Wave of Memories: The Sons of the Zodiac (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Although she seldom apologized, Eris, goddess of discord and all around ass-kicker, took pride in the fact that when she did apologize, she did it right.

And she owed her sister an apology.

Big-time.

Eris moved around her small, spare kitchen, gathering the ambrosia her sister loved so much from the refrigerator, then moved on to uncork the wine from her father’s vineyard. Her phone buzzed and she crossed the room, the light spring of anticipation filling her step at the sound of an incoming text message.

She picked up the phone, anticipation morphing into something stronger—something more powerful—when she saw the sexy demand. Eris was halfway through a reply when she stopped herself and laid down the phone.

This had to stop.

Or she at least needed some fucking perspective which, she acknowledged as she looked at the even sexier reply she was halfway through composing, she didn’t have.

Deleting what she’d typed thus far, she issued a short reply and hit send before she could question herself.

NOT TONIGHT.

Another glance at the kitchen table and the now silent phone and she knew this was another form of punishment for her fuck-up on the boat. Enyo had Themis’s warriors right where she wanted them. After planning and scheming, she was on the verge of winning.

To hedge her bets, Enyo had brought her in as an ally and Eris knew she’d screwed that role up royally. She’d gone MIA in the midst of the firefight. For a man.

Was that why she’d lost her edge? Was
he
the reason?

The word love swirled around the edges of her mind, a taunting whisper of things she could never have. The unselfish ability to put another first wasn’t in her DNA.

She didn’t
do
love.

And she sure as shit wasn’t the sort of woman men lined up to love in return.

Eris shot one more glance at the phone, then stood to pace.

Before she could dwell on it, her doorbell rang, saving her from the introspection she rarely indulged in.

“Sister.” Eris leaned forward and kissed Enyo’s cold cheek after opening the door. “I’m glad you came.”

Enyo swept into the house, her normal disdain set to high. “I can’t stay long.”

“As you said on our call. But as I told you then, I owe you an apology and I intend to make up for my actions.”

“I should say so. The damn Taurus is happily in love with that Montana Grant and they effectively killed Arturo in the process. He could have been useful, you know.”

“You never told me exactly what happened to him?” Eris kept her question casual, hoping it would defrost a layer of attitude to focus on the misfortune of others.

“The Taurus made quick work of him. Arturo never stood a chance.”

For Eris’s money, she thought her sister’s choice in ally was circumspect, but she avoided the post-game discussion and instead gestured toward the kitchen table. “Please. I’ve got food and wine. Sit down for a few minutes.”

Enyo sniffed, but her eyes had already alighted on the meal and she edged toward a chair. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” She took a seat, reaching for the bowl of ambrosia. “Something about an apology?”

“Yes. I went into the fight with you and didn’t contribute as I needed to. We were stronger together and I failed you.”

“In truth, it was more Arturo than you. But explain something to me. Where did you go?”

Eris swallowed hard, knowing the question was inevitable. “After Montana escaped belowdecks, I took off after her, but ran into another warrior.”

“There were more on the boat?”

“Yes, one more best I could tell.” Eris nodded her head, unwilling to name him if she could help it. “We battled and I’m ashamed to say he got the better of me.”

“You, sister?” Enyo’s eyebrows rose as a sly smile spread across her lips. “No one gets the better of you.”

“Not often.” Eris bit back on the humiliating comment and the corresponding need to defend herself. She would take the embarrassment and leave it at that. There was no way she’d ever explain that she’d abandoned the battle to get her brains banged out belowdecks with Rogan Black.

The Sagittarius was their sworn enemy.

They’d tangled over the years and she’d always enjoyed the rush of volatile need when the mood hit, but something had changed in those moments on the boat.

Shifted and exploded, more like it.

And the gods help her, she couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle.

Unwilling to dwell further—or allow Enyo an opportunity to dig deeper under the surface—Eris shifted the conversation. “All of this is past, sister. I’ve something new to discuss with you.”

Enyo’s perfectly arched brow rose, but she only nodded, as if deigning Eris to continue speaking.

“Arturo Verone was a blunt instrument, and a bad one at that. I’ve got something far better.”

“Better?”

Eris saw the spark of interest and pressed her advantage. “A useful tool, is what I’d call him.”

“Him?” Enyo’s red lips turned down into a frown. “Did you learn nothing from our last little soiree, sister? Men can’t be trusted.”

“This one can. He’s got a history with one of the warriors. A history I believe I can use.” Eris reached for her glass. “Something
we
can use, actually.”

Enyo glanced up from the bowl of ambrosia, her eyes sharp at the news. “How far back?”

“He was childhood enemies with the Aquarius.”

“Where have you been keeping him all this time?”

Eris contemplated just how much to share. She had several little projects going, none of which her sister needed to know about. “Men’s minds are easy to control, as you well know. He’s been content to do mercenary work for me.”

“And now?”

“I think he can be put to more effective use.”

“Based on my personal experience, I can’t say I’d be all that quick to promote him. It’s why I prefer the Destroyers more often than not. They’re easy to control.” Enyo began ticking attributes off on her fingers. “They’re full of all that lovely testosterone, but they know how to keep pesky emotions out of it.”

“Emotions?”

“Of course. They say we’re the weaker sex, but you and I know differently, don’t we sister? Men and their sniveling honor and all that
angst
.” Enyo waved a hand. “It’s tiresome.”

