Sherrilyn Kenyon - One Silent Night

Stryker glared at his daughter. "You know, as coldblooded as I am, I've never been one for torture. Either kill him or free him."

She shook her head. "My mother would never allow that."

"Then leave him alone."

"You really don't care for torture, do you?"

"No, I don't. It's one thing to strike out in anger, another to cause agony for the hell of it. I'm a soldier, not a coward."

"Are you calling me a coward?"

He looked back at Jared, who was panting to cope with the agony of his wound. His chest was still smoldering as the blast continued to burn his skin. "You should always give your opponent a fighting chance. Let the best fighter win, and if it's not you, then die with dignity."

She arched a brow at him before she turned toward the other prisoner. "Jared? Is he lying to me?" She held her hand up and the leather muzzle vanished.

"No," he said, his voice strained and weak. "He lives by a very screwed-up moral code."

The creature and his powers intrigued Stryker. "What is he? Your personal lie detector?"

She gave him a flippant smile. "Something like that."

Jared scoffed. "Why don't you tell him the truth? I'm your pet dog you keep chained up so he won't piss on your floor."

She threw her hand out again and his muzzle returned to cover his face. "Why do you push me so?"

Jared jerked at his restraints as he shouted something indecipherable.

His strength was admirable. Stryker even noted the light of respect for the creature in his daughter's eyes.

"You two lovebirds fight like this all the time?" Stryker asked her.

She snorted. "I don't fight with him at all. He's merely a tool I use."

"Use how?"

She didn't respond. "Matera says I should let her kill you for abandoning us."

"But?"

"I want to understand how it is that you could leave the woman you loved and never once look back or regret it. I find that kind of selfishness baffling."

Stryker froze as her accusation stung him deep inside. Not regret it? He'd regretted the loss of Zephyra every day of his life. But he'd been raised to believe that duty came before love.

Always.

His father had demanded he divorce Zephyra and marry a priestess to fulfill the destiny his father had planned for him and he'd done it. No, it wasn't just that. Zephyra had all but kicked him out the door when Apollo told her what the god thought of her and her lowly birth.

"The daughter of a fisherman married to the son of a god? Are you out of your minds? There are whores for you aplenty, Strykerius. I didn't save you from slaughter to see you marry this and beget worthless children from lesser genetic stock."

Stryker should have defended Zephyra. He'd known it at the time. But at only fourteen, a prime marital age in the ancient world, he'd been scared of his father's powers. Scared of disappointing the god who'd meant the world to him.

"Well?" Medea demanded. "Answer me. Why did you leave us?"

Stryker deadened his features. He was no longer a frightened youth. He was an eleven-thousand-year-old general. "I don't answer to anyone, and I damn sure don't answer to my daughter. What happened then is between me and your mother."

"Are you willing to die then?"

"I'm a warrior, Medea. I accepted death as inevitable the moment I picked up my first sword to fight. I killed my own son for betraying me. It seems somehow fitting that my daughter should kill me for perceived similar actions. My only regret will be not knowing better the child who is so similar to me that she could execute me so swiftly and without regret or hesitation."

She lifted her arm up. Stryker expected her to kill him. Instead, the chains holding him broke loose from his wrists and ankles.

"Come with me."

Stryker followed her as a new plan formed in his mind. Little did she know he was no docile pup to be commanded by any person.

When he reached the door, he turned back to see Jared hanging limply from his restraints, his muzzle firmly in place. A wave of sympathy went through him.

Don't feel sorry for me, Stryker. I didn't choose to be here.

Those ominous words echoed through his head as he followed Medea out of the room and she closed the door, blocking his sight of Jared.

"Is he a prisoner?"

"No. He was a gift."

"A gift?"

She nodded without any further explanation.

"From?" he prompted.

She opened a door and led him inside a cold, austere room. "Jared's presence isn't something we talk about. Ever."

Perhaps . . .

Medea started down the hallway. Now that Stryker was free of the room, he felt his powers soaring. There must have been some sort of dampening spell on the room. Now that it was gone . . .

Invigorated, he rushed to his daughter and grabbed her from behind.

Eyes wide, she gasped.

"I'm a leader, child. I follow no one." Tightening his hold, he flashed her out of the building and back to Kalosis.

MEDEA SHRIEKED IN ANGER AS SHE TRIED TO flash herself out of Kalosis.

Stryker tsked at her. "I've closed the channel. You can't get out until I open it again."

Her black eyes flared with fury, reminding him all the more of her mother. "Matera will kill you for this."

He released her and took a step back. "She was going to kill me anyway. What difference does it make?"

"Her plan hadn't included torturing you first. This . . . this will make her change her mind."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "You wanted to spend time with your father. Here I am." His features hardened as he met her gaze and showed her his resolve. "You should know one thing about me. I do nothing on other people's terms. I am and will always be a commander. No one tells me what to do." The last person he'd obeyed—his own father—had betrayed him. Since that night, he'd vowed that in the future his life was his own and no one else's.

Medea curled her lip. "Matera was right. You are an asshole."

Her anger amused him. "Not true. An asshole would throw you to his demons. I am your father, and honestly, I miss having my children with me. That weakness is the only reason you're still alive after threatening me."

He reached out to cup her face in his hand. The way she tensed, he was actually surprised she didn't sink her fangs into his palm. Instead, she continued to glare her contempt at him. She reminded him so much of his daughter who'd died eleven thousand years ago. Only Tannis had never been a fighter. She'd never shared her brother Urian's love of life. Not like Medea.

Tannis had blithely allowed herself to decay on her twenty-seventh birthday while Stryker held her in his arms, begging her to take a human life so that she could live another day. She'd steadfastly refused. And her screams for mercy echoed in his ears to this day.

Medea turned her face into his hand, then kneed him hard in the groin.

Cursing, Stryker caught her hand before she could hit him again and shoved her back. His body aching, he wanted to kill her for what she'd done. But she was her mother's daughter.

And his.

Using his powers, he pinned her to the wall behind her. "You've no idea how lucky you are that I've been regretting killing my son for doing a lot less to me than you just did. But for that, you'd be dead already."

"I love you, too, Dad." The sarcastic tone was acerbic and cold.

But at least she wasn't like Urian, telling him how much she hated his guts and wanted to kill him.

"Davyn!" he shouted, calling in one of his commanders. He stood upright and refused to let his man see the fact that he was in pain. No one would ever know his weaknesses.

Davyn entered the room. "My lord?"

He jerked his chin toward Medea. "Take our guest to my quarters and lock her in until I have time to deal with her." He lifted his hand, letting her fall free from the wall before he manifested a pair of shackles on her wrists.