Love & War: Book 2 Aphrodite Trilogy

Praise for Kaitlin Bevis’s Daughters of Zeus series . . .

Daughters of Zeus is hands-down my favorite mythological young adult series. It’s very hard not to love these books.—Rally the Readers Reviews

Of Persephone . . .

I loved, loved, loved this book!—The Tale Temptress

"This book had me hooked from the first page and didn’t let go until I’d turned the last page! The writing style, the voice, of the whole book is so compelling, so engaging! The tone is witty and funny, as it takes an ancient myth and modernizes it."—Readers Dialogue

Of Daughter of Earth and Sky . . .

"I highly recommend Daughter of Earth and Sky to anyone looking for a young adult tale of love and friendship."—Long and Short Reviews

This book was STUPENDOUS!! I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning to finish, which I haven’t done in quite a while. —Walking on Bookshelves

Of The Iron Queen . . .

"I highly recommend The Iron Queen as well as the rest of the series to readers looking for a gripping young adult fantasy."—Long and Short Reviews

The world is masterfully crafted, and once you have entered it, you will find yourself constantly wishing to go back.—Lynette at Escaping Reality One Book at a Time

Of Aphrodite . . .

Kaitlin masterfully weaves each new mythology retelling.—Escaping Reality One Book at a Time

Books in the Daughters of Zeus series

The Persephone Trilogy

Persephone

Daughter of Earth and Sky

The Iron Queen

The Aphrodite Trilogy

Aphrodite

Love & War

Venus Rising

(Coming 2017)

Love & War

by

Kaitlin Bevis

ImaJinn Books

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

ImaJinn Books

PO BOX 300921

Memphis, TN 38130

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-734-2

Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-713-7

ImaJinn Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2016 by Kaitlin Bevis

Published in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ImaJinn Books was founded by Linda Kichline.

We at ImaJinn Books enjoy hearing from readers. Visit our websites

ImaJinnBooks.com

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Cover design: Debra Dixon

Interior design: Hank Smith

Photo/Art credits:

Beach (manipulated) © Iakov Kalinin | Dreamstime.com

Woman (manipulated) © Lasse Behnke | Dreamstime.com

:Ewlk:01:

Dedication

To my husband, Brandon Bevis, for believing in me and listening to me read draft after draft out loud until I get the dialogue and flow just right. Thanks for keeping the kid occupied during long writing stretches, and thanks for giving up every Saturday you’re off so I can go to writers’ group. Thanks for working so hard so I can stay home and have time to write. Thanks for everything. I love you more than zebras.

Prologue

PANDORA WAS the box. The myths always got that part wrong. When the mortals stole fire from the God-King’s domain, Zeus molded the perfect woman out of clay and breathed not a soul into her small frame, but something darker: ingredients to break mankind.

She looks like us, Ares said in surprise when he set eyes on the first mortal woman. Mostly.

At the time, the human body held an entire soul, two heads, four arms, and four legs. They were complete beings, but still they felt unsatisfied. The human drive to always do more, have more, be more, left them hungry. Already, humans had stolen the Fire of Knowledge from the gods. Now they longed for ichor and the secrets of immortality.

This is the only way? Artemis asked, glancing at the woman with unease. Are you certain?

I’ve seen every possible outcome of the mortals’ current path, Apollo replied. Unchecked, they will destroy us all.

Resolved, all the gods of Olympus contributed toward Pandora’s creation. Athena taught her wisdom, Hephaestus curiosity, Ares passion, and Artemis strength.

As her lessons progressed, Pandora’s love for the gods grew. But when Zeus asked her to use her gifts to live among traitorous gods and men alike, she resisted.

You’re asking me to infiltrate, to spy, to destroy, she protested. There must be another way. Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t send me to them.

You were made for this, the God King decreed.

Eventually, Pandora’s love for the gods prevailed. She loved Zeus’s children and knew that if men no longer had need of the gods, the gods would soon die for want of worship.

Love makes monsters of us all.

The humans regarded Pandora as a curiosity, as she did not resemble them. Little did they know they were looking upon their future. The humans were kind to Pandora. She grew to love their company, but, sensing their destructive nature, she found she could not entirely dismiss Zeus’s plan to divide mankind by using her to introduce men to sickness, cold, and darkness.

She broke off pieces of the thing that should have been her soul and sowed them among mankind. But all her attempts to cause division within the human soul were met with failure. They were too complete, too perfect in their formation to bend and break. Instead of turning against each other, their resolve against the gods of Olympus grew.

The traitorous gods, on the other hand, were more amenable to distraction. Pandora was too much like the goddesses the brothers had left behind on Olympus to ignore. Epimetheus resisted her charms not at all, Prometheus for little longer. Soon the brothers fell to infighting. Nine months later, the first demigods were born and chaos swept across the land.

