by Lisa Kessler
CHAPTER 2
Ted Belkin, Jr. glanced at his phone. Kevin Elys was ten minutes late. Maybe he was just caught in traffic. The older man wanted to join the Order of the Titans, and there was no way he would miss a meeting to discuss his future membership.
The restaurant door jingled open, and a familiar face entered the restaurant. But it wasn’t Kevin.
“Shit.” Ted muttered, tipping his head down to look at his menu. Mikolas Leandros was the current leader of the Order, as well as the CEO of Ted’s family business, Belkin Oil. He also wasn’t keen on Ted recruiting another member for the Order, even though he hadn’t met Kevin yet.
“Ted?”
His heart sank as he looked up and feigned surprise. “Mikolas! What are you doing here?”
“I’m in the mood for a good steak.” He scanned the restaurant. “Are you waiting for someone?”
Dammit. “No, just getting a bite before I head home.”
Mikolas raised a brow at the second menu on the table. “Maybe I could join you, then. We could discuss the new drills for the Oceanus rig.”
Ted did his best not to wriggle on the Greek businessman’s hook. If Ted left, he’d miss his meeting, and if he stayed, he’d have to introduce Mikolas to Kevin.
“Ted, sorry I’m late,” came a rushed voice.
Fuck.
Ted rose from his chair and offered Kevin his hand. “Good to see you.” He pulled in a quick breath and forced himself to look at Mikolas. “Kevin, this is Mikolas. He’s the CEO of Belkin Oil, and sadly, he’s leaving.”
Mikolas shook Kevin’s hand, but his dark eyes flicked toward Ted. “This is Kevin.” He focused on the tall man with silver hair. “Nice to finally meet you. Ted speaks very highly of you.”
Kevin chuckled, a spark lit up in his green eyes. “Glad to hear it.”
As Mikolas released Kevin’s hand, he reached for another chair. “Maybe I’ll join you.”
Before Ted could get a word out, Kevin nodded. “Please do. I’ve heard about you, as well.”
“Really?” Mikolas’s gaze locked on Ted. “I can’t imagine why. I thought you just moved to Crystal City. Surely there are better things to discuss than me.”
Kevin settled into a chair and pitched his voice low. “I understand you lead the followers of Kronos.”
Ted’s gut roiled as Mikolas’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Kevin glanced at Ted. “I’m interested in joining the Order. Ted tells me you are in charge right now.”
Suddenly Ted was grateful they were in a public place.
“Interesting.” Mikolas took his seat. “Why don’t we start at the beginning. What brings you to Crystal City?”
Kevin smiled and reached for the water glass in front of him. “Ted Belkin, Sr. was an old friend. I came after I learned of his death, and the city appealed to me.”
Ted flagged down a server. He was going to need a stiff drink.
Clio hustled around her apartment, stuffing her things into boxes. She didn’t have much to pack and was already nearly done. Wiping her brow, she scanned the kitchenette and mentally tallied up how many more boxes she might need. Maybe two, three to be safe.
She twisted to grab her coat off the chair and gasped as pain shot through her ankle. She gripped the back to keep from falling over. It still wasn’t one-hundred-percent since the fire, and she took a few deep breaths before hobbling over to the cupboard for some Aleve.
Her ankle had survived two surgeries so far. She tried not to think about the day of the fire, but late at night, strange smoke-filled images flooded her mind. Mason had saved her life, but somehow her oxygen-deprived memories had mutated his image.
She rubbed her wrist over the puncture wounds. The doctors thought the beam that fell and crushed her ankle had caused the injuries to her wrist, too. Maybe hot nails had pierced her skin while she struggled to free herself. She didn’t tell anyone that before she’d lost consciousness, she thought she’d seen something else, something impossible.
A hulking brown wolf with green eyes.
When she’d regained consciousness, the EMTs had been stabilizing her ankle and wrapping her arm. Mason had stayed by her side, covered in soot. He’d saved them all from being burned alive. Somehow, he broke through a metal security door with a claw hammer, breaking a hole through the center and widening it until they could all get through, all while cradling her in his other arm. Another impossible memory from that nightmare of a day.
