Enslaved

Chapter Twenty-one

Gryphon’s heart hammered against his ribs as he led Maelea through the dark tunnel. Things had gone more smoothly than he’d expected. More smoothly than they should have. In a matter of minutes they’d be in the mountains beyond the walls of Tiyrns. He tried to shake the tickle in the back of his throat, the one that warned something would inevitably go wrong—but couldn’t.

He gripped Maelea’s hand tighter. Tried to calm the nerves radiating from her skin. When they reached the far side of the long tunnel, he shined his light over another access panel and typed in the same code he’d used before.

The steel door opened with a hiss. Sunlight burned his eyes as they stepped from darkness into light. As seasons in Argolea mirrored those in the human realm, it was late spring in the Aegis Mountains, and the trees rising around them swayed in the light breeze, the leaves rustling with their movement.

He closed the door behind Maelea. While she blinked several times, he took his first good look at her in the daylight. Someone had brought her fresh clothes. She was dressed in slim jeans, a white fitted T-shirt, and a cardigan. But the bandage on her forehead near her temple stood out in stark relief against her dark hair, and the stress of the day’s activities showed heavily in her eyes.

“Hey, come here.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, drew her close. Loved the way her hands felt against his biceps and her head tipped up to his. And when he kissed her, his own worry over what lay ahead slowly dissipated into the high mountain air.

“It’s all going to be okay,” he said when he eased back, trying to reassure her.

“You do too much for me.”

“I would do more if I could. I love you.”

Her eyes darkened as she brushed soft fingertips over his cheek. “I love you, too, Gryphon. So much more than I expected. So much more than I can even explain. This…it’s sudden and crazy, but…for the first time in my life, everything feels right. Being with you feels…like home.”

She eased up on her toes and kissed him again. Wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tight. And in her kiss he tasted relief and desperation and hunger. The same things he’d been feeling the whole damn day.

“What an attractive couple you make.”

Gryphon pulled back from Maelea’s mouth and whipped around. Only to falter when he came face-to-face with Persephone.

“Oh, gods,” Maelea muttered at his side.

Oh, gods was right. Not only was the goddess Hades’s wife, she was also Maelea’s mother. What the hell was she doing in Argolea?

Gryphon pushed Maelea behind him. Reached back for his blade, but as soon as he pulled it from his scabbard, some sort of power latched on and yanked. The weapon flew through the air and landed in the trees to his right.

Persephone lowered her arm and grinned. “You won’t be needing that.”

“What are you—?” Gryphon started.

“Doing here?” Persephone finished for him, stalking across the forest floor in a long, black gown, her jet-black hair so much like Maelea’s tumbling down her back, like a river of onyx silk. She looked past Gryphon toward Maelea. “Should I tell him, darling, or do you want to?”

“Oh, gods,” Maelea whispered again, growing tense against his back.

Unease made Gryphon looking over his shoulder. “Tell me what? What’s going on here?”

Guilt rushed over Maelea’s face.

“What’s going on here,” Persephone answered, drawing his attention her way again, “is that I’ve come for the Orb. I’ll take it now, darling daughter.”

“The what?” Gryphon’s eyes shot to Maelea.

“I…I don’t have it,” Maelea sputtered, looking past him toward her mother.

His brow lowered. “Why would she think you would?”

“Because…” Her eyes darted around like a cornered animal, searching for an escape. And in the silence that followed, that tickle in the back of Gryphon’s throat grew to a roaring vibration that echoed all through his skin.

“Because,” Persephone said when Maelea wouldn’t go on, “we made a deal. She gets the Argonaut to trust her, gets him to take her to Argolea, gets the Orb for me, then I get her into Olympus. You gave him the elixir, did you not, daughter? That’s why he’s so besotted with you, right? So where is it? I grow tired of this delay.”

Maelea’s gaze darted to his. And fear erupted in her eyes. A fear that said she knew exactly what Persephone was talking about. Because she’d made that deal.

I would do anything to get to Olympus.

Her words from the beach house ricocheted through his mind. Stole his breath. Words she’d spoken with conviction. Words he thought meant nothing after their week together. But now he knew that had just been an act. The anything she’d needed to say and do to get her here. To Argolea. To the castle. To the Orb.

