So, okay, maybe she wasn’t totally ready for seduction just yet. Her body was still clearly healing from that daemon attack. But she could find her target and at least see what was up. Flirt a little. Play the damsel in distress. And start this plan in motion.
Determination firmly in place, she wandered from one massive room to the next. An enormous kitchen opened to a dining area that led to an office and another set of curved stairs. Still finding no sign of him, she headed down the steps and slowed when she heard voices.
“Your first mistake was accepting my challenge,” a deep male voice said. “Your second was turning your back on me.”
A thwack echoed, then another male said, “You’ve been practicing.”
“Damn right I’ve been practicing,” the first responded. “I’m tired of getting my ass handed to me.”
A chuckle echoed up the stairs.
Daphne stopped midway down the steps where she could see into the gigantic room below. This one wasn’t furnished like the rooms above. It was wide and open, with dumbbells and weight-lifting equipment along one whole side. Tall windows looked out over another deck and the sweeping valley view, but what held her attention were the two males in the middle of the room, both dressed in nothing but low-riding, dark pants, both carved and muscular, both circling around each other with reddened fists and bruised faces.
The first she didn’t recognize. He was tall and broad, with sandy blond hair, sharp blue eyes, and a series of scars across his face. But the second she knew in an instant. Dark hair, legs the size of tree trunks, the unique Greek lettering etched into his forearms, and a wild look across his features that said he’d locked on yet another target.
A trickle of blood ran from Aristokles’s temple down his scarred cheek and neck, but he didn’t seem to notice. A wicked grin curved his mouth as he continued to circle the other male. “It’s about time. You’ve been getting soft doing all that housework.”
Aristokles lunged forward, but the other male ducked out of the way, swiveled to avoid being nailed by the Argonaut’s fist, then rolled across the floor. Popping to his feet, he kicked Aristokles’s legs out from under him.
The Argonaut went down with a grunt, but before the male could pounce, Aristokles did a backward roll and jerked back to standing. “You’ve really been practicing. I guess it’s time I stopped going easy on you and—”
As if he sensed her, the Argonaut’s gaze darted toward the stairs and focused on Daphne. And in those mismatched eyes, interest immediately flared.
Daphne’s first instinct was to shrink back into the logs behind her, but unfortunately she didn’t possess the power of camouflage. Her second was to run, but her legs wouldn’t let her. Because as the Argonaut’s heated gaze washed over her, her traitorous body was already responding—her nipples pebbling beneath the thin cotton shirt, her belly warming and sending waves of heat straight between her legs, her skin craving a dangerous touch she shouldn’t want.
Her breaths grew shallow, her head, light. But this was more than just responding to an attractive male. This was instant arousal with just one look. Arousal on a scale she’d never experienced before, not even with a god.
The male Aristokles had been sparing slammed his fist into the Argonaut’s stomach. Aristokles pulled his gaze from Daphne, grunted, then wrapped his arms around his belly and doubled over.
The other male stood upright and turned toward the stairs with a surprised expression. “Ah, you’re awake. We expected you’d sleep at least another day.”
We. Daphne had no idea who he was or what that meant, and she wanted to ask, but her gaze darted right back to the Argonaut. Aristokles shot the male a hard look, then stood upright and crossed to the far side of the room. After swiping a towel over his face, he reached for a shirt from a bench near the wall, tugged it on, and muttered, “You know what to do.”
The second male looked Aristokles’s way, but the Argonaut didn’t meet his gaze. Didn’t even turn to look at Daphne again. Just disappeared through a doorway on the far side of the room and was gone.
The heat in Daphne’s belly slowly cooled, and a shiver rushed down her spine.
“Sorry about that.” The male turned toward her and grimaced. “He lacks basic social skills.”
His words seemed to snap her out of the trance she’d fallen into. Daphne cleared her throat and gripped the banister at her side. “I...” No, that wasn’t how she wanted to start this. She needed to play it cool. Whoever this guy was, hopefully he could help her. “Where am I?”
The male crossed to the bench and pulled on his own T-shirt. “Stonehill Hold. Don’t worry. You’re safe here. No daemons can get to us. And if they did”—he nodded toward the door Aristokles had exited through—“he’d sense them.”
Sense them. Right. Argonauts could do that. One of their many awesome hunting skills, ironically bestowed on them by the very god who wanted Aristokles dead.