreparable hole in your soul sort of kicked the god of sleep’s ass for mind-share.

  Claustrophobia had set in hours ago, but Ilsa had no desire to put on her happy face and go sit through dinner with Hades and Persephone.

  Had absolutely no interest in being a dinner companion, pleasant or otherwise.

  How could this have happened? And what did Alex mean by weak spots?

  What weak spots?

  Had the thirst for revenge well and truly eaten a hole through her soul on its own?

  Or was it something else?

  Something far worse.

  Her long-held fear that she was irreparably damaged resurfaced. Was that why she’d never found love? Why she’d so easily rejected the companionship of her nymph sisters? Was that why it had been so easy to live all these years alone?

  Until Kane.

  It had all changed with him.

  “Ilsa, open up.” A rough knock came on the heels of the command.

  Kane.

  Like she’d conjured him up.

  Opening the door, Ilsa stared him down. He’d changed into formal wear for dinner with Hades and his wife—one of Persephone’s odd requirements—and looked positively luscious in a perfectly cut tuxedo.

  Even the shadows under his eyes—a perpetual reminder of the poison ravaging his body—gave his face a dark, sexy, craggy look that sent her pulse skyrocketing.

  “You left me down there to deal with them all by myself? I thought you were coming down after freshening
up.”

  Ilsa shrugged. “I didn’t feel like coming down to dinner.”

  Kane closed the door behind him as he came into the room, unknotting his bow tie and tossing it to the floor as he walked toward her. Was it her imagination or was his gait slower? Less smooth? “Shit. Persephone talked my ear off for an hour. Do you know how lonely it gets down here in the Underworld?”

  “No.”

  She watched in fascinated awe as he placed a hand casually on a hip, the tuxedo jacket opening to reveal his broad chest where it narrowed into his slim waist.

  A truly perfect male form.

  “Well, then, ask me.”

  “Okay. How lonely does it get down here in the Underworld?”

  “So lonely that if she didn’t have Hades and his godlike stamina in the bedroom, she’d have killed herself years ago.”

  A burst of giggles erupted. “She did not say that.”

  Kane held up a hand, the jacket falling back into place. “Yes. She did. I promise you, nowhere in my own mind could I have made that one up.”

  An awkward silence descended between them as her giggles evaporated as abruptly as they began.

  Kane was standing right there.

  In her bedroom.

  And then the spell was broken. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Nemesis?”

  “There was nothing to tell.”

  “Damn it, Ilsa. Or should I call you that?”

  “It’s the name I prefer.” Especially when it falls off of your lips.

  “Fine. Ilsa. You should have told me. Should have explained. And what the hell are you doing at MI6? How’d you come to be there?”

  And there it was. The question she’d dreaded since Kane came back into her life. Dreaded for the past few days as they’d spent time getting to know each other.

  Up to now, she was guilty only of omission. But if she lied about her role at MI6, then she well and truly would cross a line.

  She couldn’t tell him yet.

  And she didn’t want to tell Kane a lie.

  There had to be a way to deal with Emmett and get out of their bargain. A way to give the sorcerer something else in place of Kane or his Warrior brothers. A way to satisfy Emmett’s desire for more power that didn’t come at the expense of Themis.

  She couldn’t tell Kane yet. She simply couldn’t.

  “It’s classified.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “That’s all you’re getting from me.”

  “Fuck classified, Ilsa. I want answers.”

  “I don’t have any to give you.”

  Those dark onyx eyes bored into hers, a mix of anger and—was that hurt?—whirling in a perfect storm.

  “I’m in this with you, whether you like it or not. Why won’t you trust me?”

  “No one’s in this with me. I am alone!” The words ripped from her chest with such force, it was a wonder she didn’t fall down.

  The truth of the statement—the horrible, embarrassing truth—stunned her to hear it out loud.

  She was alone.

  Had always been alone.

  And due to the poor choices she’d made in her quest for revenge, she’d always be alone.

  Always.

  Legs trembling, Ilsa backed away from Kane. “Leave. Please. Just go away.”

  Kane ignored the request, his long, long legs closing the distance between them. “No.”

  Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes and spilled over without warning, a rush of frustration that she was incapable of damming up. “Please!”

  He reached up and brushed one heavy tear away with his index finger. “I’m not leaving.”

  Ilsa took another step backward and let out a slight “oomph” when the backs of her legs hit the side of the bed. “You can’t stay. And I can’t tell you what you want to know. And I am damaged.”

  “We’ll find a way to fix the hole the scientists made.”

  “No, Kane. You don’t understand. I’m damaged. I’m no good. The scientists were successful in their escape because they found a weak spot. Inside of me. On my soul.”

  “No, Ilsa, Robert and Alex found a loophole. Just like the sorcerer found mine. We’re immortal, Ilsa, not infallible.” He closed the remaining space between them. “That’s the great cosmic joke we all operate under. That somehow, because we’re immortal, nothing can ever happen to us.”

  “Nothing should happen to us.”

