Secret Shadows: A Greek God Paranormal Romance (Immortal Rogues Book 1)

by Alexa Whitewolf

  Since I can’t know whether what she asked me was spoken out loud or not, I retort with another question. “Where’s your partner?”

  “Out.”

  “Does he do that often?”

  “How would I know? This is our first assignment.” She averts her stare from me. “And would it kill you to put on some clothes?”

  I laugh. “You know us Olympians, we love flaunting what we have.” With unbearably slow movements, I place my goblet on a small table and rifle through some clothes before donning a shirt and loose pants. Then I turn to Ileana. “Better?”

  She refuses to dignify that with an answer.

  Well, well. It won’t stop me from baiting her some more. “As for your partner… Could have fooled me. Thought I detected some history.”

  The only history comes from his idiotic self thinking he is superior to me.

  I don’t fall for it this time, instead waiting.

  Out loud, all Ileana says is, “No history.”

  Interesting.

  Sometimes, despite hearing thoughts, I like to pretend I’m not quite there. People talk a lot around someone when they think he’s either sleeping or unaware. And the immortals are no exception, as I come to realize when Frumos returns.

  His energy is unique, enough that I feel him nearing before he’s actually here. Since I haven’t said a word to Ileana in the last half an hour, it’s easy to let my head loll to the side of the couch and pretend to be asleep.

  The moment the door opens, Ileana is on him, her voice low and annoyed. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Around.”

  “Not good enough. We are to be partners in this, you cannot just go off on your own.”

  “Partners? Do not make me laugh, draga mea. You were already entangled with the god the minute I walked in. I think you already found your partner.”

  There’s the sound of a scuffle, enough to intrigue me, and I crack an eye open. Ileana must’ve tried to slap him, because he has her hand in a tight vise-like grip, and they’re both busy glaring at each other.

  Tension indeed. History, too.

  I close my eyes again. Ileana’s panting and annoyed grunt makes me think she probably tried to slap him with her other hand.

  “Hand fighting is not your forte, we both know it,” Frumos says.

  “Just because you bested me once—”

  “More than once, and there were witnesses. Let it go, Ileana.”

  A huff of displeasure from her, followed by a chuckle from him. It soon dies off at her next words.

  “If I did not know better, I would assume you are jealous.”

  There’s a long silence, almost long enough to pique my interest. But I don’t chance it. Instead, I focus on his thoughts, actively seeking them out as he speaks.

  “Jealous? Of a Greek god? Please.” The only thing I am jealous of is that he gets to put his hands on you, when you deny me over and over. Two hundred years is a long time to go reminiscing of that one night together, beautiful Ileana. But the best is yet to come.

  He clears his throat. “Now, enough with the foolishness. Will you listen to what I have to say?” Silence for a beat, and I sense his eyes on me. “Is he truly asleep?”

  “Ambrosia first thing in the morning will do that to a person, god or not. What is it?”

  Frumos doesn’t mince words. “Despite what you might have been thinking, I was not out frolicking or wasting time. Zeus requested my presence this morning, before you were awake.”

  “Why you? Why not us both?”

  “My guess? You being a woman plays a part in it.”

  “I swear, Făt, I will hit you this time—”

  “Breathe. I do not mean it that way. Only that he probably has enough emotional females around him.” Another chuckle. “Hera was yelling at him when I walked in.”

  “So the rumors are true?”

  “Of his infidelity? Clearly. Besides, count yourself lucky. Better to stay out of his way, lest his lecherous gaze lands on you.”

  The thought of my brother wanting anything to do with Ileana is enough to get my blood boiling, but I force myself to remain unaffected. It won’t do for them to realize I can, in fact, hear them, and I’m wide awake.

  “Point taken. But I would appreciate being included in further conversations.”

  “As you wish. Now, can I get to the meat of the problem?” Ileana must assent in some way, because Frumos continues. “We were not told everything, when we took this on. Either that, or things have developed, and rapidly.”

