And yet he couldn't deny the pain he felt over not being with her.
I loved your father the first moment I laid eyes on him. I couldn't believe that one so precious was cut from the blood and bone of my enemies and yet...he was the only one I could ever see myself with and I'm grateful that the Fates saw it the same way I did. I would be lost and bereft without him.
That was the only conversation he'd had with his mother about mating. His parents had been one of the rare Were-Hunter couples who'd been mated the first time they'd had sex.
For the rest of them it could take dozens of encounters.
Or never.
He looked down at his bare palm. When he'd been younger, full of stupid dreams, he'd tried to imagine what his mating symbol would look like. While clan symbols were similar for the species, each one was unique to the couple. And as a kid, he'd actually painted one on just to see.
As a man, he'd been grateful that no one had marked him. While it was a bonding of two people, it also came with a heavy commitment. One they could never back out of.
He closed his fist tight. I don't need a mate. He was happier alone.
But as he thought of Sam, he knew that for an absolute lie. He would be happiest with her.
And she had no use for him at all.
Urian was supposed to meet his source at Sanctuary so that he could gather more information about Stryker's plan for Acheron. He and Davyn had always tried to pick spots where there was no chance of any of Stryker's people seeing them together. If Stryker ever learned that Urian still talked to his old friend, he'd kill Davyn immediately.
And it wouldn't be quick.
He rubbed his neck where his father had cut his throat in a fit of rage over the fact that Urian had dared try to be happy for five seconds. The bitter memory of that night was never far from the surface and it was carved in blood on his heart. He'd worshiped his father his entire life--had committed all manner of atrocities to please him.
And for what?
So the bastard could kill Urian's wife and then cut his throat the first time he displeased him?
One day I will have my vengeance.
If it was the last thing he did, he would kill Stryker for what he'd taken from him.
"C'mon, Davyn, have something good for me." Urian went over to the bar to order a beer while he waited.
Colt handed it off to him. Without a word, Urian drifted around the game area.
He checked his watch. Davyn was late. Something highly unusual for him.
Had Stryker found out? The mere thought made his blood run cold.
Suddenly, a familiar tingle went down his spine alerting him that there was a Daimon on the premises. Urian scanned the semicrowded bar, looking for his friend.
He saw a flash of white blond hair in the far corner and headed for it.
It wasn't until he was within sight that he realized it wasn't Davyn. This was a woman and when she turned toward him, he felt like someone had sucker punched him.
No, it couldn't...
It wasn't possible.
"Tannis?"
The woman frowned at him as if the name and his face meant nothing to her.
But to him that name had meant everything.
Time froze as he was taken back to the day his little sister had died. Unlike him and his brothers, she'd been too gentle and kind to take a human life in order to live. And so she'd withered away into dust on her twenty-seventh birthday. The pain of her decay had caused her to scream until her throat had bled. And still she'd had no peace. No mercy. It had been the most agonizing death imaginable.
One given to her by her own grandfather's curse.
After they scooped up her remains and buried them, they never spoke her name out loud again.
But Urian remembered. How could he ever forget the little girl he'd protected and championed? The one he would have killed to protect.
Before Apollo had cursed them, they'd called her Diana to honor their great-aunt Artemis. And then after his grandfather had cursed their race, Stryker had refused to ever call her Diana again. He'd wanted no reminders of his Olympian family who had betrayed them all. Especially since Artemis was the one who'd created the Dark-Hunters to hunt and kill them.
Diana had been more than happy to change her name.
But this wasn't Tannis.
She's dead. He'd seen her decay into dust with his own eyes. Yet this woman was a complete physical copy of her, except for the way she moved. While Tannis had been hesitant and dainty, this woman was sure and determined. Fluid. She moved like a warrior ready to kill.
Before he could think better of it, he closed the distance between them.
Medea turned as a shadow fell over her. Expecting it to be her informant, she was stunned when she looked into the face of her father.
But this man was different. Instead of her father's short dyed black hair, his was long and snow white--pulled back into a ponytail. He was also a hair taller than her father. Not obvious at first, yet undeniable as he came closer.
Still, there was no denying the similarity of their features. This was her father's doppelganger.