CHAPTER 6. Delphine was more than ready to lay into Jericho for his cruel intentions as she followed him out­side the restaurant

Delphine was more than ready to lay into Jericho for his cruel intentions as she followed him out­side the restaurant. Whoever he was going after didn't deserve to die, and from what she could see, it was one of two young women.

Or, Zeus forbid, both of them.

What was it with him that he'd forgotten all com­passion? What could those girls have done to him to make him want to kill them? They looked as harmless as could be.

At least that was her thought until she saw the de­mon rush into a dark alley to attack the two young women they'd been following.

She tried to blast the demon, only to be reminded that her powers were completely gone.

Jericho ran at the demon and grabbed him from be­hind. No more then five-eight in height, the demon had dark skin, flashing black eyes and a bald head. Lean and wiry and extremely handsome, he struggled against Jericho.

Jericho pulled the demon off the screaming co-ed. "Get the girls out of here," he shouted at her.

She did as he said, knowing he wouldn't be able to fight the demon with witnesses present. Humans re­ally didn't want to know what was out in the world, preying on them.

As soon as she had the alley clear and the crying girls were running toward safety, Jericho let loose the demon, who turned on him with flashing fangs. Jeri­cho caught the demon's shoulders as he came at him and flipped him onto the ground.

In one fluid move, he pulled the dagger out of his boot and held it against the demon's throat. Unable to move now without hurting himself, the demon's eyes turned red and his demon's marks appeared on his bald head.

"What are you doing here, Berith?" Jericho de­manded in a cold, lethal tone.

The demon's eyes bulged as he realized who Jeri­cho was. "Kyrios?" he asked excitedly, using the term meaning "master." "It's so good to see you again. I'd heard you were banished. Stripped of your powers."

Jericho kept him in place. "I'm sure my father's filled your head full of bullshit. As you can see, I'm hale and whole, and willing to gut you. Now why were you after those girls?"

"Bidden."

"By?"

Berith shrugged. "Dunno. Some boy-man who says he bought my ring in an antique store. You know the rules. I can't question my orders. I only carry them out."

Delphine was completely confused by what was going on but didn't want to interrupt them.

Jericho pulled his knife away from the demon's throat and sat back on his haunches. "Where is this boy who owns your ring?"

"In something called a dorm room not too far from here. It's a small place. After I bring him the girl he sent me after, he wants me to put him in a house. A big one in something called the Garden District. Not sure what that is. I'll have to do research on it."

Delphine finally interrupted. "I take it you know this demon?"

Nodding, Jericho rose to his feet, pulling the de­mon up with him. "He was one of my father's gener­als until he pissed him off. For that aggravation, my father bound him into slavery to a ring. You own the ring, you own Berith."

Berith straightened his clothes with exaggerated jerks. "And it hurts every time they conjure me. I swear it feels like someone peeling my skin off."

She shook her head in pity for both of them. Cross­ing her arms over her chest, she looked at Jericho. "You must have had such a great childhood with a man like that for your father."

"Yeah. All puppy dogs and rainbows and those weird furry people with padded coat hangers on their heads that look like space aliens on acid."

Berith paused as he brushed debris off his clothes to frown. "You mean the Teletubbies?"

Jericho gave him a smirk. "The fact that you know what they're called, Berith, truly scares me."

Berith shrugged. "As a demon of torture, it behooves me to know all things that are deeply annoying. You'd be amazed how many people in the modern age no longer fear zombies as much as Teletubbies."

Jericho snorted. "Not really. I'd rather battle a brain-eating zombie any day than hear them sing."

"You're both sick individuals," Delphine said, yet she was oddly amused by their conversation.

Jericho ignored her. "So what were you going to do with the girls?"

Berith rubbed his eyes before he answered. "One I was going to eat, the other the kid wanted for his girl­friend. You do know I still have to take her to him, right?"

"No, you don't," Jericho said in a flat tone.

"What do you mean?" Berith's voice was filled with fear. He took two steps back. "You plan to kill me?"

"No. I'm going to liberate you."

Berith backed up another step, his face contorted with suspicion. "That's the demon euphemism for death. . ."

"I'm not going to kill you, Berith."

"Really?" He dragged the word out slowly. "Why not?" The way he said that was comical. It was almost as if he were disappointed.

"Because I need an ally and I can think of no one better."

Berith scoffed. "Sure you can. I can think of a lot of gods with more power than a bound demon."

"Yes, but I know your weaknesses, which means you'll think twice before betraying me."

"Very good point. You get the ring and I'm yours to command."

