Zeus and even his grandfather had supposedly impregnated humans while in the forms of other beasts. Bulls, swans, water …
Surely Xyn didn’t want him to dothatwith her.
Did she?
The thought terrified him. It horrified him. He was married, and even if he weren’t, they were friends.
Best friends, and had been for years. Like …
Paris and Davyn.
Shite.
Urian slowed down as he realized that they were closer than regular friends. The two of them had shared much in their seclusion. More than that, Xyn had taken care of him. She’d been his refuge when the others were more than he could bear.
It can’t work, Uri. She’s an animal. A dragon.
And he had a wife to care for. There could never be anything between him and Xyn.
Never.
Yet still there was something inside him … something that scared him even more than his thoughts. A feeling he had that he honestly couldn’t deny.
He did love her.
And that would damn them both.
September 7, 9510 BC
Urian drew up short as he entered Apollymi’s palace and found the one thing he’d never found before.
A stranger.
“Who are you?”
The tall, exceptionally thin woman turned around. She was breathtaking. And dressed in a most peculiar fashion—a short green chiton similar to what a man might wear, cut just above her shapely knees. A long, brown, finely woven chalmys was carefully draped around her thin shoulders and pinned with an ornate pearl-and-gold fibula that formed a double bow. Her golden-blond hair was intricately braided and coiled around her head in a style befitting a goddess.
By her grace, height, and beauty, Urian might have mistaken her for an Apollite. Except she didn’t have fangs. Nor were her eyes brown. Rather, they were a vivid, exceptional green that were more akin to those of his aunt Artemis.
Or at least that was what he’d been told about her.
And now that he thought about it, this woman reeked of Greek divinity. To such an extent that he was surprised Apollymi wasn’t out here trying to locate her position with one of the three-headed dogs she used in her palace as guards.
Or a few sniffing Charonte. Normally such a powerful presence in their midst would warrant at least Xedrix out here to investigate it.
So why was this Greek maiden in Apollymi’s Stygian palace? Holding a war bow? And wearing running sandals in the garb of a boy?
Nothing about this made a bit of sense to him.
“You haven’t answered my question.” He used a sharper tone this time to let her know how dire her situation was.
Her brow arched, she raked him with a hostile glare. “Who areyou,and why areyouhere?”
That audacious growl set off his own temper. “I’m not the one trespassing.”
“Neither am I.”
Yeah, right. No Greek belonged here and he knew it.
