Awakened (Eternal Guardians Book 8) Page 3

  Her gaze skipped over the jungle again. It wouldn’t be dark in fifteen minutes. Instead of sitting here twiddling her thumbs, she might as well look around this area for that stupid spear.

  Decision made, she closed her hand around a long, thin piece of bamboo. She swung it through the air, figuring a cane was as good a weapon as anything—just in case. Mentally noting where her bamboo tree was located, she headed east and counted footsteps so she knew how to get back. On the sixteenth step, her foot sank into a mud bog.

  “Skata.” She wrenched her leg up. But before she could pull her foot free, the ground dropped away, dragging her down a river of mud with a scream that rang in her ears.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Max flashed to the courtyard of the Argolean castle with the witch cradled in his arms. A split second later, Talisa appeared at his side.

  Castle guards took notice of them and rushed over. “What happened?” one asked.

  Max handed the witch off to the guards. “She’s injured. Get her to my mother.” To Talisa, he said, “Come on, we need to find the queen.”

  They moved into the castle, their boots clicking across the great Alpha seal set into the marble floor of the massive entry. Pillars rose all around them. A grand staircase swept up and to the right.

  “What time is it?” Talisa skipped stairs to keep up with him. “At this hour, the queen’s probably with my father, getting her daily report on the Argonauts’ missions.”

  The queen always met with the leader of the Argonauts at the end of the day, unless he was out in the field. Since Max’s dad, Zander, along with the Argonauts Orpheus and Aristokles were on patrol today in the human realm, Max figured Talisa was probably right. At the second-floor landing, he headed for Theron’s office.

  Voices echoed from the open door as they approached.

  “No, it didn’t go well at all,” the queen said. “I’m sure she hates us right now.”

  “Hates is too tame a word,” the Argonaut Demetrius, Elysia’s father, said from somewhere in the room.

  “Are you saying you want to change your mind?” Theron asked.

  “I don’t know how we can,” Isadora answered. “You said that spy our guards caught in the tunnels was definitely wearing the insignia of the Council.”

  Max and Talisa both slowed.

  “He was,” Theron answered. “And he’s still not talking. But we all know the Council does not like the changes you’ve instigated since becoming queen. They don’t like the way you’ve elevated females in this realm and given them a voice. They don’t like that you’ve welcomed the witches into society, and they definitely don’t like the fact you opened our borders to the Misos.”

  Max glanced toward Talisa. The Misos were the population of half-breeds—a half-Argolean, half-human race—who’d come to Argolea as refugees when their colony was destroyed by daemons in the human realm.

  “Twenty-five years later,” Theron went on, “and they’re still grumbling about that. These are old-school ándres and old-school politicians, my queen. Unless you do something to show them that tradition still exists here, they’re going to move against us all and revert this realm back to what it was when your father ruled. I don’t see another option, at this point. A political marriage aligning the monarchy with the Council is the best option you’ve got to prevent a major coup.”

  Talisa tensed at Max’s side, and silence echoed from the room. Max knew just what his cousin thought of arranged bindings. For a female, it was a prison sentence. But at the moment, it was nothing compared to what was happening to Elysia.

  He moved into the room without knocking.

  Theron glanced over with a scowl. “Maximus, whatever you need can—”

  The second he spotted Talisa, the Argonaut leader’s expression softened. He was a big guy—easily six feet five and two hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle—but as he pushed out of the chair behind his desk, a warm smile broke across his face, making him look less like a warrior and more like a father.

  That expression darkened when he glanced between his daughter and Max, though, clearly reading Talisa’s worry. “What’s going on, you two? What’s happened?”

  Talisa stepped toward her father. “Patéras—”

  “Elysia is gone.” Max looked toward the queen, standing near the windows with her slim arms crossed over her chest.

  “What do you mean by gone?” Seated on the couch to Max’s left, pushed to his feet and pinned Max with a hard look.

