Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) (24 page)

Arsenius didn’t care what was behind them. His mate, his Kyme, lay ahead.

“Easy, Captain.” Thereus laid a hand on his shoulder.

Arsenius shrugged it off. “I’m a son of Ares, the god of violence. Cool and collected is not part of my repertoire.”

“Don’t worry, none of us will be singing the praises of your patience.” Thereus barked a laugh at his side.

Arsenius folded his arms and glared into the tunnels. “Which way?” He loathed having to rely on others when his strength should have been enough.

“To be honest, one direction does not call out to me more than another. Your guess is as good as mine.” Venn frowned. “We must mark the tunnels so we can retrace our steps. Otherwise, we’ll spend eternity in this hellhole. Not my preference.”

“Nor mine.” Thereus chuckled. He carried a barrel of gunpowder and trailed the black dust behind them. They would light it once ready to depart.

As he considered the fork, Arsenius let his instincts assume control. He veered to face each of the tunnels, slow and methodical. As he stared into the third one from the left, he caught her scent. Delicate, exotic.
Kyme.
Every muscle in his body screamed at him to dart straight into the blackness.

What stopped him was another scent. Sulphur and brimstone. Death, evil.
The minotaur.
He was somewhere down the last tunnel on his right.

Never had he been so torn. Go to her when it may be a trick? Or follow the minotaur’s scent and face his enemy, risking Kyme? With a snarl, he made the decision. It was one the man he used to be would never have made.

He went for Kyme, all the while his gut telling him it must be a trap.

They followed the tunnels deeper into the mountain, toward its belly. He had no difficulty tracking her scent, selecting left, straight or right as the trail demanded. At long last, the tunnels ended. An enormous cavern loomed ahead. A single opening at the top lit the chamber. By the coppery scent of blood, the altar in the center was used for sacrifices.

The circular chamber offered a pantheon of tunnels to choose from. Arsenius didn’t scent her in any of them. No, she was here, in this chamber.

He bent over the altar, but the blood wasn’t fresh.
Not hers.
Still, his fists clenched as he recognized the blood as human. Probably the maiden’s. The scent of the dead lass’s blood fueled his vengeance. By nightfall, he vowed, the minotaur would never harm again.

She is near
, his instincts persisted.
I just can’t see her.

A bright light flashed at his side. Arsenius drew his sword and tensed, ready to strike. As the figure materialized, he loosened his grip and narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s good to see you too, Aden.” The goddess Adrasteia smirked.

“It’s Arsenius.”

The angelic creature before him shrugged. “Arsenius, Aden, no matter how many times you change your name, he continues to watch over you.”

“Tell him not to waste his time.”

“Now, now, brother.” Adrasteia glided toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She was nearly as tall as he was, and capable of staring him in the eyes. Which she did now, hers glowing a harsh grey, like steel. “The gods are not all-powerful. Ares is as much subject to the whims of the Fates as everyone else.”

“Surely, you’re not including yourself in that statement, Adrasteia.” The shuffling of Thereus’s hooves echoed off the wall behind him. “It’d be a real disappointment for us to learn you’re not omnipotent.”

His half-sister, the goddess of revenge, spun to face the centaur, her long dark curls twirling with her and landing flawlessly in place.

Gods.
He shook his head. Everything was about perfection for them.

Adrasteia winked at Thereus. “Mortal, there is much for you to learn.”

“I would be a most willing pupil, if I were to have one as divine as you for a tutor.”

Ugh
, his stomach roiled. Every time. Every bloody time she popped up, the centaur attempted to coax her into his bed. The only saving grace was she always refused him. Out of respect for Arsenius? Gods knew, she was one of his few divine siblings he tolerated. That she always appeared right before momentous feats, like capturing a legendary creature, was not lost on him.

“Why are you here, Adrasteia?” His terse tone reflected his growing frustration. He didn’t mean to sound so agitated, but Kyme was near. This was a distraction. If the goddess wasn’t going to help, she needed to leave. He didn’t request any ‘witness to his heroic deeds,’ as she claimed she was.

