The two faces he’d seen in the club finally clicked. The blonde wasn’t just any ordinary Argolean. She was the gynaíka who would become queen of her race. And the colossal Argonaut who’d come to get her wasn’t just one of her guardians, he was their leader. The Argonauts’ blood ties were the strongest of any Argolean, all the way back to the original seven heroes. Their power was farreaching.
No wonder the Council was in an uproar. Isadora was the only living heir King Leonidas had produced. And everyone knew she was a weakling. Small and frail and meek. The gynaíka was no leader. But with Theron as her mate, the Council wouldn’t dare challenge her. And the heirs he and Isadora produced would safeguard the monarchy for millennia.
Not that Nick gave a flying fuck what happened to any of them. After what had been done to him, he cared little if the entire Argolean race imploded in on itself.
But why had the princess been in a seedy human strip club? And why had she been fixated on Casey?
Nick chewed on that question as he resumed typing.
Niko: Were the Argonauts in attendance at the announcement?
Orpheus: Yes. All seven. Even Demetrius. He didn’t seem thrilled by the news.
Nick clenched his jaw. No, he doubted Demetrius would be happy to hear Theron would command even greater control.
Orpheus: Rumors are circulating, though. No one’s seen Theron since. Or Isadora, for that matter. Some say they’ve already eloped to avoid backlash from the Council.
Nick knew for certain they hadn’t eloped. The Argonaut had been pissed when he’d found Isadora in the club; that’d been written all over his face. But that sure as hell didn’t explain why the princess had been in XScream in the first place.
Niko: Thanks for the info.
Orpheus: You thinking about coming back?
Niko: For what?
Orpheus: I dunno. Been a while since you’ve been interested in anything happening in the kingdom. You know my uncle Lucian has pull with the Council. He’d jump on your situation. With your brother—
Nick didn’t bother to read the end of Orpheus’s sentence. His fingers flew across the keyboard.
Niko: He’s not my brother. And I have no desire to return to Argolea, now or in the future. For my safety, and the safety of others, I like to remain in the know, that’s all.
Orpheus: I take it things have been peaceful on your end then.
Niko: As peaceful as they ever are.
Not that Nick was about to cop to anything with Orpheus. Especially anything related to where he was and what he was doing. He trusted Orpheus enough to believe the news the Argolean passed him was accurate. But that was as far as it went. Nick had learned long ago not to reciprocate. If the Argonauts ever found out where he was or what he was doing, they’d hunt him down and slaughter him without a second thought.
And that was one more reason the Argonaut Theron’s presence in Silver Hills tonight was of even greater concern to Nick. Something was brewing under the surface. Something even Orpheus didn’t know about.
Nick signed off and closed the laptop. And as he sat in the darkness of the quiet and empty run-down apartment near XScream, he thought back to how Isadora had been staring at Casey most of the evening. If the gynaíka had been on the hunt for a female to satisfy her appetite, she’d easily have picked one of the others.
No. She’d wanted Casey. Which meant the gynaíka knew exactly who Casey was.
He stood quickly from his chair, grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. A growing sense of unease rushed through him, a need to see for himself that Casey was indeed safe and sound.
He picked up his keys and slammed the door at his back. And didn’t once think about the fact it was close to three a.m. or that Casey was probably sound asleep in her little house up by the lake.
CHAPTER THREE
Casey dropped the injured man sprawled over her shoulder onto her bed with a grunt, not entirely sure how she’d gotten him from the car to her house without collapsing herself.
He flopped onto the mattress, rolled to his back and groaned long and loud in pain. Fresh blood from numerous cuts seeped through his torn black T-shirt, ran down his massive forearms in rivulets. His black jeans were ripped at the thigh, and blood continued to pour down his pant leg and over his boot. His face wasn’t much better, a myriad of scrapes and scratches over almost every part of it.
Nausea pooled in Casey’s stomach as she took a good look at his injuries. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to keep from losing her dinner.
He needed a hospital. He needed an IV and medical professionals who knew what to do to help him. He needed—
“Meli, help me.”
His outstretched hand, coated in his own blood, beckoned her.
She moved forward, almost as if someone were pushing her, and hesitantly slid her hand into his. His eyes remained closed, but his fingers tightened around hers with stunning force.
Okay, that didn’t seem right. Something was off here. She tried to clear the fog from her brain, which seemed to be hanging like a shroud.
“T-Tell me what to do to help you,” she whispered.
“Lavender.”
“What?” No way she’d just heard him say—