sniffed me again. I didn’t draw back from him right away, despite my erratic heartbeat that warned me not to get too close or I’d get burned.
It seemed I had an effect on him, too. If my scent could muddle his mind, so be it.
But I didn’t expect his scent of male, demigod, and sex to slam into my nostrils so potently. My mind went blank for a second.
I rectified my mistake by putting distance between us.
This wasn’t the time to get screwed. I had two underage charges to protect.
I arched an eyebrow to show him that I’d walk if I didn’t like the deal.
“And what is your condition, demigod?” I asked carefully.
“You go in their places, Marigold,” the demigod purred.
CHAPTER 3
_____________
“Absolutely not!” Circe and Jasper jumped up from kneeling as if they’d just woken from a bad dream.
“It’ll be the death of you, Marigold,” Jasper objected fiercely. He had shifted back to a teenage boy and put on his tattered trousers. “You know that only those who have strong gods’ blood in them can survive the trial in the Half-Blood Academy. Don’t do this. We’ll just go with them. It’s no big deal.”
It was a big deal. They were still too young to understand what they would walk into.
“Don’t throw away your life for us, Marigold.” Circe nodded. “We’ll go with them. We aren’t your responsibility anymore.”
My heart sank; she sounded like she actually wanted to go. The way she gazed upon the demigod was like a teenager with a crush on her idol. But I’d thought she was into Jasper. My witch friend could be a bit fickle.
The demigod gave my team a stern look of warning, and both Circe and Jasper recoiled.
Jasper’s opposition resonated with me. I wasn’t as big a fool as the demigod thought.
“I won’t go with you,” I said, fixing my stare on the demigod. “I’m merely a human. I’m nothing special, so I won’t survive the trial. You don’t want my death on your conscience and my blood on your hands.”
I paused for a second, not sure if he had a conscience. As one of the demigods who commanded Earth’s war, I doubted he’d mind one more drop of blood on his hands. But I had to try to make him see reason. Maybe he would have a soft heart today.
“As you can see, my teammates are but an ordinary shifter and a mediocre witch,” I offered. I had to hurt their feelings now and explain later. “I’ve lived with them for three years. I swear that they don’t have gods’ blood in their veins. If you force them to go through the trial, they’ll die, too.” The demigod leaned closer to me to listen, so I batted my eyelashes. “Man, please just let us go and take the punk werewolves with you. I’ll be forever grateful. To show my gratitude, I’ll send you a postcard every Christmas. And may God bless you.”
So, yeah, we didn’t celebrate Christmas anymore, but I’d given him my word, so I wouldn’t correct it.
“The Half-Blood Academy is only for the descendants of the gods,” the lieutenant cut in harshly. “It’s a privilege to even be summoned. Your friends won’t have a chance to get near the main campus. They’ll go to the Other Academy, where supernaturals attend. There’s no trial for non-descendants. When they graduate, they’ll assist the Dominions.” He eyed me, flashing a vengeful smirk. “As for you, if you go in their places, you won’t be enrolled to the Other Academy. You’ll take the magic trial in the Half-Blood Academy.”
“Enough, Cameron,” the demigod hissed.
He didn’t want me to back out, and the Dominions couldn’t force a human to take the Trial of the Blood Runes, which was solely reserved for the special race.
“I apologize for speaking out of turn, Demigod Axel,” Cameron said.
My heart skipped a beat. So the demigod was the son of the bloodthirsty God of War. He must be bloodthirsty, too.
Was that why he wanted me in the Academy, to watch the blood runes bleed me dry?
“Your choice, Marigold,” Axel said, my name rolling off his tongue sensually.
So I tossed out my last card.
“One technical problem, though,” I said, raising a finger to emphasize my statement. “Your second-in-charge said those rogue werewolves are too old to attend the Academy. All three of us are too old for your school as well.”
“How old are you?” he asked, considering me curiously, as if age was a big, inconvenient factor he could be swayed by.
Hope