Marked

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Casey knew she wasn’t alone even before her eyes drifted open. The rhythmic breathing at her back was a dead giveaway. As was the hard arousal nestled against her backside.

Any normal woman would have panicked, especially considering the circumstances. But she wasn’t normal—not anymore—and even before she looked she knew it was Theron up tight against her back. His dark, spicy scent flooded her senses. In the stillness, the solid weight of his arm across her hip became as real as her pulse pounding in her brain.

What the hell was he doing in her bed?

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she rolled to her back. The movement made his arm slide across her belly, sending sparks along her nerve endings. She sat up slowly and reached for his hand to free herself from his gasp, only to falter when their fingers touched.

A jolt of electricity shimmied through her. The room spun. And suddenly she wasn’t in a bedroom anymore, but in a dark and cold forest, surrounded by the undeniable sights and smells of death.

She gasped. Turned a slow circle. Wondered how she’d gotten here and where Theron had gone. Cannons exploded behind her, the loud sounds making her jump and whip around. Dried leaves crunched beneath her feet. Shouts and curses and bloodcurdling screams came from far off in the distance.

Dear God, she was in the middle of a war zone. Her adrenaline spiked. She looked right and left as her heart kicked up to rival the roar of a 747 on takeoff. Where was Theron?

Gunfire echoed. Followed by a voice Casey knew intimately, booming from the trees no more than twenty yards away.

“Patéras!”

Without questioning her common sense, Casey tore off in that direction. Then pulled up short when she reached the small clearing and the scene laid out before her.

Two daemons lay mauled and incapacitated on the hard earth near a small bubbling brook. Fresh blood oozed from their wounds to run down their grotesque faces, staining the ground with the vileness in their veins. A man—the one from Casey’s dream the night she’d met Theron—lay on the ground mere feet away. More blood gushed from a gaping wound in his chest, his eyes and mouth open as if he was in shock. Across the small stream, a boy who looked no more than fourteen, wearing a ratty gray coat, stood slack-jawed, with eyes as wide as saucers. In his arms he cradled a smoking rifle.

Theron bolted through the trees at Casey’s right and dropped to the ground beside the older man, his own features twisted in disbelief. “Patéras. No.”

“Theron,” the man gasped, reaching a shaky, bloody hand up to grip Theron’s shirt. “You must finish them.”

“I will. I…Patéras.” He placed both hands over the wound in the other man’s chest. “We have to get you back. Now. We—”

“Ochi,” the older man barked in a weak voice.

Theron’s muscles froze as if he hadn’t heard right.

“Ochi,” the older man said again, softer this time. “My time has already come and gone. You must”—he cringed in pain—“finish them.”

Theron lifted grief-stricken eyes to look toward the daemons, who, Casey realized in horror, were starting to revive, bloody stumps and all.

“This is what you were born for,” the older man said, pulling Theron’s attention back to him. “You will take my spot—”

“No.”

“You will do as the king commands. You won’t question his authority. Trust him as you trust me. Remember we are”—the older man took a shuddering breath—“of the same line.”

“Patéras,” Theron whispered.

The older man’s hand fell against the dirt. His eyes flickered, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “To peproōmenon phugein adunaton, gios mou.”

Then his head rolled to the side, and in the silence that followed, Casey watched a single tear slide down Theron’s cheek, roll across his chin and drip onto the older man’s face.

Though the daemons were now growling low in their throats and groaning as they righted themselves, Theron’s motions were slow and methodical. He carefully closed the older man’s eyes, then looked up across the river to where the young boy, still frozen in place with the whites of his eyes showing all around his dark irises, stood immobilized, staring at the scene.

And though Casey couldn’t see Theron’s face, she knew there was murder in his eyes. The boy knew it too. He wet himself, dropped the gun and ran as hard and as fast as his small legs could carry him.

