She was short and curved, in her mid-thirties with a sleek brown bob and brown eyes—eyes she was now in the process of stripping him with. A routine occurrence. One he usually enjoyed. Not so now. He just wanted to haul Gilly the hell out of here. He liked the little smart-ass, and wouldn’t rest until she was safe.
He’d had no idea she’d led so terrible a life, and he was ashamed of himself. He knew women. He could figure them out in the span of a once-over. So why hadn’t he realized Gilly was hurting?
Her fucking mother and would-be stepfather! Two people who were supposed to protect her. Well, William was with her now and William would ensure nothing like that ever happened again. He was tempted to cut her mother and stepdad’s throats. Maybe give her their heads for Christmas or something.
“Are you Gilly’s father?” the receptionist asked. She’d abandoned her post at her desk and now stood across from him at the counter.
Shit. He hadn’t seen or heard her move. That level of distraction was dangerous. “Brother,” he replied, a bit irritated that he looked old enough to have a seventeen-year-old daughter. Yeah, he was pushing two thou, but he didn’t have a wrinkle on him, damn it!
“Oh. That’s nice.” She grinned and slid a piece of paper his way. “If you’d ever like to discuss her curriculum, here’s my number. Call anytime.”
“I’ll definitely be in contact.” He, too, grinned, though his was forced. He pocketed the paper, knowing he wouldn’t use it. “Education is so important.”
That earned him a giggle, and he tried not to cringe.
Women. They were both a blessing and a curse. Sex, he loved. Sex, he needed, craved. Sex with the wrong woman had gotten him locked up. Sex with the goddesses who visited him in prison had gotten him kicked out of the heavens. That hadn’t stopped his libido, however. Actually, nothing stopped his libido. Even the curse hanging over his head.
One day, a woman of great beauty and power would tempt him. One day, that woman would trick him into loving her. One day, that woman would enslave him. And then, that woman would kill him.
It had already been prophesied.
Maybe—perhaps—okay, not really likely—he could have avoided females altogether and saved himself the trouble of such a death sentence. But even that wouldn’t have saved him. That, too, was part of the prophesy. To avoid women and sex was simply to condemn himself to a much faster, much more painful death.
The only way to stop the unnamed woman and break the curse had been written in a book. A book that was nearly impossible to decode, so he had yet to find the answer. Also, the minor fucking goddess of Anarchy had possession of that book, returning it page by stingy page. He’d hate Anya for such a thing if he didn’t love her so damned much.
They’d spent hundreds of years in Tartarus as cell neighbors. Her wit had been the only thing to keep him sane.
“William?” Gilly’s husky voice suddenly rang out.
He turned on his heel and there she was, standing at the end of a long hallway. She was slender, dark haired, dark eyed, and more…knowledgeable than someone her age should ever be. That should have been clue number one, he thought.
Maybe he’d sensed it, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it.
She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and sneakers that had a tracking device hidden in the soles, not that she knew it. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, not a speck of makeup on her face.
That didn’t seem to bother the boy next to her. He was staring at her as if hypnotized. But having heard her say William’s name, that boy had frowned. And when he followed the line of her gaze and spotted William, his frown deepened and he paled.
Boyfriend? Or potential boyfriend?
Someone would have to put a stop to that. She was too young, with too traumatic a past. She needed to be alone. Until she was at least forty.
“Hey, pet,” William said with a finger wave.
Grinning, she rushed forward and threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tight before latching onto her wrists and gently pushing her back. He might enjoy her, might want the best for her, but he didn’t want to encourage her crush anymore.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
The boy she’d been with eased up behind her. He was tall for a teen, reaching William’s ear, with brown hair and blue eyes.
“Who are you?” William demanded unceremoniously.
“C-Corbin, sir.”
“What kind of a name is Corbin Sir? And if you ever hurt Gilly, I swear to the gods I will personally—”
Gilly slapped William’s shoulder. “Stop. Cori’s my friend. He just wanted to make sure I reached the office okay.”
“Well, that’s admirable,” William said, never removing his narrowed gaze from the boy. “As long as protection was his only goal.”
Corbin pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Are you her…boyfriend or something?”
“Brother,” William said as Gilly said, “Yes.”
His gaze finally whipped back to her, and he arched a brow. Yes? They needed to have a chat, then. Maybe later, though. Hearing the word had caused something to tighten in his chest. He’d figure out what that tightening meant first.
“So why are you here?” she asked again, her cheeks reddening.
He didn’t like that he’d embarrassed her, but there was no help for it. “Aeron’s been hurt. There are problems in the city, and we want you in the fortress with the others until it’s safe again.”
“Aeron?” Corbin asked.
“Another brother,” William informed him.
The boy’s eyes widened. “How many do you have?”
“A lot,” Gilly replied with a weary sigh. “So you’ll be there, Liam? At the fortress?”
Liam. Her nickname for him. Once he’d liked it. Now he saw it as the endearment it was meant to be. Oh, yes. They’d be having a chat. Damn his irresistible beauty. “Yes, I’ll be there. So let’s go home, pet. Aeron’s in the car and he needs some medical attention stat.”
Despite her fear of the Lords, she paled with worry, grabbed his hand and led him from the building. “Bye, Cori,” she called over her shoulder.
“Bye,” the boy returned, and there was a bit of an edge to the sound.
William spied the Escalade but couldn’t see Olivia through the window tint, not to mention the god-awful number of deer now surrounding the vehicle. However, he didn’t have to see her to know that if they failed to get Aeron to the fortress safely, the angel, for all her goodness, would erupt into a seething cauldron of feminine fury. It was there in her eyes, a churning, unstoppable passion just waiting to boil over. Something she probably didn’t realize she was capable of, but William realized it because, unlike his cluelessness with Gilly, he’d picked up on Olivia’s dreams, fears and needs the moment he’d seen her.
Aeron was her everything. If the warrior died, even the gods wouldn’t be able to stop her rampage.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
OLIVIA SAT AT THE EDGE of Aeron’s bed, hip pressed to hip. Legion sat on his other side, hip pressed to hip. In their concern for him, they’d worked together to strip him. Olivia hadn’t allowed herself to look at his penis, no matter how often the voice had told her to do so.
Oh, yes. The voice of temptation had returned.
Weak as Aeron was, any peeking on her part would have been wrong. He was so weak, in fact, that he hadn’t stirred once. He’d even stopped moaning, though she wasn’t singing, and she didn’t think that was a good sign.
His wound was still seeping, and even though the piece of her robe wrapped around his shoulder was self-cleaning, it couldn’t keep up with the flow and was soaked through. His tattooed skin was clammy, no longer hot with sweat. To warm him up, they’d placed blankets all around him, but it hadn’t affected his plummeting temperature.
As a last resort, they’d sat beside him, hoping their body heat would be the magic cure.
“What did you do to him?” Legion demanded, hands rough as they petted him.