The demon inside him snapped and snarled in rage, quickly and easily propelling him out of the line of fire. Sienna bounced at his side. Once, she gasped. But that was it, the only noise she made. Better, she stopped fighting him.
Barreling forward, he kicked two Hunters in the stomach and sent them sailing into a sculpture of the Virgin Mary. The sculpture wavered on her perch, and one of the Hunters dropped his semi-automatic. Paris snatched it with his free hand and began shooting, continuing to move forward at a rapid pace.
He turned a corner, found more Hunters and kept firing. More shots were aimed at him, but he dodged. Only three managed to graze him. When he ran out of bullets, he tossed the gun aside and grabbed another. They lined the halls—as did dead bodies. He flew around another corner, and Sienna's breasts brushed his skin. He felt…no, surely not. He'd just had her. He could not get hard again. Not by her. But blood began to fill and harden his cock.
Never, in thousands of years, had he desired the same woman twice. He wasn't even sure what would happen if he gave in to the urge. Would the demon inside him go crazy? Would he go crazy?
"Which way?" he demanded of Sienna when he came to a fork in the hall.
"Left," she gasped out.
"If you are lying…"
"I'm not."
He turned left and leapt into a full sprint. A towering double doorway loomed ahead, three Hunters racing from it. They raised their guns at him, their expressions intent. He tried to fire, but he had used the last bullet.
He ducked and dove, shouting, "Hang on," to Sienna.
She did, winding her legs around his waist. He hit the ground and she bounced, and together they rolled into the Hunters, knocking them down like pins in the path of a bowling ball.
While they were down, he swiped up another gun and shot them in the skulls. Blood and brains splattered. Sienna whimpered, but didn't speak. Paris experienced a twinge of guilt that she'd witnessed his most violent side, but quickly tamped it out. Her opinion of him no longer mattered.
He shoved through the doors and found himself outside. The warm night air was sweet, innocent. Looking around, he realized that he was still in Greece and that he had indeed been inside a cathedral. Humans stood on the steps, gaping at his blood-stained nudity and muttering about the commotion.
In the distance, he could hear the wail of a siren.
Steps swift, he made his way to the side of the building and into a darkened ally. Sienna moaned, and it was a pain-filled sound. His gaze sought her. She was limp as a doll.
"Look at me."
She turned her head slowly, and he saw that her eyes were pooled with unshed tears, her features bright with anguish. He felt something warm run down his hip and frowned.
When he was certain they were alone, he set her down and looked her over. She'd managed to work her arms through the shirt and the material hung to her thighs.
His chest constricted. She was bleeding profusely, the shirt already plastered to her stomach in a wide crimson circle.
She'd been shot.
"Sienna," he said, upset in a way he didn't understand. He shouldn't care. He'd meant to punish her. Had wanted to hurt her.
"Paris," she gasped. "I should…have…killed you."
As if the words had sucked the last of her strength, her head lolled to the side. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. Only a heartbeat later, she died.
LUCIEN GRABBED ANYA'S ARM and stopped her just before she crossed through that thick, dappled patch of air. She glanced at him curiously, and he shook his head.
"You first," he told William, just in case they were stepping into some sort of trap.
At first, the warrior gave no reaction. But then his eyes narrowed, and he shrugged. "Very well. I'll go first." Without another word, William walked past them into the glistening shimmer.
He disappeared as if he'd never been on the mountain.
Dear gods. It was a doorway. Lucien experienced a moment of joy. They might find the Cage of Compulsion after all. With the thought, his joy was tempered by apprehension. To win the cage, they might have to fight the mighty Hydra. He'd expected to do so, but the possibility had never been so real.
"After me," Lucien told Anya and stepped forward before she could protest. "Be ready to fight." He gripped a dagger in each hand, a little shaky and a lot weak, though he refused to succumb to either.
Whatever he'd expected the shimmers to feel like, they didn't. They were dry and as light as air. There was no moment of suspension, no dizziness. One minute he was surrounded by snow and ice, the next he was in paradise.
Warm air beat around him, heating him, melting the frost and making him sweat.
"Wow," Anya gasped behind him. She stepped up beside him, gripping the sword she'd stolen from William. "This is, like, amazing. Who would have thought a place like this was actually up in these mountains?"
William was—where? Lucien looked around the tropical island. There were lush emerald trees and blooming flowers of every color. The aroma of coconuts and pineapples scented the air, almost drugging. Definitely lulling. Beguiling. His brow wrinkled in confusion as his muscles relaxed of their own accord.
You were doing something. What? The answer—William, he suddenly remembered. The grass climbed up to Lucien's knees. He kept searching, fighting past the languor still beating through him. There! William leaned against a giant silver boulder at the far left.
He'd removed his coat, hat and gloves. He wasn't holding a weapon, but had his arms crossed over his chest. Determination gleamed on his face, though he did his best to appear nonchalant.
Lucien removed his own mask and coat and dropped them, not wanting the bulk to hinder him. With Cronus's curse looming over his head, he was slow enough.
Anya stripped down to a skin-tight white shirt and shorts that stopped just below the curve of her ass. Despite his condition, he was instantly hard for her.
"This is where we need to honeymoon," she said. Laughing, she skipped forward and danced through the flowers, their soft petals caressing her skin as he wanted to do. "I don't see any sign of our monster. Do you? And do you care? This is the best I've ever felt!"
"No, I do not see her." Watching her, Lucien felt his lips curl into a grin. She's captivating, he thought. She's mine. And if they managed to win the cage, he might just get to live and keep her.
Suddenly she stopped, gasped and pointed. "Lucien, look look look!" she said excitedly. "The Cage of Compulsion."
He gazed across a crystal lake stretching before her. Sure enough, there was indeed an ordinary-looking cage perched on a boulder on the other side. Rather unspectacular for a godly relic, Lucien couldn't help but think. But those polished bars were tall enough to house a human and wide enough that the human could lie down and not touch the other side. Who was he supposed to lock in there, to learn about Pandora's box? he wondered. Anya had thought Hydra.
"It's not as glamorous as I'd anticipated," Anya remarked, echoing Lucien's thoughts.
"No."
"Hydra should thank us for taking it."
Hydra. He should be worried about her. Shouldn't he? "Be careful," Lucien said, trying to force his body to prepare for war. "The monster could be near."
Unconcerned, William stepped forward, plucking strands of tall grass along the way. "You vowed to give me back the book if I brought you here," he said to Anya. "And as you can see, I brought you."
"Yes, I did and yes, you did. As soon as we return, you'll have your book. You have my word."
A wave of dizziness worked its way through Lucien. He drew in a deep breath, but that only increased the dizziness. By the time he thought to cease breathing it was too late. He was nearly incapacitated. What was wrong with him?