Casey screamed a warning just as the first daemon lunged. But she needn’t have bothered. Theron was on the beast in an instant, pulling a blade as long as his forearm from somewhere deep in his coat and decapitating the staggering daemon with one vicious slice.

The other daemon rose to his towering height of seven feet and, though visibly wounded, growled low in his throat. “You will pay for that, Argolean.”

“I’m no common Argolean,” Theron snarled. “And you are about to meet Hades up close and personal.”

Casey gasped at the malicious intent she saw in Theron’s face, took two steps back until her spine hit a tree trunk, then covered her eyes to block out the vision of death in front of her. This one Theron did not send back to Hades quickly. No, he slaughtered the beast one limb at a time, taking out on him every ounce of hatred and grief he had in him.

When it was over, when he was exhausted and dripping with a combination of his own sweat and blood and that of the daemon that lay mutilated in front of him, he rose and stared down at what he’d done.

Horrified, Casey slid the fingers covering her eyes open to stare at him, too afraid to move or speak for fear he’d turn his vengeance on her. But what she saw shocked her. Though the homicidal glint was gone from his eyes, there was not an inkling of remorse. She watched as another lone tear tracked down his cheek. Oblivious to it, he decapitated the daemon as he’d done the other.

And then, as if he’d finally realized something was on his face, he reached a grimy hand up to his cheek, wiped at the tear and stared at the liquid on his finger with a perplexed expression, as though he’d never cried before.

And Casey knew in that moment, he never had.

Her skin was cold all over as she blinked and came back to herself. She wasn’t in a dark forest surrounded by war, but in the same bed she’d fallen asleep in hours ago.

She stared at Theron, still asleep beside her, his hand clutched tightly in hers. And knew, without even asking, that what she’d just seen had been real. Just like the vision she’d had of the little girl in the middle of the village when she’d first arrived.

Okaaaaaaaaay. That little bit of news on top of everything else was enough to seriously wig her out. Heart pounding, she gently eased out from under his arm and slid out of bed. Though it was still dark, she had an uncontrollable urge to see the sun, to feel its warmth, to put the cold far, far behind her.

She crossed to the small porthole window and opened the curtains. The moon had set, and the first rays of dawn were already spilling over the horizon.

She took slow breaths, and when she felt better, looked back toward the bed.

How long had she been out? And when had Theron come to her room?

Her so-called hero had rolled to his back, one hand at his side, the other fanned across his broad, bare chest. He wore only low-riding black pants that showcased his hard abs and the thin line of dark hair that drew her attention downward. Looking up and away from that temptation, she focused on his muscular arms. In the dim light she could just make out the markings across the backs of his hands and remembered the show he’d put on in Nick’s office.

She quickly turned back to the window. Um. Okay. Yeah. Remembering that whole spectacle didn’t settle her nerves any either.

“It’s a three-hundred-foot drop.”

Her heart rate kicked up at the velvet sound of his voice, but she didn’t look back. He might be a sex god she hadn’t been able to get out of her head since their night together back at her house, but he was also the man…Argonaut…whatever…who’d kidnapped her. She wanted answers. And she wanted them now. “Excuse me?”

The bed creaked behind her. “Out the window. Three hundred feet. At least. I already looked. If you’re searching for an escape route, that’s not it.”

She flicked a look over her shoulder. “If I wanted to leave, you couldn’t stop me.”

“Who told you such a lie?”

She glared at him. His eyebrows lifted in challenge. Aggravated beyond belief, she finally dropped her arms and turned his way. “Why you pompous piece of—”

He chuckled as he swung his massive legs over the side of the bed. “I see we have both feet back on solid ground. Your rest did you good.”

Her mouth snapped shut.

“I can also see your little brain’s filled to the brim. Go ahead and ask me whatever you want.”

Her “little brain” was nearly at a breaking point. “Are you not bothered at all by the fact you kidnapped me and destroyed my store? Not to mention taking advantage of me that night at my house when I was only trying to help you?”