Because of their mother’s lack, the children only held half a soul, yet the humans could not help but love them, for the children were everything they’d ever wished for. One single, golden step between the mortal and divine. First one soul, then another, split in half and remade themselves in the semi-divine children’s image. One head, two legs, two arms, and one-half a soul per human body.

But the division caused the humans to become weaker instead of stronger. Their worst traits were amplified, their best halved. They spread across the globe, intent on consuming more and ever more. By the time they realized their mistake, they could no longer find their other halves.

Her grim mission complete, Pandora returned to her Olympian home, eager to be reunited with her gods.

Zeus did not welcome her back to Olympus.

Where am I to go? she demanded, heartbroken.

Live among men or throw yourself off this mountain for all I care. You’ve outlived your usefulness.

And so Pandora left. Ares did not take long to find her.

Did you know what would become of us? he asked, already wearied of his new role as God of War.

When their souls split, your role expanded to include the dark sides of your gift, Pandora replied. Man must always need you if you’ve any hope of surviving. There’s a price to balance.

Ares shook his head, staring down the mountain as if his gaze could pierce the fog and see the battle and bloodshed below. This is no kind of balance.

It will be. Pandora drew Ares to her and whispered the last piece of the thing that should have been her soul into his ear. It was a single word, one that had never before been uttered.

Why me? he asked, voice hoarse.

You’ll need hope more than anyone.

Chapter I

Aphrodite

I’M THE BOX, I whimpered from beneath my carefully crafted glamour. A picture from one of the books Ares had given me about mythology seared into my brain: Pandora desperately holding down the lid of a box.

You have to help her! Ares exploded in Adonis’s voice. Persephone had glamoured us both into demigods to infiltrate DAMNED: Demigods Against Major Nymphs, Elementals, and Deities. Not that Nymphs and Elementals were much of a thing anymore. Free to focus solely on deities, this group was responsible for the creation of weapons and poison designed to destroy us.

But thanks to a seven-day cruise from hell that ended with me fighting for my life, I’d die without their help.

Lies upon lies upon lies. The glamour itched at me, begging to be shed. Or maybe that was the blood drying on my skin. Adonis’s blood, my blood, both just a fraction of what was to come if the carefully stacked dominoes of our subterfuge fell.

Water, Aphrodite? Adonis’s gold eyes glittered as he held out the bottle laced with poison.

I moaned as the vision dissolved into another, almost as painful.

His arms wrapped around me, his mouth crushing against mine. "I could love you."

I didn’t mean to, he whined, passing me another bottle of water.

I didn’t have a choice, he whispered as I drank his lies.

Excuse after excuse tumbled off his tongue, and all the while, the feel of him cradling my face, running his fingers through my hair, his whispered breath against my skin played through my body like a song.

My eyes fluttered open, and I flinched when I saw his golden eyes boring into mine, wide with panic. I trusted you. I choked on the words.

More than trusted him. I’d practically idolized him, latching onto him as one of the only people who got me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Adonis was a monster. He’d drugged me in order to take away my powers, to make me weak. And in doing so, he’d signed my death warrant.

I wanted to hate him. But before I could process the full measure of his betrayal, he’d saved my life at the cost of his own. I’d held him as he died, his blood pooling around me on the metal floor. As he’d breathed his last, I’d decided that no, he didn’t get to do this. Adonis didn’t get to hurt me, betray me in the worst way, and then die for me, leaving me with a tangle of emotions and guilt so thick I wouldn’t be able to cope.

So I activated the ichor in his blood and turned him into a god, and in doing so, saved myself. His poison couldn’t attack my powers if they resided in him. And if I had been motivated to save him for any other reason than just to save myself, I didn’t feel like sorting through those feelings right now.

I’m so sorry, love, he whispered.

I’ve got you, love, Ares whispered.

Ares. Not Adonis. Ares. Persephone had glamoured Ares to look like Adonis and me to look like Elise so I could get medical help and we could infiltrate the demigod’s base. Before I could take my words back, before I could apologize, the boat lurched, sending a wave of pain crashing through me.

. . . as fast as we can, a faint voice assured him.

". . . not fast enough! Ares’s voice sounded raw with panic. Can’t you . . ."

". . . did this to her? What happened?" Another voice demanded.

Tantalus, Ares replied, playing a dangerous game. Gods couldn’t lie. He’d have to be careful how he phrased every word. . . . thought she was a goddess . . . beat her, then . . .

They are not people! Tantalus shouted when Adonis changed sides. "They are gods. They are wrong! Their very existence. The things they’ve done. Everything about them is wrong. How can you side with them?" He punctuated each syllable with a punch, turning me to pulp as Adonis screamed for him to stop.

. . . wasn’t breathing. Ares’s voice went hoarse.

