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Galen blinked open his eyes. A milky film clouded his vision while searing pain circulated through his entire body. Groaning, he reached up to wipe his face—
One of his hands was missing.
Memories thundered inside his head, and he jerked. Leila’s wonder as she orgasmed. Her fury as she’d whaled on him. Her pain as she’d shared her past. Cronus’s invasion. The army.
Shock twined with terror, ice spreading through his cells. Men had swarmed him, and though he’d fought, fought with every ounce of strength he possessed, Galen had failed to save Leila.
You’ve got this, False Hope had said. And he’d believed the fiend, because he’d known he would do anything, cross any line, to ensure his woman’s safety. Now…
Her past could be repeating itself, and I can do nothing to stop it. He threw back his head and roared at the ceiling.
Her dread had been palpable, yet it hadn’t prevented her from bargaining with Cronus. Just to save Galen’s life. He’d let her down, but still she’d fought for him.
What secrets did the former king hope to uncover?
And scrap her for parts? Galen would die first!
A strip of material rested on the floor. A piece of Leila’s shirt. She must have tried to bind his wound. He wrapped his wrist, using his teeth to tie the ends together, then labored to his feet. Torrents of dizziness nearly knocked him down. The broken bones in both legs didn’t help.
He’d lost a hand before. Actually, he’d lost entire limbs before. In a few weeks, the appendage would regrow. But there was no way he would wait to go after Leila. If Fox helped him gear up, then opened a portal, he could recruit the Lords within minutes. They would aid him, no questions asked. Not for him, but for Leila.
You can’t save her. You are too weak. Regain your strength before you challenge a Titan.
Hate False Hope! The fiend longed to hobble him with fear. Galen wouldn’t rest until Leila was safe. To start, he needed his cell phone.
He stumbled down the hall, heading for his bedroom, leaving a trail of blood behind him. On the stairs, his knees weakened, and he nearly collapsed. Just a little farther…
Finally. Success. He fired off a one-handed text to Fox, gathered his emergency kit, and plopped onto the foot of the bed, where he once again used his teeth to tighten a tourniquet around his forearm.
A portal opened, a curtain of air peeling back. Fox stepped into the bedroom, took one look at him, and cursed. “What happened?” Behind her, the portal snapped closed, a hard gust of wind sweeping through the room.
“Cronus 2.0 found us. Must have a Gatekeeper on his staff, or he uses more magic than we realized. He took Leila—Legion. Now I need to get to Aeron.”
Moving at the speed of light, Fox started a fire in the hearth, heated a dagger, then cauterized his raw, open wound. While he bellowed curses and dripped with sweat, she confiscated the supplies and finished bandaging him.
“I don’t recommend wearing a prosthetic,” she said. “Not until you’ve healed a—”
“Get me a prosthetic,” he insisted between panting breaths. “It’ll come in… handy.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I do not appreciate your warped humor right now.”
Maybe not, but his warped humor was needed. By them both. As long as he had the strength to tease her, he wasn’t in danger of dying, like the rest of her family.
Some of her tension lifted, proving his thoughts. Mumbling under her breath, she fit a sleeve over his mangled wrist, and secured one of his many robotic hands in place. One she’d custom built for him. In fact, he had multiple prosthetics for every appendage; the technological marvels had saved his life on more than one occasion.
“Please reconsider this. You’re in no condition to—” she began.
But he cut her off, demanding, “Now.” His steely tone allowed zero argument. “Take me directly to the Lords. No landing a mile away, so they won’t see you wield your power.” Long ago, Galen and Fox had decided to hide her ability, no matter the circumstances. He no longer cared about the ramifications. The time for secrets was over. Every second counted. “I trust them. It’s time to show them what you can do.”
“You might trust them, but I do not. They aren’t your biggest fans. Me? They don’t even tolerate. Plus, I don’t like the company they keep. Gods and goddess, Sent Ones, Harpies.”
“Do it for me. Please,” he said. He hustled around the room, weaponing up. “You might not trust them to help me, but trust that they’ll help Leila.”
Before the army had arrived, she’d looked at Galen with something akin to awe, as if she found him worthy of her time, her life...her heart. He wanted, needed, to see that look again. And he would. Soon. Cronus would pay dearly for taking Galen’s woman—he would pay with blood.