He let out a weary sigh. “I didn’t kidnap you, I rescued you. And if it makes you feel any better, I regret that your store was destroyed. The less the humans in your town know of the daemons and our war, the safer they’ll be. And for the record, I wasn’t the one taking advantage the other night. I seem to remember someone else making the first move.”

Her cheeks heated. But just as quickly her temper reared. “ ‘Anything I want,’ ” she mocked.

A sheepish one-sided grin pulled at his mouth. “You remember that, hm?”

“Of course I remember it,” she snapped. “In fact, it’s a lot clearer now than it was then. You tricked me.”

He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees. “It’s called élencho. And it’s more of a mind-bending technique than a trick. Though as you’ve proved, meli, it doesn’t work so well on half-breeds.”

She ignored that fact because it seemed to be true and because it put the blame of what had happened between them back on her. “You say that word, half-breed, like it’s dirty.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“Then watch how you say it. And for the record, I think they prefer to be called Misos.”

He looked up at her without responding. And the hint of regret in his eyes softened her.

Dammit, she wanted to stay mad at him. But when he gazed at her like that, all she could think about was the way he’d looked in the candlelight of her kitchen, the way he’d tasted and felt on her couch. The way she knew he could make her feel now if she crossed the floor right this minute.

“Is there something you want from me, meli?” he asked in a low voice.

Her eyes flicked up to his. And she saw her own desire mirrored in those pools of obsidian.

Sex as a distraction from all the crazy stuff happening had its advantages. But not with him. She’d learned her lesson where this hero was concerned.

“Not a single thing.”

He smiled then, as if he knew she was lying. “When you’re ready, just tell me.”

She glared at him again. “I don’t think so.”

A chuckle bubbled through him. “Oh, meli. I do like you. You weren’t nearly so spirited that night at your house.”

She sent him a bored look. “I was a little distracted. I thought you were dying. And what does that word mean? You keep using it. Meli. My grandmother used it now and then.”

“She did?”

She nodded as a thought occurred. “She told me once it was my mother’s nickname.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “It’s Argolean. Loosely translated, it means beloved.”

“Then how would my mother have known it?”

“Maybe it was a nickname from your father.”

She lifted her brow. “My father the king? Uh-huh. Right. So how does this work? There aren’t enough Argolean women in your world? The men have to come hunting for human women?”

He laughed again and ran a hand across the nape of his neck, very much amused at something she didn’t find the least bit funny. “No, there are plenty of females in our world. We call them gynaíkes.”

“That’s Greek.”

He nodded. “A lot of our words come from the Greek root. As for your father, I told you some of our people cross over, though it’s not encouraged.”

“You can’t stop them?”

“It’s not my job to stop them. Your father…liked to visit. He’s always been fascinated by humans.”

“But you’re not.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer.

The visions she’d glimpsed earlier flashed in her brain, but she knew instinctively, if she brought it up he wouldn’t talk about it. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what made him tick either.

She snorted and turned her attention back to the sunrise. “Then definitely don’t call me meli. We both know you don’t mean it.”

“Acacia—”

“And before I forget, just what do you think you’re doing in my bed?”

“Do you like having me in your bed?” he asked quietly.

A tingling ignited in Casey’s chest. She glanced briefly over her shoulder and regretted it immediately. The same carnal desire that was suddenly careening through her veins all over again was carved into each hollow and plane of his handsome face.

Oh, yeah, this guy was a sex god all right. And he was playing her good.

“I like your eyes on me, meli. It makes the blood pound in my veins. But more than your eyes, I would much rather have your hands caressing me the way they were that night on your couch.”

Her heart rate kicked up at the memory. Arousal colored her cheeks and spread warmth between her thighs. She sensed herself falling into the same trance she’d been in with him once before. The heat from his body, the scent of his skin, the sultry sound of his accent all coalesced to turn her to mush right in front of him.

He held out a hand, beckoning her forward. “Come here, meli. Let me remind you.”