  “Very well… Color me intrigued. How so?”

  “What were you told about this assignment, exactly? I know you were spoken with at a separate time than me and sent here earlier. Probably in a way to make the transition easier, given you are female. But I am curious about the specifics of what you were told.”

  I’m also more curious than I’d like to admit. How much did Zeus reveal, or did he not reveal anything at all? I would expect he hadn’t. Since I’m so special, and so threatening—at least according to my brother—it would make more sense to keep me under wraps. But then what the hell is Frumos going on about, implying there’s more to this than simply protecting me?

  “My trainer only said that Zeus’ brother keeps getting into trouble and needs someone to keep an eye on him.”

  So it wasn’t Zeus himself who sought them, but he went through an intermediary?

  “Same as me, then.”

  Exasperation coats Ileana’s voice. “Get to the point, Făt. And sometime this century, please.”

  I find it even more intriguing he asks everyone else to call him Frumos, yet she calls him Făt. A question for another day…

  “Impatient, are we? Ow! All right, no need to hit me. And you wonder why you were not involved— All right, do not start with the foolishness again. I will tell you. Zeus revealed Hades was attacked by a Norse wolf yesterday.”

  “Yes, I was already aware. And I did tell you last night, only you were not listening.”

  “I do not recall it.”

  Neither do I. Was I so gone, their talk didn’t even wake me? Weird. Not to mention their formal way of speaking is starting to jar my nerves.

  Ileana continues, “Besides, it is not that surprising, given the pantheons all cohabitate, to some extent. Bored minds lead to drama, and the deities are prone to it.”

  It’s funny—sometimes—to hear how others talk about us. We don’t cohabitate, per se. That would imply we’re all in the same realm. Rather, the reality is each pantheon has its own realm, responsible for one area of the world, with an atrium for Council business.

  “Perhaps,” Frumos says. “But this was no simple wolf. Do you remember Fenrir?”

  “Yes… We both met him. He has no angry bone in his body.”

  “I could disagree with that. There is a reason the Norse gods imprisoned him, and did you forget he bit someone’s arm off?”

  “Exaggerations.”

  She sounds more and more like me. Perhaps we’ve both been raised to give a second chance to the underdogs…

  The silence that follows intrigues me. I open my eyes again, watching for a moment as they face off against each other. Then I close them again.

  “Sure. So how then do you explain him going after one of Olympus’ princes?” Frumos asks.

  “I cannot.”

  “That is where you are wrong, Ileana. Something—”

  And as is my luck, Pegasus chooses that moment to burst through the door. To keep up the ruse, I pretend to snap awake, rubbing at my eyes.

  “Hades, you have to come. Now.” Before shit gets fucked.

  Something in his tone tells me whatever it is, it’s bad. Combined with what I heard from the immortals, none of it bodes well. And for once, it trumps my need for entertainment.

  I follow Pegasus out the door, my new shadows behind us. When he takes me away from the main areas and toward the gardens, the feeling in my gut intensifies enough to physically make me si
ck.

  Pray to Orion and back he doesn’t lose it. Pegasus’ internal monologue doesn’t help.

  I push on until we get there, but I’m starting to guess what we’re about to find.

  The garden is destroyed. My garden. Like some troll has trampled all over it.

  Instead of the gorgeous narcissus, the roses, and other human flowers I’d replicated, there is nothing left standing. Nothing. Only shattered leaves and petals coat the ground. The earth itself looks like it was raked by claws.

  “Am I missing something?” Frumos asks. “These are only flowers, and no cause for mourning.”

  In my anger, I turn on him. My punch meets his jaw, but the second gets stopped by his fist.

  Eyes narrowed, he warns, “I am here to protect you, not fight you.”

  “Too bad.”

  I yank my wrist out of his grip and elbow him in the gut. He bends over, and I vaguely hear Ileana calling out—but I’m too far gone. Blind rage fills me. Why must everything here end in disaster? Why must everything of mine be seen as less than, a perfect target for those in need of distractions?

