Heart of Fire: (Blood of Zeus: Book Two) Read online

  Heart of Fire

  Blood of Zeus: Book Two

  Meredith Wild

  Angel Payne

  This book is an original publication of Waterhouse Press.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2020 Waterhouse Press, LLC

  Cover Design & Images by Regina Wamba

  Interior Cover Images: Shutterstock

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For Aedan, my little fire

  — Meredith

  For Thomas, who sees all my blazes and still isn’t afraid of the heat

  — Angel

  Just so my wilted spirits rose again

  And such a heat of zeal surged through my veins

  That I was born anew. Thus I began:

  — Dante Alighieri, Inferno II

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Acknowledgments

  Continue the Blood of Zeus Series

  Also by Meredith Wild & Angel Payne

  Also by Meredith Wild

  About Meredith Wild

  Also by Angel Payne

  About Angel Payne

  Chapter One

  Maximus

  “Here begins a new life.”

  My rough whisper is absorbed by the still air of Kara’s bedroom, which has become a perfect haven for the last twenty-four hours.

  It didn’t feel right, let alone safe, to hang out at my place downtown after the man claiming to be my long-lost father—and, oh yeah, the allfather of Olympus and every immortal being in it—came for a casual drop-in last night. Not long after, the paparazzi were spreading like an oil spill along my street, making the view of the Hollywood Hills a pastoral scene by comparison.

  The stars over the sleepy slopes are slowly consumed by the approaching dawn as I repeat the line once more. Dante’s words have always felt like those of a soulmate, but not once in the hundreds of times I’ve read from La Vita Nuova has the sentiment resonated so strongly. Or inspired such a yearning to fight it.

  But fight what? I’m where I’ve begged fate to bring me, for days and months and years. But I was never specific about those pleas. Maybe that was my slip. I never said the truth had to be sane. Or logical. Or believable.

  Because it’s absolutely none of those.

  I blink hard, expecting to wake up and laugh off this bizarre fever dream. When I do, it’ll still be yesterday morning at my place, when my naked body was warmly wrapped around the woman who’s taken over so much of my heart, mind, and soul. No stranger will knock at my apartment door, saunter in, and make a claim so wacky I should be wondering what flophouse he’s wandered in from and how much crap he’s pumped into his bloodstream before doing so. Because that’s the logical thing to think when a guy tells you he’s the king of the gods. Worse, that you and he have twenty-seven years of Father’s Days to catch up on.

  Then Z had to drop his third bomb—a smaller explosion by comparison but a stunner all the same. Even now. Perhaps even more so, considering how small, innocent, and soft Kara seems in the big bed behind me. That peaceful tilt of her lips. The sprawl of her dark, thick waves against the luxurious white linens. The wistful way she curls her hands. Even the symmetrical, slender ovals of her fingernails.

  She looks like an angel.

  But she’s my perfect little demon.

  And I’m beginning to truly believe that she’s all mine.

  I turn back to the window, my mind wrestling with the possibility. It’s bad enough that the claim is so dominant in my senses and my blood…the blood that shouldn’t want her. Thanks to my DNA, I crave nothing but her.

  And there’s fate, toying with me again. Because any second now, I could lose her because of the DNA that’s her curse and the destiny to which it’s bound her. Spitting on that covenant hasn’t won us any favors, despite how my father—or whoever the hell he is—has offered to intervene on our behalf. Yesterday morning, I was desperate enough to trust the man. I didn’t have any other choice. I still don’t. Unless…I do. Unless all of this really isn’t happening. Unless Z really is just a tweaker in a Skid Row trash bin right now instead of negotiating with Hades like he promised.

  But do I really want to test that theory?

  “Maximus Kane, please tell me you aren’t awake before the birds.”

  There’s the answer to my query. Right here on the air, in all the sweet edges of Kara’s sleepy rasp. In the sight of her, filling my hungry gaze, silky and curvy beneath the sheet as she stretches. Most of all, in every exquisite angle of her inquisitive stare, conveying that she’s missed nothing about my brooding silence.

  Beneath the track pants I slid into a few hours ago, things start to stir. Needless to say, I don’t feel like brooding anymore. Not by a long shot, now that she’s awake and focusing on me again. That expression makes yesterday’s rushed escape all worth it. True, as safe houses go, I could ask for a lot worse, considering the sprawling patio, good-sized library, every conceivable modern amenity, and this killer view. But at this moment I’m not referring to the trees, the hills, or the Hollywood sign.

  Being here, with this breathtaking beauty, is like a dream. Right down to this very second, in which I’m as excited as the first time she ever touched me, then changed me.