She owed Mason her life, but she kept her distance anyway. While he was engrossed in rebuilding the theater, she’d steal glances, but she never pursued anything. Ever since she’d translated an ancient scroll about the Guardians—chosen men marked by the gods to protect the muses—she’d been obsessed with trying to find them, and she couldn’t lose her focus. She was convinced that if she could figure out who their Guardians were, she could keep her sisters safe.
After Callie, the Muse of Epic Poetry, had found Hunter, her Guardian, Clio had started researching the original loves of the muses from mythology. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Calliope—the original Muse of Epic Poetry from Greek mythology—became the wife of Aries, the God of War, and Callie’s Guardian turned out to be a Navy SEAL. Then Erica had found Reed, a firefighter. Her muse, Erato, was always depicted alongside Eros, who held a burning torch. Mel had found Nate, a police detective, and Lia had found, Cooper, an EMT with a connection to the god Apollo. It all just lined up too well to not mean something.
Although Clio was the youngest of the group, she possessed enough determination and hope for them all. And if history held the key to protecting everyone, she was the woman to find it. After the Order had murdered Nia, the Muse of Astronomy, Clio had been terrified, but the fire at the theater changed all that.
The Order of the Titans had chained the doors and launched Molotov cocktails through the open spots on the roof. They’d lost Polly, the Muse of Harmony and Hymns, that night, and the rest of them would have died, too, if not for their Guardians and Mason. Anger now fueled Clio’s passion for digging into history to find a way to stop them.
Her theory faltered when it came to her own namesake, though. She hadn’t fallen in love with a god or a legendary figure. She had been the only muse to marry a mortal—a king. So where did that leave her? Was her Guardian a big businessman somewhere? Or maybe a prince of some tiny country no one had ever heard of?
More importantly, if her hunch was right, how in the world would her Guardian be able to help keep them safe?
She opened her fridge and sighed. All she had was expired milk, an apple, and a sliver of cheddar cheese. Closing the door, she reached for her jacket, being more careful of her ankle this time. She grabbed one of her books about Greek mythology and tucked it under her arm. A bowl of soup at Bartlett’s would be great—and cheap—and she could work on her research while she was there.
Multitasking for the win.
The stacks of boxes loomed around her as she turned out the light and shut the door. She was really going to move…and Mason had offered to help. She didn’t know him well, but he’d already saved her life and agreed to rebuild their theater, even knowing he’d be blackballed by the other businesses in Crystal City thanks to Ted Belkin. And though his Southern gentility fit him like a well-worn sweater, she’d seen his work ethic. Even the California heat didn’t slow him down. She’d caught sight of him working shirtless a few times, and there wasn’t a soft spot on that man’s body.
He was rugged, determined, and not afraid of hard work. She should be super excited he wanted to get to know her better, but the urge to find her Guardian made her wary. The idea that Zeus himself had marked a Guardian for her, giving him a crescent-shaped birthmark that would burn when he found her—it was so freaking romantic.
Destiny.
Although the prophecy only mentioned that her Guardian would protect her, her muse sisters had fallen in love with their Guardians. Why wouldn’t she do the same? A
love destined since her birth.
Mason was handsome, kind, and brave, but she was saving her heart for the man fate chose for her. There were legendary loves throughout history that changed the course of our world—Cleopatra and Marc Anthony, Henry the VIII and Anne Boleyn. What if her love story could be that historic?
Hopefully less tragic and bloody, though.
She’d be careful around Mason. In college, she’d kept her nose in her books. She’d dated long enough to lose her virginity and experiment with sex, but it hadn’t been as amazing as they made it look in the movies, so she stopped wasting her time. But she’d never been on a date with a man like Mason Knowles.
Going down the stairs to her car was slow and painful. Another perk of staying with Trinity would be her single-story house. Clio’s studio on the second floor without an elevator hadn’t been a problem when she moved in, but ever since the fire, her ankle was unhappy with the decision.