“Rest easy, brother. For once, I am not your shadow but your aide.”

“Tell Ares I neither seek nor desire his intervention.”

She strode closer, until they were nose to nose. “One, you do not tell me what to do. Two, do not refuse the aid of a god—our father’s or mine.” The angrier she became, the brighter she glowed. “And three, this is not only about you, brother.”

“What do you mean?” He eased back, relaxing his stance and hoping his calm demeanor would diffuse hers. After all, she was the goddess of revenge—daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, and Ares’s right hand—not a being to be trifled with.

“The minotaur has committed hubris.” The silvery glow around her flared.

“What kind?”

“The very worst.”

Arsenius choked on his outrage. The crime of hubris had different levels, and not all were punished by the gods. At the lowest degree was simple arrogance—deeming oneself supreme. At the highest were the most unimaginable crimes—things one would do if one believed oneself above every law.

Connecting Adrasteia’s words, he staggered as though someone punched him in the gut. The girl, the one who’d been attacked. The reason he was here in the first place.

“Yes, not only was the manner of her death most dishonorable, this is personal. She was a daughter of Ares.”

“Our sister?” He barely found the voice to ask as another fear sucked the oxygen from his lungs.
Lena.

“No, it was not her, Arsenius. We do not know Lena’s fate, but this sad creature’s was not hers.”

Damn, he was a bastard for experiencing any kind of relief. He’d lost another sibling, albeit one whom he hadn’t known existed. The rage within him seized control once more. He would savor tearing the minotaur apart.

“What of Lena?” His chest constricted and the room grew silent as he inquired about his sister.

The goddess softened her tone. “Her fate is shrouded in mist… I would save her if I could.”

He nodded, the vice around his chest tightened further, making words impossible. Damn, every time it was the same answer.

Thereus cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Where is your lovely partner, Nemesis?”

“She is busy attending other matters.” Adrasteia dismissed his inquiry with a wave of her hand. “The minotaur is yours, Arsenius. Ares wishes it so.”

Oh aye, didn’t that gut him. He didn’t doubt his father played a role in the business he’d been getting lately. Eager to see how many monsters Arsenius could destroy, like he was bloody Herakles. The gods must be having a grand time on Olympus, placing their wagers and watching him fight.

“I’m not a hero,” he growled.

“Not yet.” Adrasteia smirked.

Bloody gods.

“Your minotaur awaits.” She veered toward one of the tunnels.

“Nay, I’m not going anywhere yet.”

“Ah, yes, your female.” She paused, her head tilting to the side for a split instant, but he caught it.

“She’s here, isn’t she? Where?” He grabbed her arm, his muscles coiled and ready to force the answer from her lips.

“She is not in danger at this moment.” Adrasteia brushed off his arm with the strength of a cat swiping at an insect. “She is cloaked. You cannot see her any more than she you. The only way you will be able to is if the minotaur dies.”

Arsenius cursed. Like he needed another reason.

“Come.” Adrasteia led the way, her glow illuminating the passages.

Never one to tarry when there was an enemy to kill, Arsenius raced after her.

Time to hunt some bull.

Chapter 23

Arsenius is here.
Kyme lifted her head as a pulse of awareness shot through her. Hope stuttered across her heart. Just as quickly, the hope shattered. What if this was another of the minotaur’s mind tricks? Damn. She rubbed at her face—an attempt to wash away this insanity.

As she scrubbed, a soft, silver glow warmed her hands. She dropped them to her sides and her mouth fell open. The glow originated from…a goddess? She squinted toward the shimmering figure of a tall female, exquisitely feminine features framed by long, dark curls.

Who is she?
In awe, she blinked at the stunning vision her subconscious had conjured.

The goddess paced between the altar and the wall. Her lips moved as though speaking, yet Kyme discerned no sounds. The whole scene was so bizarre, it had to be real. Or at least a dream. Hopefully, not a hallucination.

