Page 82 of Summer's Seduction

“Larkspur.” Her name was a broken, agonized sound ripping from the depths of my soul.

My little monster’s eyes widened as the sword clattered to the floor. Scarlet gushed from the clean slit across her neck, her body collapsing as the scent of her blood filled the air.

Flitting to her side, I dropped to my knees, gathering her in my arms. My fangs ripped into my wrist, tearing flesh and vessels. She choked on her own blood, her chest heaving as a sick, gurgling sound rattled through her body. But her heart was still beating.

I poured my blood into her mouth, willing her to drink. To heal. To survive.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, feeling dampness coat my cheeks as her bright green eyes dimmed. “I’m so sorry.”

A harsh laugh sounded among the screams of war, and I knew without taking my eyes from my little monster that it was Aphrodite.

If Larkspur didn’t survive this, I would skin that bitch of a goddess alive, let her heal and then start anew. Once I was tired of that, I would carve her up, removing bits and pieces until she was writhing in agony, until she felt the smallest hint of the pain I felt right now.

“Come back to me, little monster. We’ve only just begun.”

Larkspur’s pulse was fluttering, her breaths growing softer with each second.

“She needs to remember,” Psyche said, stepping barefoot through the battlefield, uncaring of the way her toes pressed through bodies. “Nothing you do will matter until she does.”

She crouched beside us, pressing her shimmering palms to Larkspur’s chest. Her brilliant eyes focused on something I couldn’t see as her magic searched, willing Larkspur to live.

“Please,” I begged, holding her in my arms as more of Psyche’s magic poured into her. The blood was slowing, the gash across her neck growing smaller. It was working. She was healing.

Thank the fates.

“There,” Psyche breathed. “More Larkspur. You need to see.”

“Morpheus!” Lucius’s voice was shrill, dripping with terror. I found him standing among The Dark Ones, our army severely depleted and barely standing. Persephone and the others had fallen back, pressed up by the gorgons to the south while the plague of humans guided by a smirking Aphrodite continued from the north. Hades was holding Ares at bay, the two at a shaky standstill. But Lucius wasn’t looking at any of that.

His gaze was fixed on the dark spot along The Echoing Mountains. I followed his line of sight as Larkspur’s body heatedunder Psyche’s touch. Unbridled fury ignited within me as I spotted Hypnos.

His golden hair and silver robes acted like a beacon among the writhing mass at his back. Focusing on the creatures at his back, I saw the black wings weren’t leathery like The Night Children but covered in obsidian feathers. If they were closer, I knew I’d see dark veins around their eyes, representing the vengeance they feed off of: Furies. And not just any furies, they were The Allecto. They were the furies unceasing in anger, those who would fight regardless of pain or injury as long as their bodies could move.

And there, poised in his right arm, was The Cornucopia. Poppies were carved into the wooden structure, coiling toward the opening filled with The Sands of Slumber.

Aphrodite joined Hypnos’s side with a golden quiver slung across her back and bow in her hands. Egerius and Ares positioned themselves on Hypnos’s other side with a small collection of dark ones among them.

The ravaged souls of Cocytus continued to clash with heroes from Elysium in the space set between us. Their fight was brutal and surprisingly balanced. As soon as Elysium started to press forward, the desperate souls of Cocytus would beat them back, fighting as if this was their one opportunity to escape eternal suffering—which it was.

Hades mirrored Ares in pulling back from the clashing souls. The God of The Underworld returned to Persephone’s side. The Goddess of Spring was now positioned on Hades’s chariot, tucked within the shield of his mighty wings as she leaned on him for support. He wielded death magic against the gorgons at our backs, keeping them from pressing forward as we prepared for whatever my father had planned.

“I’m going to need you at my side, brother.” Lucius’s voice was grim, the expression across his face resignation as what remained of our army got in formation.

“I can’t leave Larkspur,” I said, clutching her tighter. Sweat beaded across her brow, her eyes still closed, but the deep gash across her neck had sealed, and her heart was still beating. So, why wasn’t she waking?

And why was she still getting warmer? Her skin started to steam, searing my hands.

“Egerius will have told Hypnos of her true identity,” Lucius said, adjusting the grip on his sword as our enemies formed a line. “Regardless of her motives, Demeter was the one keeping Larkspur from him. Hypnos will kill her because of who she is and the threat she poses to his throne.”

“I’d never let that happen,” I gritted through clenched teeth, watching as Ares ran the line in his fiery bronze chariot. He thrust his spear in the air as he bellowed vicious war cries, stoking the already crazy furies into a self-righteous frenzy.

“Then join me,” Lucius said. “And prove you’re more than a spoiled prince. Show them—your father, your people, but most importantly yourself—that you are capable of greatness. That you will be the king The Dark Ones need.”

“Almost there, sister,” Psyche breathed.

Larkspur’s temperature escalated, the torn skin between her shoulders leaving red burns along my hand.

“Set her down on her side and step away,” Psyche said, pushing back. “She’s right where she needs to be.”

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