Daughter of Asteria (The Daughter Trilogy) (20 page)

most large cities. It’ll be daylight soon, and I’ll start tracking them down. If they get in the sun, they

disintegrate.”

“Like vampires?” I exclaim.

“Oh don’t tell me you believe in vampires. That’s not what you think I am, is it?” he scoffs.

“No. I know there aren’t any vampires, or at least I don’t think so. I don’t know what I know

these days. I was just pointing out the similarity,” I grumble.

“Something like that, vampires I mean. They don’t suck blood, have hypnotic power, or have any

romanticism about them though,” he says to mock me a little.

“You said they drain the life out of you,” I remind.

“Yeah. Their screams subdue you, and they draw out your energy to feed themselves once your

vessel is void of life. Now please tell me how you know about my world,” he prompts.

I start to answer his question, but our ascent is very short. The elevator stops on a floor that isn’t

the top, and we walk down a hallway of doors.

This is different
. I’ve become a little snooty in assuming all immortals lived as ostentatiously as

Devin.

He tilts me back as he jingles the keys to open his door.

I smile a little at the bachelor pad revealed when he flips on the light. There’s not a stitch of real

art.

Hockey sticks decorate one wall. Rugby equipment decorates another. Several flagrant posters of

women in provocative poses decorate the rest. Beer cans have accumulated and clutter every surface

of the house while dirty clothes mixed with clean ones carpet the floors. There are at least ten layers

of dust on everything except for the massive flat screen mounted on the far wall and the leather couch

which has unruly splits and cracks to reveal the softer material inside.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

My eyes widen when I catch a glimpse of the leaning tower of dishes protruding from the kitchen

sink like a shattering safety hazard.

“I can see that,” I snicker, and then I grab my side from the accidental jolt.

“I’ll find some medicine,” he murmurs gently as he swats away clothes from the couch with his

foot before laying me on it.

“You have some?” I ask curiously.

“No, but I’m sure one of my neighbors will. I’ll be right back,” he promises.

I continue to gauge the small space in disbelief. The dreadful yellow dims the room with its

obnoxious hue. He’s the complete opposite of Devin. He has so many things littering his tabletops,

and there’s no organization for the chaos. I’ve almost been spoiled by my neat freak.

I need to find a phone, but I’ll wait until I get something on my face, side, arms…
damn
,
I’m cut

up everywhere
.

I slowly climb up, and I grimace as I hobble on my apparently sprained ankle as I search for a

bathroom.

I gasp as I open the door to a bedroom and see a pitiful, messy bed layered with mismatched

sheets, pillow cases, and a tired comforter. The scratched furniture looks like it’s been around for

centuries - which is completely possible - and the windows are draped with old sheets with duct tape

holding them in place over the top.

It looks like a fifteen-year-old lives here rather than a centuries old immortal.

I feel a little grossed out by the oversized mirror that goes up the backside of the bed and

continues to the ceiling over the bed even though I wouldn’t mind embarking on such an exhibition

with Devin.

Obviously most immortal men are playboys.

But as my eyes fall back down and settle straight ahead, I gasp as I see the horrific image of me

completely ravaged.

My hair is tousled as though I’ve just walked through a hurricane, my dress is ripped and tattered,

dirt is covering most of my body, and there are large cuts all over me. My face has suffered several

brutal blows, and bruises have already formed purplish patterns.

Bloody trails slither down my body as gravity drags them. I cringe as I see my knees completely

bloody and devastatingly battered, and then I finally see the ankle that is making me want to cry.

It’s swollen, completely black in discoloration. I might have done more than sprain the aching

thing.

I see a light creeping out from the bottom of a crack, and I push the door open to a cramped

bathroom. I decide I need a shower more than I need medicine after seeing that red-stained girl in the

mirror.

I adjust the rickety spout, and the water surges free from the groaning pipes.

It takes a minute to decide which towels are clean and which ones aren’t since he apparently

doesn’t fold, but I finally take my chances and lay one out.

I shut the door, and the water streams down with its red stain pooling at the drain as it washes

away the clumps of blood that have gathered. Gravel and other small fragments that were imbedded

into my knees and elbows wash away as well, but they leave their printed indentions behind to remind

me of what I endured.

I grimace as I try to wash my hair because my cracked ribs sting when I lift my arms too high.

“Adisia?” Jace eases out, his voice far too close.

“Yeah,” I yell from the shower.

I hear the door slowly opening, and I almost hold my breath. What am I thinking? I barely know

him, and I just jumped into his shower?

That’s just begging for trouble, and I wouldn’t be any sort of struggle to him and his super

strength.

You look like death’s bitch, so he’s not trying to fuck you.

“I’ll find you something to wear. Do you need anything else?” he asks with genuine concern.

I breathe out in relief. He saved my life, and he’s shown me nothing but kindness. I don’t know

why I’m so worried.

I pull back the shower curtain enough to poke my head out so I can see him.

“If you have something to eat that would be great. I’ve barely had anything today, and I’m

starving.”

“I’ll order us something. If I have anything here, it’s probably growing fur. I don’t generally

have company.”

I laugh a little, and again my side throbs in pain.

“Judging by your very elaborate mirror, I’d say that was a falsehood,” I tease.

He blushes a little and shrugs. “I don’t normally have company for very long, I guess I should

say,” he chuckles out nervously.

I roll my eyes as I climb back under the water.

“Any chance of finding a phone?” I ask hopefully.

“Not tonight. It was like pulling teeth to get my neighbors to let me buy their medicinal supplies.

I doubt they’ll loan me a phone no matter what the price, and the only stores open right now wouldn’t

be selling phones.”

