And so he'd done the noble thing. The right thing. Rather than try to fight a losing battle that would have cost them both their lives, he'd left her alive, thinking that she'd be able to find a man worthy of her. And in all these centuries since then, Stryker had thought of her every day and missed her. He'd regretted every moment they had been denied.
But he'd never regretted saving her life from his father's wrath. Unable to stand being away from her for another instant, Stryker flashed himself to her temple in Greece. One of the last remaining temples of Artemis that was still used to worship her, it was as cold and timeless as the goddess herself.
As soon as Zephyra felt his presence, she turned on him with the full weight of her fury. Her black eyes blazing, she snatched the dagger from its sheath in her boot and advanced toward him.
"Don't," he said calmly, even though his body was on fire for a taste of her. "Kill me and my men will destroy Medea."
Zephyra's grip tightened on the dagger as she froze before him. "You would use your own daughter as a bargaining chip?"
He shrugged. "Agamemnon killed his just to sail a ship to attack his enemy. We are ancient Greeks, are we not?"
"You were a half Greek pig. I'm an Atlantean Apollite." She returned her dagger to its sheath, then straightened. Her tough stance let him know that she was more than ready to fight. "So what do you want?"
Before he stopped himself, he jerked her into his arms to kiss her. Zephyra had thought she'd stab him the moment he touched her, but the instant his lips were on hers she remembered why she'd married him. Insufferably arrogant, dismally loyal, and unbelievably sexy, Stryker had always made her hot. No one kissed like he did. No one felt the way he did. His warrior's body was sculpted by hard, taut muscles that moved like water. Muscles that beckoned to be stroked and licked.
And with his arms around her, she could forgive him anything. Almost.
She shoved him back. "That won't work with me anymore, asshole. I'm not the little girl you left behind."
His swirling eyes darkened. "No, you're not. She was beautiful, but you . . . you're a goddess."
Retrieving her weapon again, Zephyra held her dagger against his neck, just below his Adam's apple. She wanted to slice his throat and yet some foreign part of her couldn't quite complete the task. What was wrong with her? She never hesitated. "Don't come any closer."
His gorgeous features taunted her. Gods, but no man had ever been born more handsome. Black eyebrows arched over a pair of pale swirling silver eyes. And his lips . . . all too well she remembered how well they'd pleased her and for how long. He'd been an insatiable, skilled, and thoughtful lover. One who'd never left her wanting.
"Would you really cut my throat?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. She stood strong against her volatile emotions. "Release my daughter and you'll find out."
He rubbed his neck against the sharp blade, letting it cut a fine line into his skin. Zephyra stared at the blood, her mouth watering for a taste of it. That was one of the things she hated most about what Apollo had done to them. The lure of Apollite blood was a madness that made them have to feed whenever they smelled it. It was a compulsion no one born of her race could deny.
Unable to stand it, she pulled the dagger back, grabbed Stryker by the hair, and drew him close. Stryker sucked his breath in sharply as she clamped her fangs into his skin. Chills spread through his body while he welcomed her arms holding him close. The sensation of her breath on his neck heated his entire body.
"Gods, how I've missed you."
She bit harder, drawing the blood into her mouth until it pained him. "I hate you with every beat of my heart."
Those words hurt him more than her feeding. Yet he took plea sure from the pain. He deserved her hatred. "I wish I could go back and change the night I left."
Zephyra pulled back with a curse. "You were always a coward."
He grabbed her arm and jerked her closer. "Never a coward. A fool maybe, but I've never run from anything."
"If you really think that, you're even dumber than I thought. Now give me Medea."
He shook his head. "My daughter stays with me."
Growling, Zephyra went for his throat. Stryker caught her and held her back. "Still so unreasonable." But worse, she was delectable and he wanted her with a madness that was all consuming. He leaned close enough to her hair that he could inhale the delicate scent of valerian mixed with lavender. That smell slammed into him. Gods, how he wanted her. "I'll tell you what. You want me dead and I want to taste you. What say we settle this like the warriors we are?"
"How so?"
"We fight and if you win, you kill me."
She cocked her head suspiciously. "If I lose?"
"You give me two weeks to win you back. If at the end of two weeks you still loathe me, I'll let you execute me."
Zephyra froze at his offer. She eyed him suspiciously. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"I'm a man of my word. Of all people, you know my honor means everything to me. If I haven't won you back in two weeks, then I deserve nothing better than to die by your hand."
"You know I'm not the same weak-kneed fool who couldn't cut her own meat that you married. I will kill you."