Griffin’s eyes flick to my sister.
Lycheron takes another long breath, filling his lungs with the air around Ianthe until his impressive chest expands, clearly—and sensually—savoring whatever scent or magic he draws into his huge body along with the deep inhale. Ianthe noticeably shivers.
Griffin’s enraged stare must hit Lycheron like a thunderclap. “You can’t have her, either.”
I glare daggers at the Ipotane Alpha. Damn right, he can’t!
Lycheron swishes his tail, whipping his muscled hindquarters with it. “Then you’re right, you have nothing I want.”
Apparently, I don’t make the cut anymore. Not that I’m complaining.
Lycheron smirks, this time at me. “Little Origin, your scent has changed.” He inhales again, and it’s like a warm fist wraps itself around my insides and gently tugs.
This time, I shiver. How does he do that?
Little Bean’s life force reacts with a hearty thump and wiggle. She felt it, too!
“Ah, I see,” the Ipotane says.
My hand instantly covers my belly. I don’t want him seeing anything in there.
Down there.
Anywhere!
Lycheron shrugs. “No wonder you lost your appeal.”
I gape at him, offended. I can’t help it. Griffin looks like he’s about to explode. Bellanca snorts a laugh, and I whip my head in her direction. The look on my face shuts her up fast. Ianthe is quiet.
“So that’s it?” Griffin growls in anger. “That’s what your word is worth?”
Lycheron bares his teeth. An amber glow pulses to life in the depths of his eyes, and deep-rooted anxiety jumps to full and sudden attention inside me. It comes straight from that place where survival instincts live, and right now, they’re telling me to run.
Raw power laces the air with enough magic that it chafes my skin, and I can almost taste it. But wanting to turn tail and actually doing it are two very different things, and together, Griffin and I stand our ground. It helps knowing that while Lycheron may be terrifying when he chooses to be, there’s no way in the Underworld he would risk the Gods’ wrath by harming us.
Ianthe and Bellanca don’t budge, either. Everyone else might be too far away to realize how frightening Lycheron is, and I doubt Beta Team will tell them. That would be counterproductive to keeping our soldiers here.
“My word is worth my weight in gold, and my weight is significant,” Lycheron snarls. “A bargain was struck. The wording was precise. The consequences are yours.”
I hate to even think it, but unfortunately, he’s right. I squeeze Griffin’s arm, trying to convey that. We don’t have a leg—and definitely not a hoof—to stand on. We naively hoped that Lycheron would give us the entire six months he promised, despite the specific terms of the bargain. But the fact is, we did specify the location of the border, and that’s our fault.
“Reconsider.” Lycheron looks at Ianthe again. His voice turns almost ominously deep. “You know what I want.”
A flush crawls up Griffin’s neck as his blood heats. His denial, while remaining purely verbal, borders on violent. “I don’t bargain away my family’s free will. Ianthe is not for sale.”
Ianthe inhales sharply. I can practically hear her heart pounding from here, and mine sinks like a ship. Griffin has no idea what he’s just done. He defended her, called her family, and put her well-being above his own ambition and needs. I’d bet my magic that no one has ever done anything like that for Ianthe before. If she’s anything like me, and I’m pretty sure she is, his fierce denial to use her for his own gain just won him her undying loyalty. And we already know she’s radically and terrifyingly self-sacrificing when it comes to us.
“No, Ianthe—”
Ianthe lifts her chin and speaks over me. “I’ll go.”
“No! I just got you back!” She’s my Elpis. My other Elpis. I need her. She can’t just go. Doesn’t she want to stay with me?
“I’ll go,” Ianthe repeats with even more force, looking first at me and then at Griffin. “You need this. You both do. We have to protect the rest of Thalyria from Mother. With the Ipotane at the border, she won’t try to get past. You can invade, not her. You can attack without fearing what’s coming at your back.” She shrugs shoulders that are slight, almost too thin, but so incredibly strong. “Besides, he can’t be any worse than Galen Tarva. And it’s only six months, not forever.”
“But you don’t know what he wants from you!” My voice comes out too high and shockingly loud. I bite my lip almost hard enough to draw blood.
“I know what he wants.” Griffin’s tone is a curtain of doom. My husband is incredibly angry right now.
Ianthe scoffs, understanding immediately. “That’s not possible.”
“Have you seen the Nymphs?” I hiss.
She slowly pales to a shade I don’t like at all. Then her spine stiffens, and a blank, detached look changes her face entirely. “Like I said, he can’t be any worse than Galen Tarva.”
My knees nearly buckle. I can hardly breathe. She just confirmed my worst fears, and I can’t help seeing in my mind how frightening and horrible it must have been. It makes me sick inside, the thought of that meaty brute on top of her, holding her down, and my little sister screaming and kicking and struggling underneath.
Mother sent her there. To be used. Abused. Ianthe could have fought him off with her Water Magic, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Galen Tarva made her believe the consequences of that kind of resistance would have been even worse. For herself, and for others. A man like him would have no problem hanging the safety of his entire household over Ianthe’s head—Bellanca, Lystra, gentle, addled Appoline. Everyone.
My voice shakes with rage, and I look hard enough at Ianthe that she finally looks back. “You are not an object to be used. We do not barter with your body.”
“Stop speaking before I get angry.” Lycheron’s low voice swells with the warning rumble of a thousand pounding hooves.
I look at the Ipotane Alpha, and fear ices me over. He wasn’t angry before? I guess not, because now his very presence hollows my chest and coats my stomach in acid. His eyes glow a violent amber, and I shudder, almost shaking in my boots. I don’t know how he does this to me. Even Griffin looks cowed. Bellanca takes a step back, her magic sparking. Distance is no longer a sufficient buffer, and I feel more than see the hundreds of people behind us backing away, cringing, cowering. I want to do the same. Only Ianthe is still standing tall.
“I do not force myself on females. Goddess, creature, or human,” Lycheron says.
“You’ve been with a Goddess?” Ianthe asks.
I turn, gawking at her. That’s what she’s worried about?