Keras is darkness. It sustains him. It strengthens him. It offers relief from the pain born of his feelings for a goddess of Olympus, a bewitching and beautiful female placed beyond his reach—one who stole his heart and broke it. Centuries of enduring that pain have left him tired, and the temptation to surrender control to that side of himself grows each day.
Even when he knows that darkness will destroy him.
Enyo has regrets. Hundreds of them. But the one that has plagued her for centuries, is the moment that shattered her friendship with the firstborn of Hades and her own heart with it—a moment that changed her and set her on a new path. With the battle between the sons of Hades and the daemons turning more dangerous for the man she loves, she can no longer stand on the side lines.
It’s time for this goddess of war to risk everything to fight for what she wants.
As the battle to save the Underworld and the mortal realm rages to dangerous new heights, will Keras be consumed by the darkness or will Enyo be the light that saves him?
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Chapter 1
A fist ploughed into Keras’s jaw, smashing his lips against his teeth, flooding his mouth with the coppery taste of his own blood.
He leaned to one side and spat on the pale flagstones of the terrace, stared at the splotches of dark liquid that caught the lights that illuminated the white basilica of Sacré-Coeur, casting a golden glow over the façade and its three domes.
A slow grin stretched his lips as the darkness writhed in his veins, jittery with excitement.
Finally, a worthy opponent.
He had cut his way through sixteen daemons, using his shadows to eradicate the wretches, keeping them from the Paris gate that linked the mortal realm to the Underworld. Not one of them had put up a fight.
At least, not a fight he had enjoyed. It had been a massacre, too easy for him, lacking the thrill he was chasing tonight. The high he craved. The pain he needed.
The only thing he wanted to feel.
The only thing he was willing to let himself feel.
The sudden white-hot fire of a well landed blow. The burn that spread outwards from the point of impact. The dull ache of bruised bones. The sharp sting of split flesh. The dance with death. The sweet scent of blood spilling.
His blood. His pain. His pleasure.
Heat rippled through him at just the thought of it, had his head growing hazy as that need bloomed stronger inside him, goading him into clashing hard with the daemons.
Into letting them strike him.
But that pleasure never quite hit the mark. It was always lacking. Always a disappointment in the end when it had promised to be perfection.
This wretched beast that stood before him promised pleasure that would be everything he needed tonight though. Pain that would satisfy the darkness coursing through him.
Behind him, his younger brothers hollered orders at each other, battling the other thirty daemons to keep them from the gate. His senses fixed on them and he checked they were occupied and unlikely to interfere with his fight. He locked them on Ares first, and then Marek and finally Daimon.
It had been a month since Daimon had almost died, and three weeks since his brother had closed the New York gate, condensing the power that flowed between them down to only three—Hong Kong, Paris and Tokyo.
Keras had thought the enemy would make their move then, desperate to breach the gates and fulfil their mission.
Things had remained too quiet.
Until tonight.
Keras casually wiped the knuckles of his right hand across his lower lip, clearing the blood away, and straightened, coming to face the large dark-haired male who had managed to land a blow on him.
The daemon rolled broad shoulders, his heavy muscles rippling with strength as his bare torso flexed. Behind him, two smaller daemons waited, warily watching Keras, an opaque membrane flickering over their eyes. They were of the lizard-like breed, able to summon scales to protect them from damage in a fight.