Read Red Mortal Online

Authors: Deidre Knight

Tags: #Man-woman relationships, #Goddesses, #Gods, #Paranormal, #Delphian oracle, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal romance stories, #Immortalism, #Daphne (Greek deity), #General, #Leonidas, #Contemporary

Red Mortal (6 page)

BOOK: Red Mortal
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“Explain your meaning,” Leo growled.
Ares peered over Leo’s shoulder at Daphne. “Oh, but hasn’t my sister told you? I was certain that she had.” He fanned himself, smiling his liquid, perverse smile. “She’s not revealed your rather spectacular fate?”
Leo tilted his chin upward, refusing to glance at Daphne. Perhaps she’d been keeping secrets from him, concealing some truth. But to what end?
Oh, but hasn’t my sister told you?
The mocking words clanged in Leo’s ears, goading him until he could only blink back at Ares, uncertain and bewildered.
Could Ares truly have made him so vulnerable?
His confusion earned him a harsh, barking laugh from the god. “Dying, yes,” Ares murmured almost lovingly. Then he clapped his hands together with relishing glee. “You’ll truly turn into an
old man
, while Daphne’s youthful, immortal beauty shall never fade.”
“You . . . you couldn’t do that,” Leo tried insisting, even as he knew the god most certainly
could.
“I’ve been faithful in the past, served you . . . well.”
“But you refused to serve me any
longer
.” Ares shrugged and gave him a condescending smile, as if humoring a disobedient child. “Come now, old king. You’re a vaguely intelligent man. Surely, you’d realized your fate already. You’ve sensed the old injuries beginning to mock you, the way your knee aches; you’ve seen the silver in your beard.”
In fact, Leonidas
had
noticed—he’d noticed and tried to assuage the fears with denial. He’d glimpsed those few silver hairs. But he’d never once suspected that Ares would rob him of his eternal life.
Ares began to beam in cruel satisfaction. Like a lover, he reached a hand and stroked Leo’s bearded jaw. “Ah, but have you gazed in the mirror
today
? Alas, I fear you might notice new, more vivid changes in that dark hair of yours. Oh, and by the way, I fear that if you try transforming into your hawk form . . . well, you won’t have much luck in that regard, either.”
Leo raked a hand through his short curls before he could stop himself. Everything the god threatened seemed to be revealed in slow, painful motion. Like a poisonous arrow, nailing him in the heart, robbing him of breath and life.
If he died, he’d lose Daphne forever; she’d never be able to join him in Elysium. Not when she herself would never age or die. They’d be separated for eternity if he passed to the next realm. How could Daphne not have told him of his prescribed fate, if indeed she’d known? If she loved him, surely she would have broken the truth to him.
“Daphne,” he gasped, struggling for breath. “What is he talking about?” He whirled to face her, and saw the facts written across her pale face and in her tear-filled eyes. “You
knew
?” he asked, feeling the weight of that betrayal.
“I’ve wanted to confess everything. I can’t tell you how badly, but I was afraid. . . .” She glanced at her brother significantly. She’d feared him, and therefore not warned Leo of this curse.
Ares gave him a satisfied smile. “My sister and I will still be here when your bones have turned to chalky dust. She’s smart enough to know who deserves her loyalty.”
Daphne tried to protest, but Ares talked over her, moving right up into Leo’s space.
“I shall offer a kindness, Spartan,” Ares volunteered brightly. “Why should you tarry here on Earth when Elysium awaits? I’ll prove that I’m not the cruel god you’ve always claimed . . . I’ll hasten this process of yours, transform you quickly, swiftly”—Ares gave Daphne a mournful glance—“but, alas, not painlessly. I’ll do so now, while it is fresh on my mind.”
Daphne lunged at her brother. “Leave him be!” She clawed at his chest, frantic. “You may punish me all you like, but don’t make Leonidas suffer because of me.” She thrashed against him, but Ares managed to capture her about the waist, pinning her in his arms.
He kept his gaze on Leonidas, targeting him visually, preparing to do something. Leonidas braced, dropping into a fighting stance, ready for whatever the god chose to deliver.
Clucking his tongue, the god swept his golden cloak from about his shoulders. Leo held his breath as the gilt fabric wafted in the air, sailing toward Leonidas as if by pure magic. In that instant, Leo knew that the garment would end him. It had always carried too much power, as if it belonged to some evil sorcerer.
Leo threw out both hands in a blocking gesture; only the darkest kind of spell could come from touching this war god’s cape. But he was too late. The glittering fabric grazed his shoulder, settling there for a moment, scalding his skin. He sidestepped, barking against the pain, but Ares’s wicked cloak became stuck like an otherworldly briar to Leo’s broad back.
Leo staggered first one direction, then another, the cape causing pain to shoot through his veins like a toxin. With a horrible groan, he tore at the material with his hands, but it only grew more firmly attached, like a sticky spiderweb.
“Ares!” he howled, feeling as if he’d taken a deathblow on the battlefield. “Stop this, damn you!
Free me!
” The words came out slurred, felt like heavy cotton in Leo’s mouth.
Ares laughed darkly as Leo clutched at the material with shaking hands, feeling its power seep into his bones, his spine, his muscles. “Get it . . . off of me!” he bellowed.
I beg of you . . .
No, Leonidas would never plead with any enemy. The agony, he would endure it.
“Do you
beg
of me?” Ares taunted as if reading Leo’s thoughts. “Why, that’s most erotic. Perhaps you’ll plead with me as you’ve often implored my sister for her affections?”
Leo whirled blindly, trying to throw a punch at the god, but he was too dazed and missed, stumbling forward. Daphne sprang to his side, trying to help, but Leo snarled at her protectively, “Stay back!”
“I can get it off,” she cried, yanking at her brother’s cloak. “You know the power in it; we must stop the flow . . .”
He shoved her away from him, afraid for her life and safety. “Don’t! Daphne, no,” he groaned, staggering again in his blindness. A wash of darkness filled his vision, a tapestry of evil shifting in his mind’s eye. Still the unholy cloak remained about his shoulders and back, weighing him down like a ten-ton anchor.
A searing pain seemed to boil within his blood, settle in his bones, agonizing him. He couldn’t fight it, didn’t possibly possess the strength to battle such a supernatural and poisonous tide within his own body.
“Ares,” he groaned, sinking to his knees. “I . . . will . . .
vanquish thee
.”
He would find a way, if it was with his last dying breath, his only remaining portion of strength, he would destroy Ares once and for all.
The god stared down at him, deadly victory in his feline gaze. “My lord,” he corrected with a half smile, “it appears that it is I who have already vanquished thee.” He cast a look at Daphne. “Enjoy your elder days with my sister, Old Man. They shan’t last long.”
 
