In the last two thousand years, nothing had changed.
The entire area at the top of the mountain was made up of sparkling bridges and walkways, covered by a rainbow fog, that led to the various temples of the gods.
The halls of Mount Olympus were opulent and massive. Perfect homes for the egos of the gods who lived inside them.
Artemis's was made of gold, with a domed top and white marble columns. The view of the sky and world below was breathtaking from her throne room.
Or so he had thought in his youth.
But that was before time and experience had jaundiced his appreciation. To him there was nothing spectacular or beautiful here now. He saw only the selfish vanity and coldness of the Olympians.
These new gods were very different from the gods Acheron had learned about since his days as a human. All but one of the Atlantean gods had been full of compassion. Love. Kindness. Forgiveness.
His pending birth had been the only time the Atlanteans let their fear lead them—that mistake had cost all of them their immortal lives and had allowed the Olympian gods to replace them.
It'd been a sad day for the human world in more ways than one.
Acheron forced himself across the bridge that led to Artemis's temple. Two thousand years ago, he'd left this place and hoped that he would never return to it.
He should have known that sooner or later she would devise a scheme to bring him back.
His gut tight with anger, Acheron used his telekinesis to open the oversized, gilded doors. He was instantly assailed with the sound of ear-piercing screams from Artemis's female attendants. They were wholly unaccustomed to a man entering their goddess's private domain.
Artemis hissed at the shrill sound, then zapped every one of the women around her.
"Did you just kill all eight of them?" Acheron asked.
Artemis rubbed her ears. "I should have, but no, I merely tossed them into the river outside."
Surprised, he stared at her. How unusual for the goddess he remembered. Perhaps she'd learned a degree of compassion and mercy over the last two thousand years.
Knowing her, it was highly unlikely.
Now that they were alone, she unfolded herself from her cushioned ivory throne and approached him. She wore a sheer, white himation that hugged the curves of her voluptuous body and her dark auburn curls glistened in the light.
Her green eyes glowed warmly in welcome.
The look went through him like a lance. Hot. Piercing. Painful. He'd known seeing her again would be hard on him—it was one of the reasons why he'd always ignored her summons.
But knowing something and experiencing it were two entirely different things.
He'd been unprepared for the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him now that he saw her again. The hatred. The betrayal. Worst of all was the need.
The hunger.
The desire.
There was still a part of him that loved her. A part of him that was willing to forgive her anything.
Even his death . . .
"You look good, Acheron. Every bit as handsome as you were the last time I saw you." She reached to touch him.
He stepped back, out of her reach. "I didn't come here to chat, Artemis, I—"
"You used to call me Artie."
"I used to do a lot of things I can't do anymore." He gave her a hard stare to remind her of everything she had taken from him.
"You're still angry at me."
"You think so?"
Her eyes snapped emerald fire, reminding him of the demon who resided in her divine body. "I could have forced you to come to me, you know. I've been very tolerant of your defiance. More than I should have been."
He looked away, knowing she was right. She, alone, held possession of the food source he needed to function. When he went too long without her blood, he became an uncontrollable killer. A danger to anyone who came near him.
Only Artemis held the key that kept him as he was. Sane. Whole.
Compassionate.
"Why didn't you force me to your side?" he asked.
"Because I know you. Had I tried, you would have made us both pay for it."
Again, she was right. His days of subjugation were long over. He'd had more than his share of it in his childhood and youth. Having tasted freedom and power, he'd decided he liked it too much to go back to being what he'd been before.
"Tell me of these new Dark-Hunters," he said. "Why did you create them?"
"I told you, you need help."
He curled his lip in anger. "I need no such thing."
"I and the other Greek gods disagree."
"Artemis . . ." he growled her name, knowing she was lying about this. He was more than able to control and kill the Daimons who preyed on the humans. "I swear . . ."
He clenched his teeth as he thought about the first days of his new life. He'd had no one to show him the way. No one to explain to him what he needed to do.
How to live.
The new ones would be lost without a teacher. Confused. Worst of all, they were vulnerable until they learned to use their powers and there was no way Savitar would teach them.
Damn her.