Ravaged: An Eternal Guardians Novella (1001 Dark Nights) (4 page)

That’s not exactly a bad thing considering your mission.

Straightening her spine, she pulled the door open, then peered down a long, dark hallway. Sconces lit the passageway on both sides. Her stomach continued to toss and roll, but she moved as quietly as possible through the corridor. Doors opened on both sides of her, but she didn’t look to see where they led. Her focus remained fixed on the light ahead and what she had to do next.

The hallway opened to a balcony that overlooked an enormous great room with more antique furnishings set near a giant stone fireplace that rose to the ceiling. Drawing to a stop at the railing, Daphne glanced over the empty space and tried not to be completely awed by the three-story windows that looked out over a wide deck and across a snowy valley. A frozen river meandered far below, and though she couldn’t be sure, she had a feeling those black dots down there weren’t people but elk or deer wandering across the frigid earth.

Her gaze drifted up and around. The enormous lodge-style structure seemed to be tucked into the side of a mountain and built on the edge of a cliff. The perfect place to wait and watch. If anyone tried to attack this place, they’d be spotted long before they could even mount an offense.

And that meant if things went bad for her, she wasn’t getting out of here unseen.

Pushing down the unease, she headed for the curved staircase. Escaping was five steps down the line. After she completed her mission. When he was dead. Until then, she had other things to focus on.

A twinge in her side made her stop near the bottom step and draw another deep breath. She pressed her hand against the wounds and fought back the wave of nausea that seemed to want to pull her under.

So, okay, maybe she wasn’t totally ready for seduction just yet. Her body was still clearly healing from that daemon attack. But she could find her target and at least see what was up. Flirt a little. Play the damsel in distress. And start this plan in motion.

Determination firmly in place, she wandered from one massive room to the next. An enormous kitchen opened to a dining area that led to an office and another set of curved stairs. Still finding no sign of him, she headed down the steps and slowed when she heard voices.

“Your first mistake was accepting my challenge,” a deep male voice said. “Your second was turning your back on me.”

A
thwack
echoed, then another male said, “You’ve been practicing.”

“Damn right I’ve been practicing,” the first responded. “I’m tired of getting my ass handed to me.”

A chuckle echoed up the stairs.

Daphne stopped midway down the steps where she could see into the gigantic room below. This one wasn’t furnished like the rooms above. It was wide and open, with dumbbells and weight-lifting equipment along one whole side. Tall windows looked out over another deck and the sweeping valley view, but what held her attention were the two males in the middle of the room, both dressed in nothing but low-riding, dark pants, both carved and muscular, both circling around each other with reddened fists and bruised faces.

The first she didn’t recognize. He was tall and broad, with sandy blond hair, sharp blue eyes, and a series of scars across his face. But the second she knew in an instant. Dark hair, legs the size of tree trunks, the unique Greek lettering etched into his forearms, and a wild look across his features that said he’d locked on yet another target.

A trickle of blood ran from Aristokles’s temple down his scarred cheek and neck, but he didn’t seem to notice. A wicked grin curved his mouth as he continued to circle the other male. “It’s about time. You’ve been getting soft doing all that housework.”

Aristokles lunged forward, but the other male ducked out of the way, swiveled to avoid being nailed by the Argonaut’s fist, then rolled across the floor. Popping to his feet, he kicked Aristokles’s legs out from under him.

The Argonaut went down with a grunt, but before the male could pounce, Aristokles did a backward roll and jerked back to standing. “You’ve really been practicing. I guess it’s time I stopped going easy on you and—”

As if he sensed her, the Argonaut’s gaze darted toward the stairs and focused on Daphne. And in those mismatched eyes, interest immediately flared.

Daphne’s first instinct was to shrink back into the logs behind her, but unfortunately she didn’t possess the power of camouflage. Her second was to run, but her legs wouldn’t let her. Because as the Argonaut’s heated gaze washed over her, her traitorous body was already responding—her nipples pebbling beneath the thin cotton shirt, her belly warming and sending waves of heat straight between her legs, her skin craving a dangerous touch she shouldn’t want.