Jericho looked at Delphine. "Shall we?"

"Have I any choice?"

"Not really."

"Didn't think so."

Berith took them straight to his master, who turned out to be a pimple-faced nineteen-year-old college stu­dent. Some master he was. He actually wet his pants the moment they flashed into his room.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice shaking as he cringed in a corner of his dorm room.

Jericho crossed his arms over his chest in a tough stance as he scowled at the boy. "I want Berith's ring."

"It's mine. I bought it fair and square."

"Kid," Jericho said sternly, "hand it over. I'll reim­burse you. Most importantly, give it over without a fuss, and I'll let you live."

The boy swallowed. He looked at Berith. "What about our deal?"

Berith indicated Jericho with his thumb. "The man doesn't want me messing with it and, no offense, I wouldn't anger him. I've seen what he can do and it's the stuff horror movies are made of. Body parts flail­ing, blood. Lots of blood and torture." He leaned for­ward to whisper loudly, "and the woman with us? Goddess of nightmares. These two can get you sleep­ing and awake. You might want to let them have the ring so that they'll go away peacefully."

"But—"

Delphine stepped forward. "No buts, sweetie. Give us the ring before someone gets hurt."

Berith cleared his throat. "That someone would be you, just for clarification."

The boy's eyes widened before he pulled the ring off his pinkie and held it out to them. "I just wanted Kerry to notice me."

Jericho took it from him. "For the record, kid, sum­moning a demon to kidnap her, not the best way to meet a woman. It usually backfires on you."

Delphine arched a brow at that.

Jericho didn't comment on her unspoken sarcasm.

The next thing Delphine knew, they were all back in Azmodea in Jericho's room.

He turned to the demon. "Berith, back in the ring. Now."

Berith saluted him before he complied. Jericho slid the ring onto his finger. Small and gold, it held a sin­gle blood-red stone that had a skull etched into it. The ring looked rather creepy, and given the fact that it housed a demon, it was rather apropos.

"What are you planning to do with that?" she asked, indicating the ring.

He shrugged. "It never hurts to have a surprise your enemies don't know about. Even the toughest of us need the cavalry from time to time."

That made sense to her. And Berith would have nothing to gain by working for Noir.

Not to mention Jericho didn't trust Noir. Even though he didn't say it in so many words, she sensed it in the way he was more on guard here than he'd been in the restaurant.

He might talk the game, but he knew the drill. She gave him credit for not blindly following someone she had no doubt would turn on him even worse than Zeus had.

She walked closer to Jericho. His hair was long and blond again—he'd made it short for their brief trip to New Orleans, probably because he seemed to have an aversion to standing out. But now he looked like the god he was, complete with an eye that glowed with color.

He was so much larger than she. Stronger. She should be afraid of him, and yet she had this over­whelming compulsion to rub herself against him. To have him hold her.

In spite of those feelings, she playfully narrowed her gaze. "By the way, I want to revisit that demon comment you made earlier. Isn't that how we met?"

He scoffed. "And you see how wonderfully sweet you've been to me as a result of it. You've done all but bite me."

She tucked her hands behind her back and smiled devilishly. "1 probably should have done that while I had the chance."

"Well, there's always tomorrow. I'm sure you'll get around to it then." There was no humor in his tone at all. It was deadly serious.

"I was teasing."

"Sure you were."

She caught him as he started past her. "You don't trust anyone, do you?"

"What do you think? I'm sure you'll turn on me just like everyone else has. It's not like we're family or even friends. Like Noir said, we're all for sale. It's just a question of price."

"And I don't believe that. There is nothing that could make me turn against M'Adoc."

His mocking laugh rang in her ears. "Easy for you to say. You've never been tested."

"And there you'd be wrong."

"How so?"

She turned around to give him her back. Lifting her shirt, she showed him the scars that she usually used her powers to conceal. Since her powers were bound, she was sure they were prominent now.

Jericho paused as he saw the scars she held from a past beating. How had he missed them earlier? But then, he'd been so occupied with getting her covered that he'd been trying not to focus on her body, only on concealing it. Because he knew how embarrassing it was to be naked in front of strangers, he'd kept his gaze off her bare skin.

It was routine for the Oneroi to be beaten whenever they broke the rules. But he couldn't imagine Delphine doing anything to warrant such cruelty. He touched the faint scars as a wave of anger consumed him that someone would defile her body so. "What are these from?"

She put her shirt down and turned to face him. "My refusal to pursue Arik when he turned Skoti."

