Elisabeth Naughton: Marked

Something didn’t jell.

He flipped open his laptop—the only expensive thing in the shabby apartment he kept here in Silver Hills—and waited for the machine to boot. As Windows blinked onto the screen, he chewed on the inside of his lip and ran his hand over the stubble on his chin.

He’d recognized the blonde in the corner of the club the moment he’d walked in. No telling how long she’d been there, but the way she’d been staring at Casey set his instincts on alert. What in hell was an Argolean doing in that club, trying to pass herself off as a human?

He rolled his finger over the keyboard and called up his instant messaging. He hoped Orpheus was on so he could get some of these damn questions answered.

Sure enough, the one link he had in Argolea was there.

Computer nerd.

He started typing.

Niko: Need answers. Can you chat?

Orpheus: What up, my man? Been a while. How’re those human women treating you?

Nick frowned as his fingers flew over the keys.

Niko: Like a stallion. Why the fuck do you think I stay here?

A laughing smiley icon rolled across the screen.

Orpheus: You are the biggest frickin’ liar I ever met. And I am jealous as sin. What do you need?

Niko: What rumblings have you heard from the Council?

The cursor blinked, and Nick leaned back in his chair, one hand on the armrest as he waited to see if Orpheus would answer. The guy was the most techno-savvy person—mortal or god—Nick had ever met. He gobbled up human technology like a child in a candy store and morphed it with what his race was doing, which was the only reason Nick could chat with him like this. If there was a chance Orpheus thought their conversation was compromised, he wouldn’t risk answering.

Orpheus: What makes you ask?

Niko: Curiosity.

Orpheus: You know what humans say happened to the curious cat.

Niko : I’ve already been dead once. Remember? I’ll take my chances.

Orpheus: Fine, wiseass. But you didn’t get this from me.

Niko: I never do.

Orpheus’s uncle was one of twelve Council members who advised the king. In actuality, the Council defied the king more often than not, and it was no big secret they were itching for a shift in power. Because of that, Orpheus had the skinny on everything that went down in the Argolean kingdom—good and bad. And he was Nick’s one link to something he’d turned his back on years before.

The cursor blinked and then started moving.

Orpheus: The king is dying. Some say he’ll be dead before the next full moon.

Niko: The Council must be overjoyed.

Orpheus: They’re not. In fact, they’re mad as hell. Isadora is scheduled to marry the guardian Theron by week’s end. It was announced only days ago.

The two faces he’d seen in the club finally clicked. The blonde wasn’t just any ordinary Argolean. She was the gynaíka who would become queen of her race. And the colossal Argonaut who’d come to get her wasn’t just one of her guardians, he was their leader. The Argonauts’ blood ties were the strongest of any Argolean, all the way back to the original seven heroes. Their power was farreaching.

No wonder the Council was in an uproar. Isadora was the only living heir King Leonidas had produced. And everyone knew she was a weakling. Small and frail and meek. The gynaíka was no leader. But with Theron as her mate, the Council wouldn’t dare challenge her. And the heirs he and Isadora produced would safeguard the monarchy for millennia.

Not that Nick gave a flying fuck what happened to any of them. After what had been done to him, he cared little if the entire Argolean race imploded in on itself.

But why had the princess been in a seedy human strip club? And why had she been fixated on Casey?

Nick chewed on that question as he resumed typing.

Niko: Were the Argonauts in attendance at the announcement?

Orpheus: Yes. All seven. Even Demetrius. He didn’t seem thrilled by the news .

Nick clenched his jaw. No, he doubted Demetrius would be happy to hear Theron would command even greater control.

Orpheus: Rumors are circulating, though. No one’s seen Theron since. Or Isadora, for that matter. Some say they’ve already eloped to avoid backlash from the Council.

Nick knew for certain they hadn’t eloped. The Argonaut had been pissed when he’d found Isadora in the club; that’d been written all over his face. But that sure as hell didn’t explain why the princess had been in XScream in the first place.

Niko: Thanks for the info.

Orpheus: You thinking about coming back?

Niko: For what?

Orpheus: I dunno. Been a while since you’ve been interested in anything happening in the kingdom. You know my uncle Lucian has pull with the Council. He’d jump on your situation. With your brother—

Nick didn’t bother to read the end of Orpheus’s sentence. His fingers flew across the keyboard.

Niko: He’s not my brother. And I have no desire to return to Argolea, now or in the future. For my safety, and the safety of others, I like to remain in the know, that’s all.

Orpheus: I take it things have been peaceful on your end then.

Niko: As peaceful as they ever are.

Not that Nick was about to cop to anything with Orpheus. Especially anything related to where he was and what he was doing. He trusted Orpheus enough to believe the news the Argolean passed him was accurate. But that was as far as it went. Nick had learned long ago not to reciprocate. If the Argonauts ever found out where he was or what he was doing, they’d hunt him down and slaughter him without a second thought.

And that was one more reason the Argonaut Theron’s presence in Silver Hills tonight was of even greater concern to Nick. Something was brewing under the surface. Something even Orpheus didn’t know about.

Nick signed off and closed the laptop. And as he sat in the darkness of the quiet and empty run-down apartment near XScream, he thought back to how Isadora had been staring at Casey most of the evening. If the gynaíka had been on the hunt for a female to satisfy her appetite, she’d easily have picked one of the others.

No. She’d wanted Casey. Which meant the gynaíka knew exactly who Casey was.

He stood quickly from his chair, grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. A growing sense of unease rushed through him, a need to see for himself that Casey was indeed safe and sound.

He picked up his keys and slammed the door at his back. And didn’t once think about the fact it was close to three a.m. or that Casey was probably sound asleep in her little house up by the lake.

Casey dropped the injured man sprawled over her shoulder onto her bed with a grunt, not entirely sure how she’d gotten him from the car to her house without collapsing herself.

He flopped onto the mattress, rolled to his back and groaned long and loud in pain. Fresh blood from numerous cuts seeped through his torn black T-shirt, ran down his massive forearms in rivulets. His black jeans were ripped at the thigh, and blood continued to pour down his pant leg and over his boot. His face wasn’t much better, a myriad of scrapes and scratches over almost every part of it.

Nausea pooled in Casey’s stomach as she took a good look at his injuries. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to keep from losing her dinner.

He needed a hospital. He needed an IV and medical professionals who knew what to do to help him. He needed—

“ Meli , help me.”