She pushed through it and made it to the parking lot. Bartlett’s homemade potato soup was worth a little pain.
Nate frowned at Mason from across the table. “What business do you have with Bryce Carter? I don’t understand why you’d want a meeting with him.”
Mason rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how much to share with the police detective. He didn’t have a great track record when it came to telling law enforcement the truth. He’d grown to think of Nate as a friend, but if Mason wasn’t careful, he could end up locked in the psych hospital.
Mason reached for his beer. “I don’t think I ever told you why I came to Crystal City.”
Nate visibly tensed. “It has something to do with my suspect?”
“No.” Mason shook his head. “Not directly, anyway. My cousin was murdered twenty-five years ago when I was eight years old. We were swimming in the lake, and a woman drowned her. I thought she was going to kill me, too, but when I lifted my arms to protect myself, she just smiled this sick, evil smile. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and she patted my head and told me to scream. I’ve been tracking her all over the country since I was old enough to leave home.”
Nate arched a brow. “Are the police still investigating the crime?”
“No.” Mason cleared his throat and forced the words out. “When they found Sadie’s body, there was no evidence of a struggle and no DNA under her nails. They ruled it an accident. They thought I was in shock and imagined the woman in the water.”
Nate rested back in his chair. “And how exactly do you think my guy is connected to her?”
Mason focused on his beer, contemplating again how much he should share. He couldn’t tell Nate his cousin was a vessel for the Muse of Music, or even that muses were real. He also wasn’t about to admit that the woman he was hunting was some kind of water nymph.
He lifted his gaze to meet Nate’s. “Your guy is babbling about muses, and the woman who killed my older cousin thought she was one, too. I think your guy could be working for my cousin’s killer.”
Nate leaned in, lowering his voice. “What did the woman look like?”
Mason wasn’t used to officers taking him seriously, so it took him a second to respond. “She’s a leggy blond with dark eyes, and even though it happened twenty-five years ago, the few times I’ve gotten close enough to see her, she looks the same, as if she hasn’t aged a day.”
Nate ground his teeth and rubbed his forehead. When he made eye contact with Mason, there was no trace of emotion. Definitely a detective’s poker face. “Do you know her name?”
“Right now, she goes by Pamela Costas. If I can meet with your suspect, I might be able to get her location. I’m pretty sure she’s in town.”
“She is.” Nate nodded. “We’re looking for her, too.”
Mason ran his hand down his face, trying to wrap his head around the fact that the police already knew about Pamela, but if Nate said anything else, Mason missed it. Clio had slipped inside the door with a large hardcover book under her arm. She had his full attention, just as she had since the first time he’d met her.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Excuse me for a second.”
Mason rose from his seat, and his eyes locked on hers. His heart thumped in his ears as he approached her. “Hey, stranger,” he said. “Can I offer you a chair at my table?”
Her lips teased him with a shy smile. “Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not. I invited you, remember?”
He followed her over to the table, and Nate stood. “You can have my chair, Clio. I’ve got to get back to the precinct.” He kept his voice low as he passed by Mason. “I’ll call you later.”
Mason slid Clio’s chair in for her before returning to his side of the table. “What brings you out tonight?”
She laid the thick volume of Greek mythology on the table and pushed her glasses up. “I haven’t been to the grocery store, so I thought I’d research over a bowl of soup.”
Mason gestured to the book. “Have you found the muse with your name?”
Her cheeks flushed with color, and a spark of passion lit her eyes. “You know Greek mythology?”
“I’ve read a bit.” He chuckled.
The waitress came over and took Clio’s order. She handed over her menu and focused on him again. “What were you doing with Nate? I thought he was working tonight.”
“He is,” Mason rested his forearm on the edge of the table. “I’m hoping he’s going to help me find someone I’ve been searching for.”
“A family member?”
“Far from it.” He needed to change the subject. “Does your family live around here?”
