Taking deep breaths, Grace rubbed her stomach and offered them a tentative smile. "Sorry, the baby kicks like a mule."
Hunter stared at Grace's belly, and a strange light came into his eyes. For an instant, Amanda could swear they glowed. "It's another boy," he said quietly, his voice distant.
"How did you know?" Grace asked in surprise as she continued to run her hand over her stomach. "I just found out yesterday."
"He can feel the baby's soul," Julian said quietly. "It's one of the protective powers of a Dark-Hunter."
Hunter looked to Julian. "This one is going to be strong-willed. He's loving and giving, but completely reckless."
"Reminds me of someone else I once knew," Julian said.
The words seemed to haunt Hunter.
"C'mon," Julian said, taking Vanessa from Hunter and setting her down even though she squealed in protest. "I need to get you upstairs and tend that wound."
Amanda stood in the hallway, unsure of what she should do. She had a million questions she wanted answered, and if not for Hunter's wound, she'd be on her way upstairs right now asking them all. But Julian was right. That vicious-looking wound needed tending.
With a wistful glance to the stairs, she turned back to Grace. "You're amazingly calm given all this chaos. Gods poofing out, people coming in wearing bloody clothes, and getting blasted in your foyer. I would think by now you'd be freaking out, especially given your condition."
Grace laughed as she herded the crying Vanessa back into the living room. "Well, over the last few years, I've gotten rather used to Greek gods poofing in and out. As well as other things I don't want to think about. Being married to Julian has definitely been an education in staying calm."
Amanda laughed halfheartedly as she glanced toward the stairs and again wondered about her enigmatic Dark-Hunter. "Is Hunter—or Kyrian—a god, too?"
"I don't know. From the things Julian has said, I always assumed Kyrian was a man, but I'm as much in the dark as you are."
As Grace sat down, Amanda heard the men talking through the baby monitor. Grace reached to turn it off.
"Please, wait."
Amanda took a seat and played with Niklos while she listened to the men above.
"Damn, Kyrian," Julian said as soon as Kyrian handed him his shirt. "You've got more scars on you than my father had."
Kyrian let out a deep breath while he gently probed the burn on his shoulder from Aphrodite's blast. The two of them were alone in the twins' nursery at the end of the upstairs hallway. Kyrian squinted against the bright yellow teddy-bear wallpaper that hurt his light-sensitive eyes and reached for his sunglasses.
Julian must have remembered his ancient Greek mythology because he turned out the overhead lights and turned on the small nursery lamp that bathed the room in a soothing dull glow.
Weak from his pain, Kyrian noticed that his reflection in the mirror was only barely there. An inability to cast reflections was one of the camouflage benefits bestowed on all Dark-Hunters. The only way for them to have a reflection was to force it from within their own mind. Something that was hard to do when they were wounded or excessively tired.
He stepped back from the white-painted dresser and met Julian's curious gaze. "Two thousand years of combat tend to take a toll on the body."
"You always had more balls than brains."
An eerie chill went up Kyrian's spine at those familiar words. He couldn't count the times Julian had said that to him in Classical Greek. How he had missed his friend and mentor over the centuries. Julian had been the only man he'd ever listened to. One of the few men he'd actually respected.
Kyrian rubbed his arm. "I know, but the funny thing is I can always hear your voice in my head begging me for patience." He deepened his tone and adopted Julian's rougher-edged Spartan accent." 'Damn, Kyrian, can't you ever think before you react?'"
Julian fell silent. Kyrian knew what was going through Julian's mind. The same bittersweet memories that tugged at him at night whenever he paused long enough to dwell on the past. They were images of a world that had long ago ceased to exist. Of people and family who were nothing more than vague memories and lost feelings.
Their world had been a special one. Its primitive grace a warmth in their hearts. Even now, Kyrian could smell the oil from the lamps that had once lit his home. Feel the cool, fragrant Mediterranean breeze blowing through his villa. In an odd contrast to Kyrian's thoughts, Julian dug around the small first-aid kit for a modern ice pack. Finding it, Julian popped the seal to release the cooling gel, then held it against Kyrian's shoulder.
Kyrian hissed as the ice touched his throbbing skin.
"I'm sorry about that blast," Julian said. "Had I known…"
"It's not your fault. You had no way of knowing I'd traded my soul. It's not exactly how I start out conversations. Hi, I'm Kyrian. I have no soul. What about you?"
"You're not funny."
"Sure I am, you just never appreciated my sense of humor."