Ari found Silas in the lowest level of the hold, a dark, windowless room carved out of the cliff that they used for storage.
Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, Silas stood on the far side of the room, making notes on the clipboard in his hand as he checked supplies on the shelves that lined the walls. “We’re almost out of wine,” he said without turning, obviously hearing Ari’s footsteps. “You drink too much of it, you know. I’m pretty sure I replenished that stock two months ago.”
Ari wasn’t in the mood to talk about his drinking habits. He wasn’t in the mood for anything except getting that nymph far, far away. Resting his hands on his hips, he glared toward the Misos. “If she’s well enough to wander around the hold, she’s well enough to leave.”
Silas made another mark on his paper. “I thought you’d appreciate having something prettier to look at than me.”
“How pretty she is has nothing to do with this.”
“Ah.” A mischievous smile curled Silas’s lips. “So you did notice.”
Ari’s frustration shot up. Yes the nymph was pretty, but his opinion would be the same if she were Aphrodite beautiful or Medusa ugly. Stonehill Hold was his one and only refuge, and he wasn’t about to be bullied by a nymph in his own home.
“I want her gone,” he said. “I’ll be back by nightfall tomorrow. When I return, she’d better not be here.”
“Daphne.”
“What?”
Silas turned to face him. “Her name’s Daphne, not she. And what you want and need are two very different things, Argonaut.”
Ari’s jaw clenched. “Don’t pretend to know what I need. I’m no good for any female, especially that one, and we both know it.” He stomped back up the steps, refusing to give in even an inch. “Tomorrow, Silas. No excuses.”
“What you need,” Silas muttered, “is a two-by-four to the head.” Then louder, “Get some wine while you’re out. It does wonders for your personality.”
Ari ignored the smartass comments and moved back to the main level where he headed for his rooms. The entire west wing of the hold was his domain. An office complete with desk and chair he’d carved by hand opened to a bedroom suite filled with a bed, side tables, and a sitting area flanked by a wide stone fireplace. Crossing toward the closet on the far side of his room, he pulled out a backpack and set it on the bed.
His gaze slid over the empty wine bottle on the nightstand. Scowling, he looked down at his pack and checked the supplies he kept inside for his patrols. So he drank to fall asleep. Big deal. A lot of people did that. A lot of normal people did that, and he was way past normal. Normal people didn’t have to deal with his curse. Normal people didn’t have the blackout episodes he did. Normal people didn’t have random flashes of the horrible things they’d done while in the midst of one of those episodes.
Needed a woman? No way. Sure, he had desires just like the next guy, and he had no problem fulfilling those desires when he was out on his scouting trips. There were always willing females if you knew where to look. But the last thing he needed was one infiltrating his personal space.
More frustrated than before, he snapped the top of his pack, pulled on a jacket, then slung the straps over his shoulders. Screw Silas and his opinions. Ari didn’t need anything but himself. He’d been getting along just fine alone for dozens of years.
He headed for the door and the frozen wilderness beyond. And hoped he ran into another pack of daemons. A good bloodletting would take his mind off that nymph. But something told him it wouldn’t be enough to make him forget that she now had a name.
*
Daphne hadn’t slept well. Her dreams were a mixture of Ari and the Sirens and her long-destroyed village.
She climbed out of bed and yawned as she dressed in the sweats and T-shirt Silas had given her after dinner. The clothing was huge. She had to roll the pants down at the waist several times just so they stayed up, and the light-blue T-shirt wasn’t much better—hanging like a dress almost all the way to her knees. After tucking it in as best she could, she fluffed her hair and told herself she could still make this work. She’d aced her strategy training. She simply had to think outside the box where Aristokles was concerned.
She turned out of her room and moved barefoot through the hall. When she reached the kitchen on the lower level, she found Silas filling a backpack on the table with supplies—water, bandages, gloves.
She approached slowly, not sure what he was doing. “I hope you’re not running away.”
Silas glanced up and smiled, his hair damp around the collar from a shower, his light-blue eyes sparkling, making her almost forget about the scars on his face. “Good morning. Sleep well?”
“Fine,” Daphne lied as she pulled a chair out at the table and sat. “Are you going somewhere?”
Silas shoved a bag of granola into his pack. “Supply run. We’re low on several things.”
Panic clawed at her chest. “How long will you be gone?”