Hey Donnie, wanna see something cool? Tantalus looked at me, and I felt his charm overtake me. "Drop dead." My body obeyed his command like a puppet.

. . . tried CPR, but . . .

Come on! Ares cried, his hands pressing against my chest in a desperate bid to keep my heart beating.

Ares’s voice broke. I just hurt her worse.

It feels like I— Ares drew in a deep breath. I break everything I touch.

I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t save her.

Run, Ares begged as the charm overtook him. Horror flashed through his eyes as he launched the spear.

. . . said it wasn’t her, the unfamiliar voice insisted. That one of them was glamoured to look like Elise. We thought—

Does she look like a god to you? Ares shouted.

Clever, I thought.

We’ve got dolphins, another voice interjected.

Dolphins were Poseidon’s harbingers. The sea god had probably sent them to follow the boat to the demigod’s base. But if the demigods spent any time trying to lose them, I might not make it.

Dolphins? Ares let out a string of curses. "We don’t have time to admire the marine life, damn it! She needs a hospital now!"

The first voice replied thoughtfully, undisturbed by Ares’s outburst. Text her our coordinates and prepare for the whole boat.

Jason, the second voice objected. She’ll—

We don’t have time to waste.

Knees brushed against me as someone, Jason presumably, knelt beside Ares. Take this. Keep pressure on the wound. Don’t take your eyes off her. It’s about to get bumpy.

Three . . . The second voice began counting down. Two. . . . One.

For a second, I felt as if I were floating, then the boat must have hit a wave at an odd angle because we slammed into the water so hard, a scream tore itself from my throat. Ares’s fingers dug into my shoulders, holding me down.

What was that? Ares yelled, pressing the towel into my side.

We just hit a rough patch, the first voice assured him. Almost there.

Hold on, Ares whispered, his hand slick with my blood as he kept pressure on my side. Are you still with me? Say something.

I was in no shape to respond. The stab wound by itself would have been bad enough, not life-threatening perhaps, but enough to warrant the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. But that wasn’t all my body had endured in the last twenty-four hours.

The boat shuddered as it docked and I felt myself being lifted, strapped onto some kind of stretcher. Ares’s hand fumbled for mine. Stay with me, he begged, and the fragile hope in his voice almost broke me. Please. Stay with me.

I break everything I touch.

The stretcher hit a bump and my tenuous hold on consciousness snapped.

Chapter II

Medea

THEY WANTED TO call it hope. I stared at the line I’d written as I bunched up the fluffy white pillow beneath me, trying find a comfortable position on my bed that didn’t make writing impossible. Scratching out the line, I frowned, mulling over where to begin.

This isn’t a story, I wrote. And I’m not going to tell it like one, even if I did get a fairy-tale ending. It’s a memory. One I never wanted to revisit, only now I have to.

Sometimes I get paranoid. Letting out a long breath, I glanced behind me toward the bathroom where the empty box loomed. I think the worst things. But only because I’ve forgotten how lucky I am that he saved me. I’m better off, no matter what he’s done.

Slipping off the bed, I walked across the cool tile of the bedroom floor and closed the aged, wooden door to the bathroom so I could no longer see the box. Then I returned to my journal.

I should have known. He never stopped pestering me about my decision. Maybe if I’d paid attention, I’d have noticed missing pills or poked holes or something. But I would notice something like that, wouldn’t I? Gods, I’m crazy. Completely crazy. There was nothing to notice.

But . . .

Gritting my teeth, I wrote, No. I’m not focusing on that right now. I need to look back. Back to that awful day when they found out I was a match for Absyrtus’s bone marrow. The ice cream, toys, and constant cajoling. My guilt. I was scared. The procedure sounded painful. But I didn’t want my (step) brother to die, so I agreed.

And yeah, the surgery hurt, but they loved me for it. Everyone was so happy. So hopeful, so damn proud of me. Back then, that mattered. Mom took the whole week off work. I still remember how happy I was, snuggling in bed with her while cartoons played on the screen. How special I’d felt. And then he got better. Not just a little better, but a full-on, complete cure by the next blood draw. Even his scars were gone. That’s when they realized how special I really was.

I swallowed hard, flipping onto my back to stare up at the palm leaf blades of the ceiling fan, making their lazy circle. Just write it, Medea. Drawing in a deep breath, I shifted so I could return pen to page.

That’s when Mom got greedy.

My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and saw a set of coordinates with the number of passengers. Two more than Jason left with, always a good sign. Closing my journal, I slid my pen through the little elastic loop and set the leather-bound book on the bed beside me.

Okay. I pushed myself to a sitting position, crossing my legs. The beige duvet crinkled beneath me. Drawing in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and focused.

Three, I texted. Teleporting an entire boat from one place to another was hard. The first couple of times I tried, I fried the engines. But Jason was nothing if not persistent, and money was no object when charm was involved. We could replace whatever we broke.