  I punch Frumos again, getting ready to kick him next. Then Pegasus steps between us, separating us.

  “Enough, Hades,” he whispers as he holds me back. “I know you’re hurting, but enough.”

  I snap to, taking in everything once more. The destruction. The bewildered gazes. Then I shrug off Pegasus’ hold and march off.

  I’m not alone, at least not for long. Ileana follows me and shoves me into the closest wall. It reverberates when my body strikes it, once more making me aware of her power.

  Ileana’s expression is easily as angry as mine. “You being a god does not give you the rights you seem to be taking. First with kissing me, then treating Făt as your punching bag. Deal with your issues, Hades, but leave us out of it.”

  Watching as she storms away, it hits me for the first time that maybe, just maybe, I lashed out at the wrong people.

  When I enter my quarters much later, it’s to find Ileana and Frumos deep in conversation.

  “I owe you both an apology,” I mutter. “That garden wasn’t just a patch of earth with flowers. Our mother, Rhea, taught us from a young age how to nurture our powers. Not all gods and goddesses are alike, though. And there are some who simply don’t come into their powers right away, or don’t know how to use them. I was helping the young ones, and that garden was our safe space.” Before all of Olympus started shunning me, that is. I take a deep breath. “Whoever did this must have known of it. Must have known it would affect me, and more than me. We need to tell Zeus.”

  “We already have,” Ileana says. “And he has requested you do not leave the immediate area for the time being.”

  “Of course he did.”

  She shares a look with Frumos, then arches an eyebrow my way.

  With a sigh, I turn to him. “I am sorry, for lashing out at you.”

  He inclines his head ever so, but it’s not quite a forgiveness. Whoever knew immortals could be prouder than gods?

  “And for what it’s worth, I am also sorry for kissing you,” I tell Ileana. Is that surprise or hurt in her expression? Whatever it is, it’s gone too soon for me to make up my mind, and her thoughts give me no clue.

  “You are not here for my personal enjoyment but to protect me,” I continue. “I will respect that, going forward, in as much as I possibly can.”

  Which, one hopes, will be enough to keep me in line.

  Talk about an apology, Frumos scoffs internally.

  Ileana’s thoughts are still oddly silent, but she glances at him. Some kind of unspoken communication goes between them.

  “What’s the look for?” I ask. “Do you both know something I should?”

  “We do,” Frumos says. “Zeus called me in this morning to warn about Fenrir and his attack on you. Something has stirred the Norse gods into a frenzy, and they are getting unruly. Zeus does not know why, but a Council meeting will take place soon to determine what the issue is and attempt to mediate it.”

  “Am I permitted to attend?”

  Frumos shrugs. “To my knowledge, Zeus did not say otherwise, so I would assume yes.”

  “When is it?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Good. Then you will both accompany me.” I move to the decanter of ambrosia, considering the conversation closed.

  “Is that really the best idea?” Ileana asks, gesturing to the liquid.

  “It keeps me hydrated,” I shoot back. “And calm. So, yes, it is.”

  You don’t want to know me without it, believe me. Not when everyone and their nymphs’ thoughts get at me, breaking at my consciousness. Gods are trained in using their magic, the powers they are innately born with, of course. But as for their minds? It’s a given they’ll be perfect, much like their outside shell. Evidently, that particular rule skipped me, otherwise there would be a cure for my affliction.

  Which, there is not, as I concluded after eons of searching for it.

  Another strong gulp later, I turn to them. “Did Zeus happen to mention what got them in a frenzy?”

  “He did not,” Ileana says. “But he seemed scared.”

  I snort into my cup. “My brother doesn’t get scared.”

  Even as I say it, I doubt it. The other night, when I’d mentioned Fenrir, there had been a definite expression of fear on his face. What could it mean, though? What will it lead to, even? The pantheons have coexisted peacefully for eons. To think of discord…

  My gut twists, an unwelcome feeling of foreboding. I wash it away with more ambrosia.

