Elisabeth Naughton - Tempted

Panic edged its way into her chest, but she pushed it aside. Focused again. She couldn’t flash through walls, but if she could get clear of this castle, if she could just find her way outside, she could flash home. But first she had to summon enough strength to get the hell out of here.

The witches pulled their hands from the tub, motioned for Isadora to stand. She did, her mind plotting and planning as they dried her with towels. From a hook on the wall, one of the witches reached for a garment, turned back, and held it up against Isadora’s naked flesh.

“Yes, yes,” the other witch said with excitement. “Perfect, yes. Let’s get her into this. Quickly. Quickly.”

The first witch removed the thin black garment from the hanger and lifted it over Isadora’s head. Her arms slid through the long sleeves with apprehension; the hem fell at her bare feet. She looked down with horror as she realized the garment was sheer nearly everywhere, showcasing her skin, her left hip, her belly button, the swell of her breasts. The only places protected by diagonal strips of velvet were her nipples, the juncture of her thighs, and—she glanced over her back—thankfully, her ass.

Dear gods. This wasn’t a gown. It was a negligee. One that didn’t hide nearly enough and showed more than anyone had ever seen.

She couldn’t come up with one logical reason Atalanta would want her dressed like this. That panic clawed its way up her chest, wrapped itself around her throat until she wanted to scream. She glanced up and around, searched for the exit. Behind her, Isis chuckled.

“Relax, paidi . The spell is working. You will enjoy this.”

She had no idea what “this” was, but earlier she’d been dreaming about Demetrius. And though nothing about him could be good, anything that had to do with Atalanta was a thousand times worse.

“Bring her,” Isis said, starting for the door.

The witches wrapped their fingers around Isadora’s arms, and something inside Isadora screamed that if she went with them it would be the end for her.

“No. Stop.” She braced her bare feet on the stones, pulled back. “You can’t.”

“We haven’t much time,” the one to her left said.

“No. Please.” Isadora struggled as they pulled her out into the cold dank corridor and dragged her along. “Please!”

But her cries went unanswered. And the arms pulling her were too strong. Tears rolled down her cheeks when she realized she was trapped. For so many years she’d thought her father’s will and his intent to bind her to one of his Argonauts—even Demetrius—would be the worst thing she could imagine in this lifetime. Now she knew the truth. Nothing compared to the horror that waited for her somewhere in this castle.

Frigid air blew past Demetrius’s face as he stood with the rest of the guardians hidden in the dark forest to the southeast of Thrace Castle. A thick fog enveloped the stronghold built into the side of the towering mountain. Aside from the great wall that ran around the base of the fortress, the only sections of the castle that could be seen were the cold gray spires above the clouds, illuminated by the moon, nearly at its crest above.

Anticipation thrummed in Demetrius’s blood. Beside him, Theron ran through the layout of the castle one more time with the witch Selene, who’d guided them this far.

“Yes,” Selene said. “Once you get past the outer wall, you’ll have to be careful. The witches on guard will be scanning for anything out of the ordinary. If you can get through the inner wall, the princess will most likely be held in one of the four towers.”

Four towers. Demetrius glanced at the witch, shivering in her puffy black coat, then to the spires he could see rising above the shadows and mist. Eeny, meeny, miny, fucking moe. Just their luck Isadora wouldn’t be in any of them. And just their luck this castle was built for defense. Sheer rock wall on one side, drop to bone-jarring glacial water on the other. There was only one way in and out and that was through the main gate. Which was, no doubt, guarded by at least twenty witches.

“Apophis’s minions have the power to alter perception,” Selene went on. “So be careful. What you see may not be what’s actually real.”

Lovely. They were so screwed it wasn’t even funny.

Theron looked up from his map, swept a glance over each of his guardians. “Zander and I will distract the guards while the rest of you go in. Orpheus has agreed to help us out on this one. Demetrius, Gryphon, and Orpheus take the west side, Phin, Cerek, and Titus, the east. We need to make this short and sweet, boys. Once you find the princess, set off your medallion and the rest of us will clear the road so you can get her out. This is a rescue mission only, not an attack. Are we clear on that?”

Heads nodded in unison.

“And if any of you run into that warlock Apophis—”

“Bend over and kiss your ass good-bye,” Titus muttered.

Theron’s irritated gaze shot in Titus’s direction as he rolled up the map. “I was gonna say, get your ass out of there as fast as you can. You won’t last two minutes against the kind of power he wields.” He looked at the rest of the group, handed Selene the map. “The only advantage we have is that his powers can’t cross the castle walls. Don’t go until you hear our diversion. After that you’re all clear. Any questions?”

Energy vibrated around the group. Eyes darted from face to face. No one said a word.

Theron nodded once. He looked toward Zander standing to his left, dressed in the same fighting gear they all wore. “You ready to go tease some witches?”

A wide smile broke across Zander’s face. “You betcha. Just don’t tell Callia. Wouldn’t want her getting jealous or anything.”

Across the group, Titus huffed.

“Get moving, lover boy.” Theron swept a glance back toward the others. “The rest of you, don’t get dead.”

As Theron and Zander headed off toward the main castle gate, Selene held out her hands to the rest of them and muttered in Medean. Demetrius knew she was casting the last of her invisibility spell so they could reach the castle walls unseen, but a part of him prickled just the same. He avoided magick at all costs, any kind. And this was just one more thing he had to hold against Isadora. When he found the little vixen…

“D,” Gryphon said, “let’s go.”

Looking up, Demetrius realized the others had already left. He followed Orpheus and Gryphon as they made their way to the west side of the castle. The darkness of the forest opened up to brilliance as they reached the edge of the trees, the light of the near-full moon illuminating the area as if it were daylight. This close, Thrace Castle towered above, the stark peak of Mount Parnithia a black shadow, hovering. Gruesome gargoyles glared down from perches along the outer wall. Off in the distance, torches flickered near the castle’s main gates.

“Well, boys,” Orpheus said, shrugging into his black cloak. “This is where I leave you.”

Surprise registered, but not shock. Demetrius never expected Orpheus to play by the rules. Some instinct deep inside said not to trust the scoundrel alone with Isadora for even a second, though. Demetrius grasped the ándras by the arm before he could get a step away. “Hold up. Just what is your claim to the princess?”

“Careful, Guardian.”

The flare of green in Orpheus’s eyes was unsettling. Almost as unsettling as why Demetrius even cared what Isadora was to this guy. “If you intend to harm her—”

“No, hurting females would be your specialty, not mine.”

“Orpheus,” Gryphon warned.

Orpheus ignored his brother, narrowed his gaze on Demetrius. “What is she to you, Guardian ?”