  “But it does. You and I are both perfect examples of that.”

  She wanted to believe him.

  Desperately.

  Kane wiped another tear away, then lifted his finger to his mouth. He pressed it to his lips and licked off the drop of moisture, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m not leaving, Ilsa.”

  “Good. Because I don’t want you to.”

  The salty taste of her tears covered his tongue as Ilsa’s words registered. Unwilling to wait a moment longer, Kane reached for her, wrapping her in his arms and pressing his mouth to hers.

  Tears still ran down her face and her lips tasted slightly salty as his tongue sought entrance to her mouth. As she opened for him, he dipped in gently, drawing at her tongue and sucking lightly.

  Ilsa allowed him to lead the kiss, her tongue tangling with his, her response free of any restraint.

  Oh gods, she felt so good in his arms.

  So right.

  He felt her hands settle at his waist where she tugged his shirt from the waistband of his dress slacks.

  Breaking contact, he pulled back, dragging the heavy jacket from his shoulders, the dark silk sliding into a pile on the floor. Ilsa reached for the studs of his shirt, snapping them off one by one, allowing them to fall to the floor where they scattered on the hardwood as they fell.

  Her hands were cool on his skin as she ran smooth fingertips down the center of his body. His stomach muscles responded under her touch in a shiver of need only for her.

  His Ilsa.

  Reaching for her, his hands sank into the fuzzy pink of her robe. Anxious to see the beautiful curves of her body, he pulled at the tie at her waist. The heavy pink terry cloth fell away, revealing her naked form underneath.

  Kane’s breath caught in his throat. “Gods, you are so beautiful.”

  When she didn’t respond, he leaned in, pressed his lips against her ear and whispered it again.

  She shivered in response to the warm breath he feathered over her ear, her own voice whisper soft as she replied, “It’s you who is beautiful.”

  Stepping back, Kane stared down at her. “You are beautiful, Ilsa. Inside and out.”

  With a swift shake of her head, she reached for the open folds of her robe, pulling them tight against herself.

  He reached for her hands, stilling her movements. Anger built in his veins at her unwillingness to either listen—or believe—what he told her. “I don’t lie, Ilsa.”

  “I know.”

  “Then what’s wrong? Why are you covering yourself and why are you turning away from me?”

  “I can’t see past it, Kane. Can’t see past what I am and what Alex told me.”

  “What Alex told you? When?”

  She nodded, her eyes bright, a sob catching in her throat. “Before. In front of Hades. That there were weak spots they used to tunnel through my soul. That’s me. That’s not particle physics or scientific theory or evil humans looking for an out. It’s just all me. A damaged soul that’s now even more damaged.”

  She slammed a hand against her chest, her blue eyes bleak and empty. “It’s all broken in here.”

  How did he fight this?

  How did he convince her?

  And then the answer presented itself, so simple it took his breath away.

  “Lie down.” He patted the oversized bed.

  “Come on, Kane.”

  “Ilsa, I’m serious. Please lie down.”

  She did as he asked, shifting to sit on the center of the large bed.

  “Now, lie back.”

  One eyebrow quirk
ed up, but she acquiesced, the pink of her robe in distinct contrast to the deep blue of the duvet.

  “Open your robe.”

  “Kane.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, enjoying himself as she struggled with his direction.

  “I promise you, I have a point.”

  “You want monkey sex.”

  A broad grin he couldn’t stop spread across his face. “Well, yeah. I’m a man. I always want monkey sex. But that’s not what I’m driving for at this particular moment.”

  Her eyes narrowed in suspicious disbelief, but she complied yet again and opened her robe. The lush curves of her body spread out before his eyes like a feast and he couldn’t keep his gaze from roaming over every exposed inch of her.

  Leaning over, he pressed his lips under her breast, his tongue trailing over the hard crest of her ribs. A small squeak resounded in his ears as she squirmed underneath his mouth. “Kane. What are you doing?”

  Lifting his head, he smiled up at her. “From what I can tell by the way you doubled over, Dr. Jekyll and his side-kick broke through right around here. Am I right?”

  She nodded. “That’s right. I can’t explain it, but it just feels . . . empty there.”

  “Then I need to kiss it and make it all better.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Then I need to kiss it and make it all better.

  Ilsa locked Kane’s words deep inside her heart, allowing them to settle there. Years from now, when she was quite alone, she’d take them out and remember them. Savor them.

  She’d remember this moment and this incredible man who rained kisses down her rib cage, murmuring soft words of praise and encouragement.

  His tongue continued its gentle ministrations, lapping softly at her body as he interspersed a series of kisses along the slender ridge of bones.

  Ilsa stared down at him from where her head lay on the thick pillows. She reached for him, his name a whisper on her lips. “Kane.”

  He didn’t lift his head; instead, he shifted slightly and ran his tongue over the underside of her breast. “Hmmmm?”

  Her head fell back as a wave of sensation followed the path of his tongue, the vibrations of his voice.