  I dream once more of long, raven hair and a fruity scent that stirs my senses. I can’t make out her features, no matter how hard I try, but that laugh… I want to bottle it up and keep it for darker days.

  I can’t remember the last time I had such elusive dreams, and it’s both infuriating and intriguing. Even in a half-awake state, I promise myself to head back to the human realm and see if I can find her again. Whoever she is. Surely, she can’t be a figment of my imagination only?

  “Hades! Hades!”

  The hiss of a low voice wakes me up, and I groan, wiping a hand over my face. I blink a few times and become aware of an unnatural stillness in the room. A glance to my door shows Ileana and Frumos, standing straight as arrows and awaiting orders. Past them is a nymph, her translucent form as alluring as she is annoyed.

  Why they had to send me to get this one…

  When my gaze settles on her, she flushes and bows. “Lord Hades, your presence is requested in the atrium.”

  “By whom?” My voice is hoarse.

  “Zeus, my lord.”

  I nod and wave her away, then face my guards. “Looks like the Council met sooner rather than later.” Odd. Normally it takes them days to convene, not mere hours.

  “What makes you say that?” Frumos asks.

  “Zeus would not have sent a nymph to get me otherwise.”

  I turn my back on them and shed my clothes, then step into the bathtub. Someone clears their throat.

  “Shouldn’t you hurry?”

  “I’m not important enough to hold them back. Believe me, we won’t miss anything crucial.”

  Except perhaps the reason for this whole debacle.

  I choose to ignore Ileana’s thought, instead focusing on washing the scent of ambrosia off me.

  By the time I step through the massive doors of the atrium, Ileana and Frumos on my heels, it is packed to the brink. There must be more than sixty, seventy Olympians here, and not just the more reputable gods. I can see Hephaistos, Bacchus, and others in corners, whispering and frowning. Annoyingly enough, I’m not the only one with guards, and I wonder what, exactly, is going on.

  My gaze roams the area. Large, dark marble columns create a circle in the middle and support a golden dome. A floating torch hangs from each column, sending flickers of flames through the room and illuminating it. Each column has a chair in front of it, occupied by one of the pantheons
’ representatives.

  Zeus is on his throne in the middle, facing a few others from various pantheons. There’s Amun with the Egyptians, his kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed. He’s head of the Egyptian pantheon, much like Zeus plans to be for Olympus.

  Then there’s Odin, with the Norse, his worn features drawn more than usual, a patch over his bad eye. Out of all of us, the Norse are the only ones who don’t hide their so-called human flaws. Well, that’s not entirely true. They hide plenty—which is why I avoid their thoughts like the plague.

  My gaze continues surveying everyone, landing on Morrigan. I’d recognize that Celtic face without trouble after our last encounter. She winks at me, then focuses her attention back on the proceedings.

  If there’s ever been a truer queen, I’ve yet to run into her. Morrigan is as close to perfection as I’ve ever met, and unlike the rest of the pantheons who stay away from me on account of Zeus’ machinations, she’s only ever been a friend. A great friend, at that. Despite the fact she’s part of her own trinity that rules over the Celts, and thus is bound by other loyalties, her status as a sorceress has garnered her some…freedoms. More than me, that’s for sure.

  That’s a lot of deities, Ileana thinks. I make an effort not to reply, at least until she asks out loud. “Are there always this many of them?”

  “No. They usually come alone, not with entourages.”

  And there are many. Too many. Much more than I would have expected for some disturbed gardens and a wolf god missing…

  Another voice says, “The last time we all met was when we decided to retire.”

  I turn to Pegasus, grasping his forearm in our usual greeting and lowering my voice. “What is all this?”

  He shrugs, though it’s not his usual careless one. “Not sure, brother. Let us hear it out.”

  We all face the gods. Zeus nods begrudgingly my way—in a silent warning to behave—then pivots to everyone else once more. It seems we really didn’t miss much, other than introductions.