My grandmother’s deceit is the only reason I’m alive. It’s why I’m a Valari with demon blood flowing through my veins. And even though she’s long returned to the place that sent her to begin with, if all goes to plan, I’ll have children of my own one day who will despise their humanity as I was taught to. Every generation a triumph and a punishment. A lesson for anyone who thinks they can get out of hell for free.
“Gramps…” I try to piece the words together somehow, though I know there’s no right way to say it. “I…I met someone.”
The grooves between his brows deepen. “Who? A friend?”
I hesitate. “I’m not sure how I feel about him right now. I guess that’s the scary part.”
He pinches his lips together and slips his hand from my grasp, using it to rub the back of his neck. The knot of anxiety I’ve been holding on to about Maximus tightens painfully.
“I haven’t known him very long. We just met a couple days ago.”
He closes his eyes a moment. “Oh, Kara…”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Please, please be careful. Your mother…”
“I know. Trust me. I haven’t told anyone but you. No one understands what’s at stake more than I do.”
He shoots me a serious look. “Except for me. I know. And I care for you more than—”
He stops himself, but we both know the truth. What we have is one of the few treasures he has left. The relationship we’re not allowed to acknowledge. Not inside the gaudy mansion nearby, and definitely not in the world beyond that.
But the same instincts that bring me to the guesthouse to have moments with Gramps are the ones that draw me to Maximus too. Some might call it being rebellious, but I call it free will. Of course, the powers that be won’t see it that way.
Privately, I can scold myself into following the rules all I want, but when I’m in the same room as the man who looks like a god, I don’t seem to have much willpower at all.
Maximus. My senses long to keep repeating the syllables. My body craves the ineffable shivers they bring.
“There’s something about him,” I say, unable to hide the subtle pleading in my voice. “There’s this energy between us that I can’t describe. It’s almost like he could be one of us, but I know he’s not. I could feel that. This…well, this is different.”
He stares at me intently. “Are you saying you don’t think he’s human?”
“I honestly don’t know. I’m not sure he even knows.”
“Have you asked him about it?”
I shake my head. I’ve been too busy trying not to claw my way up his massive body. Too busy pretending I have a shred of control around him. But after tonight, I’m not sure I can pretend any longer, regardless of his protests.
“Not yet. But I don’t think I can stay away until I figure it out.”
Chapter Eight
Maximus
Jesse’s off-key humming echoes off the walls. I wince across my dining room table, the main piece of furniture in the dining nook of my downtown LA apartment.
When I only have to take a step to grab my next slice of pizza off the kitchen counter, the setup is primo. However, when I have to debate grabbing headphones to drown out Jesse’s musical contributions during our weekend paper-grading marathon, it has me wishing I’d signed a lease on a place in the building with more square footage.
But being on the top floor means I get vaulted ceilings and a balcony with no roof, for which every inch of my looming frame thanks me daily. But right now, as the guy continues to prove nothing music-related will ever be on his résumé, this place feels entirely too small.
“Dude,” I interject, finally unable to take any more. “If this is payback for our session in the pen at Venice this afternoon…”
“Of course not,” Jesse says while tapping on his laptop. “I don’t waste my time on payback. You know that. The second that word gets tossed around, you start to suspect shit.”
“Should’ve known better than to ask.” Some things in this world, like death, taxes, the Santa Ana winds, and my best friend’s snark, will never change. While I can do without pondering the first three, especially as the winds whip a strong gust across my balcony, life wouldn’t be complete without the latter.
He waggles his brows. “But you are going to ask how things went last night with Stacey, right?”
“Stacey?” I rock my head back. “Who’s that?”
“Come on, geezer. Keep up. Stacey? From Sacramento? Comes down here once a month for business and her favorite hottie on wheels? You’ve met her before.”
His description jars some memory fragments from a few months ago, but I stick to my original thought. “What happened to your strawberry girl from less than a week ago? Misty, right?”
“Well, I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking. Though at her place after the Recto Verso party, I did wonder a few times. Damn. When that girl gets off, it’s like the Metro’s barreling through. Her nipples turn hard as—”
“Okay, okay. Got it.” And holy shit, do I—because as soon as the guy evokes the imagery, all my brain can do is overlay it all onto an image of Kara Valari.
Kara…
The enchantress with the firestorm gaze that I can’t banish from my mind. The searing touches I can’t wash off my skin. The energy, connective and captivating, that I can’t erase from my senses. Even after I think back to the glaring Absent next to her name in my ledger from yesterday’s class. Which, of course, makes my current state of mind even more pathetic.
Jesse takes another chomp of pizza—another staple of weekend paper-grading marathons. “So what about you and Kristy?” His gray eyes twinkle with dastardly glee.
“Ah, here comes the payback.”
He chuckles. “I could be a legit douche right now and decide how deep to really twist the knife…”
“Or not,” I counter.
“Or maybe I could just change the subject.” His cheeky head tilt doesn’t have me relaxing. At all. “But maybe that’s two birds with the same custom stone…if the new subject is a certain member of the Valari dynasty?”