  He was bigger than Theron, closer to seven feet, with dark hair and eyes that hinted of danger and secrets. For as long as Max could remember, Demetrius had been the most intimidating of the Argonauts, and now was no exception.

  “We had plans to go hiking today,” Talisa said at her father’s side before Max could find the words. “All three of us. But when we met up with Elysia, it was apparent she was upset. She flashed before we could stop her. Max and I tracked her to the witches’ tent city. We’re pretty sure she was planning to cross into the human realm.”

  “Skata.” Demetrius’s jaw hardened, and he flicked a look at his mate. “I told you hate was too tame a word.”

  The queen stepped forward, pale blonde hair falling to her shoulders in a wave, looking absolutely tiny next to her massive mate. “You said planning. Did you catch her in time?”

  “No,” Max answered. “She was already gone when we arrived.”

  “Skata.” Demetrius said again, running his hand through his dark hair. “She knows she’s not supposed to cross without a guard.” He moved toward the door, flicking one look at Theron. “We need to get to her before she finds trouble.”

  Theron rounded the desk. “I’ll send word for Titus and Phin to join us.”

  “You won’t find her,” Max said after them.

  Both males stopped and looked back.

  “He’s right.” Talisa moved up at Max’s side. “She never made it to the human realm.”

  Demetrius stepped toward her, eyes narrowed and very focused. “What are you saying?”

  Talisa looked toward Max, and as their eyes locked, he read the worry and apprehension in her violet gaze. She didn’t want to say it. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t want to say it either, but someone had to.

  Max set his jaw. “She’s on Pandora.”

  Demetrius stared at him a long moment before his eyes grew wide with both fear and shock and darted toward his mate.

  “Pandora?” Theron moved back into the room. “How? No one knows how to get to that island. Even the queen and Demetrius, who were trapped there, don’t know how to reach it again.”

  “Sirens know,” Talisa said.

  For a heartbeat, no one moved, no one spoke. But Max felt the fear swirling through the room with the force of a tornado. And in that moment, he knew he’d failed again. If he’d been faster—if he’d been smarter—he could have stopped Elysia in time and kept her safe. But he hadn’t. And now his only hope was that someone stronger could save her before it was too late.

  “Sirens came into Argolea through the moving portal,” he finally said. “They slaughtered the witches, and they took Elysia. Took her because Zeus marked her for the Siren Order.”

  This was by far the stupidest thing Damon had ever agreed to do.

  The cut in his thigh was already starting to knit together thanks to his fast-healing genes. If the Siren recruit didn’t find him soon, he wouldn’t need to be rescued. Then she’d fail her next labor and would end up stuck here for good.

  “Come on, chickadee,” he muttered as he leaned back against the rock wall. “The light’s starting to go.”

  The monsters on this island came out at dusk. If you weren’t somewhere safe by sunset, all bets were off. While Damon didn’t particularly care what happened to some recruit who probably wouldn’t make it through the full seven years of training—very few actually did—he didn’t want to get trapped on this island for all eternity with her. Being shipwrecked with the immortal world’s deadliest mo
nsters wasn’t Damon’s idea of a vacation. Not by a long shot. No matter what Athena thought of this girl.

  A rustling sounded to his right. Slowly, Damon pushed to his feet. Gripping the tree limb he’d picked up, just in case, he held still and hoped whatever beast had just awoken couldn’t smell him and went on its horrifying way.

  A sword would be nice. Or one of the Sirens’ trusty bow and arrows. Leave it to Athena to stick him here with nothing to defend himself. Then again, she’d done this to him dozens of times over the years, and he’d agreed to it. Why should this be any different?

  The thick brush rustled again. Damon’s heart picked up speed. He gripped the club tighter, hoping it was his recruit making all that noise. He was tougher than any seasoned Siren, but with no weapon, even he didn’t stand much of a chance against a monster that breathed fire or struck out with claws like machetes.

