Heph: Modern Descendants 3, page 1
HADES
elda lore
L.B. Dunbar writing as
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
© 2017 Laura Dunbar
Cover Design – Amy Queau, QDesigns
Edit – Kiezha Ferrell, Librum Artis Editorial Services
Table of Contents
Other Work by elda lore
Heph 1
Phyre 2
Heph 3
Phyre 4
Heph 5
Phyre 6
Heph 7
Phyre 8
Heph 9
Phyre 10
Heph 11
Phyre 12
Heph 13
Phyre 14
Phyre 15
Heph 16
Phyre 17
Heph 18
Phyre 19
Phyre 20
Heph 21
Phyre 22
Heph 23
Phyre 24
Heph 25
Heph 26
Phyre 27
Heph 28
Phyre 29
Heph 30
Phyre 31
Heph 32
Phyre 33
Heph 34
Phyre 35
Epilogue
Thank You
Contemporary Romance
More by elda lore
About the Author
Connect with elda lore
OTHER WORK BY elda lore
Modern Descendants
Hades (#1)
Solis (#2)
Heph (#3)
Triton (#4) – coming Fall 2017
heph
“What the hell?”
The first arrow whizzed past the windshield at enough speed I questioned the object. I dismissed it for a low hanging twig. The second one was unmistakably recognizable. The long shaft with a narrow head hit the driver side window and was repelled. A flimsy piece of wood was no match for my 2016 Camaro, but when I heard the thud-thud-thud of a flattening tire, I reconsidered that thought.
It was hard enough to find the entrance to Hestia’s property: Turn right at the large boulder, head south three miles. Search for the gravel road. At the curved tree, enter a barely visible, two-tire path leading into the thick forest. The evening light of the northwest made it harder to see under thick foliage. A puncture to the tire would result in finding the rest of the drive in total darkness.
A puncture, that’s what had to have caused the flat.
I stopped the car and exited to find a thin shaft sticking out of my front tire. A tender tug with my thick hands and the stick came clean, but the damage was done.
“Kids,” I cursed, believing wayward children were using the forest as their playground. A sharp poke to my back made me think otherwise.
“Turn around. Slowly.” The voice was distinctly female, feminine and sweet, but sharp like the point of the arrowhead and quivering like the release from a bow. Whoever she was, she wanted to sound tough. Turning as she directed, I came chest-to-face with a diminutive woman. Her head hardly reached my shoulders, her frame almost as slim as the arrow pointed at my lower region.
“Don’t move.”
Considering where she had her weapon aimed, I didn’t plan to cross her, although the differences in our stature were almost comical. I stood over six-four and twice her width, maybe three times. A large man by nature, my only curse was a limp from a metal leg hidden under my jeans and an ugly, scarred face. Yet, even though she had a weapon trained on me, I had an inexplicable desire to draw her close to me, soothe the wounds I suspected, and protect her.
My hands lifted slowly in surrender. Under a cap that covered her hair and with a scarf over her mouth, the next thing to pierce me were eyes the cobalt of rare sea glass. Smoky blue, but brilliant, they roamed the expanse of my body. My breath caught in my chest, and I choked on the very air I needed to breathe. Her eyes opened wider as she stared back at me, and a moment passed where I felt as if she recognized me. My heart thumped in my chest, like an eager pet welcoming home its master. In those thirty seconds, I sensed a familiarity with her, and a thrill rippled through me. But her eyes squinted, and the recognition passed.
“oh rrrr ew?” she muttered through the scarf. Still frozen in the awkward position of her arrow at my zipper and my hands in the air, I didn’t fully understand her, but her attention exhilarated me. Instantly, I was turned on, harder than I should be with a weapon aimed at a vital part of me. My hand lowered, thinking only to remove the scarf from her cheeks, but she flinched sharply to her right, and it gave me the entrance I needed. Snap went the arrow aimed at my dick. I grinned slowly, holding up the two halves, sliced by my finger like a broken pencil, she blinked at me. My heart fell to my feet like Icarus falling from the sky. A thud reverberated inside me, and I was certain it was audible in the silence of the woods. She inhaled sharply. Had I frightened her? Her ocean blue eyes widened.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I offered. Instantly, she straightened. Eyes narrowing, she took a large step back. I wanted to smile. She was so much tinier than me, but her attitude stood taller than the trees surrounding us. Using the bow as her next weapon, she leveled the tip to my chest, but her eyes were the armament that captured me, captivating me with secrets hidden deep within their smoky visage. Did she feel the warm vibe between us heating to a frenzied inferno? My body vibrated with need and I took a cautious step toward her.
“Stay back,” she snapped, abruptly removing the pale, lavender-colored cloth covering her mouth and revealing lips in a deep, magenta-purple, accentuating her eyes. The tip of a pink tongue swiped over them, enhancing the sheen. My mouth watered, thirsty for a sample of such a rich color, doubtful that one drink would satisfy me. My curiosity piqued at the juicy plum flavor I imagined, yet I set aside thoughts of seduction with a need to reassure her she was safe with me.