Her gaze dropped to his hand, and she remembered the way he’d held his hand out to her in the store like that just yesterday. Then remembered the flash of uncertainty she’d seen in his eyes.

A hero who knew what he wanted would never be nervous. Which meant only one thing: he wasn’t being honest.

The sexual fuzz cleared from her brain, and she brought her chin up in defiance. “Nice try. Fortunately, I’m not stupid enough to fall for that twice in this lifetime.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, I think it’s time you answered some of my questions.”

He let out a long, weary sigh and dropped his arm. “What else do you want to know?”

That was easy. Careful. She tipped her head. “What exactly is an Argonaut? Nick said you were a guardian. Is that like a general?”

“Do you know the story of the original Argonauts?”

“From Greek mythology? Sure. They were the band of heroes who sailed with Jason on the Argo in search of the Golden Fleece. There were fifty, if I remember correctly.”

“Fifty-five. They are, technically, the founders of our race. Mostly men. Some women, though there were other heroes who didn’t sail with Jason but who also fell into that category. Their offspring became known as Argoleans, named after the realm the gods granted us when it became evident the heroes were reproducing.” Casey eased down into a chair as he spoke. “The original strongest seven—Heracles, Achilles, Theseus, Odysseus, Perseus, Jason and Bellerophon—were chosen as the race’s guardians and were therefore granted the title Argonaut. In every generation, one from the original seven bloodlines is chosen to continue the guardian tradition. My line goes back to Heracles.” A wry smile curled his mouth. “Or as you Americans prefer to call him, Hercules.”

“The greatest of the heroes,” she said, thinking back to what she knew of them. “That’s why you’re the leader?”

“Yes.”

“Wasn’t the ship Jason’s?”

He shrugged. “Minor technicality.”

A look she couldn’t define passed over his eyes, making her suspect there was more he wasn’t saying, but other questions burned. “So there are seven of you now?”

“Yes. My kin. Brothers in battle. We each have a different power, which is generally linked back to our ancestors. Mine is great strength. All Argoleans have powers of some type, but those of the Argonauts are magnified.”

She chewed over that answer as she said, “And what do you do…you and your brothers?”

“We protect the race,” he said flatly.

“By hunting daemons?”

“Among other things.”

“But you do more than that, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Yes,” he said hesitantly. “We do.”

She waited for him to explain, and when seconds passed and he didn’t, she realized she’d hit a dead end. Tucking her feet under her, she tried another tactic. “So how old are you?”

“Two hundred and two.”

Her mouth fell open, and only when she realized how stupid she must look did she close it. “Oh, my God. Are you serious?”

He nodded.

“How long do you live?”

He shrugged. “Argonauts and those of the royal family live roughly seven hundred years. Some a bit longer. We are the strongest of the race.”

“Wow.” Casey couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her brow wrinkled. Or wait…maybe she could. “How long will I live?”

“Most Argoleans live about five hundred years. I would guess the half-breeds—Misos,” he corrected before she could do it for him, “live about the same.”

Okay, there was definite disgust in that answer. Did he think he was superior to humans? That was just…bigoted. Not that she cared. He could believe whatever he wanted. She still needed answers.

She refocused on what he’d told her. And thought of Jill’s phone call yesterday and the battery of tests awaiting her. Five hundred years. She was only twenty-seven. If she had the same cancer as her grandmother…

A lump formed in her throat. “Can you die before then?”

“Do you mean are we mortal?”

She nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “We are mortal. We can be killed just like humans. But our resistance to disease and our ability to heal are amplified.”

Thank God. She let out a relieved breath.

“I’d venture to guess that’s not the case for the Misos though.”

And there went her relief. No, she wouldn’t be that lucky, would she?

“Well,” she said with a frown, “I guess that explains your miraculous healing back at my house.” But it didn’t explain the vision he’d projected to her when he’d been asleep.

Brow creased, she said, “If that’s true, then why couldn’t your father be healed?”

