To Die for Love

THREE

THREE

DAY EIGHT

It’s weird that I’ve never written a journal before. Okay, maybe not so weird. Mom would never have allowed it. Maybe I’d have been allowed to write only to watch her burn every entry as soon as it was done.

I miss her.

I know I should be conscious of leaving evidence, of admitting weakness, of confessing life is anything less than ideal. But I don’t think it’s any secret I didn’t choose to be here. Secrets were important when we were running from the clutches of Olympus. Given that I now live here, yeah, secrets are less important.

Day eight and still going strong, which I completely put down to the fact I haven’t seen Zeus. I hadn’t given much thought to seeing him again, but knowing him, I would’ve expected he’d want to boast about his own magnificence. Guess the loss of his precious Six showed him that there were those willing to stand up to his tyranny.

With Six in his camp, Zeus would’ve always known if anyone was trying to creep up behind him. Now he’s lost that safety net. Ha! Excuse me if I’m not weeping for him. Serves the bastard right.

Sure, okay, let’s be honest, he has Ares at his back. His new number two would always see a threat coming. As to whether or not he’d alert the boss…? Who knows? His loyalty seems fluid.

So much has changed since the Exodus. It’s actually been something of a blessing to have this time to stop and reflect. No, I’d never tell Zeus that… I probably wouldn’t tell Hades either. For months, I’ve been pushed and pulled from here to there. Something’s always been going on, there’s always been a goal or a threat driving my purpose.

No one wants to kill me here. No, let me rephrase, no one will kill me here. I’d put money on Zeus’s greatest fantasy being sticking a knife in my gut. But he needs me. Probably another reason I haven’t seen him. He won’t want to admit it. Won’t want to see me smile as I taunt him… I have to stop, I know. Anyone could read these words any time. Again, it’s no big secret that I’m not a fan of the asshole. If I was to suddenly begin pouring praise onto Zeus, no one would believe it. I wouldn’t believe it.

Havers seems to be getting used to me. That’s something. He’s stopped trying to get me up to run outside in the great beyond with him and the other men every morning. The guy must be one helluvan optimist. Me? Run? My whole life has been dedicated to swerving the threats behind me. He hasn’t figured out yet that I’m actually doing him a favor.

Anyone who knows me would never ask me to get up early and actually keep up with the pack. I’d slow them down. I’d ask questions. I’d rest. Styx couldn’t handle it when we were running for our lives. My father thinks dawdle is my default, which, okay, yeah, maybe I should give him that.

Is it weird that I miss them? Staying put here might give me time to reflect, but it also leaves time for worry. They’re out there. Capable, yes, I know, but if something was to happen… Would they tell me? Would Ares show enough respect to—

“Pandora!”

Looking up from the notebook propped on her raised knees, she saw the men were dispersing from the gym mats in the middle of the large space.

They spent a lot of time working out. When they weren’t working out, they were training, learning, always doing something.

“What?” she asked the scowling guy in the middle of the pack. “Don’t bark at me like that if you don’t expect me to bark back.”

The guys around paused, bracing to see how the barker would respond. The growling expression he wore suggested he wasn’t the most patient guy. Let him come over and give her grief, she’d love to see how that played out.

The moment was broken by the doors opening.

Ares came striding inside, but almost immediately paused, assessing the mood of the room. “What’s going on?”

“She’s being difficult,” the barker snapped.

Her mouth fell open. “I’m sitting here minding my own damn business. Who the hell do you think—”

“Enough,” Ares said, impatient. Was that meant for her or the i***t with a chip on his shoulder? “All of you hit the shower then get out back.”

The men muttered at each other as they filtered toward the door. When Havers got the nod to leave too, it took her a second to figure out Ares was the only one staying behind.

“These guys are amateurs,” she said as the last of them departed. “Can I see the real power behind Olympus yet? H’s people?”

“What do you hope to achieve?” he asked, coming over. “You can’t do anything for them.”

