Enraptured (25 page)

Heartache tore at Orpheus’s chest. He grabbed Gryphon’s forearms, the ones covered in the Argonaut markings, as they were supposed to be. “No one will make you do anything. You’re safe now. I promise.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand.” Sobs overtook him. “She’s out there. She’s always out there.” He let go of Orpheus’s shirt, dropped back to the filthy floor, and rolled to his side, curling into himself.

Frantic to do something, Orpheus rubbed his hands against his thighs and whispered, “Who?”

Gryphon’s body shook, a soul-deep tremble. And one word escaped his lips. “Atalanta.”

Disbelief shot to Orpheus’s chest, followed by a moment of clarity that whispered
Yes
.

He and Demetrius had trapped her in the Fields of Asphodel after they’d rescued Isadora from her lair. It was more than possible she would have recognized Gryphon for who and what he was down there.

Utter and complete helplessness consumed him as Gryphon’s gut-wrenching sobs tore through the quiet.

Unsure what to say, what to do to help, he looked to Skyla. The pity and horror awash on her face said she was as lost as he was. Turning to Demetrius on his other side, Orpheus saw the guardian’s clenched jaw and the mixture of fury and disgust etched into his features.

“The colony,” Demetrius said in a hoarse voice. Then stronger, “We take him to the colony. There are healers there who can help him.”

“Not Argolean healers,” Orpheus countered.

“So we get Callia and bring her to the colony too.”

Yeah, Callia. That was a good idea. Callia was the queen’s personal healer and Isadora’s sister as well. With her Horae powers, she’d be the one to help Gryphon through this.

Orpheus looked back down at his brother. Watched as Skyla draped the blanket over Gryphon’s shoulders and ran her fingers through his hair, humming again, trying to soothe him. But when she looked up and her heartsick eyes met Orpheus’s, he knew she was thinking the same thing he was.

Shame. Nothing could reduce a warrior to a quaking puddle of tears except shame.

Dear
gods, what happened to him down there?

Sickness brewed in Orpheus’s stomach as he swiped a hand across his forehead, tried to refocus. He’d worry about all of that later. Right now they had to get Gryphon away from this place. “He can’t flash. Not in his physical state, not on earth. And I can’t put him on a commercial flight when he’s…like this.”

“We’ll charter a plane then,” Demetrius said in a determined voice. “Isadora has human cash reserves set aside for emergencies. This qualifies.”

Orpheus nodded even as a lump the size of a boulder settled in his throat. Yeah, this qualified all right. He’d thought getting Gryphon out of the Underworld would be the hardest obstacle they’d have to overcome. He hadn’t considered what would happen after.

Hand shaking, he reached out to brush Gryphon’s leg. A reassuring pat, for both of them. “It’s gonna be okay, Gryph. Everything’s going to be okay.”

But Gryphon didn’t answer. Only flinched out of Orpheus’s touch as if he’d been burned. Then buried his head in his arms and wept harder.

The hours flying back to Montana passed in silence. The jet they’d chartered in Crete was roomy, with a couch along one wall of the cabin, captain’s chairs on the other side, a galley, and a fancy bathroom. But none of them seemed to notice their posh surroundings. The horrors of the last few hours—the last few days—were too fresh.

Skyla kept Gryphon relaxed on the couch, running her fingers through his hair when he stirred, humming when he seemed to grow agitated, singing when they stopped to refuel and he looked like he was ready to bolt. He curled into himself as he’d done back in that shack, his back to the group, his face hidden. When he was still, several times Orpheus had peered over his shoulder, just to make sure he was still breathing. Sometimes Gryphon was asleep. Other times he lay frozen, staring wide-eyed at the back of the couch as if lost in a daze.