I smirk a little. Devin would have three phones on hand as backups in case something happened

to his stash. He always plans ahead so he’s never unprepared. Now I have to wait until morning to

call my most likely terrified fiancé.

“Devin’s going to be so worried,” I grumble to myself.

“You’re lover’s name is Devin?” Jace pipes up.

I wasn’t aware he was still in the bathroom.

“Yeah,” I answer vaguely. “Apparently your open book statement was also a fallacy. Is it

impolite of me to asking what embodiment you descend from?”

I don’t know him well enough to divulge too much, and he hasn’t told me anything about himself.

“That’s a very polite and proper way of asking,” he teases.

I’ve been around Devin too long apparently.

“I just don’t know the rules of what you are and are not allowed to do in your world,” I offer.

I still haven’t told him I’m destined to be an immortal, but I might.

“Well, I’m a son of Zeus on my father’s side. He was a direct son. On my mother’s, I’m a

descendent of Hestia. She was quite the jokester, but she was also very wise and carried the gift of

visions. Are you freaked out yet?”

“No. I assumed you were from some electric embodiment, given your power,” I add.

“Wow. You know a little more than I’ve accredited you for now. How is it you know so much

and so little?” he murmurs in astonishment. “Are you going to be immortal?”

“Why do you ask that?” I quickly ask in order to sidestep his question.

“Because you know about us. Usually one who is to be one of us knows about sirens though. It’s

a general lesson. I’m a little confused by you,” he admits.

I turn the water off, and the knobs squeak as they return to their resting place. I pull the towel

over the shower rod, and clasp it around me before stepping out.

His eyes widen, and he looks away shyly.

“It’s just a towel. My dress covered less,” I mumble sardonically.

My hair drips the water in small, spread out streams as I wipe my feet on the bath rug.

“Your dry body in your dress didn’t look as enticing as your wet one in my towel,” he seduces

with a rattled tone.

“I’m engaged,” I quickly remind.

“I know,” he huffs. “I’m sure it’s going to be odd seeing him now that you’ve had to endure all of

this, even though you don’t seem so shaken.”

“I’m shaken, but I’m also able to cope with such things. I’ve seen worse, I’ve felt worse pain, and

I’ve suffered a worse fate,” I growl.

“That’s how you know. You were attacked, and no one wiped your memories. How is that

possible?” he asks with intrigue.

“No one felt it necessary to wipe my memories,” I say casually. “Where are those clothes you

promised?”

“Oh, right,” he says as he flashes out of the room. He returns within a breath and hands me a tee-

shirt and a pair of boxers. “Sorry. Slim pickings.”

“It’s fine. It’s better than Raggedy Ann’s dress,” I grumble as my eyes point to the tattered

remnants of my dress.

“True,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll give you some privacy, and then I’ll doctor your wounds.”

“Thanks,” I say with a smile as he shuts the door behind him.

I drop the towel, and stare at the large bruise discoloring my side where my cracked ribs lay

hidden. I continue to assess the unfathomable amount of damage just a few blows did by things that

had just formed.

Their childish curiosity was so piqued because they essentially were children - brutal, morbid, and

psychopathic children.

I grunt while pulling on the shirt and sigh at the incredibly loose boxers I have to roll up several

times to somewhat secure them in place. I can’t find a brush or comb, so I’m forced to finger comb

my wet hair into place after I dry it with the towel the best I can.

He has absolutely nothing a girl needs to get ready. Apparently his guests are never overnight

stays.

I walk out - or limp out rather - and he’s flopped on the couch while flipping through the Irish

channels. There’s a wild assortment of various medicinal supplies, and I laugh a little at their bizarre

order.

“So what do you really do for a living?” I muse.

“I’m a bounty hunter. I was telling the truth about that. I’m excellent at tracking down people,

and it’s easy to bring in a mortal,” he says with a shrug before motioning for me to join him on the

couch.

I hobble over, my ankle starting to hurt worse and forcing me to hop a little. He quickly flashes

over to scoop me up in an effort to keep me from hurting myself worse.

His scent engulfs me, masking the dirty sock stench of the apartment he calls home.

This is how I assumed bachelors lived.

“Why were you so close to the vortex?”

He puts me down gently before sifting through his assortment of first aid. He pours a dab of

alcohol on a cotton swab, and I flinch as he touches it to my marred cheek. He tightens his lips, and

then repeats the motion much gentler.

“It’s been a while since I had to do this. Bear with me,” he says gently. I nod and he continues.

“I’ve been tracking a group of immortals. They’re chasing after someone I need, and I lost them close

to the vortex. I’m not sure where they went after they got there. Most likely they caught my scent,

and then they started covering their trail.”

My stomach knots instantly and I feel a sudden twinge of aggravated worry panging through me.

“What group were you tracking?” I warily inquire.

“The daughters of Athena. Do you know of them?” he asks mildly.

My heart leaps into my throat. He needs what they’re after, and they’re after me. How do I react

to that?

“Why do you need what they’re after?” I tremble out, ignoring his question as he continues cleaning

up my wounds.

“Because
what
they’re after is a
who
. An Aphrodite is all they stalk this fiercely. I need to find

her before they do, or they’ll kill her.”

“You want to save her?” I ask with a hopeful relief.

“Of course. My mother was heavily gifted with visions. She told me an Aphrodite was going to

be the only one who could save this world from the wrath of the ancient. I don’t know what that

means, but I know the world will depend on my finding her before the Athena bitches.”

He’s trying to save me.

Once again, the supernatural has guided me to safety, and I know it’s due to my dormant