“What?” For the first time since he’d opened his eyes and shot sparks across the room that had been lighting her up like a Christmas tree ever since, he looked dazed.

“Your father. Why couldn’t he heal from that gunshot wound? I watched you heal from something almost as bad. Was he too old?”

His dark eyebrows drew together in confusion. “How…do you know about his death?”

“You showed me.” When he only stared at her like she’d sprouted snakes in her hair, she added, “When you were asleep. I saw the daemons you were hunting and the boy across the river. He didn’t mean to shoot your father, did he? He’d tried to shoot the beast you both were fighting.”

The color drained from Theron’s face, and in a quiet voice he asked, “Acacia. Have you had dreams like this before?”

“I wouldn’t call them dreams. More like, I don’t know, visions. But yeah, I guess I have.”

“When?”

His change in tone sent alarm bells off in her head. The skin on her lower back near her birthmark tingled. “The first night we met. After I stitched you up and you were sleeping. I laid down on the couch and had a vision of you and your father standing in a field overlooking a battlefield.” Her gaze locked on his. “Oh, my God. That was the Civil War, wasn’t it? I saw blue and gray coats.”

He nodded slowly and rose to his feet. “Yes. When else? What other times did you have these visions?”

Okay, the crazed look in his eye wasn’t doing anything to ease her nerves. In fact, it was kind of freaking her out. She knew he had some kind of superhuman strength, she’d seen it in action, which meant the Argonauts had powers humans could only envy. But if she was reading him right, he hadn’t projected those images onto her the way she thought at all. And that meant somehow she’d conjured them herself.

That tingling intensified. “Yesterday. When we got here. That little girl who came running up to us? I…when I held her hand I had a flash of her family and the daemons attacking her home.” Theron stiffened. Apprehensive, Casey dropped her feet to the floor. “I figured I was just hallucinating. What with everything that had happened yesterday, you know?”

He stared at her with wide and very focused eyes, but didn’t speak.

“What?” she finally asked, easing out of her chair.

“You have the gift of hindsight.”

Hindsight? Well, that didn’t sound so bad. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He didn’t answer. But a look of great confusion passed over his features before he turned and surveyed the room as if seeing it for the first time. “I need to find Nick.”

Nick, the half-breed he couldn’t stand? Oh, this wasn’t sounding good at all.

He grabbed his shirt from the back of a chair and tugged it on, then his boots from the floor, and sat on the bed as he bent to lace them with swift fingers.

“Theron, what’s going on?”

A ruckus out in the hall brought both their heads up. Their eyes met briefly before he rose and jerked the door open, careful to keep her shielded from sight.

Helene rushed by. Theron grabbed her by the arm to stop her. “What happened?”

Helene looked through the doorway toward Casey. “Marissa’s missing. No one can find her. They’re talking about sending out a search party—”

“No,” Theron said fiercely.

Casey pushed past Theron to grip Helene’s hand. “Where was she last seen?”

“In her bedroom.” Fear rushed over Helene’s delicate features. “Her mother put her to bed last night, and when she got up this morning, Marissa was gone.”

Casey thought of the young girl she’d met yesterday, then of the young girl’s words: Minnie knew he’d bring you here to save us.

She squeezed Helene’s hand. “I’ll get my coat.”

She swept back into the room, slid her feet into her shoes and grabbed her jacket, not caring that she hadn’t brushed her teeth or combed her hair or even had her morning cup of coffee. But when she turned she was very aware of the mammoth body blocking her exit.

“You’re not going anywhere, Acacia. This is none of your concern.”

None of her concern? Oh, screw that. She set her jaw. “Those are my people. That girl is one of my race. So don’t you dare tell me this is none of my business.” Her eyes narrowed, and the air crackled between them, but she didn’t back down. For the first time in her life, she had something to fight for.

“You can’t keep me here, Theron. One way or the other, I’m going to help find Marissa. So either move your ass out of my way, or make yourself useful and do something to help me.”