"Arik?" He didn't know that name.

"He was the Oneroi who came to me when I thought myself human. He tutored me and protected me until I was strong enough to fight on my own. You asked if I had a sibling . . . I always considered him a brother for his kindness in helping me. Therefore, I refused to hunt him even after they threatened me and carried out their beatings. I would have died before I betrayed what I felt I owed to him."

That was the kind of loyalty Jericho was desperate for. Just once.

He tried to tell himself that he'd had that with Nike, but he knew the truth. His sister could have helped him. Yet she never had. Not once in all these centuries.

She'd turned her back on him like the rest of them.

And it made his heart clench that Delphine was ca­pable of it. "I commend your loyalty. It's a rare thing."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. And I don't think I'm any better a person than anyone else. So if I can stand by my principles, I know other people can, too. Case in point, Deimos and M'Adoc could turn against the Olympians and join Noir. Yet they'd rather be tortured than betray their people. Is that not loy­alty?"

"So what?" he snarled. "I'm a bastard for betray­ing the Olympians? Is that what you're saying?"

"No. I'm . . ." She paused as if frustrated. "Forget it. You're beyond hearing me."

That set his fury to boil. She was dismissing him, and he couldn't stand it. "I'm not a piece of shit for you to flush and walk away!"

Delphine caught his face in her hands. "Jericho, re­lax. I haven't accused you of anything."

"You don't have to. Your eyes do it for you." He tried to pull away, but she held him in place.

Those eyes tore at him and weakened him as she gave him a gentle look. "Don't put your insecurities on me. I won't take that from you. I don't condemn you for what you've done. A single beating for dis­obeying orders doesn't equate to the betrayal you had, and I know that. While I was hurt, I wasn't thrown out, powerless, to survive on my own."

No, she hadn't been, and the fact that she under­stood the difference weakened him even more.

Then she did something no one had done in cen­turies.

She hugged him.

Jericho wanted to curse and shove her away, but the softness of her body against his . . . the sensation of her arms around him . . . he couldn't move. Deep in­side, in the darkest place of his soul that he'd always denied, he craved this so desperately that all he could do was savor it.

Her blond hair was so soft on his face. Her breath tickled his neck. Before he could stop himself, he cra­dled her head in his hand and imagined himself inside her. Imagined what it would be like to have her loyal to him and to know he could depend on her to stand by his side no matter what.

What would that feel like?

Wanting to be closer to her, he dipped his head down and captured her lips.

Delphine was unprepared for the ferocity of his kiss. Yet for all the passion, he was still gentle as he tasted her. Her entire body exploded with heat and need. The hardness of him . . . the sensation of his hand in her hair . . . it was a heady mixture. No wonder the Skoti turned into incubi and succubi. If a kiss held this much pleasure, the other would have to be blinding.

His teeth nipped at her lips as his breathing inten­sified. Growling deep in his throat, he ravaged her mouth.

Delphine melted into him, reveling in the sinews of his body, the power of his desire.

He took her hand in his and slowly led it to the bulge in his pants.

Jericho trembled as she cupped him through his jeans. It'd been so long since a woman had touched him like this. For centuries, he'd craved the ability to stay hard whenever a woman neared him. Until now, that had only been a dream.

And he was desperate to be touched . . .

Needing release, he unzipped his pants and freed himself. Her touch faltered.

"Please," he whispered, pressing her hand against his cock. "Please don't pull away."

Delphine was afraid. What did he want from her? She wasn't ready to have sex with him. They barely knew each other.

But he didn't seem to be pawing at her for that. He wasn't encroaching on her body. Rather he used her hand to stroke his. "This is all I want from you," he whispered, his tone deep and heartfelt.

Nodding, she looked down at their entwined hands. This was a man who'd known nothing but suffering, and this gave him pleasure. How could she deprive him of something that wasn't hurting her?

For some reason she couldn't name, she couldn't bring herself to hurt him.

He buried his face in her neck as he thrust himself against her hand. His breathing was so ragged that it worried her. Was he okay?

"Jericho?"

The moment she said his name, he let out a fierce, primal growl as he released himself in her hand. His entire body shuddered violently. When he pulled back and met her gaze, his eye was a vibrant shade of blue as his wings shot out from his back and unfurled. They were black and huge as they fluttered softly, fanning her slightly.

Panting, he held her gaze with his. His cheeks were flushed bright red. He braced one arm on the wall be­hind her and leaned against it as he tried to calm his breathing.

"Are you all right?"

