by S. A. Gibbs
“No? Well then, tell me what it was.”
A faint rumble in his throat grew louder, and he jumped to his feet. “It’s been years, Lucas. I’ve had to wait and watch in the shadows while other men touch her, use her, and then cast her aside. And now, when it’s finally her twenty-fifth year, you would still deny me.”
I understood his pain, his suffering. Allowing her to make her own mistakes while she grew up had been hell. We’d had to restrain ourselves, only intervening when it was absolutely crucial. How could I blame him for his impetuousness? Yet I still did.
“It’s only the first day, Ryle, and your impulsiveness may have already ruined everything.” I sighed.
The fire in his eyes dimmed, and he raked a hand through his blond locks.
“I’m sorry, Lucas.”
“Did you know he was watching you?”
His head snapped up and he looked at me. “Who, Hades?”
I nodded.
“I didn’t see him.”
“He served your drinks.”
Ryle huffed with amusement. “And I thought it was Athena giving me a heads-up.”
“What?”
“Amberleigh doesn’t like beer breath.”
“Oh.”
The front door flew open, and Mitch stormed in, a rumbling growl emanating from his throat. He headed straight for us. My immortal flame instantly roared to life.
Stepping next to Ryle, I readied myself to deflect Mitch’s advance.
“She’s safely home. If you cared to know.” He threw his jacket on the couch. “Who the fuck does the Lambada anymore?” Mitch’s eyes flared with anger.
Ryle thrust out his chest. “Amberleigh seemed to enjoy it.”
Mitch pushed past me. The sickening thud of his fist smashing into Ryle’s jaw brought out the worst in me, and I instantaneously shifted into my gatekeeper form: a hound. My lips furled back, and my razor-sharp teeth snapped together as I rabidly warned Mitch to back off.
“Enough!” Athena’s bellowing command startled us, and I changed back into my human body.
She stood with her hands on her hips. “I didn’t spend the last four months posing as a secretary for you three to screw up. It’s taken twenty-six years to get to this point.”
Using her goddess power, the lithe body of Sheila, which Athena currently inhabited, distorted, and she morphed into her true form. Draped in a golden toga, she continued her tirade. “While you three bicker, my warriors remain trapped. I promised them glory in the afterlife. The right of a hero is to live forever in the Elysium Fields. Instead, Esme denies them passage through the underworld, dooming them to linger along the banks of the Styx. I want the reigning queen dead!”
My hands flew up in our defense. “Athena, Amberleigh’s only just turned twenty-five.”
“I don’t care!” she bellowed. Her voice lowered to a threatening tone. She glared at us. “You have one year to convince Hades’s daughter, train her, and take the throne. Don’t make me regret helping you.”
She pushed past us, her toga a swirl of shimmering gold.
“I’m going home to Mount Olympus for the weekend. Get your shit together.” She suddenly spun back and strutted up to me. Placing a finger beneath my chin, she lifted my head, and the immortal fire in her eyes burned bright as she directed it into my soul.
“Lucas,” she whispered. “Put some clothes on. It’s rather chilly in here.”
She vanished, spiriting herself, presumably, back to the mountain.
Damn it!
I gathered up the pieces of my favorite suit. Storming off, I left Mitch and Ryle to make amends while I went to get dressed.
When I returned, they had cleared the air. Thank God—or was it Hades I should have blamed for our current situation. After all, it had been his doing, stepping aside and placing the current queen, Esme, upon the throne.
Even if Hades didn’t condone her outdated methods, what other choice did he have back then?
Esme, his only daughter willing to rule, changed everything the moment she sat upon the throne. Having been raised in the underworld, she knew nothing about mortals, and it was her way or no way.
Mitch, Ryle, and I had been Hades’s guardians of the gates in the underworld, the three dying men he made immortal in exchange for our loyalty as his gatekeepers: Cerberus, his three-headed hound. It had been our second chance.