“You’ve been without one for far too long.” Eris reached for the ambrosia and ladled a modest scoop onto her own plate. Enyo had warmed up sufficiently and had given her the perfect opening, to boot. It was time to go in for the kill. “I know you needed to end Ajax but what are you going to do for companionship?”

“I’ve got options.”

“Of course. Of course you do.”

Enyo tapped a long, blood-red fingernail on the tabletop. “None are quite as yummy as Ajax, but they’re options all the same.”

Eris kept her gaze on her plate and the creamy richness of the ambrosia. “You’re welcome to take a look at Tyrus if it suits you. He’s not all that bright. I think you’ll like him.”

“That’s an awfully generous apology, sister.”

The sharp tone had her head snapping up and Eris had the fleeting thought that she’d overplayed her hand.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s something else you want?” Enyo leaned forward. “Come on. What’s this little tête-à-tête really all about?”

Eris plastered on a large smile and decided to go for broke. “I need your help.”

“And?”

“And I need to borrow a few Destroyers.”

*  *  *

Montana found her in the library the next morning, curled up in the chair Aidan had vacated. Meg looked up at the kind face and gentle smile as she scrambled to sit up.

“Meg. Are you okay?”

Meg glanced down at the soft blanket that covered her and wondered where it had come from. “Of course. Fine. I’m fine.”

Early morning light flooded the room and she reached for the small end table lamp to turn it off for something to do. The fogginess of sleep burned off quickly while she fought to gather her thoughts.

Hot images flashed through her mind’s eye as she remembered those stolen moments the night before. The lush, achingly familiar feel of Aidan’s lips on hers. The press of that large, imposing form as she leaned back against the bookshelves.

And the hard set of his shoulders when he stomped out of the library.

“I thought Callie made up a guest room for you.”

“She did.” Meg stood and smoothed out her clothes. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d look for a book.”

Montana smiled as her eyes alighted on the book still perched on the end table. “Adam Smith? No wonder you fell asleep.”

“Oh goodness, no. I was going for a nice, juicy scare-fest with Stephen King. The Adam Smith was Aidan’s.”

It didn’t take the sharp expression of interest that covered Montana’s face like a mask to have Meg mentally slapping her head.

“Aidan’s?”

“I stumbled across him when I came looking for a book.”

Montana recovered quickly, whatever surprise she was feeling quickly tamped down. “Well, you’re both readers. You must have a lot in common.”

“We don’t have anything in common.”
Except those wild, exquisite moments I ruined so many years ago.

Not to mention that wild, exquisite moment we engaged in about six hours ago.

Montana gathered up the blanket, then crossed the room to turn off the small lamp that still burned on the opposite side of the library. “People could say that about Quinn and me as well, but we do just fine.”

“You two seem to do more than fine, if the fiery glances at dinner last night were any indication.”

“Is it that obvious?” Montana blushed but whatever embarrassment she felt was eclipsed by a broad, satisfied smile.

“Yep.” The sudden burst of pleasure on the other woman’s face had a raw stab of jealousy poking at her stomach.

Uncomfortable with the feeling—and the root cause—Meg stood and worked a kink out of her shoulder from how she’d slept in the chair. Pushing a light note into her voice, she added, “I’ve still got the burn marks from standing in the line of fire.”

“He’s the most amazing gift.” Montana folded the blanket, the welcoming look of friendship in her eyes only adding to the sense of guilt Meg couldn’t quite force away. “And if some members of the Pantheon had gotten their way, Quinn and I wouldn’t be here today.”

“Callie gave me the shortened version of events. Enyo’s a bitch with a short fuse. You’re lucky you escaped.”

“I’m not so sure she won’t come back.”

The fear in Montana’s voice was as unmistakable as the fiery passion that arced between her and Quinn. “Want to talk about it?”

“It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly if it’s how you feel.” Inspired by the moment and a blossoming friendship that was as foreign as it was unexpected, Meg took a seat on the overstuffed leather couch that dominated one end of the library. She added a hard pat on the cushion next to her for good measure.

“Come on. Spill it.”

*  *  *

Aidan threw the sweat-soaked towel into the laundry bin that sat near the door as he left the weight room. His warrior brothers had been blessedly absent for the duration of his workout, but the long stretch of quiet hadn’t been nearly as therapeutic as he’d hoped.

Instead it had only given him more time alone with his traitorous thoughts.

“You really are fucked,” he muttered to himself before slamming a hand over the light switch and leaving the room. Clearly his mutinous thoughts were their own special brand of torture no amount of time on the weight machines could assuage.

Meg. Always Meg.

Even now, hours later, he could still feel the imprint of her in his arms. The familiar sweep of her body as he ran his hands along her hips. The narrow frame that held the steeliest spine he’d ever encountered.

And those rich, caramel eyes that could still cut him to the quick, despite the endless centuries that had separated them.

In the few moments his brain hadn’t assailed him with images of the two of them tangled up in each other, he’d attempted to work through the puzzle of Tyrus.

What immortal was responsible for him?

Surely not Themis. He knew she wasn’t infallible—Quinn’s recent run-in with the former warrior Arturo Veron was evidence of that. But surely she hadn’t turned the enemy of his childhood?

The tattoo that sat high on his back quivered at the thought of his enemy, the latent power inherent in his skin churned up at the thought of battle. The fact he relished the opportunity to vanquish Tyrus—that the urge to do so still burned so deeply within him—only added to his frustrated self-diagnosis.

The laughter broke through his thoughts seconds before the rich scent of her assailed his senses. As he peered into the library, he saw Meg and Montana smiling like old friends where they talked on the couch.