That there was nothing inside him. No emotion. No sentimentality of any kind.
And there was the irony. He’d actually convinced himself he was numb and unfeeling. Uncaring when the truth was he cared so much that he’d been forced into denial so that he could remain sane when faced with the madness of a brutal world that constantly assaulted him with its insanity and pain.
Now…
He could no longer pretend. Damn it to hell. Against all his carefully constructed shields and safeguards this little Apollite had slid in past his defenses and carved her name into his dead heart. And he would never be the same.
Because now that he knew her name and her face…
Her touch… she was as integral to him as breathing.
Shit.
Falcyn didn’t need his dragonstone to live.
He needed Medea.
Grinding his teeth, he searched his mind for something to say to her, but words failed him. There was nothing he could say to adequately convey what he felt for her.
Nothing.
So he took her hand into his and pressed her open palm to his lips, then to his heart so that she could feel the fact that it beat solely for her and no one else.
Medea swallowed as she saw the tenderness on Falcyn’s face and felt the strong beating of his heart beneath her fingertips. “Is that it, dragonfly? Really?”
“You know me, princess. If I speak, chances are, I’ll say the wrong thing and piss you off. Ninety percent of intelligence is knowing when to shut the fuck up.”
Laughing, she stepped forward to kiss him. “Then that makes you a genius.”
Suddenly, a loud rumble shook the walls around them. Medea pulled back with a frown.
Falcyn cocked his head at the sound as a weird fissle went down his spine. One he hadn’t felt in a long time. Surely that couldn’t be what he thought. It would be impossible for Apollo to infiltrate Apollymi’s domain.
Wouldn’t it?
The sound returned. Even louder.
Harder.
“What is that?” Zephyra asked with the same note of panic in her voice.
Falcyn narrowed his gaze on the doorway. “It sounds like…”
“Strykyn,” Stryker finished for him in a breathless tone as the cacophony of rushing wings grew louder and louder.
Closer and closer.
Like a tornado across a vast field. It rumbled all around, shaking the ground and walls.
An instant later, the door burst open to admit the giant black war owls of Ares.
19
Medea was frozen by the unexpected sight of the massive ancient Greek warriors who came through the door, first as gargantuan black owls. Then as armored soldiers. Armed with spiked shields, oversized pauldrons, and swords, they meant business and were here for blood.
Theirblood.
The woman in her could appreciate their handsome, ripped bodies, but the demon warrior who’d survived countless battles didn’t welcome them in her domain. She saw them for the threat they were, and wanted them dead or gone.