  Silence settled over the jungle. Sweat beaded on Damon’s bare chest as he held his breath and waited. Several tense seconds passed, and he exhaled when he realized there was nothing there. Then the brush burst open, and a manticore, a beast with the body of a lion and the head of a human, sporting glowing red eyes and three rows of razor-sharp teeth, roared and charged.

  “Fuck. Me.” Damon didn’t bother to fight. He darted into the trees to his right and sprinted for the beach.

  The Siren recruit had built a shelter in the trees—a smart choice considering most of the monsters on this island couldn’t climb. At this point, Damon didn’t care if he ruined her little test or even that he had to save himself. He wasn’t about to be some beast’s lunch because of her.

  His foot hooked a root he didn’t see, and he tumbled forward. The club flew from his fingers. At his back, the manticore roared louder. Damon landed with a grunt against the ground, but before he could jerk upright, his momentum took him over again, and in a daze, he realized he was rolling down a steep hillside, tumbling faster with every crack against the forest floor.

  Pain echoed from his back, his shoulder, his injured leg. Somewhere above, the manticore roared, but all he could see was the jungle spinning around him. His body finally came to a bone-jarring halt. With a groan, he tried to push up on his hands, but pain exploded all across the back of his skull, stopping his momentum.

  He sucked in a deep breath. Warm liquid gushed from the cut on his leg, telling him he’d ripped open the wound. His vision grew spotty. He was losing blood fast. The monster would smell that. More would likely come. He wasn’t making it to that tree fort. He had to find a place to hide and wait. Somewhere he could regroup and give his body time to heal.

  Somehow, he managed to drag himself forward, but his head was so light, he had trouble focusing. And before he was able to pull himself into the brush, the edges of his vision darkened.

  Shit.

  Oh yeah. This was definitely the dumbest thing he’d ever agreed to do. Because as much as he hated Aphrodite’s pleasure palace, at least there he’d been in one piece. And alive.

  In a matter of minutes, he’d be neither.

  Elysia stilled in the trees where she’d been hiding since she’d heard the roar above on the hillside.

  That groan didn’t sound like a monster, though. It sounded like a man.

  Another roar echoed, shooting her heart rate into the stratosphere. She dropped the paper she’d fished out of the latest box to fall from the sky—the one that had arrived just after she’d located one of those illustrious spears in a pile of rocks at the bottom of the hill she’d tumbled down—and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the weapon. Kill an animal and prepare your first meal. That was her fourth labor. Until she’d heard the roar, she hadn’t truly believed there were any animals on this island. Now she knew differently. But from the sound of that roar, she’d be smart to avoid that particular animal. Or thing. Or monster.

  She stepped to her left, intent on heading back to the shelter she’d built in the trees, but as she moved out from behind the tree, she spotted the body.

  It was male, sprawled facedown on the ground, unmoving. Eyeing the hillside where she’d heard that roar, she cautiously nudged the man’s shoulder with her foot.

  He didn’t move. Heart pounding, she knelt and searched for a pulse against his wrist.

  He was alive, just out cold. Judging from the blood against the rocks near his right leg, though, badly wounded.

  Common sense told Elysia to leave him. He looked to outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds. Even if he could walk, injured the way he was, he’d just slow her down. And right now, the only thing she cared about was getting back to safety. But her conscience kept her from walking away. What had her mother always said? Power does not come from strength of arm, but in a ruler’s ability to show compassion to those in need.

  She frowned, because—again—she could remember words and information, just not the person saying them.

  Looking back at the man, she bit her lip. Skata, she couldn’t leave him. At least not until she got him somewhere safe.

  She circled him, knelt at his side, and ripped off one bottom leg of his pants. After tying it quickly around his upper thigh to slow the bleeding, she scanned the small valley they’d both tumbled into. A sheer rock wall rose to the right, at least eighty feet in the air. The hillside climbed to the left. Behind her, the valley narrowed as it curved down and away.

  She looked back at the rock wall. The light was starting to wane, and from her position, it was hard to see, but a shadow to the right could be the opening to a cave.