The tricky part was not accidentally breaking the people I dragged along with it. Although, I’d never done that. Keeping everyone intact seemed mostly instinctual. But I couldn’t help worrying that one day, I’d summon someone to me and they’d pop up looking like a misshapen blob of flesh with limbs sticking out in all the wrong places.

My stomach lurched. Wow, I needed to not think that visual ever again. Particularly not now. Drawing in a deep breath, I forced my mind to clear, visualizing the boat and the little golden people on board. I couldn’t see them, not really. But I could sense them, and that was almost the same. Two unfamiliar . . . not shapes, more like impressions, were on board the boat.

Two. Nails biting into the palms of my hand, I drew them to me. Well, not to me. A boat crashing through the wood plank walls of my bedroom would be problematic on a lot of levels. Fortunately, the island’s shield stopped anything from actually teleporting past them. The boat would arrive just far enough away to avoid slamming into the invisible barrier before Jason could signal Glauce to take the shield down.

One. Hot washes of agony sang through my nervous system as I drew the vessel toward the edge of the shield. Oh gods. Gasping, I lurched off the bed and into the bathroom just in time to heave my guts into the toilet. Pregnancy or teleportation? Ugh.

Jason kept saying that using our powers was like strengthening a muscle. But he was wrong. Maybe my accuracy was improving, but my body wasn’t any happier tolerating the strain of using that much power, no matter how much I practiced.

My gaze landed on the trashcan filled with nearly a dozen pregnancy tests, mocking me with their lines of blue and pink. My stomach lurched again.

Spent, I pulled my dark hair into a ponytail and carefully gathered all of the evidence into a plastic bag. I couldn’t risk the tests or empty boxes being in the house. Jason couldn’t find out. On a whim, I grabbed my journal and hurried down the street. I’d swing by the hospital so that I’d be there when Jason oriented the newbies to the island. Then he’d probably be busy the rest of the day. As long as I put in an appearance at dinner, he’d never know anything was amiss.

I circled behind the hospital and tossed the bag into the medical waste bin, ignoring the twinge of guilt for the improper sorting. Trash collection on the island was a complicated affair. It didn’t take more than a few sorting errors to leave us drowning in garbage.

A flurry of voices from around the building disrupted my thoughts.

Get the doors! Jason called.

Rushing to the front of the hospital, I grabbed one of the doors just as Otrera grabbed the other. She nodded at me over the stretcher that was being wheeled in.

I gasped when I saw the girl on the gurney. Her face was a mass of bruising and swelling, her dress crusted in blood. The sheer violence of her wounds twisted my stomach.

"What happened?" I asked Otrera, running into the hospital on her heels.

Tantalus went off the rails, she said, panting as she rushed through the lobby. You know that call Jason got from Tantalus last night about the gods taking our places and using glamours? She met my eyes, and I nodded, though I hadn’t heard about that call at all. He thought she was one of them.

. . . presenting with broken ribs, lacerations, and internal bleeding, a person in scrubs yelled as they whisked the girl down the hall.

An unfamiliar demigod, his face an identical mass of swollen bruises, tried to follow the stretcher, but the nurse pushed him back before hurrying through the set of swinging doors.

. . . can’t go back there, Jason’s calm voice reasoned. You’re injured. We need to—

I’m not leaving her! the demigod protested in perfect Greek.

Jason couldn’t have understood what the demigod said, but he moved in front of the swinging doors, speaking in calm and soothing tones. She’s going into surgery. There’s nothing you can do for her right now. Let’s get you taken care of, and—

The demigod moved to get past Jason, but Jason could be an effective wall when he had to be.

We can take him to the operating theater, I suggested, approaching the stranger. You can’t cross that line. I motioned to a red line in front of the doorway. But there’s a room upstairs where you can keep an eye on her.

The demigod whirled on me and I jerked back. His face clouded in confusion when he saw me, a common response since I’d come to the island. What are you? the quick once-over seemed to demand. You’re not one of us.

Nope, I wasn’t a demigod. Not exactly.

You could watch, I prodded, intentionally misinterpreting his look of incomprehension, switching to Greek. You’ll be able to see her the entire time. It probably wasn’t proper protocol, but I had a way of making people bend the rules.

That’s a great idea, Jason said at the same time, moving between me and the angry stranger. You’ll be able to see her the whole time, he explained, echoing me in English. And we can get someone to patch you up. He flagged down a passing nurse to charm her into making it happen.

I stared at Jason for a moment, my mind flashing back to that trashcan full of pregnancy tests. Did you do this to me on purpose or am I just being paranoid? Patched up? I asked instead, my eyes dropping to the hand the demigod kept held against his side. What—?

The demigod moved his arm and I drew in a sharp breath when I saw the long, shallow gash on his