That had been eons ago. We rebelled at Esme’s radical reversal of progress. Her decisions compromised the rhythmic flow of a soul transitioning from life to death. Instead of some small token given to Charon to cross the river Styx, she insisted an obol be the only payment of passage. Her outdated dictum stranded thousands of souls along the banks of the river. In the evolving world, no one traded in obols anymore.
Our rebellion against the queen invoked her ire. She broke our collar and cast our chain to the seven winds, banishing us from the underworld to the realm of the living.
Esme didn’t care about the tortured souls doomed to wander the banks, but Athena did.
A goddess needed to be worshiped.
If Athena’s warriors didn’t believe in her promises, how could she ever lead an army to victory?
It was too much to think of at the moment. We’d waited years to return home, and Amberleigh was the key—the golden token. Hades had produced an heir, giving us a chance.
It was now up to us.
Chapter 3
Amberleigh
My eyes flew open. Gasping, I threw my bedcovers back. Sweat drenched my nightgown, and somehow it had ridden up, twisting around my chest. Ripping it off and tossing it on the floor, I flopped back, naked on the damp sheets. My body tingled, and it wasn’t just from the cool air in the room.
My dream felt so real.
Warm hands and lips had caressed my most intimate places. Just remembering how it felt made me ache for it to have been real.
The memory of a cool tongue flicking up my leg and probing beneath the elastic of my silky underwear had me throbbing all over again.
I reached over, yanking open the drawer to the bedside chest, and groaned. I’d thrown my vibrator away after one of Dan’s hissy fits and still hadn’t replaced it. Reluctantly, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. God, why was my wrist so sore? I rotated it to ease the ache.
What I needed was a shower.
The hot water pummeled my skin, but it only increased my desire. I washed my hair and rinsed my auburn curls. The throbbing between my legs hadn’t lessened. How could it when all I could think about was the dream? Soaping my body, my hands glided across my slippery skin. I ran them over my breasts. My nipples as hard as bullets. The memory of warm lips plucking their tips had me searching for release. My fingers toyed with my sensitive clit, the soap providing an amazing slipperiness to my fingers. Wow, it felt good, but I couldn’t find a release to the torturous pleasure. Leaning my head against the cool tiles, I reached up and removed the handheld shower nozzle from its bracket, and lowering it, I aimed the powerful warm water jets at my throbbing clit while I allowed myself to remember the dream.
My fingers entwined through his dark, almost raven, imaginary hair as my mystery lover worked me into a writhing creature willing to do anything for release. He knew what I wanted—what I needed—to bring me to the point of no return.
I clenched my glutes and moaned in ecstasy as the water brought me to the cusp of my orgasm and pushed me over the edge.
THE ALARM RADIO BLARED, and I reached over, slapping the snooze button to shut it up. I was a wreck. The weekend had flown by, and I’d barely managed to get any restful sleep. The man with the raven hair haunted my dreams, leaving me panting and hot upon waking.
Surprisingly, I hadn’t dreamed of Ryle. He was real, flesh and blood, but I knew he’d never call. How could he—I hadn’t had the chance to give him my number.
Dragging my sorry arse out of bed, I turned the alarm off so it wouldn’t be blaring full-bore when I returned from the shower.
Rea
dy for the day, at last, I slid my arms into the sleeves of my coat and grabbed my scarf. Closing the front door behind me, I opened the café app on my phone and clicked the “Order Now” button.
My curls bounced as I pranced down the stairs and headed outside into the chilly morning air. God, what I wouldn’t give for a warm day filled with sunshine, blue skies, and white fluffy clouds.
Yet winter dragged on.
Within ten minutes, I pulled open the front door to the café and stepped into its warmth. I glanced at my fantasy men’s usual booth. Being Monday, I knew they wouldn’t be there, but I just couldn’t help myself.
Thanking Josh, I collected my order and left the shop, hurrying up the street to see Jed and Rumble.
Rumble gave me the traditional greeting, and when I reached into my purse, his butt hit the ground, his tail wagging frantically, as if polishing a hardwood floor. Giving him his treat, I patted his head.
“Well, good morning, Amberleigh.”
