Apollo froze in the middle of buttoning his shirt. He blinked slowly before he answered. “He was, indeed.” A slow, evil grin spread across his face. “Why, Morgen, dearest evil bitchtress, I do believe you’ve found something.”
“So he was reborn?”
Laughing, Apollo pulled her naked body against his. “I don’t know. But I know who will.”
The Fates.
He didn’t say it, but Morgen knew the answer as well as he did. Those three whores knew everything about everyone. They were the greatest gossiping bitches ever born!
“And if he does live,” Apollo whispered against her lips, “we will find him and gut him at her feet!”
“I don’t follow. Wouldn’t that be a bit anticlimactic? What’s the point?”
He kissed her lips. “The point is that the goddess of all destruction and darkness has only had three weaknesses in the whole of her life. Kissare, Monakribos, and Acheron.” He nipped at her lips. “Given how frigid a bitch she is, I’m willing to bet that they had more in common than just their mother.”
Morgen’s eyes widened as she finally understood. “You’re thinking that Acheron’s father is Kissare reincarnated?”
He actually drew blood from her bottom lip with his fangs as he pulled back and nodded. “It would explain so much.… Archon swore he would never father a child with her, and he went to his nebulous state claiming Acheron wasn’t his son. Had Apollymi truly loved him, she would never have allowed Styxx to end him. God knows, she suffered much to protect Kissare and their offspring.”
“Then who’s Acheron’s real father?”
“Only Apollymi knows.”
Morgen smiled at this newfound knowledge and what it signified. “And the Fates.”
“If they don’t, they will learn it.” He gave her one last kiss, then stepped away.
She frowned at his actions. “Where are you off to?”
“To find my demon. I have another errand for him.”
Shake that moneymaker,baby! You go! Make that barrier pay! Kick it! Show us more biceps! Spank it till it bleeds! C’mon, you can do it. Pound it harder!”
Urian growled at Medea and her sexual harassment.
Falcyn turned around to glare at Medea as she sat on the ground beside Brogan and catcalled to them while he, Urian, Blaise, and Brandor sought some way to break through the barrier. Hands on hips, he narrowed his gaze at her. “Not helpful.”
Medea put her hand up to her lips before she leaned closer to Brogan to whisper rather loudly. “Neither are their attempts, but notice it doesn’t stop them from trying.”
Brogan laughed.
Falcyn arched a brow at their misplaced humor. “Instead of heckling, woman, you could try helping.”
She flashed a grin to expose a hint of fang. “I am helping. I’m giving you encouragement, dragonfly.”
His jaw out of joint, he turned toward Urian. “Would you considerthisencouraging?”
“Coming from my sister? Yeah. She’s not throwing things at you or directly insulting us and our parentage. Hell of an improvement, you ask me. Makes me wonder what you’ve done to her that she actually located some semblance of humor.”
Medea shot a blast at Urian, who deftly dodged it.
Laughing, he returned it with one of his own, knowing she wouldn’t let it hit her.
“Hey!” Falcyn snapped, shoving Urian aside. “Play nice! You hurt your sister and I’ll fry your ass. Ash or no Ash.”
Medea righted herself from where she’d dove to miss Urian’s blast. “You tell him, sweet cheeks.”
Urian scowled. “Is she drunk?” He glanced back at Blaise and Brandor. “What did you throw on her again?”