I give in to a new grimace, baring my teeth this time. An overreaction, to be sure, but I’m incapable of controlling myself. “The hell are you getting at, North?”
“Whoa there, cowboy. If you don’t want to talk about Kara Valari and how you and she were eye-fucking the crap out of each other at the Recto Verso party, fine by me. I just hope you’re being honest with yourself about the nuclear reactor you became around that girl.”
“Goddammit.” Even with my gaze averted and my posture slumped, it feels like the bastard has hurled a comet through the middle of my chest. I fist the front of my T-shirt, not wanting to acknowledge the truth—truth that peppers every syllable of my best friend’s next statement.
“Well, damn. Maximus Kane, I do declare! Are you actually keen on the lovely Miss Valari?”
I glance up and wince. “I don’t know what the hell I am, man.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that ‘keen’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind in this situation.”
“So I should go back to the nuclear reactor metaphor?”
“Maybe. Probably.” I jerk my hand higher, dragging it through my hair. “She’s a student, for God’s sake. And she’s part of that strange family…”
“Strange.” For reasons I can’t fathom, his retort is bitter. “And you think that…why?”
“We’re still talking about the Valaris, right?” I counter.
“They’re taking advantage of some lucrative business opportunities. What’s so strange about that? Building the brand while they can. Young and trendy has a shelf life. If they’re smart and savvy enough to be conscious of that and are riding the comet before it sheds all its crystals, more power to them.”
As he gets his astronomy geek on, I reach into the side pocket of my carrier bag and pull out Kara’s earring. As soon as the thing catches the light and
sparkles against my palm, Jesse abandons his Valari Clan public service announcement.
“What…is…”
“You were saying?” I drawl. “About young and trendy?”
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s Kara’s. But before you get the wrong idea, she lost it in my classroom. I tried chasing her down to return it, but she’d already disappeared.”
“Why didn’t you just take it to campus security?”
I asked the same thing of myself while standing in the middle of that empty hallway, wondering how she’d managed to vanish so quickly. I’m going to sound crazy, and maybe I need to be told that without sugarcoating.
“Something about it”—everything about it—“spoke to me somehow.” Holy shit, I do sound like a moron. But there’s no turning back now. “It’s not exactly something she picked up on Rodeo Drive or snagged from the VIP suite at an awards show.”
A full breath expels from me as I run the pad of my thumb over the sharp metal molding of the wolf. Holding on to the piece wasn’t a conscious choice, and neither are the words that emerge next. “And for a family that radiates young and trendy, why does this feel like it was made a century ago?”
“More than one,” Jesse murmurs. “Definitely,” he adds once he’s holding the earring up. “This thing must weigh as much as she does.”
I force my thoughts away from Kara’s enticing little figure as he rambles on.
“The clasp is probably solid gold, but the hinge is loose. Probably why it slipped off,” Jesse says. The rubies and diamonds glint in the light as he holds it up and twists it from side to side. “This design…it’s…wow.”
“Right?” I say no more. I don’t have to. This isn’t something to be dropped off with a rent-a-cop at the security desk. There’s more than just physical weight and ageless bling in the thing. There’s history. Stories. Meaning. They’re tangible in just the feel of the gold and gems together.
After scrutinizing the piece for the better part of a minute, Jesse finally murmurs, “Cerberus.”
“Stick to star trivia, North. Cerberus is a hound with three heads, not one.”
“Also used to not be a hound at all,” he shoots back.
I push my laptop to the side and lean forward. “Says who?” It’s not a throwdown. It’s a legitimate information request. I can tell Jesse’s switched into Professor North mode, and I’m grateful for it.
“Guy named Hevelius,” he supplies. “Seventeenth-century astronomer. Seven out of the ten constellations he identified are still acknowledged today. Of the three that aren’t, one was known as Cerberus—a three-headed snake that was held by Hercules. The gems in this earring are arranged in that constellation’s pattern.”
Why that revelation has my pulse revving, I have no idea.
“How do you know all that? Last time I checked”—and I know this from Jesse himself—“astronomy isn’t astrology.”
“The constellations straddle both,” he explains. “Which means I also have a passing knowledge of Latin, though that lettering on the earring would take the eyesight of a hawk.”
“Ex ignes,” I supply from memory, as I’ve already spent far too much time inspecting it. “That’s the top part. The bottom says victoria.”
“From the fires, victory,” he translates. “Probably a family motto borrowed from their heraldry.” He hands the earring back to me. “I’ll admit, it’s all a little strange, but not in the worst ways. After looking at this and having graded my first pop-quiz essay from Miss Kell Valari, this family has really begun to fascinate me.”
I halt, the earring halfway back to my satchel. “It was that bad?”
“It was that good.” He leans back and steeples his fingers. “I’ve been crazy about space since we were kids, but the girl talks about the Milky Way like she’s already flown across it.” He laughs wistfully. “And I thought the only stars she cared about were the ones she followed on social media.”
I arch both brows. “That is fascinating.”
“Right? Those Valaris are opening my eyes in ways I never imagined.”
