down, they were just alike. Warriors honed on the field of battle, sharp as a dagger, cynical, willing to do anything for their friends. And on some level, they were friends. Had been since the first. He might not want to be here, but he didn’t want her to get hurt, either. So he’d come; he would help her. But he wouldn’t let her push for more. As long as she maintained an emotional distance, he would stay. Would be her “medicine cabinet.”
As pissed off and hurting as she was, she was also grateful.
“Something else is also new this year,” Juliette continued, pulling Kaia from her thoughts. “The prize. This time around, the winners will not receive silver and gold after each competition.”
“What?” someone shouted.
“That’s why we’re here!” another growled.
Juliette held up her hands, a command for silence. A command that was instantly obeyed. “This year, we have something better.”
Amid questioning murmurs, the curtain at the side of the stage parted. And then—Kaia’s mouth dropped open. No way. No damn way. The “slave” she’d tried to acquire all those centuries ago, the one who’d wreaked such havoc on the Harpy clans, strode to Juliette’s side. He was chained at the wrists, just as before. He was more muscled now, his dark hair longer, but his features were still sharp, stubborn.
“Dear gods. Is that him?” Bianka gasped out.
“Yeah,” she managed to squeak. No one had told her that Juliette had found him. When had she found him? Where? “That’s him.”
“Him who?” Strider demanded.
At first, Kaia thought she detected a note of jealousy in his tone, and it was such a loverlike response she wanted to kiss him deep and dirty. Strip him down to nothing more than skin and a smile. She wanted to ride him hard, fast and forever. All mine. Then common sense punched her right in the jaw. He might be jealous, but not in any way that mattered. Strider had decided to help her, and his demon would allow no one to interfere. Especially not another warrior.
Part of her resented that. The other part of her really resented that. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, Meds? He’s no one you need to concern yourself with.”
“Kaia,” he snapped.
“Hush it, would you?” She couldn’t tell him the truth. Still didn’t want him to know of her past foolishness, when he already thought so little of her. “You’re making me look bad in front of my team.”
“Kaia.”
“Fine. I’ll explain later,” she lied.
A tense pause. Then, “You’d better.”
“Or else?”
“Yeah.”
Her nemesis—the man she’d searched for over the years, determined to punish for what he’d done to her sister, but had never found—now held a long, thin spear. Its thicker, oblong tips were comprised of glass, something glowing and twirling inside them.
Power, so much power, radiated from that spear.
Juliette claimed the weapon without a word of thanks. The man—his name, she had long ago learned, was Lazarus, though she and Bianka had nicknamed him The Tampon for being such a douche—spun on his booted heels. His dark gaze moved over the crowd … searching … before snagging on Kaia. He stopped, stared.
Oxygen froze in her lungs, making it impossible to breathe. No damn reaction, she thought. Not here, not now. Later, though, she would seek him out. She would hurt him as she’d always wanted.
Slowly he grinned. So handsome … so coldly evil. She hissed, her fangs popping free of her gums. You’re dead, cowboy. He belonged to Juliette, yes, and everyone clearly blamed Kaia rather than him for what he had done to their loved ones. And yeah, they blamed her with good reason. Had she done as she’d been told, he wouldn’t have had the strength to harm anyone. But he had been the one to rip through flesh, with his teeth, his claws. He had been the one to render those deathblows.
He would be the one to pay—by Kaia’s hand.
Every time she had sent a fruit basket to Juliette, she had referenced the past—but in her mind, she had offered the apology because of what she planned do in the future. She was going to kill him. No one hurt her sisters. No one.
“Forget later. Him, the fuck, who?” Strider demanded again.
Before she could think up a reply, the Tampon kicked back into gear, exited the stage, and was once again hidden behind the curtain. Smart of him. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could have refrained from flying at him.
When she went for him, it would be in private. No one there to save him.
“Later,” she repeated.
“This,” Juliette said, drawing everyone’s attention to the spear in her hands, “is very, very precious. Far more so than silver or gold.” Her lavender gaze locked on Kaia. “I’m sure you’ve sensed its power, but what you don’t know? That power can be transferred to you. You can wield it, control it. You’ll be stronger than you ever imagined. You’ll be invincible.”
Murmurs abounded.
If what Juliette claimed was true, why hadn’t she transferred the powers to herself? Why hadn’t she struck at Kaia already? Why was she so willing, so eager to give the thing away?
Juliette flashed an indulgent smile. “Throughout the centuries, the gods have called this mighty weapon the Paring Rod. I, however, have a better name for it. First prize.”
Strider stiffened.
Sabin cursed.
Both men would have leapt on the stage if Taliyah and Neeka hadn’t held them back. The action proved unnecessary, however, because the weapon disappeared in a blink, in Juliette’s hand one minute, gone the next.
“What the hell?” Kaia, Gwen and Bianka asked in unison.
Kaia peeled her sister’s hands off her man and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to focus on her. “What’s going on?”
“First prize,” Strider gritted out. “It’s the fourth artifact. The one we need to help us find and destroy Pandora’s box.”
“Which means first prize,” Sabin finished bleakly, “has the power to wipe us out. Forever.”
CHAPTER SIX
HOW THE HOLY HELL HAD this happened?
Strider paced the length of the dingy motel room, the ice in his veins making his movements sluggish. His boots hammered into the shaggy brown carpet, creating a well-worn path.
Kaia was perched on top of the TV, watching him, her expression concerned. Her long, smooth legs were crossed at the ankles and swinging, banging into the screen every other second. A little faster, and she would have matched the thump,
