Valen (Guardians of Hades Romance Series Book 2)

by Felicity Heaton

  “You want a bunny,” he snarled. “You’ll get a fucking bunny.”

  He whipped his head around, forced all of his focus to his hands as his power accumulated there, and pointed out all the places in the city he wanted the lightning to strike.

  He raised his right hand in front of him.

  Pressed his thumb and index finger together.

  Clicked.

  White-purple lightning shot from the boiling black clouds, a little faster than he had anticipated. Blame his mood for that. He quickly snapped his fingers again, adding a second to join the first bolt, and focused to command them. They split and then split again, laced together and shot through each other, forming branches across the sky.

  Taking on a shape above the city.

  Valen groaned inwardly at the sight of it.

  The lightning connected with the rods on the buildings and the air rumbled with the force of each strike, the ground trembling with it as thunder rolled across Rome.

  The image he had created stuttered and died, and he wanted to do the same.

  Silence fell.

  Thick, oppressive, nerve-destroying silence.

  And then Eva spoke.

  “I didn’t expect that.”

  He huffed. “I was unfocused, distracted by someone teasing me. My mind got a bit off track.”

  “Well… it was sort of on track…” She sounded as if she was going to laugh so he scowled down at her. Her lips trembled as she fought to contain the smile that was already in her eyes. “I mean… you did say fucking bunny.”

  He grimaced, aware he was never going to live this one down and hoping she was the only one that had seen a startlingly explicit image of two bunnies going at it appear above the sky of Rome this morning.

  He didn’t want to even consider the rumours that would spread about him, or the nicknames he would pick up, if any gods had witnessed it.

  “Can you make other shapes?” She beamed up at him.

  He glared at her. “Don’t say it like that, as if screwing bunnies is in my repertoire of images I enjoy forming with my powers.”

  That laugh that had been building inside her escaped.

  His frown melted under the intense heat that spread through him, rolling outwards from his chest, on hearing it and seeing her face lighting up, all the shadows lifted from it.

  He supposed he had succeeded in his desire to cheer her up, even if the method hadn’t been quite what he had intended.

  “I can make a few.” He thought about what she might like to see next. If it kept her smiling and laughing, he would take a shot at creating whatever she suggested, and he wouldn’t stop until she was done or he was utterly drained of strength. “Any requests?”

  “An eagle.” She looked up at him. “Can you do that?”

  An eagle was close to a dragon, and he could do that, so it shouldn’t be too much of a challenge.

  “Sure.” He shot her a smile and absorbed the way she turned all female and cute again. His little killer. He found this side of her almost as alluring as her warrior one, possibly more so because she showed it only to him.

  Valen focused and snapped his fingers, calling the lightning from the clouds and conducting it so it created the image of an eagle with its wings spread above Rome. Fitting he supposed. It had been the seat of the Roman empire and they had loved their eagles.

  Eva laughed again, the light sound filling his mind and his heart, warming him as the rain began to fall and keeping the chill off his skin.

  She ordered another animal, and then another, not seeming to care about the rain as it fell on her.

  He hadn’t done this in a long time.

  The warmth in him died as that thought invaded his mind, dragging up memories that still hurt. Calindria had always loved it when he had made shapes for her in the Underworld. Dragons had been her favourite.

  Back then, he had loved creating shapes with his power, amusing her and giving those gifts to her, whatever she requested.

  Since her death, he had only made images when his mood had taken a nosedive, using them to shake the earth and rattle the heavens, and unleash all of his pain.

  It was strange to take pleasure in doing this again, the good sort of pleasure, the sort he had found in it before Calindria’s death. Afterwards, he had taken a darker sort of pleasure from it, giving his power control over him and feeding off it and how strong it made him feel, invincible, dangerous, and terrifying.

  A god.

  “Valen,” Eva whispered and he realised he had stopped and was standing like an idiot in the rain, his hand outstretched in front of him, frozen in time.

  Transported back through it to relive those better days that still scraped at his chest, hollowing it out whenever he thought about them.

  He snapped himself out of the past and focused on the present, because there was no point in looking back. What was done, was done, and he couldn’t change it now. He hadn’t been able to change it back then either.

  He hadn’t been strong enough.

  He looked across at Eva, found her standing beside him with warmth in her blue eyes, concern that was for him and he cherished it, held it to his chest and refused to relinquish it even as that dark voice in his mind chanted that she would never be his.

  No one could love him.

  Zeus had made sure of that.

  “Valen.” She lifted her hand to his face and placed it gently against his scar, as if she had sensed it was the source of his pain, the mark of the sin he had to bear for eternity.

  He fell into her eyes, into the affection they showed him, fear snaking through his veins to stir other emotions, to create a strange sense of urgency and panic that he couldn’t control, a crushing need that consumed him.

  A sense that if he could just keep hold of Eva that he could break this curse and she would fall in love with him.

  Like he was falling in love with her.

  He grabbed her shoulder, yanked her into his arms and kissed her, desperate need driving him, pushing him to do whatever it took to make her feel something for him, to make sure she didn’t leave him.

