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

  Z finally cracks the air with his musing. “Markets of ‘whole’ foods. As if they’ll be more complete with spirulina smoothies and grinding their own almond butter. Why don’t more of them realize a walk in the sun and an afternoon orgasm will do the same thing?”

  I want to laugh but don’t. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m serious, and I’m right.”

  No arguing with that one. If I had a choice about what to do with my day, it’d be a hike with Kara, my hand twined with hers, followed by hours of tangling our other body parts.

  With piqued curiosity, I reply, “Surely you have the power to share this kind of wisdom. I mean, you’re Zeus, right? Allfather of Olympus, chief of the gods, etcetera?”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  He sounds irked, which makes me more intrigued.

  “So what way does it work? I mean, you can literally rule elements.” And what a field day Jesse’s going to have when I tell him. If I tell him. What little information I’ve already leaked has absolutely piqued his interest. The fire in Kara’s eyes. Her grandfather’s screenplays about demons and crawling back from hell. If he knew I was descended from someone powerful enough to spin the weather— “Holy shit,” I whisper. “It wasn’t just the other night. All those freak storms over the last couple of weeks.” I tear my eyes from the road long enough to stare him down a moment. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “No.” Z cocks a brow. “That was you.”

  My stunned silence and refocus on the road ahead is the only response I can manage.

  “You’re a creature of great passions, Maximus.” He beams his intense stare at my profile. “You’ve simply been keeping it all under tight lock and key until now.”

  “No kidding.” All over again, I marvel at how swiftly Kara has done just that—unlocked pieces of me I’d forgotten or refused to accept. But having control over the elements? I’ve let myself believe Z could do it, but accepting that I’d have a similar kind of control? That’s another matter entirely. One I’m not fully comfortable with. Not even by half.

  “Why have you kept yourself so pent-up all these years?”

  His query is soft and sure, scraping at the edge of accusation. But I’m still too consumed by my curiosity.

  “Last week, Kara and I were at the observatory. This storm came out of nowhere. If your logic is right about me, about my…passions…I get it, but Kell saw this crazy constellation from their place when it rolled in.”

  “Oh, that was me.”

  “Doing what?” My perplexity practically mashes the two words into one. “Stopping off in LA before heading out to seduce another unsuspecting mortal?”

  For a second, he’s visibly disturbed by my disdain. But I won’t apologize. There are years of frustration behind it. Years of confusion, isolation, and desperate hope for my father’s return, wondering how many questions he’d finally answer. Eventually, those were replaced by the other years. The ones filled with resigned anger—and, finally, grim acceptance.

  Where was he?

  As Z pulls in a long breath through his nose, I already know I’m not getting that answer so easily. “Perhaps it’s best that we step back a bit here.”

  My knuckles go white against the steering wheel. It’s a paltry show for the real storm that gathers beneath my breastbone and behind my frontal lobe. “Now you’re beginning to sound like Mom.”

  As soon as the observation is out, my thoughts darken along with the gunmetal gray clouds that blow down from Hidden Valley, promising heavy rain. Mom’s secrecy has been its own betrayal. Was Z complicit in it too? That would explain a lot but then crack open even more questions. I’m deeper in the dark than before.

  “I loved your mother, Maximus.” His declaration, firm and quiet, is oddly audible above the pelting drops on the windshield. “I still do.”

  “The same way you love every other female you set your sights on?”

  “And now you’re sounding like my wife.”

  “Maybe she’s on to something.”

  “Or maybe she’s a queen who thinks her crown is a free pass for cruelty.”

  No need to wonder if he’s joking about that, because he clearly isn’t. We hit some traffic, affording me the chance to assess his expression in more detail. What’s nearly as unnerving as his sudden virulence is my new notice of certain features. The blue rings in his irises. The way his brows nearly meet as he scowls. Even the way he compresses his lips, pursing more than thinning. Traits I see in the mirror every morning.

