Daimon (Guardians of Hades #6) - Felicity Heaton Page 0,38

was eternal.

It didn’t come.

She wasn’t the woman he wanted to see.

She wasn’t the one he needed to see.

He opened his fingers and stared at the pendant, cursed himself as another memory played out before him.

One of Cass going under the water, of her breaching the surface and fighting for air, of her looking at him with hurt in her eyes, and a hell of a lot of anger.

Anger he deserved.

Hiding here in his home in Hong Kong wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He wouldn’t feel better until he had apologised to her.

It had been a knee-jerk reaction, one he should have been strong enough to contain. She was right. He had been the one who had tried to kiss her, and he had blamed her for it, and for how guilty he felt because he had wanted to taste her lips, and so much more.

He sighed and stood, slipped the pendant back onto the clasp on his phone and shoved the device into the pocket of his black jeans. He grabbed the navy turtleneck sweater he had discarded on top of the white dresser and tugged it on before he stepped.

Darkness whirled around him and then he was standing in the front garden of the Tokyo mansion. He strode to the house and unlaced his boots.

Froze when Cass’s voice rang in the late afternoon air.

“I need to take care of Milos. I’ve left him alone too long already.” Cass sighed, a light sound that teased his ears but did nothing to calm his mood as it took a sharp nosedive.

Who the hell was Milos?

Acid burned through his veins, settled in his stomach and scoured it.

Cass had been giving him the cold shoulder since Hong Kong and the moment in the bath, had avoided him for two days straight. It had been what he wanted, so why had he hated every moment of it?

Why had he hated the fact she had been keeping her distance?

Was this why she had avoided him? She felt bad that she had wanted him in that moment, when she had another man. Whoever the bastard was, he was Greek. For some reason, that only made him angrier.

“Are you strong enough to do this?” Marinda sounded concerned.

“All charged up again. I have enough strength to transport myself to Karavostasis, take care of Milos’s needs for a day or two, and then I’ll be able to transport myself back here.”

Take care of Milos’s needs?

Daimon wanted to growl at that.

“Give him my love and a hug from me.” Marinda’s warm words only increased Daimon’s urge to growl.

Cass’s signature disappeared and Daimon kicked off his boots, dumped them on the rack and opened the front door, trying to ignore the black urge to follow her. He made a beeline for his room in the north wing, striding past Marinda, needing a moment to rein in his needs before they got out of control and got him into trouble.

The darkness seething in his veins refused to abate, had him shoving the white panel door of his room open and pacing in a circle on the golden straw mats. Who was Milos? Her lover? Husband?

He tunnelled his fingers through his hair and clutched it, clawed it back until his scalp stung.

What did it matter to him?

A growl pealed from his lips.

A lot.

It mattered a lot.

He pivoted and stepped before he could consider what he was doing, and the cold dark of the teleport gave way to warmth as sunshine bathed him. The dry air smelled of earth, and to his right waves gently rolled over a stony shore, tugging at the pebbles and shifting them around.

Daimon blew out his breath and opened his eyes, stared at the white blocky two-storey buildings that hugged the curving bay of Karavostasis and the brown hills spotted with pale boulders that rose above them.

The small ramshackle village was quiet in the morning sunshine, only a few older mortals coming and going along the seafront beneath the trees that followed the sweeping line of the beach, clutching bread and exchanging greetings as they passed each other.

This was where Cass lived?

Did she live here with Milos, playing the doting wife?

He tried to shut out the image of her with another man as he picked his way down the bluff, the ochre soil already warm beneath his bare feet.

He should have at least put some shoes on. What did it matter though? He didn’t intend for anyone to see him. When he reached the bottom of the small