  She responded instantly, but her kiss was brief and he wanted to snarl when she pushed her palms against his chest and broke away from him.

  No.

  Cold swept through him, the fear that gripped him rising to sink its claws into his heart as it whispered that it was already too late—he was already losing her.

  He dug his fingers into her shoulders and tried to pull her back to him, convinced that if he just kept kissing her, if he kept making her laugh and smile, and kept her to himself for long enough, that she would love him. She wouldn’t leave him.

  She wouldn’t turn against him like everyone else.

  He couldn’t bear it if she did.

  It would end him.

  She resisted him, and fear birthed anger in his veins, the darker side of his blood awakening and demanding that he bend her to his will.

  She would be his.

  “Valen,” she whispered, stopping him dead as he tried to pull her back to him and kiss her again.

  He lifted his eyes to hers and the haze filling his mind, seizing control of him, dissipated as he stared into her striking blue ones and saw not hate, but deep affection in them. There was hurt there too, and fear.

  He eased his grip on her shoulders and cursed himself for holding her too tightly, for trying to force himself on her. He was no better than Benares.

  He went to withdraw but she caught his arms, her hands warm against his biceps, and shook her head, causing the damp strands of her jaw-length dark hair to stick to her cheeks.

  “I’m not done with you,” she said, a sharp commanding edge to her voice that was too damn sexy. The determination that had flashed across her features faded and her grip loosened, her voice losing its hardness, softening with shyness that was equally as seductive. “I can feel your power… flowing under your skin. What if... your tongue stud is metal.”

  Sweet gods, ever
ything about this woman tied him in knots and pulled him deeper under her spell.

  That’s what had made her pull away from him and had put fear in her eyes?

  Not his behaviour, or her feelings for him, but his power?

  She was afraid his tongue stud might spark and hurt her.

  He grinned, the weight lifting from his heart and the darkness in his veins fading as he brushed her hair behind her ear and thought about that.

  “It won’t hurt you. It’s titanium.” His grin widened as she looked up at him, right into his eyes, hers dark and hungry, and filling him with a need to make them even darker. Even hungrier. “It doesn’t conduct well, but it might tingle if you’re lucky.”

  Her eyes went a little wider.

  A little darker.

  Valen growled and pulled her back into his arms, slanted his head and kissed her hard, letting her know in the only way he could right now that she was his, and he was never letting her go.

  He would break this curse.

  He would make her love him.

  CHAPTER 23

  Eva rubbed a towel over her wet hair, every inch of her relaxed and sated. Valen had made sure of that. He had tried so hard to cheer her up, and set her mind at ease, both about Benares and about him and this crazy new world she had fallen into, and then he had shown her just how incredibly beautiful his power could be.

  He had done it all for her.

  She paused with the towel against her head and stared into the mirror.

  Something had happened though, something that had stopped him in the middle of making a shape for her out of lightning and had hurt him.

  Something that she wanted to know, but she hadn’t had the chance to ask him about, and now she felt awkward about mentioning it because he seemed so much brighter, the darkness and pain that had been in his eyes lifted because of her.

  She had kissed it out of him.

  Or he had kissed it out of himself.

  She touched her lips, swore they still tingled from the force of that kiss, one that had held a note of desperation and filled her with a sense that his thoughts were leading him down dark paths again.

  He had been quiet when they had returned to the apartment, and had made her sleep to recoup her strength, promising to watch over her.

  She hadn’t thought it would be possible for her to sleep, not with all the thoughts about him and Benares, and that daemon’s plans for him ricocheting around her mind, but she had closed her eyes anyway.

  When she had opened them again, the sky beyond the windows of Valen’s bedroom had been laced with the colours of evening, and he had been sitting beside her on the bed, watching over her just as he had promised.

  She had kissed him for that.

  A kiss that had led them into the shower together.

  Now he had disappeared into the other room without a word to her, leaving her alone to dry off.

  What was weighing on his mind?

  If she asked, would he share it with her?

  She wanted to draw him back to her, because it felt as if he was drifting away, and she didn’t like the chasm that was opening between them.

  She finished drying her hair, tossed the white towel on the floor with his one, and combed her fingers through her hair, styling it as best she could without her usual products.

  Eva glanced along the wood-panelled corridor towards the living room, thought about sauntering in there naked to seduce him all over again, and then thought the better of it.

  She wanted him to talk to her, to open up to her as he had on the hill, and getting him all hot and bothered wasn’t going to achieve that.

  She went into the bedroom instead, grabbed her duffle bag from near the door, and put it down on the bed. She rifled through it, reassured by the sight of her guns and the spare clips and boxes of ammunition, and chose a simple dark green halter-top and a fresh pair of black jeans.

  She fished out the spare black lace bra and a pair of matching shorts, and slipped into them, and then into her top and jeans. Socks followed, and then she sighed as she pulled out her only footwear.

  Black running shoes.