  He picks at the invisible lint on his slacks before breaking the silence again. “Look. I’m the king of a world so ancient, no one believes it’s real anymore. The thrill of the conquest is one of the few interesting things I have left. Well, short of starting a war with one of my brothers—which wouldn’t be pretty for all of your human friends.”

  “How so?”

  The question falls out before I can examine the wisdom—or not—of asking. Z doesn’t seem so troubled.

  “Because we can’t contain the violence to our realms. So bad things happen in yours.”

  “Bad things? Like what?”

  When Z’s initial reaction is a soft snort, the hairs on the back of my neck comprehend his chilling inference.

  “Let’s just say that the world thinks Pompeii was wiped out by a volcano,” he offers. “And that the Great Chicago Fire was due to Mrs. O’Leary’s restless cow. We’re most prone to causing earthquakes, though. Shensi, Damghan, Aleppo, and Kanto were all us. And a few of the more spectacular hurricanes—”

  “Okay, okay,” I cut in. “I got it.” Especially while driving on a freeway within significant shaking distance of the San Andreas Fault.

  Traffic picks up, and we travel a few more miles in silence that’s not entirely awkward. As we start nearing the ocean again, Z returns to his inquisition. “Do you remember anything from your childhood? A single memory about where you lived before Los Angeles?” There’s a hitch at the end of his query, like he has more to say. “Do you remember any of the time that you spent…with me?”

  Damn. That’s a major piece of more. I drum my fingers along the wheel, suddenly unsure about being stuck in the vehicle with him and this conversation. Except he has answers to questions I’ve been asking my whole life. I’m more sure of it than ever.

  “I’ve never seen you before yesterday.” Dad. I almost choke from how badly I want to add it, so I force myself to say something less biting. “I’m serious. Not until the second you walked into my apartment.”

  His silent reply doubles my tension. The deep grooves that create dark moguls in his forehead aren’t any easier to witness. “I can’t say that surprises me.”

  “Though it pisses you off.”

  “No.” He braces an elbow to the window ledge and brings the back of his fist to his lips. “I’m not angry, son. I’m sad. And baffled.”

  “I think I’m missing part of the story here.”

  Though my eyes are on the road, his new stiffness is palpable enough in my periphery. “I may be a rake, a hothead, and a capricious son of a bitch, but one thing I am not is a bad father. And if you don’t believe another word from me today, give credence to this. Your mother and you could have lived in a golden palace in Olympus, had she but asked. But she didn’t, and I thought her happy with the home I did bestow to her for raising you, until—”

  “What the hell are you telling me?” I demand through locked teeth, but Z meets my stare with the calm of a man who knows better than to respond. “Are you saying that before we moved to LA, we were living in the land of…what? The gods and goddesses?”

  “Well…yes.” Z lifts half a smile. “More or less, that’s what I’m saying.”

  “More or less?” I cock a brow. “Which means what?”

  “That Olympus isn’t just ‘gods and goddesses land,’” he explains. “It’s also home to the titans, the muses, the graces, the demigods, and even a few elevated oracles.” His grin inches up a bit
more. “In many ways, it’s just like LA. A melting pot of cultures.”

  “A melting pot of—” I stop short again, unable to speak when my thoughts are riding out a hurricane in my head. How can he be so casual about this? So accepting?

  Maybe because…it’s his truth?

  Because he’s telling me the truth?

  “Fuck,” I finally croak. The word stands in for the billion and one questions that crash my mind’s servers. Until I can properly reboot, I’m just a blank screen of bewildered mush. Useless for much else.

  Thankfully, Z seems to get it. In full. He gives me the pause, and then another, before saying, “You all right there? You need another minute?”

  “No. I need a beer.”

  Maybe two.

  Or ten.

  If I’m seeing double by then, the world’s greatest pop can drive me home. But I doubt any alcohol infusion is going to dull the jolt of whatever Z’s got to tell me.