“I can tell them they’re not alone,” she said. “Not knowing is worse than knowing.”

He offered her a hand. While suspicion narrowed her eyes, she closed the notepad and slid the pen into the spine to put her hand in his.

With little effort on her part, he pulled her to her feet, jerking her so close that her body bumped his.

“Classic Tess logic.”

Hearing her name was odd. “No one around here uses my name.”

“That’s because they don’t know it.”

“Good. Especially that last guy. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Daniels?”

“I don’t learn their names,” she said.

“Because?”

Licking her lips, she wasn’t shy about telling the truth. “Because I met a group of people once. Good people. I learned their names. Got to know them. And wouldn’t you know they went and got themselves kidn*pped. So now they’re being held against their will, kind of like I am, and there’s a huge chance none of us make it out of this alive. That, my former friend, is what they call learning from experience.”

“Former friend,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

They hadn’t been alone. Not completely. Not since the motel. Being there in Beta, she couldn’t take the chance of anyone overhearing or spying. They may not be alone. In Beta, she never assumed privacy was guaranteed.

Stepping back, she smacked his arm with her notebook, startling him from whatever was going on in his head.

“You make me watch your people fight each other every day. Doesn’t look that hard, you know.”

“No?” he asked, a semi-smile quirking his lips for a brief second. “Show me.”

He bent down to unlace his boots. Now it was her turn to be taken aback.

“Show you?”

“Yeah,” he said, removing his boots and socks to back up onto the mat. “Come on.”

“Oh, you think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re weak,” he said, with enough of a glint in his eye that she could read his playful taunting. “Bring it, Pandora.”

Tossing her notebook to the floor, she toed off her shoes. She’d started it and wasn’t known for backing down, so she marched across to join him in the middle of the mat. Keeping her balance on the soft surface wasn’t easy.

“Widen your stance,” he said, gesturing at her legs. “Open up.”

“Okay, well, you can’t say stuff like that.”

Another glimpse of his smile. “Don’t lock your knees. Eye contact is always first.”

“Usually, if someone’s trying to kick my a*s, I don’t stop to gaze at them.”

“Okay, then come at me.”

She raised an arm but paused. “You’re not packing tranquilizers, are you? That seems to be Olympus’s assault of choice.”

He opened his hands in surrender. “No drugs. No weapons.”

“And you do remember that I’m important…” He frowned. “To Olympus. I mean you can’t actually kill me because my blood is—”

“Shit.”

He grabbed her arm, yanked her forward and swept his leg in an arc to take hers out from under her. With a whoop, she landed on her back with him coming down on top of her.

“I wasn’t ready,” she panted, her heart rate climbing.

“Your weapon would be talking your attacker to death,” he said without hiding his smile this time.

Was she…? Oh, damn, it felt good. To be under him again. He was thinking it too. The yearning in his gaze stole his smile as it drifted down to the mouth he’d tasted so often.

“Daire,” she whispered, snaring his eyes again. The line between his brows deepened. He wanted to respond. Wanted to be them just as much as she did. If one of them didn’t break, they’d lay there all day… or worse. “Up!” Smacking his shoulders, she played the affronted victim as best she could. “Goddamnit, get off me!”

Holding onto her, he pounced to a crouch, putting her on her feet as he stood, the rough act more Ares than Daire. Maybe he needed to remind himself.

“You want to speak to your father?”

She’d been working up a lather. Ready to make a show of berating him for taking advantage. The moment his words sank in, that steam depressurized.

“Yes,” she said, actually stepping closer. “Yes. Please.”

His side-nod indicated the exit, but he went first, leading her through various corridors until they reached a small room with a fixed desk. Small was accurate, it couldn’t be more than six feet square. Painted light blue with a single light on the ceiling and no windows.

She squeezed around him to sit on the static stool and picked up the corded handset that was affixed to the wall in front of her. Apparently, she wasn’t a prisoner, but it sure felt like prison.

The door closed. Ares was gone.