  Not her taste, but they were compact and fitted into the bag, a bag that was meant to be used in an escape. Running shoes made sense in that scenario, more than her favourite boots anyway.

  She tugged them on and laced them, zipped the bag closed and placed it back near the door.

  Music drifted into the room.

  She paused leaning over the bag and frowned into the corridor. Classical music too. It was soothing, calming, and so unexpected.

  She would never have guessed Valen liked such music.

  She drifted out into the corridor and along it to her left, following the mellow sound into the living room.

  Sure enough, Valen was reclining in his wingback armchair beside the unlit fire, his black t-shirt and combat trousers making him blend into it. His eyes were closed, his chin dipping low towards his chest as he sat there.

  Listening to classical music.

  She had figured he would like something harder, a fast pounding beat of the rock persuasion.

  It seemed so odd seeing him like this.

  Was he asleep?

  She started when he spoke.

  “Sometimes, it’s only the music that holds me together and stops me from crossing the line.”

  It was? She listened to it as she studied him, finding the soft string melody as soothing as he clearly did.

  What would happen if he did cross that mental line he had drawn for himself?

  He had admitted that he wasn’t proud of how he let his power control him at times. She recalled the bar and the devastation he had wrought without using his lightning, and found she didn’t want to imagine how bad things might have been if he had unleashed it.

  “Mother gave it to me. Esher too. She says that it soothes Dad’s rages and that she sees a lot of him in me.” He pulled a face that said he didn’t like that.

  “You hate him.” Although she wasn’t really sure that was the case, because he always used a shorter name than father for him, one that spoke of affection rather than coldness and distance.

  He finally opened his eyes and looked at her. They were molten gold again, glowing fiercely in the fading light of evening. The pain that had been in them since he had fallen quiet on the hill was still there, lurking in his eyes.

  “Not hate,” he muttered and pushed his fingers through his hair, sweeping it back so it streaked straight over the top from his brow to the back of his head. “Mutual dislike… maybe.”

  “Mutual?” She frowned at that. “He doesn’t like you?”

  It would explain the awful rite he had put Valen through.

  “Not anymore.” He looked away from her, gazed out of the window to his right and his whole demeanour turned uncomfortable, silently telling her to drop the subject.

  For once, that wasn’t going to happen. She wanted to know about him, and if that meant poking at sore spots, then she would risk his wrath by doing just that.

  Besides, there was a question she had wanted an answer to since he had told her his short-and-shocking breakdown of important points about himself.

  “You said he banished you from the Underworld, and now you protect gates to it, just who is your father?”

  She had a theory, but she wanted to hear him say it.

  His eyes slid back to her, a dark edge to them that was more than just a feeling.

  Black ringed his irises, eating away the gold.

  He had looked that way before, when she had fought him. At the time, she had thought she had imagined it, but as she watched the black swallowing the gold, she could no longer deny it had been real.

  “Say it,” she whispered, suddenly unsure whether she wanted to know.

  His black eyes narrowed on her.

  Elongated canines flashed between his lips as he spoke.

  “Hades.”

  The god of the Underworld.

  His father was
the boss down there, the Greek equivalent of the Devil she supposed, although she wasn’t sure how close that was to the truth. Her mind latched onto it though, ran with it and pulled her along for the ride, making her envisage a dark and terrifying man, a cruel and vicious ruler fitting for that domain.

  Valen clucked his tongue at her. “Already made up your mind I see.”

  She froze, shock rippling through her as she realised she had backed away from him. She hadn’t meant it like that. It wasn’t Valen she feared.

  It was his father.

  Benares was only a daemon and he terrified her. She couldn’t imagine how frightening Hades was.

  She didn’t want to.

  Valen muttered something and looked away from her again, and the darkness in his eyes faded, allowing gold to break through.

  “You’re not like him,” she blurted and he arched an eyebrow, but didn’t shut her down. She crossed the room to him, navigating her way around the black leather couch, and stopped beside him. He refused to look up at her. “I’ve seen you do good as well as bad.”

  His handsome face blackened, the darkness obliterating the gold in his eyes, and he turned sharply to face her.

  “I’m not a hero, Eva… stop expecting that of me,” he snapped and she eased back a step, reeling from that blow.

  Where had that come from?

  She hadn’t meant it like that. He was overreacting.

  The pain was back in his eyes, fiercer than before, and he abruptly turned his face away from her again.

  The soles of her feet warmed in her shoes.

  A feeling bloomed in her chest, a strange sensation that seemed to link her to him and revealed something to her.

  Her words had touched a raw nerve. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, or where the feeling had come from, but she suddenly understood him.

  On the hill, pain from the past that was still raw for him had returned, awakened by what he had done for her, and that pain was still eating at him.

  Pain that was born of great loss and the devastating consequences of it.

  Her head lightened. She swayed on the spot as it seemed to pull her downwards. Her knees gave out.

  “Eva,” he roared and she moaned as he caught her, his strong arms supporting her, stopping her from hitting the tiled floor.