Warrior Avenged Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  AQUARIUS/SCORPIO STAR CHART

  GLOSSARY

  Teaser chapter

  Praise for the Sons of the Zodiac Series

  Warrior Ascended

  “Fox debuts with a strong start to the Warriors of the Zodiac series . . . [a] powerful romance.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Promise[s] plenty of action, treachery, and romance!”

  —Romantic Times

  “This new series puts a delightful twist to the Greek Gods and the myths surrounding them. Each character has their own depth and talents that will keep you turning the pages and begging for more. A great start to a promising paranormal series!”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Addison Fox is a voice to be reckoned with. . . . Filled with suspense that will have the reader turning pages until the wee hours of the morning.”

  —Reader to Reader Reviews

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

  Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  eISBN : 978-1-101-44328-6

  First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, September 2010

  Copyright © Frances Karkosak, 2010

  All rights reserved

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  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  For Beth

  My little sister, my dearest friend.

  My partner in Grease dances and

  basement Miss America pageants,

  my nemesis in selecting the radio station

  and riding in the front seat.

  You know I’ve said it before—

  my memories begin the day

  you came home from the hospital.

  What you may not know

  is that all the best ones include you.

  I love you and I am so blessed to call you mine.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My deepest thanks to:

  Kerry Donovan—you’ve taken on the Warriors and made them your own, and I am so excited to be working with you.

  Holly Root—aka, the Bomb-digity. ’Nuf said.

  To the amazing marketing team at NAL. Kathryn Tumen—I am so grateful for how you’ve helped bring the Warriors to readers. To the NAL art department—there are truly no words to describe how much I love the cover design you’ve developed for the series.

  My family and friends—the amazing group of people I am fortunate to share my life with. All of you have supported me and cheered for me and told everyone you know I sold a book. You’ve touched me in a way I never could have imagined and your excitement and encouragement have made this journey to publication one of humble gratitude.

  The Writer Foxes—Alice Fairbanks-Burton, Lorraine Heath, Jo Davis, Tracy Garrett, Kay Thomas, Suzanne Welsh, Julie Benson, Sandy Blair and Jane Graves. You guys are amazing. Seriously.

  And to Lorraine Heath—you can’t imagine how much I miss our Café Amore dinners. For all its fabulous restaurants, New York can’t touch Amore’s stuffed mushrooms—or how wonderful it is to catch up over them.

  Finally, the last year has brought an amazing group of women into my life—the 2009 Golden Heart class, the Ruby-Slippered Sisterhood. You ladies are awesome and I am so very lucky to know you. An extra-special shout-out to Liz Bemis from Bemis Promotions. You’ve created the most beautiful Web site for addisonfox.com. Thank you.

  Scorpio Warrior

  Fierce and cunning, my Scorpio Warriors will execute their tasks—and their enemies—with swift and fearless justice.

  Those he battles will know the pointed sting of his scorpion’s tail, the razor-sharp edge of his powerful claws.

  Intense and passionate, my Scorpio will not be easily satisfied. But once he meets his mate—that fearless soul who can match the emotions inside him—will his sharp sting be calmed, his restless heart tamed.

  Magnetically sexual, my Scorpio will attract many women, but will love only one. . . .

  —The Diaries of Themis, goddess of justice

  Prologue

  The Golden Age of Man

  “You must protect him for me.”

  Adrasteia looked into Rhea’s eyes, clouded with fear and anger, desperation and . . . something else she couldn’t name. Could only feel. “Yes, mistress.”

  “He will depend on you. You must hide him from his father. Hide him from the wrath of Cronus.”

  “Of course.”

  Rhea whisked them from Mount Olympus into the land Adrasteia had heard others speak of. Greece, they called it.

  Greece?

  What an odd word. It stuck on the tongue, between the teeth when she tried to say it.

  Greece.

  She held the squirm
ing baby in her arms, held him tightly to her breast as Rhea’s sharp tone forced her attention back to the baby’s mother. “This cave will protect you. My husband won’t know to look for you here.”

  Panic rose up in Adrasteia’s throat, clawing there, suffocating her as it took her breath. She was to live here? In a cave? With a wee babe?