  Chapter Four

  Kara

  “Now we have to sort out your schedule.” My mother unsnaps her crocodile Stalvey handbag and retrieves her phone as if she didn’t doom my sister to an eternity with a vicious demon moments ago.

  I haven’t stopped vibrating from the news. Meanwhile, Kell seems to have accepted it with frightening ease. At least that’s what she’s selling on the surface as she drops onto our sofa and pulls out her own phone.

  “So, I made you reservations tonight at Yamashiro,” my mother says quickly. “That should be subtle but definitely put you out there a little more. We can tip some people off that you’ll be there. Just be prepared for it. Get caught in the photo storm on your way in, and have a car collect you out the back afterwards. Then Friday is Piper’s premiere at the Chinese Theatre, so we have to do that. It’ll be the perfect red carpet introduction for Maximus.” She frowns suddenly. “He’ll need some wardrobe help.”

  “He has a tux.”

  She hesitates. “Do you know the designer?”

  “The man could be wearing the latest in brown paper bags and no one would care,” Kell mutters.

  “Oh, never mind.” Mother scowls and flaps a hand. “I’ll just send someone over to get his measurements and have some options delivered. We have time.”

  I force in a few deep breaths until I’m finally fortified enough to cut in, “Mother, please just—”

  “Don’t Mother, please me, Kara. I know what I’m doing, and you know enough to let me. He has to look the part, or those reporters will rip you to shreds.”

  I ball my hands into tight fists, as if the concentrations of pressure might keep me from totally losing my shit right now. “But he’s not like us.”

  She flashes me an unimpressed look from under her thick lashes. “He’s not like any of us, sweetheart. But in the interest of keeping you from a fiery eternity down below, I’d suggest he start acting like he is. This is going to be a quiet week comparatively. We’re just getting started—”

  I raise my hand to shut her up. “Listen to me. He grew up downtown to a single mom who worked more hours than she didn’t. His life then, and honestly now, could not be more different than ours. No level of pretending and no amount of wardrobe help is going to change that reality.”

  She rotates a thin stylus through her fingers a few times before pointing it at me. “I like that. Handsome intellectual with modest upbringing falls for his famous student. It’s very reverse Cinderella. I can work with that.” She taps a few more notes into her phone. “So we’ll keep it understated but sophisticated.”

  I exhale an exasperated sigh and look to Kell. She shrugs with her usual resignation. Maybe my sister is right—she isn’t like me. At all. I don’t know what that says about either of us. I could never manage to feel comfortable in a life that demanded such public displays of wealth and celebrity. She’s always acted like she was born for this. At least born to tolerate it. At the moment, I wish some of that knack would seep into me by osmosis. Even just for a few weeks. Long enough to get me through the storm to come.

  “Speaking of that modest upbringing, you should definitely schedule some appearances at his place.”

  My mother’s comment has me gaping back at her.

  “And be sure to wear some of your vintage pieces when you do. Sustainable is the new black, you know. The paps will be delirious. Oh!” Her dark eyes brighten and her lips form a plush O. “The farmer’s market in Pershing Square. What day is that?”

  “Wednesday, I think,” Kell supplies in her bored monotone.

  “Perfect. That’ll be a nice midweek sighting. And so very domestic. If there’s any question you’re serious about each other, that should remove all doubt. If you’re going to a farmer’s market together, you’re practically married already.”

  I press my fingertips to my throbbing temples and pray for patience.

  With a soft and sympathetic look, Kell pats the cushion beside her. I take the invitation, plunk down, and stare at the ceiling while our mother prattles on about the rest of her plans for my week.

  I remind myself that her heart is actually in the right place. She’s hyper-focused on my safety and protecting me by doing what she does best. I pray again, beseeching the universe that Maximus will survive the chaos I’ve done my best to avoid, even if I’ve also grown adept at handling it over the years. But this is another world for him. I’m terrified of what he’ll think. How he’ll react.

