Cary looks around almost nervously but speaks. “Men should not dare to interfere among the gods and their games.”
“Stop speaking in riddles.”
Cary points toward Luna, disdain in his eyes. “You are probably aware of the longstanding feud between the sun and moon.” His lip curls. “They have cycled through hate and love endlessly over the ages.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that much. What else is there?”
Blowing out a breath, he continues, “Luna and Kyros were in a cycle of hatred when he visited our realm three decades ago. Lynette, Raelyn’s mother, and I were courting when the sun god made his appearance. It was without pomp and circumstance. He glamoured himself as a mortal and inserted himself into court.” Cary grits his teeth. “I do not wish to dwell on that time, but needless to say, Kyros—he called himself Cyrus at the time—stole Lynette from me. How could I have even tried to compete with a god? Though I didn’t know what he was at the time.”
“What does that have to do with Luna?” I ask.
“She was furious with Kyros for coming to our realm. The gods had agreed to keep their distance, and he was breaking their own accord. She thought to balance the scales, to lure Kyros away by making him jealous and involving herself in court. She interfered somehow . . . with your bloodline. I’m not sure what she did exactly, but it was while your mother was carrying you.”
My brow furrows and my lip curls in disgust. The gods are more screwed up than I ever could have imagined.
“Didn’t you wonder why I was able to summon her withyourblood?” Cary scoffs.
“But there’s nothing special about me,” I protest. “I’m no demi-god. What could she have done?”
“No, you’re not, but you’re still of her bloodline.” Cary tuts. “And for some reason that is beyond me, her interference caused you to be drawn to my daughter—your presence awakening her gifts.”
“What is he talking about?” I yell at the goddess trapped beneath the net.
Her eyes glow with fury, but surprisingly, she answers. “I fed your mother my blood while she carried you. Not much, but enough for it to change you—just a little. Have you never noticedyou’re just a little bit stronger and faster at night? More agile?” She gives me a knowing smile before it turns to a grimace.
I shake my head, unwilling to accept the words she’s saying.
“Of course you’d be drawn to Kyros’ child.” She laughs, but it hinges on hysteria. “You are two sides of the same coin—each other’s salvation and ruin.”
I lunge toward her again, only Cary holds me back. “Tell me how to save her!” I demand.
“Free me, and we’ll talk,” she replies.
“Don’t listen to her,” Cary says. “There’s nothing she can do for Rae. She would never willingly take her place.”
“Then why did you summon her?” I grit out.
A blood-curdling roar rends the night sky, and I ready my stance, sword drawn.
“That’s why,” Cary says, a nervous gleam in his eyes as he draws his own enchanted blade.
My body poised and on high alert, I turn to the dark jungle. Of course he’d show as a lion.
Cary’s men surround Luna while Cary and Dylan wait near the altar. That leaves me standing on my own to meet Kyros. While I feel exposed, I failed to mention to Cary anything about Kyros’ inability to kill me without killing Rae . . . I suppose we both have our secrets. Despite Cary’s words about wanting to protect her, I have yet to see him put action to them. Hiding her away and drugging her is hardly protection in my mind. That is control, pure and simple.
My heart jumps into my throat when the largest lion I’ve ever seen leaps into the clearing, hackles raised, a menacing growl rumbling through his body.
His golden eyes scan the perimeter, and when they land on the captured goddess, his lips curl into what almost looks like a smile.
“Kyros, my love, free me!” Luna calls out, her voice pained and breathy.
I stand warily before him, wondering what he’s going to do, when Cary shouts from behind me, “Kyros, an offering.”
Spinning around, I gasp when Cary shoves a surprised Dylan in front of Luna. I duck out of the way just in time as Kyros pounces on him with a mighty leap.
Collapsing to the ground under the weight of him, Dylan’s body convulses as the god swiftly drains his blood. Cary’s other men flee in terror at the gruesome sight. Dylan was a piece of shit—it’s hard to feel sorry for him—but being eaten alive . . . I shudder.
“Let’s make a bargain, Kyros,” Cary calls out. “I hope the sacrifice of my man shows my sincerity.”