Demetrius spent most of his time in the cockpit with the pilot, and Skyla alternated between soothing Gryphon and tinkering in the galley, looking for food. She didn’t speak much, but her singing helped smooth Orpheus’s frayed edges too. And when she brought him a sandwich and sat next to him, then squeezed his hand before eating her own, that warmth returned to his chest. The same warmth he felt anytime she was close. Anytime she touched him. Anytime he thought about the way she’d protected Gryphon on their trek out of the Underworld, sung to keep him calm, and comforted him in that shack when Orpheus hadn’t known what to do.

She was a rock. One who picked up the slack Orpheus left dangling, even though she had to be exhausted herself. While Orpheus’s head spun with images from the Underworld and he couldn’t seem to do much more than sit and stare at his brother, she made sure everything on the trip back to the colony ran smoothly.

And she hadn’t even looked at the Orb under Gryphon’s shirt, let alone tried to take it.

That last thought revolved in Orpheus’s mind as they landed in the dark in Missoula. What was she waiting for?

Nick had a car ready to meet them at the airport. As they bounced along the road toward the colony, Skyla sat next to Gryphon and kept up her humming to keep him calm. Every time they switched surroundings, that wild-eyed look would return to Gryphon’s face and he’d dart crazed looks around as if searching for…someone.

As they neared the colony, Gryphon tipped his head Orpheus’s way. “I don’t want to see them. The guys. If they’re here…” His voice grew hoarse, but his eyes were clear. Clearer than they’d been since they’d found him. “If they’re here, make them leave.”

“Whatever you want, Gryph.” Orpheus’s throat closed around the words. As he squeezed his brother’s shoulder, he caught Demetrius’s gaze in the front seat. The guardian nodded once in silent commune, then looked out the dark windshield again.

The trip through the tunnels seemed shorter than when Orpheus had brought Skyla and Maelea through. Had that been only days ago? Gods, it felt like years. So much had happened since then.

Nick met them in the vast cavern where various tunnels took off in a variety of directions and led them to the elevator. Gryphon seemed to have mellowed now that he was on his feet and walking on his own. Skyla left with Demetrius to fill the others in on what had happened while Nick took Orpheus and Gryphon up to find a room on the fifth floor of the castle.

Orpheus had the impression of pale blue walls and furnishings, but his focus was on his brother. He helped Gryphon into the room, settled him into a chair. After speaking quietly with Nick at the door, he learned all the Argonauts were here, eager to see Gryphon. He made sure Nick understood that might not be a good idea just yet.

Nick eyed Gryphon warily over Orpheus’s shoulder. “You sure he’s okay?”

“Would you be okay after three months in the Underworld?”

“No. That’s why I’m worried.”

“I’ll stay with him.”

Nick nodded but didn’t look reassured. “Pick up the phone if you need anything. It runs to a central line.”

As Nick’s boots clicked down the hall, Orpheus closed the door and turned back to the room. Gryphon sat unmoving in the chair, staring off into space.

His body looked the same as always. Muscular, strong, healthy, albeit a little on the thin side. But the dead look in his eyes and the exhaustion lines on his face spoke of the strain on his soul.

Orpheus crossed the floor, helped Gryphon out of the chair by grasping his arm and pulling him up. “Let’s get you into a shower. The water will feel good.”

Gryphon didn’t fight him as he maneuvered them into the bathroom, with its wide glass shower and mirror that ran the length of the double vanity. But when Orpheus reached for his shirt, Gryphon swatted his hands. “I can do it myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“I was dead, not stupid,” Gryphon murmured, turning away. He pulled the shirt over his head, dropped it on the floor. Tugged the chain from around his neck and dropped that too. The chain that held the Orb of Krónos.

He hesitated before unbuttoning his pants. “Do you mind? I’d like some privacy.”

“Sure. Yeah. I’ll just be in the other room if you need me.”

Orpheus eyed the Orb, lying on the floor at his brother’s feet. His fingers itched to pick it up, but he fought back the urge. It wasn’t going anywhere. As he stepped out and closed the door, he listened to make sure Gryphon didn’t melt again. Long seconds passed with no sound, then the toilet flushed, followed by the shower turning on.

