Demetrius’s boots echoed across the floor. Stopped in front of the bookshelf, then retreated toward the door. Max stayed still as stone until the door closed and silence settled back over the room. Only when he’d counted to twenty and he was sure he was alone did he crawl out from under the bed.
He crossed quickly to the bookshelf. Took the box down again. And used the powers and witchcraft he’d pulled from Demetrius to open the latch. Inside sat nothing but a gold bracelet. Disappointment trickled through him, but he lifted it out of the box anyway. Then realized it wasn’t a bracelet at all. It was only enchanted to look like a bracelet.
A wide smile spread across his face. And revenge—a revenge he’d been plotting since he’d escaped Atalanta’s clutches—reformed in his mind all over again.
Chapter Twenty-one
Gryphon’s heart hammered against his ribs as he led Maelea through the dark tunnel. Things had gone more smoothly than he’d expected. More smoothly than they should have. In a matter of minutes they’d be in the mountains beyond the walls of Tiyrns. He tried to shake the tickle in the back of his throat, the one that warned something would inevitably go wrong—but couldn’t.
He gripped Maelea’s hand tighter. Tried to calm the nerves radiating from her skin. When they reached the far side of the long tunnel, he shined his light over another access panel and typed in the same code he’d used before.
The steel door opened with a hiss. Sunlight burned his eyes as they stepped from darkness into light. As seasons in Argolea mirrored those in the human realm, it was late spring in the Aegis Mountains, and the trees rising around them swayed in the light breeze, the leaves rustling with their movement.
He closed the door behind Maelea. While she blinked several times, he took his first good look at her in the daylight. Someone had brought her fresh clothes. She was dressed in slim jeans, a white fitted T-shirt, and a cardigan. But the bandage on her forehead near her temple stood out in stark relief against her dark hair, and the stress of the day’s activities showed heavily in her eyes.
“Hey, come here.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, drew her close. Loved the way her hands felt against his biceps and her head tipped up to his. And when he kissed her, his own worry over what lay ahead slowly dissipated into the high mountain air.
“It’s all going to be okay,” he said when he eased back, trying to reassure her.
“You do too much for me.”
“I would do more if I could. I love you.”
Her eyes darkened as she brushed soft fingertips over his cheek. “I love you, too, Gryphon. So much more than I expected. So much more than I can even explain. This…it’s sudden and crazy, but…for the first time in my life, everything feels right. Being with you feels…like home.”
She eased up on her toes and kissed him again. Wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tight. And in her kiss he tasted relief and desperation and hunger. The same things he’d been feeling the whole damn day.
“What an attractive couple you make.”
Gryphon pulled back from Maelea’s mouth and whipped around. Only to falter when he came face-to-face with Persephone.
“Oh, gods,” Maelea muttered at his side.
Oh, gods was right. Not only was the goddess Hades’s wife, she was also Maelea’s mother. What the hell was she doing in Argolea?
Gryphon pushed Maelea behind him. Reached back for his blade, but as soon as he pulled it from his scabbard, some sort of power latched on and yanked. The weapon flew through the air and landed in the trees to his right.
Persephone lowered her arm and grinned. “You won’t be needing that.”
“What are you—?” Gryphon started.
“Doing here?” Persephone finished for him, stalking across the forest floor in a long, black gown, her jet-black hair so much like Maelea’s tumbling down her back, like a river of onyx silk. She looked past Gryphon toward Maelea. “Should I tell him, darling, or do you want to?”
“Oh, gods,” Maelea whispered again, growing tense against his back.
Unease made Gryphon looking over his shoulder. “Tell me what? What’s going on here?”
Guilt rushed over Maelea’s face.
“What’s going on here,” Persephone answered, drawing his attention her way again, “is that I’ve come for the Orb. I’ll take it now, darling daughter.”
“The what?” Gryphon’s eyes shot to Maelea.
“I…I don’t have it,” Maelea sputtered, looking past him toward her mother.
His brow lowered. “Why would she think you would?”
“Because…” Her eyes darted around like a cornered animal, searching for an escape. And in the silence that followed, that tickle in the back of Gryphon’s throat grew to a roaring vibration that echoed all through his skin.