  If he’ll stay.

  “Saturday might be a little tricky…”

  At my mother’s hesitant tone, I dip my stare back to hers. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  She crosses her arms and flickers a brief look to Kell. “Well, it’s a university event.”

  “Another one?” I tilt my head, openly dazed. They’ve hardly finished taking down the decorations from Conquistador Crush.

  “It’s exclusive this time,” she explains. “Smaller and off-campus. A private dinner with the president and select guests at her estate, which I hear is stunning. They’re fundraising for the art center. It’ll be an important finale to your coming-out week with Maximus. I’ll be there, of course, so there will be some press. It’ll fully validate your affair. With all of us there, you’ll essentially be getting the university’s public stamp of approval.”

  For a long second, I don’t say anything. Though I hate the sound of it at first, I like the idea of Maximus having a clean slate with the university after this circus is over. I’ll jump through whatever hoops are necessary to reinstate his good name at Alameda.

  “That sounds manageable,” I admit at last. “What’s so tricky about it?”

  “Arden will be there,” she says, clutching the tip of her stylus between her canines.

  But she’s not uneasy on my account. This has to do with Arden and everything she’s done to appease him. Offering my sister to him should be enough, but I’m sure it’s not. The mere thought of Kell’s inevitable sacrifice sends a fresh shot of hot rage through my veins.

  I straighten my posture. “No.”

  My mother tips her head to the side. “Kara.”

  “You expect things to go well with Maximus and Arden in the same room?”

  “Well, no. Arden’s understandably furious. But we’re about to be family—at least if this all goes well for you—so we’ll need to rip the Band-Aid off eventually. Plus, if there does happen to be a certain degree of drama, I can always work with it. Imagine… Successful art dealer and penniless professor fighting over Kara Valari.” She smirks. “It’ll do wonders for Kell’s social accounts, with her being caught in the middle of it all. Uh, I love it!” She drops her phone back into her purse with a satisfied sigh. “If that doesn’t keep the gods’ heads spinning, I don’t know what will.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Kell says with a forced smile.

  Our mother walks to her, her heels clicking on the marble, and bends to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome, dear. I’ll be in touch.” She straightens and points to me. “And you’d better start pick
ing up your phone, young lady. We have a busy week. I can’t keep chasing you down like this.”

  I nod wordlessly. I’m not sure I’m capable of anything more than stunned silence after this morning. Still, there is hope in this situation now, where before there was nothing but grim anticipation. Slivers of it are caught between otherwise terrible circumstances. Worst of all, Kell’s. I can’t seem to dislodge her dilemma from my thoughts—or my soul. I feel like a rabbit that’s dodged a wolf, only to turn around and see the beast has sunk its teeth into someone truly dear to me.

  I have to help stop the bleeding. No matter how helpless I feel about it now.

  When I turn, I’m almost taken aback. My sister’s simply thumbing through her social feed, seemingly lost in the glare of technology.

  “Hey,” I venture softly…timidly.

  “Hmm?” Kell’s still only half here. Or so she wants me to think.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  I tilt my head. “Kell… Mom’s gone. You can cut the act.”

  She finally looks up. “I’m fine, okay? We knew this was coming.”

  “Not with Arden, we didn’t.”

  “Kara—”

  “This is my fault.”

  “Kara.”

  “You have every right to be furious with me.” I pause a beat, debating whether to voice the plan that’s already been forming in my brain. “We need to figure out a way to get you out of this.”

  Her laugh is dry, maybe even bitter. “Just stop there, okay? They’re not going to let us both off the hook. And I doubt Zeus has any more sons in LA. If you find out differently, let me know. I’ll be more than happy to seduce one of those fine boys into getting me out of this.”

  “I didn’t seduce Maximus.”

  At once I regret the defensiveness in my tone, but I’m finding it hard to hold much back lately. Especially with Kell. For the first time in my life, I almost feel like I could trust her with every confidence. Almost.