“Same, my friend.” Very much the same.
The longer I sit here, holding this age-old heirloom in my hand, the deeper that truth seems to clamor at me. Call to me.
Which is pretty fucking crazy.
In my line of work, I’m accustomed to finding allegorical meaning, not truth, in things like ancient star systems, mythological beasts, and Latin phrases that sound like vengeful promises. Or, for that matter, battle cries.
An insight that leads to yet another.
None of this information is matching up. Hollywood and glitter with Old Latin and old constellations. Red carpets and golden fashion runways with antique gemstones and solid-gold earring clasps.
There are disconnects here. Lots of them. But when I think of the most vast disparity of them all—the difference between what the rest of the world sees in Kara Valari and the dark angst I’ve seen in her eyes—nothing feels off-balance at all. Everything about her—and me—feels completely right. Exactly where it should be.
Now I just need to know… Why?
Chapter Nine
Kara
I press my hand against the metal door. It warms under the heat of my touch. I give myself a few more seconds to change my mind. If he’s not home, all I’ve wasted is an hour on the internet and a nail-biting drive here to demonstrate what I’m willing to do to chase the forbidden mystery he’s become.
The muffled sound of people talking on the other side sends me a step back. I can make out the deep timbre of Maximus’s voice, then someone laughing. Another male.
Shit.
This was a stupid idea. I need to leave before—
The door opens with a soft whoosh of air, the metal hinges whining faintly, removing the barrier between us. Maximus leans on the edge of the door casually, unaware of my presence.
His dark-haired friend notices me first, his eyes taking on a glimmer of intrigue. “Well, then.”
He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t figure out why. The wonderment doesn’t last long, shoved aside by my nervousness. I wasn’t expecting Maximus to have company. That he does could make this confrontation so much worse.
Finally, Maximus sees me. He pushes back from the door a fraction, like someone’s just delivered bad news to his doorstep. “Kara. What—”
His friend quickly cuts between us, whipping his hand from the chrome wheels of his chair to reach for mine. “I’m Jesse.”
I force a smile and meet the gesture. “I’m—”
“Kara. I know. I’ve got Kell in one of my classes. I’m Professor North.”
I close my eyes briefly, internalizing the slew of curses I want to hurl at myself. That’s how I know his face. Unfortunately, the revelation adds a new layer to my growing anxiety. Of all the people to run into…
“What are you doing here?” Maximus’s pointed question sounds like an accusation.
Inwardly, I repeat it. What am I doing here? While my mind knows that answer, my nervous system is having trouble keeping up. I force myself to persist. This feels too important.
I jog my chin, ordering myself to meet his incisive blues. I didn’t exactly leave him on a warm note last time, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s pissed I’ve now shown up at his door. On a Saturday no less.
“I’m sorry, but I think you might have something of mine.”
Jesse’s eyes light up. “Ah. The earring.”
“Yes,” I reply, though the edge in my tone is How the hell do you know?
“Max and I were checking it out earlier. Pretty cool piece. What did it say? Ex ignes victoria?”
I manage to respond even though my teeth are clamped together. “That’s right.”
He tilts his head. “Family heirloom?”
“Something like that.”
He nods, but I can see more questions swimming in his amused expression. In that moment, he seems to be the mirth to Maximus’s b
rood. After another chance to look up at the professor who is still glowering at me, I almost appreciate it.
“I was just leaving. I’ll let you two catch up.” Jesse winks at me before swinging his gaze back to Maximus and lifting his eyebrows suggestively. “Later.”
Great. Fucking fantastic.
I step back to let Jesse pass over the threshold. He whips down the corridor toward the elevator at the end. Which means I’m forced to face the man I’m not so sure I want to see anymore. Maximus takes up the whole of the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Why are you sorry?”
He says it the way a teacher speaks to an incorrigible student. Like he wants me to write all the reasons on a chalkboard a few dozen times until I learn my lesson.
I will not show up at my professor’s apartment uninvited.
I will not show up at my professor’s apartment uninvited.
I tug the inside of my lip between my teeth and decide the pain of apologizing again can be tolerated, all things considered.
“I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue. I checked campus security and no one turned it in. I figured you might have found it after…” After you tugged on my hair like you couldn’t stop yourself. “I just figured you might have it.”
We share a silent stare that devolves into my shameless pass over his body. He’s in jeans and a flimsy white T-shirt today. His hair is loose and messy, and I’m too eager to have my fingers get better acquainted with it.
“Come in,” he finally says, turning into the apartment.
I follow him inside and shut the door behind us. The loft is spacious but modest. The simple exposed brick walls and vaulted ceilings make the one-room studio feel open and airy, even for someone of its owner’s stature. My survey of the space snags on the bed in the corner. Its puffy white duvet is rumpled on one side. I’m riveted on it longer than I probably should be. But even now, there’s lingering energy from that area. A warmth that’s common to bedrooms, where secret dreams live—but a heat that’s also unique to him. To this man…
Blood of Zeus: (Blood of Zeus: Book One) Page 6