Jed’s smiling face was the warm sunshine I needed. He stashed his tin cup and rose from his blanket. I handed him his morning coffee and toasted sandwich.
“Morning, Jed. Did you manage to stay dry through the storm?”
He smiled. “I have me ways—you know that—and Mr. Chan gave us some leftover soup from the kitchen.”
Mr. Chan was nice like that. He didn’t mind Jed and the others living in the alley out back of his restaurant. I glanced down the alley, and the shanty cardboard homes poked out from behind the dumpster.
“Did ya have a good birthday?”
I nodded. “I went out for dinner with a couple of friends.” I wasn’t going to tell him about Ryle; that was for sure.
I glanced at my watch: eight forty-two. “I have to go.”
“All right, lass. Have a great day.”
I gave Jed a hug and hurried off to work.
As I pushed open the front door to Camden & Sons, Sheila greeted me with a sunny smile. I looked at the clock behind her desk. Eight fifty-seven. Early, thank God. Her desk phone rang and she answered it. “Reception. Yes, Mr. Camden, I’ll send her in.” She hung up the phone and leaned toward me and whispered, “He wants to see you in his office.”
What had I done now? Sheila must have seen me roll my eyes because she giggled.
Walking over to Mr. Camden’s office, I eased open the door. He had the phone clutched to his ear and waved me in. “No, Connor. I don’t have time at the moment. I’ll speak with Joe later and let you know.” He nodded. “Sure, sure. Talk then.” He hung up.
“Come in, Miss Shade. Please, have a seat.”
He didn’t smile, but he didn’t seem pissed off either. Maybe I wasn’t in trouble after all. “Shelia said you wanted to see me.”
“Yes, yes, but unfortunately, it’s not good news, Miss Shade.”
“Oh?” My face flushed with heat. What the hell was going on?
“Mrs. Camden has cancer.”
I sank into the chair. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”
“Thank you.” He gave me a thin smile. “I’m downsizing the company so I can spend more time with her.”
I nodded. What else could I do?
“I’m sorry, Miss Shade, but I have to let you go.”
What? What the fuck! I had rent to pay and bills. My heart thumped and my stomach lurched. What could I say to him? Absolutely nothing.
He cleared his throat, and I had the feeling he really didn’t want to do it.
“I’ve had your pay made up.”
He held out an envelope and I took it.
“I really am sorry.”
Welling tears burned my eyes, and, blinking, I tried to hold them at bay. Standing, I was lost for words, but I nodded, taking my final pay. “Thank you” was all I could manage as I shoved the envelope in my bag. My legs seemed heavy. Stunned, I plodded from his office.
Sheila must have seen the despair on my face because she sprang from her seat and rushed to my side. “What is it? What happened?”
A tear slipped from my eye, trickling down my cheek. “He let me go.”
“What?”
“He fired me.”
Sheila snatched a tissue from the box on her desk and stuffed it in my hand. “Do you want me to get Tracey up here?”
I shook my head.
“You want me to walk you home?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” I blew my nose and scrunched the snotty tissue up, shoving it in my pocket. She pulled out two more tissues and handed them to me.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. Sheila hugged me, and then I reluctantly headed for the elevator. I had to collect my personal effects and tell Tracey.
Stepping into the basement, I quickly wiped away my tears. Tracey didn’t need to see me like this; she’d be devastated enough when I told her.
“Hey, babe, I’m in the kitchen making coffeeeee.” Her happy sing-song voice brought my tears flooding back. I walked over to the kitchenette’s doorway, and she spun to face me. Her eyes widened. “What’s wrong!” She rushed over and hugged me. When she pulled back, I quickly wiped my tears away. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Mr. Camden let me go.”
“What!” She thrust her arms in the air. “He just can’t do that!” She paced in circles.
“Tracey—Trace! His wife is terminally ill. He can’t afford to keep me on.”
She stopped midpace and clutched her chest. “Oh my God. The poor man. What are you going to do?”