Holy Hades. He thought back to how groggy he’d been after using his gifts at the motel. Way groggier than he should have been. To that drugged-out feeling on the boat. To being hornier than hell. And now he knew why. Because she’d fucking drugged him with some potion her mother had given her.

Fury erupted inside him. Obviously, screwing him blind and professing undying love was no big deal to her. After all, she’d tried to kill Orpheus to get to Olympus months ago. And thievery…well, that was way easier than going after Zagreus, Hades’s son, as she’d told him she’d planned to try next. All this time he’d been telling himself she was different from any other female he’d ever met. And now he knew why. Because she was the daughter of the Queen of the Underworld. The most conniving, backstabbing, and licentious goddess ever to walk the planet. And obviously, she was just like her mother.

His heart shattered at his feet. Leaving behind a black, gaping hole, as deep as the darkness that lived in his soul, all thanks to Krónos and Atalanta.

Skata. Could he be more fucking gullible? He’d left her alone in the castle. Others probably had as well. Could she have found the Orb so quickly? Knowing her and her desperation to get to Olympus, yeah, she probably had.

“Where is it?” he asked in a low voice, fighting back the darkness bubbling up from the depths of his soul.

“Gryphon.” She stepped toward him. “I didn’t take it. I promise. I didn’t make that deal. I wouldn’t use you like that. She offered, but I didn’t agree to it. I only used the potion because I needed you to cooperate so we could get away from those daemons. You weren’t listening to me and I needed your help. I didn’t…What are you doing?”

His hands landed on her shoulders. Harder than necessary, but he just couldn’t seem to be gentle as he patted her down all the way to her feet, ignoring the curves at her waist, the softness of her breasts, fighting back—even now—the desire building inside when he touched her.

Dammit, he was such a fucking idiot!

He didn’t find the Orb. Which only inflamed his anger. As he pushed to his feet, Persephone chuckled at his back. “Where did you hide it, daughter? Tell me and we’ll be on our way.”

“Go back to hell!” Maelea yelled at her mother. “I didn’t take it!” She looked at Gryphon, heartache and panic alive in her eyes. “Now do you believe me?”

He wanted to. Needed her to be telling the truth. Prayed he wasn’t the fool he suddenly felt.

A beeping sound echoed around him. Gryphon looked right and left, then realized it was coming from him. He pulled the high-tech gadget that Orpheus had given him from his pocket and pressed a button. Orpheus’s voice boomed through the clearing. “Gryphon, shit, where are you?”

All kinds of chaos could be heard on Orpheus’s end of the line. Voices and footsteps and the beep of several machines. “Why? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on. The Orb is fucking missing. They think you took it, you dumbass. Please tell me you didn’t touch the damn thing. Because if you did—”

Gryphon didn’t hear the rest of his brother’s words. Because rage and anger and darkness erupted as he stared at Maelea’s guilt-ridden and now very panicked face.

He’d been so naïve to think there was any kind of happily-ever-after for him. She was his soul mate, after all. And like all the Argonauts, he’d been cursed by Hera because of her hatred for Heracles—the first guardian. Fated to be drawn forever to the one woman who would torment his existence. That right there was a great big red warning flag he should have paid attention to.

“Gryphon,” she whispered. “Just listen to me. Please. I—”

“Maelea has it,” he said to Orpheus. Her face blanched, but he didn’t care. He suddenly didn’t care about anything anymore. Anything except revenge.

“What?” Orpheus said in a shocked voice.

“She took it. Was planning to give it to Persephone in exchange for entrance to Olympus. I just found out. We’re standing outside the tunnel that runs from the undercroft. Get here now.”

Persephone swore at his back.

He clicked the end button before Orpheus could ask anything else. And in the silence, tears filled Maelea’s eyes as she stared at him. Tears that only enraged him more.

“I trusted you,” he said with more calm than he expected, though inside, retribution cut through him like a hot, sharp knife. “I should have known better than to put my faith in a female whose soul is as black as mine.”

“Gryphon—”

“Thanks to your mother, I realized what you really are before it’s too late. I can’t believe I nearly got killed protecting you from Hades’s hellhounds.”

At his back, Persephone hissed. And he felt, rather than saw, the goddess dissipate into nothing but her own fit of rage.

