Blood of Zeus: Book One Read online

  “It has nothing to do with that.”

  She folds her arms. The sight isn’t one I need right now, since the action pulls down her cotton blouse and exposes her cleavage in all the best—goddammit, worst—ways. Once again, thank fuck for the podium—and how the wood hides my obvious arousal.

  “Meaning exactly what?”

  “I don’t know.” And that’s the bald truth. “I can only say that I’ve already thought about it more than I care to admit. About…whatever the hell is going on here and what it would be like to tell our invisible Charon to take us to the other side.” I almost laugh at myself. I’m the guy who likes studying poetry, not composing it.

  Kara adjusts her weight from one foot to the other. She seems unsure and certain at once. Bold one moment and ready to bolt the next. What I want and what I need are two different matters as well, and I worry it’s the same for her.

  “What did that feel like?” She captures her bottom lip beneath her teeth. “Imagining that jump with me?”

  I push air out harshly through my nose. “It felt a thousand kinds of wrong.”

  But a million kinds of right.

  But I clamp that part inside despite the wince across Kara’s face. A pain that’s pure torment to witness. But I can’t elaborate on what I’ve said to her. I can’t explain how I know this to be a truth I can’t cross—only that I do know it, with primal certainty. I’m as certain of it as the fiber of my muscles and the marrow of my bones. She’s gotten to me even in those places. Awakened parts of me that deep…

  Besides, Kara’s already got a full plate of psychological crap thanks to her own birthright. The more I look at her family tree, the more I wonder how the woman has remained halfway sane. But my brooding has now given her cause to reattach her mask of surreal—even slightly scary—resignation. Maybe that’s for the best. The more time I spend with Kara Valari, the more I don’t want it to end.

  But the more I know that it has to.

  “Will that be all, then, Professor? I’m meeting my sister, Kell, at the library to study.” She pops out a hip and cocks her head in challenge.

  I lift a skeptical brow. “You know that’s an oxymoron, right? ‘Kell Valari’ and ‘study’ in the same sentence?” The comment, simply meant as my awful way of lightening the mood, accomplishes the opposite. I deserve her glare, to which I respond, “All right, that wasn’t fair. I don’t know Kell—”

  “Damn right you don’t,” she levels.

  “It’s just staff cafeteria gossip,” I fill in. “They should know better. Hell…” I scrub a hand over my jaw. “I should know better.”

  She contemplates my piss-poor apology with an all-too-quick stare. “I’m leaving now,” she announces flatly before pivoting on her stilettoed boots and making her way back to the desk risers.

  The air is thick and silent while she gathers her things and then pushes through the doors at the top of the stairs.

  It takes me all of two seconds to admit I already crave her again.

  I take the risers two at a time, hoping even her scent has lingered…

  What I encounter is less expected. A gem-encrusted earring glitters like illuminated blood on the industrial gray carpet, right in front of my boot toe.

  Her earring.

  I’m sure of it because my hand was just twisted in the glorious hair that tumbled around the gold, ruby, and diamond piece—which is more than a collection of stones set into an intricate design. It looks like an old family crest. A fierce medieval wolf looks to be running across a sky of the diamonds and holding one in each of his pointy paws. His slitted eyes and curling tongue are fashioned from the dark crimson rubies.

  It’s one of the most unique pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen. Something about it clutches at the darker parts of me, strong enough that I’m squinting harder at it, fighting to make out the tiny Latin words bordering the oval…

  Until I realize that every second I’m stalling is another second she’s rushing farther away.

  I clear the distance to the door with a hell-bent-for-leather leap. Nearly in the same movement, I bust through the portal.

  “Kara!”

  But in the space of chasing her and marveling at the delicate thing she left behind, she’s vanished. The hall is empty, not offering me a single clue to follow. Which shouldn’t piss me off as much as it does.

  I’ll see her here again in a matter of days. That should be too soon after what’s just happened between us. But I have to face the truth. I have to acknowledge the line I just crossed with the girl, despite every alarm and warning and threat my common sense screamed at me. Wisdom I knowingly shoved aside.

  A truth I can no longer deny.

  I’ll keep crossing that line. I’ll trespass that boundary again and again and again until I can figure out why Kara Valari is unlike any other person I’ve ever met.

  And why she isn’t terrified that I’m not either.

  Chapter Seven

  Kara

  “What’s going on? You’re too quiet, even for you,” Kell says, scrolling through dozens of songs on her playlist until she settles on the one that seems to satisfy her enough to look up at the road.

  We’re at a dead stop. I stare out the window of her cherry-red Bentley to the sea of unmoving traffic, unsure what to tell her. I’m too caught up in my own thoughts. In Maximus. He probably thinks I rebuffed him, and I should be fine with that. If he only knew it was pure desperation that got me out of there before I did something even more reckless. Like press my lips against his just to see if I could unleash more of his strength.

  His strength.

  I close my eyes and relive the moment I still can’t fully believe. I’ve seen things… Things that wouldn’t necessarily be considered normal, or earthly even. But I’ve never seen a human turn laminate into dust under his heels. I’ve never had a man put his hands on me with that kind of power—the power to keep me there.