Orpheus moved away from the bathroom door and was just about to call down to see what Skyla was up to when a knock sounded to his right.

Before he could answer, the female he’d just been thinking of poked her head into the room. “Is it okay if I come in?”

Warmth spread through his chest. Warmth followed by worry. Would she try to take the Orb now? “Yeah. He’s in the shower.”

She stepped in, looking all long-legged and gorgeous with her hair tumbling down around her shoulders, just like always. “How is he?”

“Better.” Orpheus glanced at the bathroom door, then back again. “I think maybe the worst is behind us.”

“I hope so.” She crossed her arms, looked around the room. “Not bad. Better than pink. That’s the color they gave Maelea.”

Orpheus had nearly forgotten about Ghoul Girl. He pressed two fingers against his right temple. “How is she?”

“Fine. The same. And the last thing you need to worry about right now.”

Why did she care about him so much? Where was the kick-ass Siren who’d been sent by Zeus to kill him? Orpheus scrubbed both hands over his face. Confusion mixed with the exhaustion finally hitting him now that his adrenaline was waning. He dropped into the chair Gryphon had been sitting in earlier. “The Argonauts are here?”

“Yes. And the queen and her sisters.”

“Fantastic.” Another party. “Gryphon doesn’t want—”

“Demetrius already told them. They’re hanging out downstairs for now.”

“That’s gotta please Nick.”

Skyla eased onto the armrest of his chair, her thigh inches from his hand. “Thrills him,” she said sarcastically. “What’s the story there? Between him and them?”

“He’s Demetrius’s brother.”

She frowned, a pouty little look that made him itch to kiss it from her face. “I figured that out already, daemon.”

“His
half
brother, smart-ass. Nick was persecuted by the monarchy because of his lineage.”

“Which is?”

“He’s an original hero. Sired from a human and a god.”

Skyla sat silent for several seconds, then said, “Cool.”

Orpheus chuckled. What was it about this female that tugged at him? Even now, when he knew he couldn’t be anywhere but right here with Gryphon, when logic told him she was seconds away from snatching the Orb, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and drag her across the hall into an abandoned bedroom suite. Then find out all over again what it felt like to slide inside her body and get lost in her scent.

Him. A daemon who didn’t form attachments. A witch who’d learned long ago to keep to himself. A male who never spent more than one night with any female.

And her. A Siren. Sent to seduce, steal, then take him down.

He eyed her leg. Ached to reach for her. To touch her. To let her remind him he was alive. To prove that he hadn’t been forgotten.

He blew out a long breath and glanced toward the bathroom door. The shower was still running. “Maybe I should check on him.”

Moment of truth. What would she do?

“Okay,” she said as he pushed to his feet. “Are you hungry? I could call down and have something brought up.”

He frowned. “Are you always this motherly, Siren?”

“Always,” she mocked, crossing her shapely legs and leaning forward to bat her long dark lashes his way. “After beheading ogres all day long, I serve on the PTA board at night.”

“You on a PTA board. Now that I’d like to see.” He knocked on the bathroom door. Drew up his defenses, just in case. “Gryph? You okay in there?”

Nothing but the sound of running water met his ears.

Orpheus knocked again. Got no response. He tried the handle and found it locked. A shot of panic rushed through him.

Skyla’s boots clicked as she pushed off the chair. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Orpheus jiggled the knob again. “Gryphon? Answer me.”

Nothing.

“
Skata
.” Orpheus stepped back from the door, centered himself, and called up a simple spell to free the lock. A click resounded. He turned the knob.

Steam enveloped the room, fogged the mirror. Through the frosted glass he could see Gryphon standing naked under the spray, scrubbing at the skin on his arms. “Gryph? Are you okay? I knocked and knocked and you didn’t answer.”

“Can’t get clean,” Gryphon murmured. “Have to get it off. Just a little more.” He stopped scrubbing, slammed both hands over his ears. “Stop!”