Clio placed her hand on the book. “No. After I got my bachelor’s degree I didn’t move back home. I ended up in Crystal City.”
The waitress returned with a steaming bowl of soup and a glass of iced tea for Clio. After she hurried off, Mason leaned back in his chair. “So where is your family, if not nearby?”
“They’re in Arizona. It’s a short plane ride, but a pretty long drive.” She blew on a spoonful of soup, her pursed lips making him lose his train of thought.
He cleared his throat and picked up his beer. “Why did they name you after the Muse of History?”
She raised a brow with a smile. “You have read some mythology.” She shrugged. “My dad’s great-grandmother emigrated here from Greece. They named me after her. I’m not sure they even know about the muses.”
He pointed to the history book. “You do your namesake proud.”
She smiled, a pretty pink coming to her cheeks, and his heart twisted. He wanted her, but for more than just one night. The pull was more than physical attraction. Something had happened during the fire at the theater, something while he had surrendered to the wolf. The primal part of him had recognized her—his mate.
But Mason didn’t have time for relationships; his life had been devoted to justice for his cousin and father. Finding Clio was shaking up his usually laser-like focus. And while he ached to learn her secrets, to find out everything about her, above all else, he needed to keep her safe.
CHAPTER 3
A black Lincoln Town Car with tinted windows whisked Kevin away, leaving Ted alone in the parking lot with Mikolas. The tall Greek turned his way, eyes narrowing. “I thought I made it clear you weren’t to mention the Order to that man.”
“I know, but now that you’ve met him, don’t you agree? He’s a perfect fit. He knew more about the Golden Age of Man than either of us, probably more than our whole group combined.” Ted fished in his pocket for his car keys. “I was going to tell you. Sorry it came out the way it did.”
Since making the blood oath with Mikolas, they’d formed a tenuous partnership, and even though Ted still resented that Mikolas now inhabited the CEO’s office instead of him, he’d grown to respect the Greek’s knowledge about the history of the Order of the Titans, and the man’s business instincts had been on the money, too.
Mikolas had grown up in Greece, the birthplace of the gods,
and his insights into Pamela’s true motives behind her desire to see the muses die may have saved Ted’s life. While he would probably never invite Mikolas over to his place for a beer, Ted no longer wanted to see him deported or locked in jail.
A muscle twitched under Mikolas’s eye. “Whether he’d help the Order or not is beside the point right now. Have you forgotten we have an unhinged immortal in our group? She could bring us all down. Adding a new member is the last of my concerns.”
“Pamela hasn’t answered my calls. She could have left town for all we know.”
Mikolas looked up at the moon. “The muses are in Crystal City, and if she’s keen on killing them in her vendetta against Zeus as she claims, there’s no way she’d leave town.” He leveled his gaze on Ted again. “But maybe she doesn’t need us anymore.”
Trinity’s face filled Ted’s mind. His ex wasn’t just the only the woman he’d ever loved; she was also the Muse of Music. And he’d recently discovered that she hadn’t found her Guardian yet. The prophecy he’d stolen from the muses and secretly had translated mentioned mortal men marked by the gods to protect his nine daughters. These Guardians would have latent abilities that would only manifest when they met their muses.
Ted wasn’t sure what the “mark” was, but his only ability when it came to Trinity was betrayal. He wasn’t the Guardian in that prophecy, even if he wished he could be.
The plot to kill the muses to keep them from opening the Les Neuf Soeurs theater—a plot he used to believe in—hadn’t truly been his father’s idea. It had been Pamela’s. And it turned out she didn’t give a rat’s ass if the theater ever opened. She just wanted to hurt Zeus by murdering his reborn daughters.
Since Ted’s father’s death, he’d been blaming the muses—the Muse of Epic Poetry to be exact—until he discovered that Pamela had used her paralyzing venom on his father after the explosion on the Oceanus oil rig. It had worn off, but due to his age, the damage to his heart was irreparable, and when the Muse of Epic Poetry had hit him with the taser, his heart couldn’t take the shock.