  I shouldn’t want more of that. But hell, I do. I’d give just about anything to be back there right now, standing between his thighs, his fingers tangled in my hair, watching the battle in his eyes as he tries so hard not to touch me but fails.

  Suddenly there’s more than our inexplicable attraction pulling my thoughts toward him. It’s the kind of fascination I reserve for academics and ancient texts, except I’m driven to figure Maximus out at least a hundred times more.

  Who is he?

  I shake my head slightly, wondering if he might have told me if I hadn’t run out of there.

  “Kara,” Kell snaps just as the cars ahead of us start to move again. Miracle of miracles at this time of day on Sunset Boulevard.

  “What?”

  “You’ve had your head in the clouds since we left the library. You were weird this morning too. What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Same thing you said when I asked you how Medieval Lit was.”

  “Because that was fine too.”

  Kell stares back at the road and taps her shiny red nails against the steering wheel. “Are you messing around with that professor?”

  I gasp, partly in shock that she’d suspect it. Even after the run-in at the bookstore, despite the fact that Kell and I live together and share a campus, I’m convinced she’s too self-involved to ever put the pieces of my personal life together. For once, I truly hope that never changes.

  “He’s my professor.”

  “He’s also head-to-toe sex, so I wouldn’t blame you one bit.”

  “Kell.”

  “What? Sister, your gasps are saying no-no-no, but your scent is screaming—”

  “Nothing,” I cut in. “I’m just tired and hungry, okay? Keep your nose to yourself.”

  “Hmm.” She’s shockingly diplomatic about that. “Just be careful.”

  “Why would I need to be careful?” I’m still defensive, which feels like the smart choice. “There’s nothing going on.”

  She slants a skeptical look my way. “Yo
u’re the most sentimental of all of us. Just don’t get too attached to him. He’s not like us.”

  “You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions.”

  “I’m just saying…”

  “Do you want me to start sniffing into your personal life?”

  Her stare turns dark, part warning and, judging by the new energy in the air between us, part worry, but she says nothing more.

  I exhale a relieved breath when traffic starts to move, bringing us closer to Beverly Hills. The journey toward the family home doesn’t usually elicit the same reaction, but tonight I’m more eager than ever to see my grandfather. I just have to figure out how to bypass my mother.

  Finally we pull up to the broad dark wooden gate, which opens almost intuitively, as if the house knows we’re welcome guests. Kell speeds along the stone drive and parks in front of the house like she owns the place.

  The butler emerges from the early evening shadows like a ghost materializing out of thin air.

  “Miss Valari.” He tips his head toward me first, then greets Kell with a tight smile. “Miss Valari.”

  “Hey, Dalton.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and breezes past him without making eye contact.

  I touch his arm briefly on my way inside, bringing some warmth to the dark gray eyes that seem to match his suit perfectly. His rigid posture softens slightly.

  “Is Gramps home?” I keep my voice to a whisper.

  He nods once before following Kell’s journey through the wide arched doorway with his gaze. “He hasn’t left the guesthouse all day. But your mother is expecting you.”

  I clamp my teeth together. “Great.”

  He responds with a subtle shrug, to which I can only sigh and carry on behind my sister, who must have tipped off my mother at some point today. I didn’t inherit my family’s thirst for vengeance, but I feel the strong urge to make my little sister pay for setting up the intentional minefield.

  For now, I follow her inside the mansion that, for all the warm colors of its Tuscany-inspired decor, sends an instant chill down the length of my spine. The slow clicks of my heels clash with the determined stomp of Kell’s as we cross the marble foyer, heading for the cream-and-gold luxury of the huge living room on the other side.

  “Mom!” she yells before we’re even halfway across.

  I wince at the loud sound, waiting for the next impending assault. I brace myself at the unintelligible murmurs that are paired with the distinct yips of my mother’s furry companions. Then her voice, as sharp and unforgiving as I’ve ever heard it.

  “Jaden will get that part if I have to drive down to the fucking studio myself.”

  She storms out from our left after throwing open the double doors of her office. Two assistants flank her, dressed in crisp, stylish suits, looking every inch as panicked as Veronica Valari expects them to be.

  As if they’re in fervent agreement, the estate’s resident gang of teacup Chihuahuas begin barking animatedly.

  “Should I email someone?” the lanky blond one asks as one of the dogs gets underfoot, nearly tripping her.

  Instantly I feel sorry for the girl. She’s fairly new. But if she’s lasted a month already, she should know what she’s gotten herself into.

  “No. You are to call him right now before he gives that other no-talent the part,” my mother hisses, her dark eyes growing a shade darker. “The head of the studio owes me a favor. Reach out to his people and let him know Veronica Valari wants to speak with him today. Don’t take no for an answer.”

  The blonde nods rapidly and moves back into the office, which seems to close the door on that subject enough for my mother to recognize her daughters have arrived.

  Her eyes brighten and her glossy lips spread into a wide smile. “Girls!” She draws out the word and walks toward us, spreading her arms wide. While the action tests the panels of her black satin suit, the garment’s buttons hold firm across her chest. Thank God.