Beside him, Orpheus materialized. “Gryphon, what the hell—”

Tears ran down Maelea’s cheeks as she stepped forward. “Just let me explain—”

Gryphon flinched out of her grip and stepped far, far away from her. “No, I’ve wasted way too much time on you as it is. You’re good, female. I have to admit that much. But like I said before, you’re not irresistible. Thank your mother for reminding me what really matters in this life.”

Orpheus called out to him, but he was already flashing, flying over land and water and reappearing at the gatehouse, where the portal that led into the human realm was housed.

The two executive guards on duty lurched to their feet, but the darkness inside had all but consumed him, and Gryphon moved faster than both, disarming them and leaving them in a tangle of limbs on the floor before either could draw a weapon. “Stay fucking down,” he growled as he kicked their weapons aside. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t follow.”

He moved for the portal, hesitated at the edge, and closed his eyes to listen for the voice.

Now that he was away from Maelea, he could hear it. Could feel the pull in the center of his chest, calling him back. All he had to do was follow it. As he let it guide him, he let go of all those silly fantasies he’d had the last few days and refocused on what was important.

Freedom.

Not from the Argonauts or the Council or the half-breed colony, but from Atalanta. From the voice and darkness. From the threat of the Underworld lingering over him like a black cloud. A threat he should have been thinking about all along.

“I didn’t take it,” Maelea said in a frantic voice to Orpheus. A voice she couldn’t control.

“What the hell is going on?” Orpheus asked.

Beside him, three more Argonauts appeared—Theron, Demetrius, and Zander—all sporting the same pissed-off expressions. But Maelea didn’t shrivel into the background the way she normally would when faced with four gigantic warriors. She stood her ground and focused on Orpheus. “Persephone appeared to me in that motel when Gryphon stepped outside, and she offered me a deal. She wanted me to get her the Orb. To convince Gryphon to bring me here so I could take it. But I didn’t. I didn’t agree to anything, I swear it. I didn’t even plan to come here. You and Titus and Skyla brought us here. I haven’t even been alone. Callia or Skyla have been with me the whole time. Orpheus, I’m not lying to you. I wasn’t lying to Gryphon, but he…”

Oh, gods. Her heart contracted so hard, the pain stole her breath. She covered her mouth with her hand to hold back the sob. He thought she’d betrayed him. That she’d used him. And why wouldn’t he? Look at her parents. Lies and betrayal and thievery ruled all the gods. Genetics weren’t on her side. And then there was her own admitted obsession with Olympus. And his abuse at the hands of another god, Atalanta.

Her stomach rolled. Tears burned her eyes. Dammit, she never should have used that elixir her mother had given her. She hadn’t been trying to seduce him as Persephone wanted. She’d simply been trying to get him to cooperate so she could save their lives.

Orpheus gripped her upper arms. “Focus, Maelea. Where did Gryphon go? He said something about thanking Persephone for reminding him what matters most.”

She blinked back the tears. Told herself to keep it together. She had to make this right. She had to find a way. “He…he’s been planning to go after Atalanta all along. It’s why he left the colony. He was getting ready to leave me at the beach house and do just that when you and Skyla and Titus showed up. It’s her voice he hears in his head. When he was in the Underworld, Krónos bound them together. She’s been calling to him. He thinks the only way he’s going to be free of her is to kill her.”

“Skata,” Theron said at Orpheus’s side. “Did he say where she is?”

“No.” Maelea shook her head. “He never said, and I don’t think he knows. But he can find her, just by listening to the voice. By giving in to the pull. Krónos gave them six months to find the Orb or he’ll drag them both back to the Underworld, and he’s running out of time.”

“Skata,” Theron said again, glancing toward Zander. “That fucking Orb. We’ll never find him.”

“I gave him Titus’s fancy transmitter,” Orpheus said, letting go of Maelea and pulling his out of his pocket.

“It’ll only work if he’s still in Argolea,” Theron said.

“Does he have the Orb on him?” Zander asked as Orpheus tried to contact Gryphon.

“I don’t think so,” Maelea answered. “I didn’t sense it. But I can only sense the Orb if it’s being used, and it—oh, my gods.”

She gripped Orpheus’s arm, swayed on her feet.

He reached out to steady her. “Maelea? What’s wrong?”

Energy whipped through her. An energy with power like no other. A power that was definitely being used.

“The Orb,” she managed in a shaky voice. “Someone just used it to open a portal to the human realm.”

“Gryphon?” Orpheus asked.