  “But where are we?”

  “This cave is called Mount Ida. It is the highest summit in Crete. It will keep you protected. Keep you hidden.”

  “But, mistress, I know nothing of raising a baby.” Adrasteia looked down at the red-faced, squalling infant in her arms. “Look at him. He reaches for you.” She held the baby toward Rhea, hoping the action would soften the woman somehow.

  “You will watch him and you will protect him. Those are my wishes, Nymph. I will send others in secret to help you along the way. Know that at the end of this trial, you will be justly rewarded for your service.”

  With that, Rhea abandoned them. Adrasteia found the most well-lit corner of the cave and sat with her back to the unyielding stone, the screams of the baby in her arms echoing off the walls of the cave until she feared she’d go mad from the sound.

  As the years went by and the baby grew into a powerful young boy, then into an even more powerful young man, Adrasteia often reflected on the things that had kept her from descending into true madness that day.

  As promised, Rhea did send her help, in the form of a sacred goat to milk for the baby’s needs. She also sent the brothers, the Corybants, male soldiers dressed in heavy armor who spent their life in dance. Each time Cronus came looking for his son, the Corybants beat their drums with their armor, creating a diversion and drowning out the sounds of the baby’s cries.

  The second thing that kept Adrasteia sane that day was the promise, Rhea’s vow to reward her for her service.

  Over the years, Adrasteia’s thoughts on this reward expanded and grew, until she’d pictured her life after her time as caretaker in exquisite detail.

  A great and lovely palace on Mount Olympus, where she’d finally be reunited with her nymph sisters. A beautiful chariot to ride in so when she went by, all who saw her would proclaim that here was the glorious nymph who had protected the great god. Robes of spun gold to clothe her form and proclaim to all who looked on her that here was the woman who’d raised a god.

  But all that was a mirage in the face of the gods’ caprice.

  For one day, when Zeus was old enough to defend himself, when he finally thrust off the mantle of protection, when he no longer accepted her mournful pleas to stay hidden away with her, he fled the cave and Adrasteia, heading for his destiny.

  Adrasteia feared for him. She spent seventy days and seventy nights in frantic worry that she had somehow failed in her duties. Failed to protect Zeus as he had grown into manhood.

  Was he strong enough?

  Did he possess enough knowledge of battle and warfare?

  Would he be able to fight the father who sought his death?

  On the seventy-first morning, Zeus arrived at the mouth of the cave. Blood stained his chest and claw marks ran the length of his torso, but he carried a thunderbolt in his hand and wore a crown upon his head.

  Adrasteia ran to the boy who had become the man, stretching her hands to reach his face, amazed as always when she felt the soft down of his beard under her fingers.

  “You are alive! You have returned!”

  Zeus pressed at her shoulders, shaking off her ministrations. “I have vanquished him. My father is imprisoned in Tartarus.”

  Relief swelled in her breast as the fears of his mother were finally laid to rest. “Then all is as it should be. We shall return to Mount Olympus. There shall be much rejoicing, this day and always.”

  “We, vile Nymph?”

  Adrasteia heard the loathing in his voice, yet puzzled at its source. “Yes, Zeus. We. You have lived up to the promise of your birth. You have vanquished your father. It is time to leave this place and celebrate.”

  “This place where you kept me hidden? Where you kept me from my duty? Where you allowed my father to roam and stalk the skies as I lay hidden here, like a coward?”

  Panic bubbled within her, like the small stream that ran at the base of their mountain. Why did he look at her as if she’d crawled from under a rock, like the snake who crawled on his belly?

  “I have protected you, as I gave my word I would do. Your mother asked me to hide you. To keep you safe. I have done my duty, Zeus. Now it is time for my reward.”

  “Reward?” His voice thundered around the cave, echoing off the walls in harsh reverberations. “There will be no reward. There will be nothing for you!”

  The great golden dreams that had kept her alive for years, decades, centuries, as she protected his growth into manhood, crumbled like dust. Rising to her full height, she stood toe-to-toe with him. Anger flooded her veins as all that she’d given up—all that she’d sacrificed—flowed through her mind’s eye.