Daphne cradled Leo’s head in her lap, holding his unconscious body protectively. She glared at her brother, trying to dislodge the cloak from about Leo’s body. No matter how hard she pried or pulled, it remained firmly attached. “Take this thing off of him,” she cried, trying to sound forceful and in command when what she really felt was pure, unadulterated terror.
Ares shrugged. “You might as well allow it to warm him; it’s already worked its magic.”
“How could you do this to him, knowing what he means to me?”
Ares only cocked a lazy eyebrow. “What he means to you? Come now, Daphne, he’s stolen what is rightly mine. You.”
“We are brother and sister!” She stared up at him in disbelief. All these years, and he’d not relented in his perverse interest in her. “And if you destroy Leo, I’ll only despise you even more.”
She stroked her beloved’s brow with a soothing gesture; his skin burned with fever, but visibly he hadn’t changed anymore—not yet. “What did you do to him just now? What power was in your cloak?”
Ares’s eyes narrowed, catlike and cunning. “I am the god of bloodlust. I only gave a dose of it to your frail lover, a portion of what was due him. Namely . . . death. He should thank me for the intoxication, the taste of such glory.” Ares stared down at Leo’s prone, unconscious form. “Or perhaps it was more than he could bear, in his decrepit state.”
“He is not frail! He’s the greatest warrior ever to roam the earth. No wonder you’re so hatefully jealous.”
“Enough!” Ares thundered, yanking the cloak from Leo’s shoulders easily. With a snap of the fabric, he swung it over his own shoulder with a regal sniff. He cocked his head as he studied Leonidas’s unconscious body. “He will age quickly. And”—he smiled, baring gleaming white teeth—“your own suffering will be quick. As for Leonidas’s torture? Well . . . at least it will be
interesting.”
Torture. Her unnatural brother had planned this, plotted a careful end to Leonidas’s life, one that would be more painful than any other.
Still cradling Leonidas’s head in her lap, she reached with outstretched hands. “I will grant anything you want. I will do it—for him. I plead with you, brother. Whatever you ask, whatever it takes . . . please just spare him.”
His expression grew cunning, the catlike eyes narrowing on her. “
Whatever
I want?”
She pressed her eyes shut, shivering, aware of Leo’s prone form in her arms. If she gave Ares his way, it would possibly save her beloved’s life. “I . . . I will live with you on Olympus,” she offered quietly, still keeping her eyes shut. “As your sister.”
She felt a murmur of a touch against her cheek; her skin burned painfully. “As I suspected,” came his deadly reply. “And so your love will die.”
Her eyes flew open, but it was already too late. Without so much as a whisper of wind or hint of eternal power, Ares had already vanished into a thin, golden mist.
Chapter 4
 