  I shrug, attempting a show of casual charm. “More worms for me. I’ll even share.”

  Kara sits up, curling her knees into her chest. “Trade you the worms for what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

  Another shrug, making up for more flustered vibes. I can lecture to hundreds of students at a time, but this sole female can undo me with one damn look. “Sleep and I have never been best friends,” I finally say. “Few hours a night, and I’m good to go.”

  “Hmm.” She tilts her head. “That makes sense, I guess.”

  “You guess? Why?”

  “Well, considering everything.”

  “Everything like what?” My intention isn’t a confrontation, but I need to hear it from another source besides the inside of my mind. “Just say it again, Kara. For me.”

  She jogs up her chin. “Everything, like you being a demigod.”

  Her gaze glitters now, reminding me of the sparklers Jesse and I played with during our boyhood summers. I want to smile, slammed by memories of happiness and hope, but right here and now, the memories are disjointed. Differen
t.

  “You can say it too, Maximus. And if you need to talk about it…well, I won’t be freaked out.”

  “No.” I lower to the mattress with an audible heave. “I’ll be freaked out.”

  “Why?” Her confusion is sincere. I feel that as fully as her warmth, spreading through me as soon as she uncurls and presses against my side. “You had to have an idea. At least a small one. You were already asking questions. You openly shared them with me.”

  I wrap a hand around her wrists. “From now on, I share everything with you.”

  She sets a sigh free, heating the ball of my shoulder. “Even now?” she presses. “Even knowing what I am?”

  I’m compelled to turn, dragging her in at the same time, until she’s nestled in my lap and engulfed by my embrace. The sheets, which are the texture of spun butter, gather even tighter around her. “Especially now,” I tell her, stroking my knuckles along her cheek. “Knowing who you are.”

  Though she quirks her lips, the spark of levity doesn’t make it to her eyes. “Right,” she mutters. “Who I am. Kara Valari, spawn of the demons who royally messed up your existence.”

  “No.” I extend my grip to her nape, squeezing gently to demand her attention. “You’re Kara Valari, the brave and brilliant creature who defied her family and the fate they were dooming you to. You’re the demoness who dared to say that wasn’t okay, but you’re also the human being who stood up for so much more. You stood up for us.”

  At last, her big eyes and full lips get warm with confidence. Not a lot but enough to make me relax my grip.

  “So…you really believe it? That we’re—that I’m—”

  “A demon?” I smile at once, then lift my upturned lips to her smooth forehead. “I was halfway to figuring that out already, beautiful. I’m the guy who read all your grandfather’s screenplays to get to the bottom of it, remember?”

  I’m rewarded for that with a musical Kara giggle. “Now that deserves a medal of valor. Or a knighthood. Perhaps both.”

  “Do either get me a few more hours in bed with you?” I flash a roguish smirk. “Maybe a few days? Weeks?”

  Her own gaze flares. “I doubt Alameda will approve a Kara sabbatical, Professor.”

  There’s the flirtation killer. Still, I work to keep my tone light while replying, “Oh, I strongly doubt they’ll refuse.”

  Her eyes widen more. “Wait. What?” she charges. “What’s going on?”

  I grunt and twist my lips. “It’s probably nothing. Just an email that came in overnight.”

  “An email from who?” she demands.

  My grunt turns into a low, protesting rumble. Still I reply, “Chairperson of the university’s board.”

  “Who said what?”

  She’s quieter about that one. I abhor being the cause of her overly cautious tone.

  “They think a few days away from my duties might be a good idea.”

  She gasps. It’s not quiet. Or cautious. “Why?”

  “It’s just a suggestion. Not an order, per se. But I’m not in much of a position to challenge them at this point. Not if I want to keep my job.”

  She pushes up and away, out of my lap. She doesn’t go far but gets in enough inches to show me all the energy of her frustration. “You love your job.”

  I resist the urge to kiss her. This woman…how she knows so much of me already. How she values what she sees too.

  “Yeah,” I say gently. “You’re right. I do love my job.”

  “And they’re issuing this decree, keeping you from it.”

  “Not a decree.” I push out a heavy breath. “A suggestion. Remember?”

  Kara’s having none of it. “What the hell are they thinking? This isn’t the first ‘celebrityship’ that campus has seen. Don’t you remember them rerouting the cafeteria lines when that Microbio grad student had her boy-band lover in for a visit? And when they closed the locker rooms when everyone thought he’d dumped her for the volleyball team coach? You want me to go on with the examples?”

  “I could probably do the same thing,” I return. “Hell, I’ve been on staff at Alameda for a bunch of them. But this is different and we both know it.”