  Kell, with a look reflecting our mutual relief, meets her halfway. She bestows a seemingly sincere kiss on her cheek.

  “How are you, Mother?”

  She answers first with a dramatic groan. “Your poor brother has been running around to these auditions forever, and I’m done watching him get passed over. By our friends no less.”

  My mother’s sole mission in life has been to rebrand our family. As her children, we’re more than flesh and blood. We’re commodities. Arms of the empire she’s intent on building around our talents and looks and the mostly forgotten notoriety of my grandfather’s career. The decades-old scandal that nearly killed him is hardly pop culture news. But in Hollywood, his name can still open doors. If my mother finds one closed, she has a tendency to bulldoze through it. Like now.

  She absently motions me toward her. I go begrudgingly and accept the brief and emotionless embrace. As I expected, she’s fully immersed in her day of micromanaging the people who will let her, Jaden included. The youngest of us, he seems to lack a shred of ambition in any direction. That he committed himself to anything for six months should shock us all. But my mother is dedicated to bringing us all into the spotlight, one way or the other.

  “What if he doesn’t get the part?” Kell asks, tilting her head attentively, when deep down I know she’s just placating the woman. We all are.

  Veronica answers with a dark smirk and taps Kell’s cheek lightly. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t doubt it. So anyway, tell me about the book signing at Recto Verso. I saw the photos with you and Piper. They were fantastic.”

  Mother hooks an arm into Kell’s and starts leading her toward the office. The remaining assistant and the three little beasts follow along attentively. I keep my feet planted in place until they’re all out of sight and I can barely hear my mother’s exaggerated tones. If I didn’t want to get away from our visit so badly, I might almost feel hurt over the brush-off. But like so many other times, if I stay quiet and very still, Veronica usually forgets I exist. Just like she does my grandfather.

  A recognition that lends me strength for my next decision.

  I pivot quietly and head through the back of the house, thrilled when I don’t see anyone getting between me and my destination. I leave out the servants’ kitchen and cross the turf that wraps around the ridiculously large pool until I reach the guesthouse several yards away.

  I open the door with care. Just as cautiously, I step inside and then shut the door behind me.

  “Gramps?”

  I follow the low hum of a television coming from the sitting room. I find him there, dozing on the couch. His head is angled away from me, but the buttons on his shirt shimmer with flecks of fading light with his even breathing.

  I grin and glance up at the old black-and-white movie playing on the flat-screen above the fireplace. The guesthouse is well-appointed, of course, if unnecessarily isolating.

  I take the remote carefully from his lap and turn the volume down.

  He grumbles and rubs his nose vigorously. “What?” He blinks a few times before his frown is replaced with a look of surprise. “Kara!”

  “Happy birthday, Gramps.”

  “Oh…” He lets out a heavy sigh, and I try not to notice the way his eyes shine when he replies. “Thank you, sweetheart. You know you didn’t have to come all the way out here for that.”

  Didn’t have to. Shouldn’t have. But here I am.

  I take a seat on the couch beside him. “How was your day?”

  “Eh.” He tilts his head back and forth a few times and gestures up toward the television. “Just me and Liberty Valance celebrating today. But that’s okay by me. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “I remember.” I look up as a young Jimmy Stewart graces the screen just before it goes black.

  Gramps drops the remote on the wooden side table. “What’s on your mind, ladybug?”

  I warm at the endearment, even though I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even be here talking to him. And I definitely shouldn’t be bursting at the seams with questions I
have no business asking.

  He touches my chin, lifting my gaze to his. His eyes are a faded blue, the kind that remind me of gloomy seas and rainy days. They seem to reflect his goodness and all his heartache at once. I reach for his hand and hold it between both of mine, focusing on the softness and the way his veins protrude through the thin skin.

  “Hey,” he gently prods.

  “Hey.” My reply is a wimpy rasp. At the moment, I can’t do any better.

  “Kara. Come on. It’s me. What’s up?”

  I pull in a sigh. The better question is, what’s not up? But I evade the question with something easier to say. Words I’ve whispered to him a million times before.

  “I hate that you have to stay here all the time.”

  He gives my hands a squeeze. The motion says nothing but everything. He’s probably evading bitter thoughts of his own.

  “You know I’ve escaped from worse places. I can leave anytime I want.” He winks, but my heart breaks a little at the same time.

  “I wish Mom was nicer to you. It shouldn’t have to be like this.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “When I found out your grandmother was a…” He grimaces briefly before locking his gaze to mine. “Listen. I had a choice, Kara. We always have a choice. And when she finally told me about her designs for our children and grandchildren, I had the chance to leave. But I refused to think of the family we’d made as a punishment. Even if Veronica and the others aren’t exactly warm, I’d still rather be here than anywhere else. You’re my family. You’re all my family, no matter what anyone says.”

  I drop my head to hide the sheen of tears building. I stare down at our hands and swallow hard. Neither action helps me now or stops the emotion creeping its way to the surface.

  I hate this. So much of this. I know Gramps does too, in his own way, but he’s so much more adept at pushing it down. At concealing the gravity of it all.