Page 41 of Summer’s Seduction (Sinful Seasons #2)

MORPHEUS

S omething in my chest cracked as the man I’d viewed as a father launched himself toward me with a blade raised and pointed at my heart. For a moment, I contemplated letting him sink the silver tip into my chest. Surely, it would be less painful than this.

It felt like time had slowed, forcing me to feel every minute of torment and betrayal as I spiraled. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t fight Egerius. He’d trained me and had taught me all I knew of battle. It would take every bit of concentration and skill I’d honed over the years to survive.

No. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a dream, a nightmare, a hallucination, or something .

Larkspur’s panic cut through my despair, snapping me out of the paralysis of shock and into action. She was here. This wretched reality was real. And we were surrounded by an army of dark ones who’d just realized their lord had declared war.

Larkspur

“ B lades,” Artemis called as Morpheus twisted to the right. His wings snapped close just as Egerius sliced through the air, narrowly avoiding contact.

“Gods,” I breathed, reaching for my daggers as Arete placed a quickly sobering Megara at my feet before forming a barrier with the others.

This was a trap. I felt the agony of betrayal sear through me as clearly as if it were my own. The woman in the red cloak, now nearly lifeless on the lounge, had been poisoned and then sent to Morpheus. Any jealousy I’d felt evaporated as thick clouds of fear permeated the space around us. She was going to die and would’ve unintentionally killed Morpheus as well if he’d drank from her.

“This is bad,” Megara said, her trembling hands gripping the dagger tight enough to blanch the skin.

Hebe dove into the fray at an unnatural speed, the glint of silver flashing through the crowd as bodies fell. Blood flowed, coating the once pristine ballroom in scarlet as feeders and guests fled for their lives.

The huntresses used the chaos to their advantage, Arete joining Hebe’s side as the two worked in tandem, pressing our momentary advantage. Cyrene and Camilla flanked Artemis as the goddess threw silver stars, each finding their mark in the necks of dark ones loyal to Egerius.

Megara lifted the dagger high as she ran to help Camilla and Cyrene, just as a dark one with blood streaking down his face hurled past me toward Morpheus and Egerius. I slashed with my dagger, rolling as I severed the ligaments behind his knees before he could reach Morpheus’s back.

Morpheus had already moved, locked in battle with Egerius. The two were flitting nearly too quickly for me to track, but that meant Morpheus was still alive.

“You bitch,” the writhing dark one growled, twisting toward me.

I jumped back, suffering only a light graze before I twisted and sliced. Warm blood coated my hand as I felt the give of fat and muscle beneath the blade. With another thrust, I jerked up, cutting through organs and tissue until the hilt protruded just below his ribs. There was a sick, gurgling sound, and then the anger in his eyes cooled as his life thread snapped.

“Larkspur, the key!” Artemis shouted. She flicked her wrist, recalling the silver stars embedded in flesh. The weapons heeded her call, slicing through new bodies on their way back to her hands. “There are too many of them.”

I snapped toward the blur of Morpheus and Egerius, realizing all of this would’ve been for nothing if we didn’t get what we came for. Grounding myself, I called forth my magic, feeling the power simmer beneath my palms before I raced toward them.

I had no chance of defeating Egerius, but if I could just graze his skin with mine, I’d be able to compel him to stop, or at least slow him down enough to grant Morpheus the upper hand.

Dozens of cuts were visible across Morpheus’s tunic, evidence of Egerius’s blade. The skin beneath was healed with no signs of poison, and Morpheus had managed to disarm Egerius and take the dagger for himself.

Morpheus parried a blow to the left before lashing out with a strike on the right. Egerius saw it coming, blocking the move before retaliating with a slash of his own.

Morpheus hissed as blood welled across his chest. The white of bone could be seen, the pain causing him to stumble back. Fury ignited within me as I raced forward.

Egerius should’ve gone in for the killing blow, but he was hesitating. The momentary lapse in sparring gave me a chance of reaching them, of grasping Egerius and compelling him to let us go.

“No,” Morpheus breathed. His golden eyes flicked to mine, widening in fear as he saw me rush toward him.

The thunk of an arrow sounded a split second before a strangled cry shook the room. I didn’t understand what the pain lashing through my shoulder meant until my body started to fall, thrown off by the hit.

Egerius turned at the sound of my cry, the dagger gripped in his palm still coated in Morpheus’s blood.

“No!” Morpheus yelled. Another wave of pain rocked through me as he flitted to his feet, adrenaline spiking as he raced toward me. But Egerius was too close. Morpheus wouldn’t make it in time.