  “Because of me.” She pushes back even farther, taking the sheet with her like a protective force field. “Because of my getting sloppy about watching for cameras and thinking we were flying under the radar.”

  “All the things that make it just as much my fault.” I turn and crawl up the mattress until I’m resting on my haunches in front of her. “You get that, right? There are two of us here, Kara. Two halves of the magnet. Two bands of the storm. Two people who were in the control booth that day and not being more careful…about everything.”

  She regards me with an incisive expression. “You’d still do it all again?”

  I run my fingers up the outside of her leg and celebrate the tremors I cause beneath the luxurious sheet. “I wouldn’t change a goddamned thing.”

  “Funny… You’re the god they should fear.”

  I sit back again, shaking my head, betraying the chaos in my head. I can’t fully wrap my mind around her words, despite my intuition that they’re true. “I mean, even if half of this insanity is real, that’s not what I’m about.”

  Kara cocks her head once more. “If this insanity is real?”

  I tighten my jaw. “You know what I mean. We have to admit that maybe I’m not…” I falter for half a second. “That Z isn’t… Well, that he won’t come back. That he was just some cleaned-up bum off the alley, looking to case out some of the apartments in the building.”

  “Right,” she rebuts as the tension climbs up her face. “Because bums off the street wear bespoke Italian suits and smell like their cologne cost just as much.”

  “Sure. If they’ve recently rolled someone, it’s a possibility.”

  “A possibility you’re going to believe, other than the truth that’s staring you in the face.”

  “Not exactly in my face,” I reply and sweep an arm out toward the peach and green mosaic of the hills. Across the ravine, a few early-riser joggers make their way along the Montlake Drive trail. “It’s been twenty-four hours, Kara.” Not that I’m keeping track or anything. “And we still haven’t heard from him.”

  Maybe that’s me being judgmental. And unreasonable. It’s not like I could text the guy, telling him I’m here instead of the apartment. But if he’s really Zeus, does he need an address?

  “Which gives you the perfect excuse not to believe a word he told you?”

  “Well, I don’t disbelieve him.”

  “But it’s easier for you to write him off as a random crazy instead of believing his claim. It’s even easier for you to believe I’m a demon than to admit his truth about your heritage.”

  As soon as I lower my hand, I encase her other knee with my palm. Without giving it another thought, I push back on her legs, giving me room to occupy the space between them.

  I keep going until the fit is flawless. Until it’s all so, so right again. Until I can feel her heartbeat with my own, our pulses perfectly matched. Until she’s circling her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist and her core against my erection.

  The DNA in my blood doesn’t matter anymore because there’s nothing in it but her.

  My silent assertion from before? About her being all mine? I was wrong. So wrong. So twisted around.

  Because I’m all hers.

  “I think the only truth that matters is right here,” I tell her. “And right now.” I dip in, meshing her mouth beneath mine with slow, adoring rolls, until we drag apart with reluctant sighs. “I also hope nobody comes looking for us. Not ever again.”

  “Hmm.” Her breaths take on a dreamy lilt. “What a nice thing to wish for.” She delves her hands into my hair, kneading my scalp with steady languor. “We could be hippies. Live on the beach. In a yurt.”

  With my face pressed against her neck, I chuckle. “With our dog named Bubba?”

  “Well, of course
. But Bubba will have to get lost when I want to have my way with you.”

  “Who says we’re doing that inside the yurt?”

  “Ohhh.” Her laugh is high but husky as I bite and nuzzle my way to her ear. “So, right out on the sand? I enjoy how your mind works, Maximus Kane.”

  Her praise inspires me to new action. After a decisive yank and a forceful swoop, I roll us both all the way over, off the mattress and onto the floor. My wicked laugh mingles with Kara’s stunned shriek, and we kiss with deeper passion as the white fabric billows then settles around us. Her mouth is warm and wide, ready for me to explore and savor. Her body is bare and beautiful, ready for me to touch and tantalize. But the best part of it all is her passion, returned to me with fullness and fire…especially the flames that call to me from her eyes.

  Surrounded by that awesome blaze, I’m able to find words to fill my parched throat. “I think we should pretend this is the sand.”

  “And now I adore how your mind works.”

  I pull her close, guiding one of her thighs around mine while cushioning her head with my bicep. I need another kiss, and I take it. Her mouth is as hot and succulent as ever, matching the decadent dew between her legs, telling me she’s more than ready for me. And holy hell, am I ready for her.

  She moans as if she’s received every detail of that message from my psyche. Yet again I’m grateful for the woman’s hyper empathy. Go, little demon, go.

  No.