"You were trying to control me."
"I never," she snarled. "I turned you loose to wreak revenge against your father. I opened my entire realm to your kind and allowed you to take refuge here. Every Dark-Hunter you killed, every human life you destroyed, I took pride in it as any mother would."
Still, he refused to believe her. She'd been using him . . . And yet he remembered the way they'd been over the centuries. She'd always welcomed him into her private chambers. Always welcomed his company.
He missed that more than he wanted to admit to himself. "Why haven't you told me this before now?"
She sighed. "Because I would rather you hate me for Urian's death than hate yourself. No parent should ever know such grief."
"I don't believe you."
"Then don't. We both know compassion isn't my strong suit. I barely understand it." She raked him with a cool glance. "I barely understand you." She gathered the skirts of her black gown and walked past him. Stryker watched her as her words echoed in his ears. She might not understand compassion, but she did know how to love. Her uncompromising protection and sacrifice for Acheron was beyond reproach. It was what had set Stryker's jealousy off and made him turn against her.
He'd wanted her to love him like that. Stryker winced at the undeniable truth. He'd been taken out of his mother's womb before he was born and given over to Apollo's priestesses to raise. While they'd never been cruel where he was concerned, they'd all been afraid of him. He'd never known a real mother. Not until Apollymi.
Even so, he wasn't sure if he could trust her. Did he dare? But for all her malice, he'd never known her to lie. She might omit things, but she didn't come straight out and lie. . . Closing his eyes, he ground his teeth as pain assailed him. It was hard to be responsible for so many and to have no one he could fully trust.
Gods, how tired he was of being alone in the universe. Of standing strong all the time.
Not wanting to dwell on that, he left the garden to return to where his men were still tending to the wounded and killing those who were converting.
"Are we at war, my lord?"
He looked at Ann, a small, beautiful blond Daimon female, and nodded. "The demons are no longer welcomed here. We extended our hands in friendship and they repaid us in bloodshed." Little surprise really, a demon was a demon. He should have known better than to think they could ever combine forces with the gallu. "But that's all right. What we lack in numbers we make up for with vicious and cunning. We are Daimon and we are Spathi. Now let us show those bastards what we can do."
His men shouted in approval. Savitar laughed behind him.
Stryker cast him an angry glare. "You find something funny, Chthonian?"
"Yeah, I do. I find it hysterical that your new lease on life is named War."
He gave Savitar a look to let him know what he thought of him—not much. "At least I have a lease."
"True, but you do know what the problem with a lease is?"
"What?"
"They usually run out sooner than later. And if you're not paying close attention to the fine print, you always get burned."
"You're not scaring me."
"Don't want to scare you. But if I were you, I wouldn't leave my women out in the open too long while I trifle down here. War has a nasty way of spilling over into peaceful areas, if you catch my meaning."
A bad feeling went through Stryker. Surely War wouldn't . . . Of course he would. His heart hammering, Stryker knew he had to get to Medea and Zephyra before it was too late.
CHAPTER 8
ZEPHYRA LOOKED UP FROM HER DESK AT THE sound of a light tapping on her door. "Come in, love," she said, knowing by the sound of it that it would be Medea.
Sure enough, she pushed the door open to peer into the room. "Am I disturbing you?" "No, baby. I was just straightening up a bit."
Medea arched one brow at that. Zephyra couldn't blame her. She was, after all, horrifyingly tidy on her worst day. But it was a nervous habit she had. Whenever things were confusing, she had a compulsive need to clean what she could.
"How's our guest?" she asked, trying to distract her daughter from that bold scrutiny.
"Eyeing a couple of the priestesses for dinner. I've already warned him that they're off the menu even though he thinks they'd be quite tasty."
"Good. I don't want to fight Artemis on that."
Medea entered the room and closed the door. "You still love him, don't you?"
"Love who?" she asked, trying to make light of the question. "Davyn? I don't even know him. The only thing I love about him is his absence."
"My father."
She hated how pointed Medea could be at times. "I don't love him, either," she said dismissively. "I can barely stand his presence."
"And yet you light up every time he looks at you."
Zephyra put a stack of papers into the garbage can. "Don't be ridiculous."