He answered her with a kiss so tender, she shivered. His lips were a mere whisper against hers. He wrapped his arms around her and held her like a lover.

Like she was precious.

No one had ever held her like this. And something inside her sparked from it. It felt so good to be held. To feel like she was part of him somehow. That they were something more than strangers.

Something more than enemies.

He trailed his kisses from her lips to her neck. Then he looked down at her wet hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make a mess." He manifested a small towel to clean her.

Delphine wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but there was a profound change in him now. He seemed calmer.

Kinder.

Did sex do that to everyone?

As soon as her hand was clean, he lifted it to his lips and placed the sweetest of kisses on her knuckles.

The way he looked at her made her tremble. She lifted her hand from his lips to touch the patch over his eye. "May I?"

She saw his uncertainty before he gave the subtlest of nods.

Afraid of what she'd find, she removed the patch slowly to see the depth of the scar that bisected his face. It was brutal and harsh. She could only imagine how much it must have hurt when Zeus did that to him.

But he still had his eye. It was milky white, and by the way he focused his gaze on her she could tell he wasn't blind in it.

"Why do you wear the patch?"

"It makes people less uncomfortable. They look away from the patch. They stare at the scar when it's uncovered as if trying to figure out what happened to cause it."

And it hurt him when they did that. He didn't say it in words, but his tone told her the truth.

She traced the shape of his eyebrow before she cupped his cheek in her hand. "I'm sorry they hurt you."

Jericho wanted to curse her for that sympathy, but he couldn't. Her words touched him as deeply as her caress.

"We should rest," he said, his voice thick. He was so sated now after his release that all he wanted was to curl up and hold her. But what killed him most was the knowledge that she didn't feel that way toward him. And he couldn't blame her.

She was a prisoner.

His prisoner.

And she'd given him the first real pleasure he'd had since Zeus pinned him to the floor in the temple hall. For that alone, he'd give her anything she asked. Thank the gods, she had no idea how weak he was right now.

How much power she held over him.

When she didn't protest his desire to go to bed, be closed his eyes and exchanged her clothes for a sleek pink nightgown. It draped like a dream over her slen­der body, highlighting her curves. Her nipples were hard and more than apparent through the satin.

What he wouldn't give for a taste of them. But he wouldn't take from her. Not without an invitation.

She gasped as the gown appeared and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I won't hurt you," he promised, stamping down the urge to brush his hand inside the deep V of her gown and cup her breast. How could he hurt her after what she'd just done for him? "We're just going to sleep."

She gave him a look that mirrored the suspicion he always held. Ignoring it, he changed his clothes for a pair of dark green flannel pajama bottoms. Normally he slept naked, but he was pretty sure she would protest that.

His patch forgotten, he tucked his wings into the skin of his back as he pulled her toward the bed.

Delphine wasn't sure about this. But she admired the look of his sculpted backside as he moved away from her. He climbed into bed first, then waited for her.

"I've never slept with anyone in my life," he con­fessed.

"Neither have I." And she noticed he tucked his sword on the other side of his body as if he were afraid he might need it. The only question was, who did he think would attack him? One of the others?

Or her?

"What are you doing?"

"I'm . . ." A muscle worked in his jaw as he pierced her with a harsh stare. "I'm trusting you."

In that moment, she understood that he was more afraid of her than she was of him. It took a lot of faith to lie down at someone's side and trust them not to hurt you while you slept.

He was extending his hand to her. Deciding to take it, she smiled. "Truce?"

"Truce."

She joined him in bed and rolled onto her side so that her back was facing him.

After a few minutes, she felt his hand in her hair. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry." He immediately put more distance be­tween them.

Tempted to roll over, she refused. She didn't want anything more than this. If she looked at him, he might misread her intentions, and who knew where that might lead.

Jericho lay on his back, watching her from the cor­ner of his eye. It was so hard not to touch her when she was this close to him. The outline of her body under the covers was enough to make his body stir all over again.

The next time he came, he wanted to be inside her for it.

But that wouldn't be tonight. He'd seen the fear in her eyes when he'd pressed her hand against him. More than that, he knew the unspoken truth.

She was a virgin.

Most Oneroi were. At least those who'd been born after Zeus's curse. Since they didn't feel desire or love, they had nothing to motivate them for sex.

The Skoti were a different matter, as he'd seen ear­lier with Zeth. But Delphine . . .

She'd never been touched by anyone. He'd been the first to kiss her.

That thought brought a wave of possessive tender­ness over him. Turning his head, he looked at her. She was completely relaxed and that tiny little snore started.