“Look,” I spoke, my gruff voice rippling around us in the enclosure of tightly packed trees. “You do realize you’re the one who shot my car, so don’t suddenly look afraid of me.”
“I’m not frightened.” Her spine snapped straight. Her bravado impressed me. Hell, even the harsh sound of her voice excited me. Stop it, Heph, I cursed myself. I could not be interested, I argued, not after the number of times I’d been recently burned by women. I was here to forget the temptation of the fairer sex, not forge my way through another one. Oh, the irony, given where I was headed.
“Look, maybe you can tell me why you shot my car or why you are traipsing around these woods?”
“You’re trespassing. Go back from where you came.” My eyes narrowed. Frustration built as I turned my head left and right, sensing the impending darkness, knowing where the narrow path ahead could lead. It was an isolated locale. No other inhabitants lived near Hestia’s Home, my destination, and that was its purpose: to be hidden and harbor those it housed. After all that had happened to me, I needed the seclusion it offered to regroup and reevaluate my life. Knowing who owned these grounds, her claim startled me.
“Do you know Hestia?” It was the only explanation for her accusation.
“Do you?” she snarked, with bow still trained at my chest, as if she could hurt me.
“I do.” I had to smile a little, and folded my arms, accentuating my size. She reminded me of my sister, Veva. Feisty and terse, Veva could sting like a bee but also could soothe like honey.
“How?” The non-threatening weaponry at my chest trembled at the recognition that we shared Hestia in common.
“How do you?” I replied, not letting this little mouse have the upper hand. Her eyes pinched again, the expression telling me—no, warning me—it was none of my business. Her name, her history, and her friendship were not for me, but the need to protect her filled me again. I knew why women came to Hestia’s Home and her silence told me many things. Taking another quick scan of our surroundings, I realized the darkness grew deeper under our covering. I wouldn’t be able to see to fix the flat unless my huntress helped me.
“Okay, little spark, if that’s how you want to be, maybe you could help me with the tire, and we could get to Hestia’s?” I stated, slowly relishing the challenge she presented to me.
“Maybe you could just follow me?” She tilted her head, tipping the bow to suggest I could lead, as her prisoner.
“If that’s how you want things to be,” I chuckled, my lips curving to tease her before I spun for the diminishing path, but not before I noticed her stiffen again.
“Women,” I muttered, recalling in quick flashes all that had happened lately, stalling to observe the soothing change in scenery with a wandering gaze. My eyebrows rose in surprise when she poked my back with her damn bow. The crunch of heavy leaves and snapping twigs under foot gave warning to any wildlife. A giant and his captor mouse proceeded through the browning foliage of the wooded northwest. Although many leaves remained green, fall was settling in slowly, and the colors changed subtly to yellows and oranges.
“Men,” hissed behind me and a sharp pinch to my lower back reminded me of my warden. Unafraid of her, I plowed forward.
“I think your precious vehicle will be safe enough,” she replied as if reading my thoughts. I liked the idea we could be that in tune with one another.
Too soon, the house appeared as if by magic, plopped down in a large, circular ring of cypress and pine, serving as centurions of protection. The homestead stood two stories high, framed in white with a plethora of windows on each floor and a large covered porch gracing the front. A huge barn to the side, several yards from the home, housed the small factory where Hestia taught her trade, and where I’d learned to control fire myself, as a child. A billowy cloud of white puffed out the large chimney, which meant the fires inside stoked hot. The house had the same effect, only small plumes rose from the three stalks, forming wispy trails as they reached for the sky.
The air was chilly this far north, and I was thankful for my lined flannel shirt and cap. The warmth inside the house beckoned me further. A prodding at my back reminded me to keep walking. When I turned for the side door, I surprised the peanut behind me, but she’d soon learn I was as familiar with this home as she was. Opening the door, not waiting for an invitation, I found Hestia in a position I often did: stoking the flames in an old-fashioned stone hearth, complete with copper pots on one side and a large black kettle on the other. The stomp of my feet signaled for her attention, and she turned quickly. Her blazing smile welcomed me, and for the first time in months, I relaxed.
“Hephaestus, my darling!” she exclaimed as she approached, her tiny frame opening her arms to embrace me although I was twice the size of her. With white-blonde hair and weathered skin, she wasn’t old, per se, but instead appeared buffered by time. The oldest of the three daughters of Titus: Hestia, Hera and Demi, she lived hidden away in the woods, versus the family farm in Nebraska.
“You’re so late. I’ve been expecting you for hours.” She pulled back from our embrace, holding onto my thick forearms.
“I was unavoidably detained.” I arched a brow and looked over my shoulder, realizing I blocked the view of my captor. Stepping left, the fierce elf stood exposed, equal parts irritated and perplexed by the warm greeting.