  “I will have what is promised to me. My beautiful home, a golden chariot, and the adoration of my fellow immortals.”

  Zeus shook his head, the long length of his hair brushing his back. “The woman I met on my journey—the woman I love—she spoke to me of this. Spoke to me of balance. I should have known you wanted something. Should have known you were plotting against me for some gain.”

  Fierce righteousness settled in her breast. She would have what was hers. She would have her own balance. “I have never plotted against you. I simply want what is mine. What has been rightfully promised to me.”

  “Then I will make it so.”

  Before Adrasteia could reply, Zeus swept his arm in a bold arc, light flowing like a river from the end of his lightning bolt. “You will have what is coming to you, Adrasteia. Forever.”

  As light swirled around her, blinding in its intensity, Adrasteia felt pain slam through her. Muscle, sinew, bone all ripped apart from the ferocious claws of that horrible light. Skin stretched and pulled as great, agonizing cries fell from her lips.

  Seconds . . . minutes . . . hours later, she knew not.

  The light had died. The pain had dulled to a vicious ache. The stone floor was cold and harsh against her cheek.

  Willing herself to move, she lifted herself from the floor of the cave, desperate for the warmth of the sun as it shined down over Crete. Movements stiff, she dragged herself toward the mouth of the cave.

  Toward the generous, beautiful, life-giving light of the sun.

  As Adrasteia stepped out of the cave, the scream in her head echoed through her nerve endings.

  Invisible to the outside world, her screams were heard only by her.

  As the sun’s rays beat down toward the mouth of the cave, Adrasteia felt herself disappear.

  Chapter One

  May 15

  The poison coiled, a living, writhing beast that skipped through his veins on spiked heels. The venom was an unmerciful taskmaster, lying in wait for the one day each year when it could dominate.

  Control.

  Kill.

  Even now, silky threads of it wove through his bloodstream. Expanding, growing, pulsing with life.

  Kane Montague, Scorpio Warrior of the great goddess of justice, Themis, ignored it. Ignored the whip-quick lashes that slammed through him from the inside out, as if his very organs were being rent in half.

  Ignored the brutal assault on his muscle fibers, like the stinging prick of a million wasps.

  Ignored the wicked, boiling sensation that filled his bloodstream like a flowing river of lava.

  If you pretended long enough that something didn’t exist, you could almost make it so that it didn’t exist.

  Almost.

  He continued to bench-press a row of weights, his rhythm even and easy, his breathing focused and controlled.

  Arms up, breathe in. Arms down, breathe out.

  This cold-blooded, laser-sharp focus had been the hall-mark of his life, even before he made his life-changing agreeme
nt with Themis. The selection for service as one of her scorps only sealed the deal.

  Nothing got in the way of his militant focus and there was nothing that could pull him from his goals.

  Not his Warrior brothers.

  Not the poison.

  And sure as fuck not a luscious brunette with endless legs and a gorgeous rack.

  So why did she still dominate his thoughts six months later? The woman had gone by the name Ilsa. The double agent who had managed to seduce him, fuck him brainless and drug him to make her escape.

  He could still smell her scent, could feel the mind-bending tightness of her as he filled her with his cock. The fact he hadn’t ever felt a tighter passage was beside the point.

  What was the fucking point anymore?

  “You keep driving yourself like this and the poison won’t need until the end of the month to kick your ass to the curb.”

  Kane grunted on an exhale of breath and didn’t even bother to turn toward their Taurus and self-appointed leader as he walked across the weight room. “Get out of here, Quinn. I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

  “Since when don’t you want a workout partner?”

  Kane ignored the bull, although he could see Quinn Tanner’s hulking form move closer in his peripheral vision. “Since you’ve taken it upon yourself to treat me like I’m still in diapers.”

  Quinn dropped to a nearby weight bench and began lifting his own set of metal. “Concern, buddy. Nothing more.”

  Fuck concern. And the casual questions. And the slightly pitying looks they sent him like he had no clue.

  The poison in his bloodstream leaped at the anger, giving it strength. Power. Fuel.

  With a loud thud, he slammed the heavy bar into its rack and slipped off the bench. He’d be damned if he was sitting around listening to this shit like he was some invalid.