Eric closed his eyes and nearly choked on his rage.
He’d found Terese, found her working in that damn gallery, painting those idiotic landscapes—those stupid rising suns. He’d found her, and he’d been the one to transform her.
Not that bastard back at her current hovel.
Terese should have stayed with him. She should have been a good little girl and taken him into her bed. She should have spent her nights showing him her love and undying gratitude for the new life he’d given her.
But, no, the stupid bitch had run. She’d waited until he’d gone to hunt, then she’d fled, disappearing into the night.
Foolish, foolish girl.
Terese wasn’t the first he’d transformed. Over the centuries, there had been others. Others that he’d chosen to gift.
Some had stayed with him, serving him night after night…until he’d tired of them. Then he’d had to kill them. But he’d made their deaths quick. Relatively painless.
A few others had been foolish like Terese. They’d fled, they’d fought, and he’d had to punish them. He’d made sure they suffered before they died. They’d deserved no courtesy from him.
Terese would have to suffer, too. He’d thought she was different. That she might finally be the one he needed most.
Pity.
He opened his eyes, but he didn’t see the room in front of him. Didn’t see the boarded windows or the makeshift bed.
He only saw her. Terese.
The whore who’d betrayed him.
Yes, she would pay.
But, first…he’d have to find a way of dealing with her new protector.
The man had been far too strong for a mere human.
Eric would take care of that bastard first, then he’d go after Terese.
He’d make sure she begged, make sure she cried and pleaded, before he gave her the sweet release of death.
And she would beg…
Chapter Five
A circle of laughing, leering men surrounded Terese.
Apollo paused inside the doorway of Hades, every muscle in his body seeming to turn to stone—and Medusa wasn’t even around.
What in the hell did Terese think she was doing?
He’d asked her to meet him there at dusk. He hadn’t thought that she’d—
Terese broke away from the circle, her hand outstretched, beckoning, to one of the guys.
Apollo’s jaw clenched.
The foolish mortal eagerly followed her—like some kind of damned dog. The mortal was a big, brawny guy with short cropped red hair and muddy brown eyes. He licked his lips as he watched Terese, and, even from across the room, Apollo could smell his lust.
Oh, hell, no. He waved his hand, parting the crowd as he stalked toward them.
He wasn’t sure what kind of game Terese thought she was playing, but there’d be no—
Terese opened the back door of Hades and led her mortal out into the alley.
“Terese!”
The dancers around him stilled at the lethal yell. But the back door had already swung shut.
* * *
A heady rush of power swept through her. Terese stared up at the red-head—Jeez, what was his name again? Martin? Marvin?—and felt her bloodlust grow.
The man was completely under her thrall. His gaze was helplessly fixated on her, his pupils dilated to tiny pinpricks.
“Get on your knees,” she whispered softly…and he did. He actually lowered to his knees before her! He stared up at her, waiting.
She’d been practicing her thrall over the last week. Little tests at first. Not on Apollo, never on him because she didn’t want to take his will away. She’d experimented only on strangers. Just little pushes before, but…
Now this.
A car horn sounded in the distance and laughter drifted in the air around her.
Terese was alone with the guy in the alley. Alone with a guy who outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds, but she wasn’t scared. She had all the control. All the power. Finally. “Tilt your head back,” she whispered and licked her dry lips.
Instantly, his head cocked, and his throat, that thick, muscled throat, was offered up to her.
Oh, my. Terese swallowed as her gaze drifted to the racing pulse point that tempted her—
“Don’t even think about it.”
She yelped and spun around at the rough rumble of Apollo’s voice.
He stalked out of the building’s shadows, his blue eyes glittering with rage. “Get away from him, Terese.”
“It’s…ah…not what you think.” He would have appeared at just that exact moment.
“Oh?” He took another slow step toward her, and the street light fell across his face. His seriously pissed face. “You didn’t just bring that guy out here so that you could stick those lovely fangs of yours in his throat?”
Well, the idea really was tempting…especially now that the fellow had his head tilted back so far and his throat was just waiting for her, but— “No. That’s not why I’m here.” Her fangs burned, but she ignored them.
The guy on the ground shook his head, then blinked groggily. “Wh—what’s goin’ on?”
Terese could have screamed. She glanced back down at the guy, striving to keep her thrall. “Nothing.” Her fingers stroked his hair. “You’re just resting for a moment, just resting and—”
Apollo grabbed her hand. “Do. Not. Touch. Him.” A tic jerked along his jaw.
But she needed to. She’d found that her compulsions worked a lot better if she touched her prey.
The redhead rose slowly. His brown eyes blinked, then narrowed. “What’s goin’ on?”
Apollo barely spared him a glance. “Go inside.”
The fellow’s bushy brows lowered. “Dick, don’t you tell me what to do—”
“Fuck off.” Apollo turned his head and locked his unblinking gaze on the fellow.
“Man, I will kick your ass!” The man’s fingers curled into ham-sized fists.
Terese reached out to touch him. She knew she could bring him back under her compulsion, knew she could calm him down and—
Apollo pulled her to his side. “I told you not to touch him,” he gritted.
She swallowed, and a lick of fear shot through her at the lethal expression on his face.
“Mortal, go inside.” Apollo’s voice shook with power.
The fellow ran inside.
And Terese really, really wanted to run after him.
Because she didn’t think being stranded in a deserted alley with an angry god was going to be much fun.
A strange, golden glow seemed to surround Apollo. Her eyes began to water as she gazed at him.