  All kinds of monsters might be living in that cave. Apprehension kept her from moving forward. Another roar echoed from the ridge above, sending a shiver down her spine.

  Monsters or not, whatever lived in that cave had to be better than what was waiting out here to eat them.

  Hooking the spear in the tie at her waist, she leaned down, slid her arms under the man’s shoulders, and pulled him with her as she stepped back toward the shelter.

  Her muscles ached. Pain shot up her back while sweat beaded every inch of her skin. Clenching her jaw, she pulled harder, dragging his body along the ground, trying to make as little sound as possible. Long minutes passed. When she finally reached the mouth of the cave, she laid him on the ground, drew a deep breath, then pulled out her spear—just in case—and stepped cautiously into the space.

  No signs of life. No bones or weird smells. Slowly, she moved deeper into the cave.

  The ground was mostly sand, the walls smooth stone. The cave ran back about fifteen feet and stopped. Breathing easier, she leaned her spear against the wall, returned to the man, and dragged him inside. When she was six feet in, her bare foot slipped. She grunted as her weight went out from under her and she hit the sand on her butt. The man landed on top of her legs, pinning her to the ground. Her grunt turned to a moan of frustration and flat-out annoyance.

  She was hot, sweaty, and ready to be done with this guy—whoever he was. All she wanted to do was get back to the beach and her hammock high above the ground. Using every last bit of strength she had, she managed to roll him off her, swiped at the sweat from her forehead, and knelt in the sand beside him.

  “Whoa.”

  Shaggy light brown hair framed a weathered face that was both masculine and striking. His nose was straight, his cheekbones strong. A thin layer of scruff covered a square jaw and chin, making him more ruggedly sexy than handsome. Bruises marred the skin near his right temple, but they didn’t detract from his mesmerizing looks, and the thin scar that ran across his upper lip only made her wonder what had happened to him in the past.

  Her gaze drifted down his thick neck to strong, toned, bare shoulders. An intricate rose tattoo covered his right biceps and shoulder. The rose was the symbol of love, of beauty, purity, and passion. Roses were usually associated with females, especially those who worshipped the goddess Aphrodite.

  She frowned, unsure how she knew that, and let her gaze drift lower, over his pecs, down his strong, carved abs to a tapered wa
ist, and finally the dark pants covering his narrow hips and strong legs.

  Her throat grew dry as she visualized what was under those pants. Forcing her gaze to his legs, she shook her head. The man was unconscious, and she was ogling him like a piece of meat. Yeah, that wasn’t creepy or anything.

  Still…he was seriously hot.

  Her gaze slid back up to his stunning face, and out of nowhere, déjà vu hit her square in the chest. She’d seen him before, she was sure of it. Not in person, but in a picture or a book.

  Although that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. How would she know any man on this island? If he was here, it meant he was somehow linked to the Sirens—and through them to the gods. Her people made it a point to stay as far from the gods as possible.

  “Twenty-five years is nothing but a blink of an eye to the gods. And peace is as fleeting as the wind. It will end. It will end soon.”

  Her mother had said those words to her. She remembered hearing them as clearly as she’d heard that monster roar. But she didn’t know why they’d been said. Or when. Or even where. She couldn’t remember the context or what her mother had looked like saying them, but she knew they were real. Just as she knew her mother had said them sometime recently.

  A dim roar echoed from outside, shaking Elysia from her scattered thoughts. She looked toward the cave opening. The monster sounded as if it were still up on the hillside, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Pushing to her feet, she grasped the spear and headed for the mouth of the cave. If she had any hope of making it safely to morning, she needed to find firewood and enough brush to camouflage her location.

  Hers? Theirs…

  She stopped outside the cave and frowned. Common sense told her to forget about the mystery hottie inside and hoof it back to her shelter high in the trees. Sirens attacked, they didn’t rescue.

  But something in the center of her chest wouldn’t let her walk away. She didn’t know if it was duty or honor or sympathy or weakness, but she couldn’t leave him. He was as much a victim in all this as she was. Which meant…