Skata. Gryphon knew better than this. He knew to cover his tracks. Humans were not to know about the war between the Argonauts and Atalanta’s daemons. Bodies were always to be destroyed. But this…he’d left this here for anyone to find.
“Orpheus wiped the last cop’s mind,” Skyla said at his side. He hadn’t even heard her come back into the room. “That élencho comes in handy. We lucked out; this motel is in the middle of nowhere and there weren’t any other guests staying here.”
“What about the hysterical kid?” Titus kicked a daemon sword to the side. After meeting Orpheus and Skyla at the site of those daemon bodies, they’d disposed of the remains, then continued west and come across a pack of dead hellhounds. They’d cleaned up that mess as well, and finally found this.
Police lights swirling, an ambulance waiting. A handful of small-town cops who’d looked shocked to hell and back, mingling around outside. It was still night, but dawn would be breaking soon, and they had to clean up this disaster before anyone else arrived. Like the FBI special-crimes unit or some paranormal-obsessed freaks.
“Orpheus wiped his mind as well,” Skyla said. “Kid was lucky. The daemons destroyed that office. I’m not sure how he hid from them.”
Dammit. Gryphon should have wiped the kid’s mind, then torched the place after he killed these fuckers. If humans knew daemons roamed their world, pandemonium would break out. And there was no telling who or what Atalanta would target if that happened. Or what the gods would do in retaliation. It was the Argonauts’ responsibility to clean up Atalanta’s mess.
Orpheus’s boots crunched over broken glass as he came back into the room. “They’re gone. For now. But we don’t have much time before others show up.”
From the corner of his eye, Titus saw the way Skyla reached for Orpheus, wrapped her hand around his, and squeezed, giving him a little of her strength. And he thought back to the redhead at the colony. About how he could touch her like that if he wanted. About the light-headed, way-too-enticing feeling he’d experienced when his skin had brushed hers. About the fact she was the first person in over a hundred years he’d wanted to touch again.
Orpheus swiped a hand over his brow, let go of Skyla, and stepped farther into the room. He looked like shit. Worry lines creased his face and dark circles marred the skin under his eyes. He probably hadn’t slept since Gryphon went missing, but then Titus couldn’t blame him. To bring his brother all the way back from the Underworld, only to have it result in this…
“We’ll find him,” Skyla said softly.
“I know,” Orpheus answered, turning a slow circle as he stood in the middle of the devastation. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about what the fuck he’s doing in the meantime. He’s obviously not thinking right.” He eyed the handcuffs hanging from the bedframe. A sick look crossed his face, and Titus picked up the memory rushing through his mind, one of seeing those female undergarments on the floor in the bathroom.
Skyla moved back to reach for his arm. “Maelea’s strong.”
Orpheus huffed. “Maelea’s not strong. She’s a pincushion.”
“She’s lived for thousands of years—”
“In hiding. She’s not you, Skyla. You know the shit Gryphon went through. You know what it did to him. You saw it firsthand. If he…” He closed his eyes. Swallowed. When he opened his mouth to speak again, his voice was pained. “She wouldn’t know how to fight back. She wouldn’t know how to stop him.”
Skyla wrapped her arms around Orpheus’s waist. His face slid into the hollow between her shoulder and neck, and he held on as if she really was his strength. Right there in the middle of a nightmare.
Titus watched, more than a little in awe. Orpheus had spent hundreds of years on his own. Hadn’t needed anyone. Had been a thorn in the Argonauts’ sides as long as he could remember. But this woman…she’d changed all of that. Not only was he now serving with the Argonauts, he was different. Yeah, he was still a smart-mouthed sonofabitch, but he was now an utterly devoted, softer around the edges, cooperative, smart-mouthed sonofabitch.
Titus turned away, knew in the bottom of his heart he didn’t want a soul mate. Didn’t want to be left open to the pain losing one could cause. Or the responsibility of protecting someone else. And that meant he probably shouldn’t go back to the colony with the intention of finishing anything with Natasa.
He wasn’t convinced she was his soul mate, but there was obviously some kind of connection between them. Something drawing him to her. Something that could get him into serious trouble if he wasn’t careful.
And he’d had more than enough of that kind of trouble. Had been cursed because of it. Had vowed never to dabble in it ever again.
“We need to go,” he said, more harshly than he intended. “I say we torch the place, then keep heading west. They can’t be far ahead of us. Wherever they’re going, we’ll catch up sooner or later.”
Orpheus finally let go of Skyla. And before he even asked the question, Titus knew what he was going to say. “What about Theron and the others?”
All the Argonauts wanted Gryphon back in one piece, but if they called this in now, Theron would have to report it to both Nick and the queen back in Argolea. And though Titus trusted Isadora, he knew the Council had spies in the castle, waiting for any reason to undermine the Argonauts. No, if they called this in, they wouldn’t be the only ones hunting Gryphon. For Gryphon’s sake—and Maelea’s—it was better to keep this quiet for the time being. “We’ll call Theron when we’ve found him.”
Skyla slid her hand into Orpheus’s, turned to face Titus too. “Then let’s stop dicking around and find him.”
Titus’s thoughts exactly.
Doooooouuuulas… Come to me. Come…
Gryphon sat straight up, cringed when pain ignited behind his eyelids. Grasping his head with both hands, he closed his eyes tight, breathed through the throb in his skull.
He felt as if he’d cracked his head through a plate-glass window. His fingers passed over a knot on the back of his scalp, and he tried to remember where he’d gotten it. Couldn’t.
Prying his eyes open, he glanced around the room. Sunlight filtered through windows covered in sheer white curtains. A slight breeze blew through the screen door. He was in a bed. White sheets were tangled around his legs, and whitewashed furniture sat against the wall on both sides of him. An open door led into a dark room to his left, and ahead, a white wicker chair held neatly folded clothing. At the base sat his boots.
A quick look down confirmed he was naked, but he couldn’t remember how he’d ended up like this or where the blazes here was. But as he tried to clear his hazy mind, he had fuzzy flashes of skin, of heat, of the sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted. Of a blinding orgasm that even now made his dick hard.
Doooooouuuuulas…
He shook his head. Ignored the voice. It was there, but not as strong as before. And always in the back was that damn buzz he’d grown accustomed to.
He pushed to his feet, gripped the dresser at his side when he wobbled. The sheet fell to the floor. On shaky legs, he made his way over to the chair, lifted a pair of jeans that definitely weren’t his. Since they were better than walking around naked, he tugged them on, was relieved when they fit. As he zipped the fly, he turned for the window, then pulled back the sheer curtain and looked out at…an ocean of blue.
Surprise rippled through him. A balcony overlooked a beach. Rock walls created a sheltered cove on both sides. Trees rose up all around, offering privacy. And down below, waves lapped gently against the shore, where a female with long dark hair, wearing a thin white dress, frolicked in the sand near a cluster of seagulls.