Isadora (Masters Among Monsters Book 2) (9 page)

As Elias brought his other hand down on the woman’s arm and pressed it against the chair, Paris’s mouth parted in horror. She hissed and spat at him, and the sound was like a feral cat in a trap as her mouth pulled taut and two pointy fucking fangs appeared.

Well, fucking A.
Elias had been right. She
was
a vampire.
 

ELIAS BRACED HIMSELF against the agony in Isadora’s eyes, but it soon turned to loathing, and any feelings of misdeeds he had vanished. He had to prove to Paris what she was. Show him the monster that lurked inside the beautiful façade. When he turned to the other man, the final piece of the puzzle for them—
Paris
—was staggering back towards the door in his unlaced Doc Martens.
 

He was pale and clutching his stomach as though he were about to throw up, or maybe pass out, as his eyes darted between him and Isadora. Deciding he’d proved his point quite effectively, Elias released his hold, and Isadora’s eyes rolled back and her lids fluttered shut, her head lolling forward.
 

I will not feel sorry for her. I won’t allow her to influence my feelings, to have me stray off my path.

“Paris,” he said as he took a step towards the man.
 

Paris shook his head and warned him off with a trembling hand.
 

“You weren’t supposed to find out this way.”

Paris covered his mouth as if trying to keep back words or a scream.
 

Elias Fontana.
Elias froze in the center of his office as a familiar voice filled his head. It was one he’d never thought he’d hear again after years of it having been absent.
 

Tread gently with this one. He is not as strong as you are. He is pure and wholesome, and he will have quite a burden to bear as the third.
 

 
Artemis had returned. His tutor. His goddess. The huntress. She had returned when he most needed her. He waited for more, for some kind of guidance—but nothing came. His heart raced with adrenaline, and he knew the next decision was up to him.
 

His eyes sought out the man he needed to convince.
 

Elias understood how unnerving it was to find out that something like this was real. That the creatures that went bump in the night actually existed. Hell, he’d gone through it alone—as had Leo, he guessed. But Paris… He
was
different than the two of them. He was the quiet, unassuming one, and when his back hit a wall, Elias tried to appeal to him again.

“There’s so much you need to know, but things… They got all out of order.”

Finally, Paris lowered his hand. “I…I don’t understand.”

“I know. It wasn’t the right time, and I can’t explain right now. You need to trust me. That’s the most important thing here.”

Paris’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Do you trust me, Paris?” Elias asked.

Just as Paris was about to answer, two figures appeared between them.
 

One he knew all too well—Leo.

Elias locked his eyes on the other and simply said, “You.”
 

ALASDAIR QUICKLY ASSESSED the situation and schooled his features when he saw the horrendous state Isadora was in. Then he brought his eyes back to the broad-shouldered bastard in front of him. The human was much like he remembered from Leo’s apartment: combative and ready for a fight. Smart of him, considering Alasdair was more than willing to give him one.

“I knew I didn’t like you the minute I met you. And, now, it all makes sense,” the man said as he kept watchful eyes trained on him.
 

Alasdair wondered if he was waiting for some kind of reaction. If that were the case, he was in for disappointment. Instead, he waited as Leo walked up to stand beside him, and when the man’s gaze moved to his friend, his narrowed eyes and sagging shoulders relayed his disappointment.

“Elias,” Leo said, taking a step in his friend’s direction.
 

Alasdair took his wrist, stopping his progress, and when Elias caught the gesture, his cheeks flushed with annoyance. He did
not
like him touching Leo.
Oh well.
That was too fucking bad. Leonidas was his. And, before he knew it, a proprietary growl rumbled from his throat.

Leo looked his way, and when their eyes met, Alasdair heard,
Let me help you. That’s why I’m here.
 

Alasdair’s fingers tightened, and he wondered if he could trust what he was sensing from Leo.

You can. Just like I’m going to trust you not to kill him. Deal?
 

When one of Leo’s fair eyebrows rose, Alasdair released him. Perceptive man, waiting until the last moment to hit him with the hardest emotion of all—trust.
 

Deal, Alasdair?

You have yourself a deal, Leonidas. Distract him and I will tend to Isadora.

Leo inclined his head slightly and then walked over to stand directly in front of his friend. “I’m sorry, Elias.”

Alasdair was by Isadora’s chair in less than a second.
 

She stirred and managed, “About time you showed up,” before passing out again.
 

He tore the rope from around her arms and her legs and then lifted her over his shoulder. When he spun back to the others, Leo was dragging Elias by his bicep over to the door, where…a third man was hunkered down on the floor with his back to the wall.