D
aphne knelt beside the low sofa in Leonidas’s study. She’d teleported him here, away from the meadow, and hopefully out of Ares’s sight. She’d thought desperately as to where might be safest for Leo, and in the end knew that his study was his sanctuary. When he awoke, she wanted him to feel reassured, protected. And she knew they’d have much to discuss. He’d felt betrayed that she’d not told him the truth; she’d seen that fact reflected clearly in his eyes.
She would have to make sure he understood her reasoning: She’d feared that by warning him she might endanger him more. Just as she had feared that loving him or being with him might harm him . . . and she’d been right. Ares had only chosen to strike Leo now only because she’d been in his arms, ready to make love with him. Here it was, almost ten minutes later, and Leonidas still hadn’t stirred, remaining unconscious on the leather couch where she’d gently teleported him. One heavy leg hung off the cushions, and he had a hand flung across his forehead, looking as if he’d passed out from heavy intoxication.
Then a horrible thought hit her. What if he never woke again? Her breathing grew short as she considered the possibility that her brother might have cast Leo into a deep, eternal sleep as part of the overall curse.
She panicked, reaching for one of his big hands and squeezing it between her much smaller ones. If he needed this slumber, if it was restoring some of the vitality Ares had stolen, then she didn’t want to disturb him. But it was hard not to be afraid.
“Leonidas,” she whispered, pulling his hand against her breast. She was relieved when he stirred slightly, groaning as he resettled on the cushions. He began snoring softly, his jaw falling slack. As she watched him sleep, she’d never thought him more beautiful. She let her gaze sweep over his features, noticing the subtle transitions already taking place—and memorizing his face, knowing that they now truly lived on borrowed time. Years from now, in the ages to come, she would always remember this beautiful, rugged face: one of character and magnificence, even as it was so unconventionally attractive. Even despite the scar that split his lower lip, his mouth was full, sensual, and in this relaxed state utterly kissable. She bent forward, lightly brushing her own lips over his, savoring the feel of them.
Then she stared down at him again, studying the way Leo’s long, dark lashes lay against his weathered cheeks. His eyes had always been the most erotic and sexy aspect of his appearance, sometimes hooded and full of natural sensuality—other times so sharply intelligent and filled with suggestion that she was aroused just by gazing up at him. She loved everything about Leo’s appearance, even the short-trimmed beard along his jaw and the way it curled slightly like the hair atop his head. It was strange, to watch that beard faintly change hues before her very eyes, a few strands already silvering. She wondered if the bracketing lines she noticed at the edges of his lips had always been there, concealed by the beard, or if they too were part of Ares’s handiwork.
She pressed her lips against that mouth again, savoring the warm, vital feel of it. With her fingertips, she outlined the familiar length of his aquiline nose, which had always been somewhat inelegant because of how many times it had been broken in battle. But now, as she kissed him and felt the soft exhalation of his breath, she blinked back tears knowing that soon—any day, perhaps—she might never see his imperfect nose again. Or touch him, feel his lips against hers.
BOOK: Red Mortal
4.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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