"Yes, but the Malachai is half human and new to his powers. Jared should make easy work of him." Pausing in the hallway, she looked past Stryker to War. "Keep an eye on Jared. Make sure his little demon doesn't go free. That stupid slug is the only way I have to really control him."
Stryker watched as War inclined his head to her before he returned to the room where Jared had been left. "How do you know he's not going to rebel and kill War?"
She snorted. "So what if he does? Are you two friends?"
"Hardly, but if War is gone, Jared could come after you."
"So long as he wears that collar, Jared is my property. He can't kill me anymore than I can kill him. I can make him bleed and suffer, but the collar won't allow him to attack his own er in any manner. In fact, if I'm under attack, he has no choice except to defend me whether he wants to or not."
That had to be one of the cruelest things he'd ever heard of. He couldn't imagine a worse punishment than being forced to protect someone he hated. Someone who tortured him.
And it made him take a hard look at the woman in front of him. She was so familiar and at the same time so foreign. What had happened to the woman he'd married? "I remember this beautiful girl who wouldn't even allow me to have a cat in the house because she didn't want it to hurt the mice. A woman who made me carry any insect outside to set it free rather than kill it."
Her black eyes met his, and there inside he saw a hatred so potent, it stole his breath. "And I remember the sounds of my grandson screaming for mercy as he was viciously killed for being different and I was powerless to help him. I'm not that little girl you left behind, Stryker. I'm a vengeful woman at war with the world that did her wrong."
"Then you understand me. I didn't ask for this existence and I want the blood of everyone who took part in damning me to it. My father, Apollymi, Acheron, and Nick Gautier."
"What of Artemis?"
"I have no love for her. But there's no real hatred for her either. So long as she stays out of my way, I don't care what happens where she's concerned."
Zephyra looked up at him. His black hair contrasted sharply with his swirling silver eyes. He looked nothing like the boy who'd stolen her heart. The boy she'd wanted to grow old with. In those days, she'd expected to spend forty years with him, if they were lucky, before death separated them.
Eleven thousand years later, here they stood. Toe to toe. Enemy to enemy.
It was ironic really. At fourteen, she would have sold her soul to spend eternity with him. Now she only wanted to see him die miserably.
How the world changed . . .
"Now, are you going to fulfill your word and release Medea?"
Stryker wondered at her sudden change of subject. "Absolutely." He held his hand out toward her again, expecting her to slap it away.
She narrowed her gaze on it as if the thought was in her mind. Just when he was sure she'd knock it away, she reached out and took it gently in hers.
Stryker didn't know why that made his heartbeat increase, but it did. Her skin was so soft. Her hand dainty and small. He could crush every bone in it and yet this one hand had once held enough power to bring him to his knees. "I'd forgotten how small you are."
She'd always seemed larger than life. But with her near, he remembered just how good she'd felt snuggled up to him at night.
"I'm big enough to kick your ass."
He lifted her hand so that he could place a kiss on her palm. "I look forward to it."
Her eyes darkened. "Are you delaying me on purpose?"
"No." He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and flashed them back to the receiving room in Kalosis. "I will keep my promises to you. Always."
"I might buy that had you not already broken the most significant promise a man can make to a woman. At the first test of your father, you fled. Call me jaded."
"There's no need to be jaded, my love." He led her to his chambers where an extremely irate Medea was waiting for them.
As soon as he opened the door, Zephyra left him to make sure no harm had come to their daughter.
Medea glared hatefully at him. "You're right, Mum. He is a prick."
Zephyra laughed. "Eleven thousand years and you still don't listen to my wisdom."
"You're only fourteen years older than I. It doesn't really give you much of an advantage now, does it?" Medea looked past her mother. "Why's he still breathing?"