The apparition ignored her until suddenly, she tilted her head in Kyme’s direction, and the words “come with me” cut across Kyme’s mind.

The goddess glided away, but Kyme lingered on the floor, her mind unwilling to risk the gamble. Yet she was no safer in this sacrificial chamber than in the tunnels. Huffing, she struggled to her feet.

The goddess had departed several minutes ago, but the tunnel she’d used shimmered with a dim, silvery luminescence. She pressed her hand to the stone and took a tentative step forward. Arsenius’s presence bloomed in her senses.
I can feel him.
Despite her injuries, she took off in a sprint.

Her ribs protested the pace. Each breath sent blinding pain down to her toes, but she was determined not to lose sight of the glow. Not now, when Arsenius had to be in that direction. It didn’t matter if this was a deception. She’d rather have a false Arsenius with her in her last moments than none at all.

Praise Artemis, the tunnel ahead ended in another large chamber. A few scattered torches lit what appeared to be a vault carved into the mountain.

“Look.” The ethereal goddess pointed across the room.

Arsenius.
She swallowed the urge to scream his name and run into his arms.

A familiar, dark chortle echoed off the chamber’s walls. The minotaur’s foul stench assaulted her nose as he stepped out of the shadows.

Arsenius roared and sank to his knees, his white-knuckled hands clutching his skull. His color had drained, torment and despair carved into his features while sweat beaded his forehead.

Kyme surveyed the goddess and Arsenius’s men. No one moved. Even loyal Thereus crossed his arms, a blank expression on his face. Would no one help him?

Snatching a fist-sized rock off the floor, she gripped it in her left hand and targeted the minotaur, who hovered menacingly as he appeared to be invading Arsenius’s mind.

“Wait.” The goddess placed a cool hand on Kyme’s arm and she froze in place, dropping the stone. “Watch and have patience.”

Relief warmed the ice in her blood as Arsenius growled and struggled to his feet.

“Where is she, you…bastard.” His words slurred while he swayed on his feet. His hand shot out to a boulder to steady himself.

Her heart faltered before resuming its relentless pounding. Arsenius faced this monster for her. Not for gold, nor glory.
For me.

The scrape of the minotaur’s hooves as he shuffled to the wall sent shivers down her spine. His claws trailed down a golden urn tucked into a shelf in the rock. Dozens of similar urns lined the walls. She shuddered at what they might contain.

Sneering, the minotaur faced Arsenius. “She’s mine now.”

Arsenius stumbled and his hands gripped his temple again as the minotaur continued his mental assault.

Fight him, damn you, Arsenius.

The minotaur snorted in disgust. “Weak.” He jerked his chin in Kyme’s direction. “Look who has come to watch you die.”

As Arsenius stared straight through her, his eyes widened briefly and then narrowed. He shook his head violently. Snarling, he lunged forward, his arms positioned to tackle the beast.

The minotaur swept out his gnarled hand and cast a shockwave, flinging Arsenius backward. His body slammed into the chamber’s stone wall and he fell limp to the floor with a dull thud.

Kyme leapt forward. The goddess’s iron arm flew out. She smacked into it, the air knocking from her lungs as she plummeted onto her bottom.

“Patience,” the goddess hissed.

She scowled at the tears forming in her eyes and wrapped her arm across her injured ribs.

Arsenius groaned and rose onto all fours. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and focused on the crimson smear staining his knuckles. A wicked grin cut across his face. “Wrong move, bull.”

The war frenzy consumed him like a swift, lethal storm. Dark blue markings bled from his skin, circled his face and neck, and disappeared beneath his shirt. The charcoal of his eyes illuminated from within, tinged with red. A sinister sneer curved his lips. So feral, so animal. Such perfect violence.

With his bare hands, Arsenius tore at the minotaur, each blow of his fists targeted for maximum pain. The creature’s blood splattered across his ivory shirt, feeding the frenzy.