Fox’s dark eyes glittered with all kinds of concern, but she offered a stiff nod, turned, and performed a complicated series of hand gestures, causing the air in front of her to sparkle. “The Lords moved to—”
“Explanations aren’t necessary. Just get me there.” He clenched and unclenched his metal fingers. Pain shot up his arm, every movement agony. Oh, well. “I will risk anything to get Leila back as fast as possible.” Anything to save her from more abuse.
The sparkles intensified, nearly blinding him. Finally, another invisible curtain peeled back, creating a Stargate-like portal.
“I’ll go fir—” Fox went quiet as Galen passed her. “Okay, then. I’ll follow you.”
He braced, ready for anything as he stepped through what looked to be a waterfall of liquid glass… Fox stayed close to his heels, two short swords in hand.
They entered a thunderdome of aggression.
The spacious room with metal walls had zero pieces of furniture. What it did have? Seven of the most violent predators in history. Though Galen had grown to trust these people, just as he’d said, survival instinct demanded he have a plan of action, in case someone attacked.
The two most notable threats? Hades, one of nine kings in the Underworld, and his eldest son, William the Ever Randy, who was cursed to die whenever he fell in love. The two immortals had fewer scruples than Galen, and more power than any being should have. How Galen envied their power…
He snarled. Hate Jealousy!
Hades could turn his body into smoke and ghost through an opponent. William could develop wings of smoke on command, and harm others worse than the wards at Leila’s cabin.
To win a battle against the pair, Galen would have to fight dirty. Downright filthy, even.
“Welcome back, Galen,” William said with a wink. “Maybe now the fearsome and mighty Lords of the Underworld will finally get the hysterectomies they so desperately need, and stop bitching about your absence.”
He received a glare from Aeron, former keeper of Wrath and Leila’s first love.
Sienna, current keeper of Wrath and the queen of the Greeks, occupied the space next to Paris, the keeper of Promiscuity. The two were never far from each other. Paris needed to have sex at least once a day, or he would weaken terribly.
Finally, the power couple. Keeley, the Red Queen, and Torin, keeper of Disease. With one touch skin to skin, the white-haired brute could ignite a world-wide plague. Humans died, but immortals became carriers of the virus. But with Keeley’s help, he’d found a way to circumvent the process.
“Fox is a Gatekeeper. Interesting.” Hades stepped forward, a tall, imposing figure, wearing an air of boredom as perfectly as he wore his suit.
“Sips, you fickle little bastard,” Fox muttered.
Galen followed her line of sight and spotted
the raccoon peeking over Hades’s shoulder.
Sips shrugged, all what can I say?
The underworld king scratched Sips behind the ear and said to Fox, “I’ve always wanted a Gatekeeper on staff at Chez Hellfire. You and I have much to discuss.” His tone was soft, even, but somehow more menacing than a blade. “However, now that our guests have finally joined us, we have other matters to address.”
Guests? Finally? How had the group known Galen and Fox would show up? (Besides his hand.) “You can’t have her. Not now, not later,” Galen said, impatience buzzing in the back of his mind. “Legion is—”
“Missing. Yes, we know.” Aeron spit the words. He was a big man with heavily tattooed skin, dark hair, and violet eyes—and Galen wasn’t sure what Leila had ever seen in him. “You let someone abduct her.”
Shame and guilt lacerated through his chest. Never as good as the Lords. They succeed, I fail. They deserve to fail. They—
That’s enough out of you, Jealousy!
False Hope sprang into action. Save Leila on your own. Be her hero.
Bastard. The demon liked to urge him to place his faith in the wrong person, or the wrong action, so he became the architect of his own demise. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, and a truly insidious evil. The fiend failed to comprehend that pride meant nothing to Galen. Only Leila’s safety mattered.
“No one hates this situation more than me,” he told Aeron. “Challenge me to a duel or whatever you wish, and we’ll settle our differences once and for all. Just wait until after we’ve saved Leila. Legion.”
“Honey,” Aeron snapped.
No time for arguments. He clenched his metal hand once again and motioned to Fox. “Let’s go. Open a portal.”
“Slight problem,” she replied, drawing another snarl from him. No more hold ups! “I was able to portal here because I put a tracker on Sienna the last time we were together.” Everyone but Galen cursed. “I don’t have a tracker on Cronus, or Legion. So. Anyone want to guess where he might have taken her?”