Gryphon shook his head violently, then went back to scrubbing at his skin again, murmuring faster, “Can’t get clean. Can’t get clean…”

Shit. He wasn’t better. He was getting worse. That panic morphed to all-out dread as it pushed its way back up Orpheus’s chest. “Come on, Gryphon. That’s enough. Let’s get you out.”

Orpheus was aware Skyla was standing in the doorway as he reached for a towel and grasped the shower door, that the Orb was in plain view on the floor. But he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered right now was his brother.

Orpheus pulled the door open. Then froze. “Holy gods…”

Blood ran like rivers from Gryphon’s arms, his legs, his face and torso. His fingers were bloody stumps where he’d dug into his skin over and over, scrubbing harder with each pass.

“Gryphon, stop!” Orpheus threw the towel around Gryphon’s shoulders and hauled him out of the shower. Gryphon hollered and hurled his weight into Orpheus, knocking them both to the ground with a crack. They grappled across the bathroom tiles until Orpheus got behind Gryphon, closed one arm across his brother’s head, used the other to immobilize his arms, then hooked Gryphon’s legs so he couldn’t break free.

Gryphon struggled once, twice more, then collapsed against Orpheus and broke down, his entire body shaking with soul-rattling sobs. Water and blood ran from Gryphon’s skin into Orpheus’s clothes, dripped onto the floor around him. “I can’t get it off,” he cried. “It’s all over me. Inside me. I just want it to go away. I just…oh, gods, make it go away.”

His body convulsed in Orpheus’s arms, and the sobs turned to full-body trembles Orpheus felt all the way to his very core.

Orpheus caught Skyla’s horror-filled gaze in the doorway, where she stood still as stone. And his heart—the heart he thought he didn’t have—contracted beneath the earth element still resting against his chest. “Get help,” he whispered. “Find someone who can help my brother.”

***

It was hours later when Skyla peeked her head back into Gryphon’s room. Though it was quiet, there were several people taking up space. Callia, Queen Isadora’s personal healer, held Gryphon’s wrist on the far side of the bed and glanced at the clock high on the wall. Theron conversed quietly with Isadora near the window. Skyla knew from her conversations downstairs that several other Argonauts had come and gone through the night, but Orpheus remained, sitting in a chair next to Gryphon, his elbows leaning on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him while he watched his brother sleep.

The image of the big Argonaut clawing at his flesh wouldn’t leave her head. Neither would the blood that had covered him and the floor and Orpheus when Orpheus had tackled Gryphon in the bathroom. Every time she thought of what he’d been through in the Underworld, her mind skipped to Orpheus and the years and years he’d been trapped there himself. The gruesome things he must have endured. The fact that—thankfully—he couldn’t remember them.

She’d considered telling Orpheus the truth about their relationship so many times. Had pondered what it would do to him to learn who and what he really was. But after seeing Gryphon, she knew she couldn’t. It wasn’t about her or what she’d be losing. She didn’t want to hurt Orpheus. And bringing up the past would do only that. It would dredge up something that was better off dead and buried.

Heads turned. Orpheus looked over his shoulder, eyes shadowed and bloodshot. But they brightened just a touch when they caught sight of her, and warmth flooded her belly in response.

He rose from the chair, all corded muscle and restrained strength. Though someone had given him a new shirt, his jeans were still stained with Gryphon’s blood. As he crossed the floor toward her, the guardian markings on his forearms stood out in stark relief to the rest of his skin. Markings that technically shouldn’t be there anymore, now that his brother was back.

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his head, his tired eyes and the stubble on his square jaw making him look sexier than she’d ever seen him. He stopped a foot from her, stuffed his hands in his pockets, was careful to keep his voice low. “Hey.”

“Is he doing better?”

The agony Skyla saw in Orpheus’s eyes tugged at her chest. “He’s out. Callia gave him a sedative. Said he needed rest to let the”—he swallowed, faced her again—“wounds heal.”