“It seems I have captivated, I mean, become captive to this one.” I nodded in the direction of the mouse, who was still covered by a scarf, hat and fingerless gloves. Removing the gloves first, delicate fingers wiggled with relief. The ends of her nails were short, with the look of grease under them. Intrigued, I stared, sensing her hands knew labor like mine. Next came her scarf, wound triple around her neck, revealing skin as pale as Grecian china. Finally, her cap slipped off her head and a tumble of cherry-rosebud hair fell past her shoulders. My heart leapt at the color, which matched her lips, and my chest rose and fell as I took in short breaths. Her blue eyes sparkled in the reflection of the flaming hearth, and I suddenly wanted to lay her down in front of it, mapping out each inch of white skin and slipping fingers through that vibrant color teeming off her head.
“I see you’ve met,” Hestia said, breaking my stare. “She’s a little spitfire, isn’t she?” Hestia chuckled as her hand slipped over my elbow and her head rested on my bicep.
“A little spark of something,” I replied roughly, my lips curving as I regarded the beauty before me, but my insides twisted at the unbidden attraction after my sudden break-up. I shook off that nagging sensation of recognition, when she opened her mouth to speak.
“My name is Phyre,” she said, lifting her chin. “And I’m the whole flame.”
phyre
The way he stared at me unnerved me, in an unsettling-yet-feel-good sort of way. His chocolate brown eyes were large circles on either side of a slightly crooked nose. Broken, I imagined, as I knew how to reset one, and understood the effects of one not set properly. His lower face was covered in heavy scruff, a perfect amount that was more than thick peach fuzz and less than grizzly bear. When he pulled off his cap the second he entered the house, the thick hair on his head nearly matched his face. Cut trim to his scalp, no bangs provided coverage of a heavy gash to the forehead, next to a long-healed scar.
It had been a long time since I found myself attracted to anyone, but a sense of recognition knocked on my closed heart. The instant he looked at me, the warmth of his eyes calmed me, and elevated me, at the same time. Emotions spiraling in opposite and contradictory directions, I felt centered and out of control all at once.
“What happened to you?” Hestia instantly fussed, turning this man to face her. Her aging hands rose to his face, while he had to bend at the waist to lower for her inspection. Mothering hen to any creature, I thought, as Hestia tenderly massaged over the wounds. I knew her touch. I’d experienced them myself upon arrival here.
“I got into a fight. With War.”
I snorted. How ironic, I thought, but neither of the other two flinched at the name.
“What happened?” Hestia’s voice softened, her hands now cupping either side of his face.
“Zeke happened.” His voice grew deeper, rougher than the sultry, gruff sound exhibited outside. Rumbling through me, vibrating from my toes to ripple up my legs, it set off a long-suppressed eruption at my core. I questioned the sensation and cursed myself for such an immediate reaction to him.
“Who’s Zeke?”
Turning to face me, Hestia and the man she called Hephaestus, stared at me as if they had forgotten I was in the room. I didn’t like to be forgotten. Too often in the past, I had been, and the flame burned until someone noticed me. But that thought was not for these two.
“We can talk later, Heph,” Hestia said, releasing his nickname, and ignoring my question.
Adara, my oldest sister by nature of Hestia's Home entered the breakfast room. Her eyes latched onto Heph and she stopped short. The cheeks of her caramel skin pinked. Her head high, her smile forced, she was a beauty, a goddess of fire, refreshed from a night near a blaze. Her eyes didn't waiver from Heph's nor did his leave her face. My heart pinched as they stared and I realized they shared a history. It felt as if someone stabbed me with scissors.
The smile on Adara’s face brightened further, a genuine curve to a bow ready to shoot an arrow of love. Then it fell.
“Adara, you're the first to welcome Heph home. Well, the first after Phyre.” Heph’s eyes leapt from Adara’s, to mine. His smile slowly melting as he noticed my frown. Something wasn't right. The air thickened heavier than the hearth smoke. Heph’s eyes returned to Adara and a conversation ensued in which Hestia and I were intruders. I was ready to remove myself, struggling at the thought of walking away from him. A strange sense of knowing Heph filled me, which seemed impossible. I came here a year ago, shortly after he left. In the long journey it took to get here, surely we had not met before, and yet I stood behind him, like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to resist the temptation of scorching heat.
“It appears that makes me second then, not first, for Hephaestus.” Adara’s eyes flicked away and a false, brittle smile formed on her angular, exotic face. Men would worship her, if we didn’t live here. Adara did not wish for that fame. It appeared, however, that she did wish for Heph's heart. The observation caused the stabbing pain to my side deepen.
“I'll tell the others we have company.” With those words, Adara excused herself and Heph’s gazed followed her before he hung his head. Hestia frowned. She didn’t like discord within her home.
“Phyre, my girl, you need to wash up.” The woman who took me in, who I owed my new life, watched me with eyes that saw too much. “It’s your night for dinner duty.” My shoulders slumped. I hated dinner duty, but I could use the time to contemplate what had transpired. Who was Hephaestus? What was he to Adara? What were these strange feelings I had toward him?
The idea of dinner distracted me. I wasn’t a very good cook. In fact, my first night of active participation, I burned everything, including the bottom of a pot where I boiled out all the water. Thankfully, I had a partner on the nights it was my responsibility. I’d often take over the set up and clean up while my surrogate sisters hovered over the stove and hid my incompetency. Hestia knew the truth, but she didn’t call me out on it.
