His mother. Just the reminder sent his blood boiling. He clenched his jaw and looked out over the sea, purposely ignoring the female’s words.
He knew she was a Fate. Just as he knew he wasn’t lucky enough for her to be Atropos, the Fate who cut the thread of life. No, his miserable life kept spinning on and he couldn’t stop it. And this Fate was the one who kept drawing it out. “You set the torches. In the Hall of Heroes.”
“I did,” she said with a smile in her voice. “It’s sacred.”
He wasn’t so sure of that. Nothing on this island was sacred to him. As he’d so obviously demonstrated with Isadora earlier.
He cursed himself again for that little fuck-up and dug his fingers into his palms until pain was all he felt.
She drifted to the ground, and when she landed he noticed her feet were bare and that her toenails were painted a bright neon blue. She moved to sit on a boulder across the ground, but her feet didn’t make a single scuffing sound. “I hate these darn sunglasses, but I am not a creature of the earth.” She gestured over her head with a wave of her hand. “Moonlight gives me a headache. You know the story of your forefather Jason, do you not?”
At his bored expression, she chuckled. “Oh, I do like you, Demetrius. You have always been one of my favorites.”
“Lucky me,” he mumbled.
“Atalanta blames Jason most of all for the fate she was dealt.”
He flicked her an irritated look. “He let her sail on the Argos when the others didn’t want her to. I’d say she’s got a burr up her ass if she blames him for anything.”
Lachesis sighed. “She does. More than you know. But that’s not why she hated him. The truth is she fell in love with Jason on that boat. And he chose another over her.”
He clenched his jaw, looked out over the water. “Medea.” The witch. Once again, oh, lucky him. “Yeah, that ended well, didn’t it? He dicked around with some Corinthian princess, decided to marry her instead of his supposed soul mate, Medea, and to settle the score Medea killed his children. I’d say that ended really well.”
“Depends on how you look at it. One survived to bear your line. If history had traveled down another path, you wouldn’t be here now.”
“And the world would be a better place,” he muttered. “Once again Hera’s soul mate curse worked like a charm.”
He didn’t hear her move, didn’t see her shift, not until she was hovering over the ground in front of him, her wrinkled face at eye level. He sucked in a breath and held it as she removed the sunglasses. And then he found himself staring into eyes as white as the moon, with only a pinprick of black right in the center.
“There is purpose in every life in this world, whether you decide to see it or not. Yes, Hera hated Heracles with a vehemence that knows no bounds, and because of it she cursed him and all the Argonauts with one soul mate each, the worst possible match who would torment their existence. But a soul mate is not a curse unless you let it be, Demetrius. Jason made his choice. For right or wrong, he chose his destiny. And now you must choose yours. There are no guarantees in this world save one. If you do nothing, Atalanta will win.”
He looked past her. “I don’t care.”
Tingling at his cheek brought his eyes back level with hers. “Oh, I think you do. More than you’ve let on these long years. You’re not weak, Guardian, contrary to what you think. What you fear most may just have the power to save you. But only if you let it.”
Save him. Yeah, right. Not likely. But he still needed to save Isadora.
“Where’s the holy ground on this island?”
She didn’t answer, only smiled, which drew his frown deeper. The tingling dissipated along with her image, which faded into nothingness right before his eyes. Until he was staring out into the dark, all alone once more.
Perfect. Leave it to a Fate to speak in riddles instead of coming out and saying exactly what she means. Choices? What choice did he have? Where Isadora was concerned, he had no choice: he had to get her off this island before that weakness Lachesis thought he didn’t have kicked into high gear and he forgot all the reasons he’d vigilantly stayed away from her over the years.
He headed back into the ruins. Tomorrow, no matter what, he was dragging Isadora out to look for holy ground. The portal drew energy from that which was hallowed. He knew there was holy ground on this island somewhere—it had once been inhabited, before the Argonauts gathered and dumped the monsters here—and he was bound and determined to find it. Now more than ever.
He made it as far as the doorway to the Hall of Heroes before he heard Isadora scream. His adrenaline surged and he cursed himself for leaving her—again. He grasped the blade at his back, tore down the steps, and skidded to a stop in the massive room.
She was alone. Just as she’d been the night before. Thrashing in her sleep. No monsters surrounded her. But something was definitely wrong.
Her eyes were tightly shut, the blanket twisted around her waist, her face scrunched in agonizing pain. Her screams brought the hair on the back of his neck to attention. But it was the two words he made out in her cries that burned in his blood.
Hades. No.
He glanced around the hall but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. A dream. She was dreaming again. Crossing the floor, he knelt on the blankets and set his blade on the ground at his side. “Stop, Isadora. Stop before you hurt yourself.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. If anything, her thrashing grew more violent.
He reached out to hold her still, and just as it had last night, his touch calmed her in ways his words never could. Her body trembled, but she stopped the fierce flailing.
“That’s better,” he whispered as he ran one hand down her arm and tugged the blanket back over her bare breasts with the other.
“Don’t want to go back to him,” she mumbled, tipping her head his way.
A place deep in his chest squeezed tight at the thought of her anywhere near the sadistic god. “You won’t have to.”
He continued to stroke her arm until her trembling finally eased and she lay still. Drawing a deep breath he eased away, intent on letting her sleep and putting as much distance between himself and her naked body as he could.
She reached out for him, and the shaking picked up all over again. “No, don’t leave. He’s waiting for you to leave me.”
Demetrius’s head came up and he looked around the room as a new sort of wariness crept into his mind. Two of the torches had gone out but three others still burned near the heroes’ chests. Shadows flickered and fell over this corner of the room, but there were plenty of dark corners to hide in. Enough shadow to mask anything that might lie in wait, mortal or immortal.
Trepidation tickled his spine. He scooted closer to Isadora and didn’t protest when she curled into him and rested her head against his bare chest. This time, he didn’t even think to. “I’m not going anywhere, kardia,” he said softly as he looked out into the dark. “At least not yet.”
Chapter 14
Isadora sensed Demetrius’s presence even before she rolled her head to the left and found him lying next to her, sound asleep on his side, his arms crossed over his middle and his head tipped her way.
Confusion hit first, followed by surprise. Why in Hades had he lain down next to her when he’d made it perfectly clear last night that he didn’t want to have anything to do with her?