I shrugged. “Find something else.” I ambled over to my desk and picked up the photo we’d taken of ourselves while holidaying in Aruba. Tracey’s sunny smile stared back at me from beneath her floppy red hat. Jeez! Get it together. It’s not as if we wouldn’t see one another anymore. I wasn’t moving to a colony on Mars.
There really wasn’t all that much on my desk to collect, just the frame with our photo, a bobble-head character of Wonder Woman, and a half-eaten packet of Jolly Ranchers. I shoved them in my bag. When I turned around, Tracey was watching me from the kitchenette’s doorway. The morose look on her face almost made me cry again. I released a shuddered breath and wandered over to her. She handed me my coffee mug. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
It would only prolong my agony. “No, I’ll call you later.”
She threw her arms around me and held me tight. “It’ll be all right; you’ll see.”
I gave her a weak smile and headed for the elevator.
DAWDLING DOWN THE ROAD, lost in my own misery, a car horn blared. Startled, I stopped and looked up. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it thump in my chest. The driver shook his fist, cursing me. I’d walked straight out in front of his car. I raised my hand in apology as I moved back, and he hurled me another insult as he drove off. Blinking rapidly to hold back another flow of tears, I hurried along.
I crossed the main street, deciding to cut up Second Avenue and head for the park. I needed to clear my head and get a grip on myself before I reached home. By the duck pond, I flopped down on a bench and rummaged through my bag, in search of my phone. When the birds noticed me, they headed my way. I wanted to text Tracey to let her know I was fine, but I changed my mind. I’d probably just upset her all the more.
I glanced to the side as the heavy thud of a runner’s pace approached. He nodded, acknowledging me, and I returned to my phone. He reached over the back of the bench and snatched my handbag.
I lunged to grab it back, but the guy dashed away.
“Hey! Hey!” I jumped to my feet. Shit! How could this be happening?
My boots clacked as I pounded the path in pursuit of him. He looked over his shoulder and veered off into the bushes. My heavy coat hindered my pace, and I was already out of breath. Grabbing at the pain in my side, I slowed to a walk. Should I follow him in or not? My heart raced. He could be lurking inside the shrubbery, waiting, ready to pounce.
I licked my lips. God, I needed a drink, but right now, I needed that money more.
Besides th
e few measly dollars in my bank account, and the fifty in my purse, which he also had, I was broke.
I dialed 911. I could hit the call button if I needed to. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was better than nothing.
After taking a deep breath to stoke up some courage, I pushed between the bushes, snapping twigs and bending branches. Eventually, I emerged out the other side into a clearing. My handbag lay dumped on the grass, its contents strewn on the ground. Dashing toward my bag, I thanked God the guy had left my keys. I flipped open my purse, but he’d taken the fifty bucks. I picked up my bag and checked for the envelope. Nope. Shit! Looking around, there was no sign of it. I didn’t even know how much money it had contained. Raking my stuff up, I shoved it back in my bag. There was nothing left to do except report it.
IT WAS AFTERNOON BY the time I’d left the crowded police station and headed for home. I’d waited almost an hour to be called to the desk and given the paperwork to make my report. Then another hour before I was seen by an officer who confirmed I’d never see the money again.
Opening the gate, I headed up the path to the front door of my building. The lace curtain in Mrs. Evans’s apartment caught my eye as she let it go. Jesus, could I just catch a break.
The front door swung inward. She stood there with a smile plastered on her face, and I groaned.
“Amberleigh, you’re home early.”
I forced out a smile. “I’m not feeling so well.” Unfortunately, it was the truth.
“No wonder, dear, with this weather the way it is. You hop upstairs, and I’ll bring you a cup of hot chicken-and-corn soup. I’ve just finished making it.”
Nosy but nice.
“Thank you, Mrs. Evans.” I climbed the stairs to my apartment, leaving the door ajar. Dumping my handbag on the hall table I took off my coat and hung it up.
My phone beeped again. It was Tracey for the billionth time. I quickly texted I was home and going to bed. She sent back a smiley face, and I told her I would call her tomorrow. I just wanted to be alone.
“Here we are, dear,” Mrs. Evans called out as she walked in.