Smiling at it, he inched closer to her. The heat from her body warmed him even as the smoothness of her skin beckoned him to touch it. Unable to re­sist, he brushed his hand down her supple arm while he leaned forward to breathe her scent in. As he pulled back, his breath caught in his throat. The edge of her gown had been pushed back, showing him her bared breast.

Like her, it was beautiful. His body exploded with desire as he ground his teeth, wanting to sample it.

Back off. . .

He'd made her a promise and he wasn't about to break it. Instead, he kissed her lightly on the head. "Good night, Delphine," he whispered, savoring the syllables of her name.

Rolling over, he closed his eyes and forced himself to ignore her.

As if . . .

But the sound of her breathing did lull him. And as he drifted off to sleep, a part of him imagined what it would be like to spend eternity with her by his side.

"delphine?"

At the sound of her name, Delphine jerked up from where she was making a flower garland. She was in a quiet meadow . . . the one she'd played in as a girl. But now dark clouds were rolling in, blocking out the sun.

"Who's there?" she called.

A shadow of Zeth appeared.

She shot to her feet, ready to battle him. This was how they always attacked. He would bring others into her dream, and they would defeat her.

Zeth was a beautiful god, and his blue eyes normally glowed. But he looked sick now. His long black hair hung lankly around his gaunt face. Those eyes, now black instead of blue, were sunken.

"There's something wrong," he breathed.

"You've destroyed us."

"No, it's more than that. There's something Noir is feeding us. Don't. . ." He faded out, then reappeared. "Don't eat." Then he was gone.

Delphine turned around, looking for others. Was it a trick?

But there was no one else here.

She tried to use her powers. Again, they were worth­less to her. It appeared that even in this realm, she was trapped.

Lightning flashed, followed by a tremendous clap of thunder. An angry wind plastered her clothes against her.

Delphine headed toward the woods where her house had once been. She didn't get far.

Azura was there on the pathway, blocking her. "What's the matter, child? Are you afraid?"

"Why are you here?"

Azura smiled, but the gesture didn't reach her cold eyes. "I have a gift for you."

"I don't want your presents."

She tsked. "You'll want this one."

Delphine started running. If she could reach the trees . . .

She didn't make it.

Azura appeared before her and caught her. Scream­ing, Delphine tried to fight. It was no use.

Azura threw her to the ground and shoved some­thing in her mouth. "Swallow."

Delphine shook her head, trying to break free. She tried to spit the bitter-tasting gel from her mouth. Nothing worked.

"Swallow!" Azura shouted in a demonic voice.

Delphine choked, but in the end, she couldn't resist the order. The gel went down her throat.

She cried out as it seemed to slither through her.

Azura laughed. "He'll like you even more now." She pulled back and left Delphine on the ground.

Writhing in pain, she wanted to vomit and couldn't. But after a few minutes, the pain lessened.

And an unbearable heat started deep inside her. One that wouldn't let her sleep another minute.

Opening her eyes, she found herself still in bed with Jericho. Darkness enveloped them, and yet she could see the outline of his body perfectly.

Needing a taste of him, she attacked.

Azura laughed as she returned to the war room, where Noir sat feeding one of his ugly black hounds.

He glanced up with a stern frown. "You look pleased."

"I am. I've just guaranteed us a little more time of Cratus being out of our hair."

"Good." He patted the hound on the head. "He's en­tirely too nosy. I found out from one of my pets that he was downstairs talking to Deimos and Jaden."

She hissed like a cat at the name of Jaden. If there was one creature she hated, he was it. "It seems our little broker hasn't learned his lesson."

"Does he ever?"

She curled her lip. "Such a pity we can't kill him."

"At least he bleeds well. Something the others don't do."

"True." Azura trailed her hand along the back of his chair. "Have you found your Malachai?"

"Only the city. Ma'at and the Atlantean god Aposto-los are guarding him so that I can't find his exact loca­tion. But I will tear that city apart until I do."

She paused by his side. "Perhaps you don't have to."

"What do you mean?"

"One of my demons told me that there's a group of gallu looking for a haven."

Noir looked up with interest. "Gallu?" Those were Sumerian demons and some of the most brutal of any demons. Best of all, the blood of a gallu was infectious and could turn their victims into zombies.

"Shall we invite them in?"

Noir smiled. "Absolutely. And I know their first victim."

"Cratus."

He nodded and Azura laughed. With Cratus bitten, they would be in complete and utter control of him.

Then, even without the Malachai or their sister Braith, the world would be theirs forever.