Her breaths grew shallow, her head, light. But this was more than just responding to an attractive male. This was instant arousal with just one look. Arousal on a scale she’d never experienced before, not even with a god.

The male Aristokles had been sparing slammed his fist into the Argonaut’s stomach. Aristokles pulled his gaze from Daphne, grunted, then wrapped his arms around his belly and doubled over.

The other male stood upright and turned toward the stairs with a surprised expression. “Ah, you’re awake. We expected you’d sleep at least another day.”

We.
Daphne had no idea who he was or what that meant, and she wanted to ask, but her gaze darted right back to the Argonaut. Aristokles shot the male a hard look, then stood upright and crossed to the far side of the room. After swiping a towel over his face, he reached for a shirt from a bench near the wall, tugged it on, and muttered, “You know what to do.”

The second male looked Aristokles’s way, but the Argonaut didn’t meet his gaze. Didn’t even turn to look at Daphne again. Just disappeared through a doorway on the far side of the room and was gone.

The heat in Daphne’s belly slowly cooled, and a shiver rushed down her spine.

“Sorry about that.” The male turned toward her and grimaced. “He lacks basic social skills.”

His words seemed to snap her out of the trance she’d fallen into. Daphne cleared her throat and gripped the banister at her side. “I...” No, that wasn’t how she wanted to start this. She needed to play it cool. Whoever this guy was, hopefully he could help her. “Where am I?”

The male crossed to the bench and pulled on his own T-shirt. “Stonehill Hold. Don’t worry. You’re safe here. No daemons can get to us. And if they did”—he nodded toward the door Aristokles had exited through—“he’d sense them.”

Sense them. Right. Argonauts could do that. One of their many awesome hunting skills, ironically bestowed on them by the very god who wanted Aristokles dead.

Remembering she needed to play the damsel in distress, Daphne brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Stonehill Hold? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Not many have.” He moved to the base of the stairs and looked up at her five steps above. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” she answered hesitantly. “Tired.” When his gaze dropped to her side, she remembered her wounds. “Sore.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Daphne couldn’t help but notice the angled scars that ran across his features. A series of thin, white lines that stretched from one cheek, across his nose, to the opposite jaw. Claw marks, she realized.

She wanted to ask about them but decided now wasn’t the time. Instead, she tried to figure out who he was. He wasn’t an Argonaut like Aristokles. She would have picked up on that. As an otherworldly creature, she had the power to sense a being’s race, and she already knew he wasn’t a god or a nymph like her. But to be here with the psycho Argonaut and not be intimidated meant he had to be someone important.

Her eyes widened when his lineage finally registered. “You’re a half breed.”

He moved up the steps toward her. “We prefer the term Misos.”

Misos. The race of half-human, half-Argolean beings. Argolea was the realm established for the descendants of the ancient Greek heroes, a utopia of sorts, one Daphne had studied during her time with the Sirens. But many Argoleans didn’t remain there. They often traveled back and forth between the human realm and their own, and whether they’d intended to or not, they’d created an entirely new race. The Misos. Because of their link to Argolea and the heroes, each Misos was born with a special gift, and their lifespans were longer than those of mortal beings, but they weren’t immortal in any sense of the word. As far as Daphne knew, they weren’t even that special.

“I...” Words faltered on her tongue. If anyone knew what it was like to face a daemon, surely he would. Half breeds had been hunted by daemons for years simply because they were different, and to daemons that meant weak. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Don’t worry. Where you come from, I’m sure Misos are few and far between.”

That was true. He was the first Misos she’d ever met. But that didn’t mean she condoned stereotypes. In the otherworldy universe, nymphs were considered less than the other races, interested only in sex. She hated that perception. It was part of the reason she’d worked so hard to become the best Siren she could be.

Even if she wasn’t all that great.

That’s why you’re here. To fix that point.

He stepped past her and motioned for her to follow. “I’m sure you have a million questions. I’m starving though. We’ll talk while I cook.”

Daphne couldn’t seem to stop herself from glancing toward the doorway where Aristokles had disappeared. “What about him?”