This wasn’t supposed to end this way.

Then the shadows shifted, surrounding me in a deafening blackness before opening up moments later. My falling body collided with a gray stone floor. A strong hand pinned me down, pressing against my collarbone and chest as another ripped the arrow free.

I cried, rolling to my side and into a fighting position as the pressure released.

“You’re welcome,” came a deep voice rising from the shadows.

I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, the only light coming from the open window where the figure moved. The sounds of the fighting continued below, and there were more—footsteps and steel. Guards.

“It will be over soon,” the voice said, the light catching on his face as he peered out.

“Lucius,” I hissed, prowling forward with my palms raised.

He stepped back, staring warily at the shimmer of magic sparking along my fingertips. “None of this was your fault, princess. Hypnos believes you’re dead, and it will stay that way, but I can’t stop what is coming. The others won’t win. Not tonight. Not in a war already scripted and stacked against you.”

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck pricked with fear, and something more sinister twisted my stomach. I looked out the window, seeing the skirmish of war below. Lucius must have shadowed up to a hidden room off the ballroom's side.

Morpheus had tackled Egerius, the two brawling as fists flew on the room's far end. Dark ones swarmed the huntresses, their speed and swift healing seeming to be the only things keeping them alive.

“Can’t you feel it?” Lucius breathed, but there was no arrogance in his tone. No pride at their impending victory. “The bloodthirst, the need to not just kill, but mutilate. To enjoy the pain brought on by war. That’s his doing.”

My mouth ran dry as my pulse raced, even as a denial rose to my lips. Because there was only one being who could cause such things. One god who took pleasure in the pain of others: Ares.

Two blasts boomed through the room, followed by the sounds of bow strings being pulled tight.

“Archers!” I heard Artemis scream. She and the others had carved a path of blood and bodies nearly to the exit, but they couldn’t outrun arrows.

Hebe and Arete snapped chairs in half, raising the cushions as makeshift shields overhead a moment before the twang of strings loosened. Arrows rained down on the cluster of huntresses, embedding tips in the blue and green fabric and piercing a half-a-dozen lingering dark ones who hadn’t been quick enough to flee.

I raced forward, feeling Lucius’s magic wrap around my middle before I could leap through the window. A strangled cry cut through the unnatural stillness that followed in the wake of the arrows—Megara.

A shaft protruded from her stomach, the surrounding stain of red growing as a fresh wave of dark ones surged forward. She coughed, flecks of blood and spit dribbling down her chin as Camilla and Cyrene raced to her side.

I heard the rattle of arrows being notched for a second time, watched as Cyrene lifted Megara while Camilla lashed out with her dagger. Artemis stood in front, answering The Dark Ones' snarls with a fury of her own.

Her violet eyes were glowing, and her dark skin was coated in a silver hue as her movements quickened. Her accuracy was immaculate.

“I didn’t realize you had a goddess on your side,” Lucius breathed as I thrashed against him, trying to find a piece of him to send my magic into, but there was only shadow. “Maybe things could have been different if I’d known—if I’d warned you—but it’s too late now. They’re too strong.”

Another round of arrows flew, punctuating Lucius’s words. Hebe managed to throw up a lounge in time, but Arete hadn’t been as lucky. She groaned, gripping the shaft and yanking the arrow free. She tossed it aside as if it were a nuisance. But then she stumbled, knees crashing to the ground.

I watched as she glanced down with furrowed brows at the bleeding wound. Her red blood was tinted silver, a mark of Artemis’s blessing, but an oily, black substance warped it. All other wounds had healed in seconds, but the place the arrow had pierced was now festering, the red, blistering skin almost burning.

“Camilla?” Artemis called, not daring to take her eyes off the storm of dark ones she and Hebe were holding at bay.

In a flash, Camilla picked up the arrow with a discarded cloak, careful not to touch it.

“Hydra venom,” Camilla gasped, launching the arrow into the nearest dark one with a flick of her wrist. It sank into the exposed skin on his chest, a tortured cry erupting from him as his pale flesh ignited into boils in seconds.

I doubled over as pain lashed through my head. It felt like my nose had been shattered, the agony blurring my vision until I blinked and realized this wasn’t my pain at all.

Unbridled terror lashed through me as I spotted Morpheus on the ground, blood pouring from his face. Egerius was panting, chest heaving, and face marred with wounds. Egerius reached for the dagger, face set into a grim line as he raised the blade over his head and swung.