She swallowed hard. Shook her head. Turned toward Zander, because the face she saw now in her mind was one she’d seen at the half-breed colony. “No,” she whispered. “Your son.”

Max wasn’t sure where to open the portal, so he picked the woods surrounding the old half-breed colony in Oregon. He knew patrols still ran in that area, looking for half-breeds who’d yet to move over to the new location. Hoped he’d run into one today.

Rustling in the trees at his back caught his attention and he whipped that way, only to freeze when the god stepped out of the darkness, heading right for him, a smirk across his menacing face.

Max moved back a step. He didn’t know who the god was, but he sensed his power. And a whole lot of darkness—darkness like Atalanta’s.

“You proved to be quite the Argonaut, boy. And completely predictable. Now I’ll take the Orb and we can both be on our way.”

Max’s mind spun. Then his eyes caught sight of the mark of the Underworld peeking out from under the collar of the god’s shirt.

Hades.

Max swallowed hard. And fear burst in his chest. What was Hades doing here? How did he know Max had the Orb? How did he…?

Lachesis.

Oh, shit.

He hadn’t once thought to question the Fate in the woods outside Tiyrns. He’d been too upset. But thinking back now, he realized the eyes were different from the last time he’d spoken to the Fate. The eyes, he realized now, were dead black shards of coal like those in Hades’s head.

The Orb burned hot against his flesh where it rested on a chain around his neck under his shirt. Infused him with power. He still wasn’t any match for a god, but he’d gotten away from Atalanta with nothing but the Orb. Maybe, if he played his cards right…

“You son of a bitch,” a female voice hissed. “You are not to go after my daughter.”

Hades’s head swiveled to the side. Toward the dark-haired female dressed in a black robe, also appearing from the darkness of the trees, hatred and retribution alive on her pale, perfect face. “My love—”

“Don’t ‘my love’ me,” she growled. “My daughter is not to be touched. You sent hellhounds after her again, you bastard.”

Persephone. Double shit. Max glanced between the two, his eyes growing even wider as he took another step back.

“She was not harmed,” Hades said, trying to brush off her anger with a roll of his eyes. “There’s no reason for you to be in such a tizzy.”

“I’ll show you a tizzy.” Persephone lifted her hands. Electricity arced out of her fingertips and hit Hades square in the chest. He flew back ten feet and slammed into the ground with a grunt. “That’s for attacking my daughter.” She lifted her hands again before he could get up, sent another current of electricity through his body that made him shake and writhe on the ground. “And that’s for interfering in my quest for the Orb. It will not be yours, husband. It will never be yours.”

She turned her icy glare on Max. And under her dead stare, every hair on Max’s flesh stood straight. “You.”

Before she could attack, Hades lurched to his feet and hurled a whip of fire out from the palm of his hand. It wrapped around Persephone, locking her hands at her sides, and yanked her backward. Her skirts flew up. She screamed as she was dragged toward Hades.

Her body slammed into his. He closed his arms around her. “It seems all your time on Olympus has made you forget who’s in control, little wife. I think it’s time I reminded you.”

He bit into her neck. And Persephone screamed again. But as her cries of protest turned to moans of pleasure, Max knew if he didn’t get out of here right now, he was going to be in even deeper shit than he already was.

He turned and ran. And hoped like hell they were too distracted to realize he was gone.

His heart pounded hard in his chest, was a roar in his ears, as he zigzagged around tree trunks and jumped over logs. He slipped on a wet patch of moss, hit the earth face-first. Pushed up again and tore off through the trees. Only when he was at least a half mile away did he slow and realize he could use the Orb to open a portal to a different location, far away from here.

With shaking hands he unzipped his jacket, was just about to pull the Orb from under his shirt when a growl echoed close.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Slowly, he turned and peered up at the five daemons moving toward him from the shadows.

“He’s an Argonaut,” the one on the right said, drawing in a deep whiff.

“He’s Atalanta’s son,” the one in front said, a sinister smile twisting his gruesome lips. “We’ve been looking for you, boy.”

Max dropped his hand from his shirt. Zipped his coat. Tried to quell his racing pulse. But it didn’t work. Because this increase in tempo wasn’t from fear. It was from excitement. And the promise of retribution yet to come.

This time, he had no intention of running.

“Really?” he said in a voice that was calmer than he expected. “Well, here I am, dog-breath. What are you waiting for?”