“Ignore him. He’s being moody.”

She had no idea what the male meant, but she wasn’t sure she was
with it
enough to go exploring on her own just yet. She followed the Misos back up the stairs and into the massive kitchen.

“Have a seat.” He nodded toward the hand-carved barstools near the counter. “I’ll get you something to drink. I remember being extremely thirsty when I first awoke.”

Daphne’s mouth was suddenly bone dry. As she pulled out a chair and sat, she licked her lips, thankful someone seemed to know what she needed because right now, she had absolutely no clue.

He handed her a glass of clear liquid. “Drink.”

Daphne drained the entire glass, then lowered it to the counter and swiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was. Thank you...”

“Silas.”

“Thank you, Silas. I’m Daphne.”

He opened the refrigerator and pulled out lettuce and other salad fixings. “How is it you came to be out here in the wilds all by yourself, Daphne?”

She’d known the question would be asked, she just hadn’t expected it to be asked by anyone but her target. Either way, she needed to relay the same story Zeus had suggested because it might trigger a useful reaction in the crazed Argonaut. “I was... escaping.”

“From?” Silas reached for a tomato.

She thought about lying. She didn’t know this male. He could be Aristokles’s henchmen or even his slave. But he didn’t act like either. His shoulders were relaxed, and there was a look of contentment across his scarred features as he worked. And when she thought back to what she’d seen of the two sparring downstairs, it was clear he wasn’t afraid of the Argonaut.

She suddenly didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t in her nature to lie anyway. But she couldn’t tell the truth either. She figured a half-truth was her best bet. “There’s a god who wants something from me. I was in the wilds because of him.”

“Running from him?”

Daphne definitely wanted to run from Zeus. His lecherous gaze put her at instant unease, and she hated the way he kept referencing her mother. In a way, accepting this assignment was running from him, wasn’t it? “You could say that.”

He sliced through another tomato. “If it was a god, I’m guessing you came through a portal.”

“I did.”

“Which explains the dress you were wearing when Ari found you.”

Ari...
Her body warmed just thinking of the Argonaut. He’d been the one who’d found her. Rescued her from those daemons. Brought her here and stripped her of her shredded garments.

Arousal stirred in her belly all over again, but as her gaze drifted to the knife in Silas’s hand, it cooled. He sliced through the flesh of the tomato. Juice spurted across the cutting board, instantly reminding her of that daemon’s claws slashing through her skin.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome. But I didn’t do much aside from make sure you were comfortable. Ari’s the one you should thank. Without his healing gift, you’d be dead.”

Daphne stared at the Misos’s scarred profile, unsure she’d heard him right. The Argonaut. He was implying that the Argonaut hadn’t just rescued her from those daemons, but healed her as well.

That went against everything she knew of the monster.

Silas glanced up. “I take it from your reaction you didn’t expect that.”

“I...” Heck no, she hadn’t expected that. “I recognized the markings on his forearms. He’s a warrior, not a healer.”

Silas looked down at his vegetables. “He is. But Ari also has a healing gift. One he doesn’t often use. Only when the situation is dire.”

What situation would the crazed Argonaut consider dire? Daphne’s gaze swept back over Silas’s scars. “He saved you as well?”

Silas nodded.

“Why?”

A smile pulled at the corner of Silas’s lips. “Because it’s in his nature to help those in need.”

Daphne’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Silas moved the diced tomatoes to a salad bowl. “The Argonauts are duty-bound to protect the human world. My people are part of that world.”

“Yes, but...if he lives here instead of in Argolea, he no longer serves with the Argonauts.”

Silas looked up again, only this time when his eyes met hers, they narrowed. The knife in his hand hovered above the cutting board. “Now that, I know, you did
not
pick up from the markings on his forearms.”

Oh Hades. A quick shot of fear rushed down Daphne’s spine.

Think...quickly.

“I...” Her mind spun. “No, I-I didn’t. But in my circle, I’ve heard whispers of a rogue Argonaut. One with mismatched eyes who no longer serves with his Order. I just assumed—”