What about him?
Alasdair demanded, shoving it into Leo’s mind with more force than was necessary.
 

When Leo shot daggers at him, he realized just how loud he’d been.

What about him? He’s my other coworker. A friend. He’s done nothing wrong.

He cannot stay. He’s seen too much.

Can’t you just wipe his memory or something?
Leo protested.

And explain your disappearance and his,
he indicated Elias,
how? No, he must die. It’s the easiest solution.

Ahh…option three, please.

Alasdair flashed over beside Leo with Isa in his arms and peered down at the cowering one by his feet.
Option three, he comes with us.

And then what?

It’s out of my control. Make your decision.

Leo clasped the other man’s arm and repeated the same words he’d said to Elias. “I’m sorry, Paris. So sorry.”

Alasdair reached for Leo’s elbow, and as he touched it, Elias whispered, “Leo, what have you done?”

Emperor Nikitas’s Formal Banquet—31 BC

DIOMÊDÊS STOOD IN the far corner of the large banquet hall and watched the raven-haired beauty on the opposite side laugh and dance with the other women surrounding her. She was a vision to behold. Tall, elegant, and as graceful as she appeared strong, she held his attention like no other.

She was clothed in a golden chiton made from the finest of silks. An emerald brooch the size of his fist was nestled between the round curves of her breasts, and he was envious of the gem as she flitted from table to table, talking with each small gathering as though she knew them all personally. She was the epitome of royalty—just as the daughter of an emperor should be.
 

As she walked by his resting place, her glorious hair bounced over her shoulders, as did her skirt over the generous flare of her hips. The men in the room, not excluding himself, followed her movements with gluttonous eyes, the women with envious ones. She was by far the most beautiful creature in the hall.

Normally, he stayed far away from festivities such as these. But there had been much gossip about the emperor’s daughter being presented on this night, and he’d wanted to see what all the commotion was about. As usual, he kept to himself in the shadows and waited for her to arrive. Then she stepped into the hall.
 

The emperor, it seemed, had been wise to keep his daughter secluded. Wise to keep her a secret until now. For, although her face was new to him, he knew that he would never be able to banish it from his memory.
 

He made his way down the length of the hall, weaving in and out of the chattering groups. The women’s eyes followed him with caution, while the men were vigilant in their surveillance. It was as if they could sense something about him they should fear—and they were right.
 

When he got to the far end of the hall, he leaned his arm up against the pillar. There she was. Only feet from him, and he could smell her scent as if she were mere inches away—crisp and sweet, like apples in the spring. She made him want to run his nose up the length of her neck so he could breathe in that luscious aroma some more.

She was holding on to a silver goblet, something that would be an issue for him, and her head was tipped back as she laughed along with the man opposite her. It was Dimitri, her brother, and her loving smile and shining eyes made it clear she believed he’d hung the moon.
 

Wrapping his hooded, maroon cloak firmly around his shoulders, Diomêdês stepped out from his resting spot and made his way towards the woman. He had to get closer. Had to hear her heart beating beneath those beautiful breasts.

When he stopped beside her, he didn’t make a sound. As if she’d somehow sensed his presence, though, she ceased talking and turned his way. When her eyes fell upon him for all of a second, something akin to an electric shot hit his dark heart. Then he faded from sight, deciding to let her believe she’d imagined him there. But, as soon as he was hidden within the shadows once more, his eyes sought her out and Diomêdês knew.
 

She was to be his first-sired.
 

The one he’d bind his life with.

She was the one.

Present Day - The Chamber

DIOMÊDÊS PACED THE length of the stone dais in the vast hall as Vasilios sat in silence behind the marble-slab altar dressed as if he were heading to a board meeting. Grey dress pants, a matching suit jacket, a crisp, white shirt, and a crimson tie seemed an odd choice for what was about to take place, but that was Vasilios. Always put together for every such occasion.

It had been over thirty minutes since they’d left Alasdair and the human, and he was growing weaker with every second that passed—

“Of course you are, brother. You have not stopped moving since we arrived.”

He ceased walking and turned on Vasilios. “Stay out of my head. If it weren’t for your Alasdair, we wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. I always knew his headstrong ways would get us in trouble. You never disciplined him enough.”

“Ahh.” Vasilios sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Like you disciplined young Isadora?”

Diomêdês glared at the egomaniacal male looking him in the eye. “Isa does not walk around believing she is far superior than her fellow kind.”

Vasilios gave a cocky smirk. “Alasdair emulates greatness,” he said, smoothing a hand down his tie. “You cannot fault him for that.”

“He is arrogant like you. He does not think of the consequences to his actions.”