Hotter Than Hell

CHAPTER 1

SHE OPENED HER EYES, LISTENING TO THE OTHER goddess murmurs in the moonlight. It took a moment to adjust her thoughts and her understanding to the new era, to the new languages being spoken, to the new weapons available for her use. She sat up slowly, quietly, as a deep sadness claimed her and then shuddered in horror as she became aware of all that had been done.

Silent tears cascaded down her high, regal cheekbones. She tossed a thicket of dark, brunette hair over her caramel shoulders and stood wide-legged, naked and majestic, in a warrior’s stance. Her bow in a tight grip, her quiver filled with deadly arrows, she peered down into the still mountain pool that shimmered like glass.

“I, daughter of the Nubian queen, Leto, a Titan revered in all of Greece, and begat by the Greek god, Zeus, stand I the twin and sister of Apollo—Artemis—and vow by my bow and arrows created by the great Hephaestus and the Cyclopes to avenge this injustice against the wilderness! What have they done?”

Vancouver, Canada…

Vincent D’Jardin rubbed his palms down his face in weary agitation. How the hell his commanding officer had found him at his favorite bar way out here made every muscle coil in his body with tension. But that’s what they did in their profession—find people who didn’t want to be found. Still, it wasn’t right. They’d said after the Delta job in Miami, he’d have some time off. Vincent locked gazes with Major Harcourt for a moment before returning his angry glare to his bourbon. This was bullshit.

“I know,” the major said, sliding onto a barstool next to Vincent and hailing the bartender for a beer. “That’s why I came myself.”

“What’s the job and for how long?” Vincent didn’t look at the man beside him, just took a surly sip from his drink.

The major slid an arrow tip across the bar toward Vincent. “I figured with your background, you might be able to shed some light on this.” He sat back eyeing him. “You’ve heard about them, I’m sure.”

Vincent let out an agitated breath. He’d been undercover in Miami, not under a rock. Who hadn’t heard about the kooks who were abducting CEOs of major mining and lumber firms without a trace and simply leaving dead stags shot up with bronze arrows? From Wall Street to the Amazon, work sites had been disrupted and dead stags had been left everywhere.

It was a seriously vexing puzzle—who could get a twelve-point stag into Wall Street office buildings, past security cameras, without a trace, and then butcher it? To his way of thinking, that ruled out environmentalists. They wouldn’t sacrifice the animal. Had to be terrorists trying to leave some coded message.

But he took grave offense at the assumption that, because the perpetrators worked with arrows as their calling card, he should have some insider knowledge. Vincent stared at the unfamiliar shape that was a three-dimensional cone that was designed to leave a gaping hole in the victim, as well as briefly studied the strange etchings on the sides, then took a slow sip of his bourbon, considering how he would answer.

“You run the markings by the foreign languages boys?” he asked, looking at the arrowhead again but not touching it. Vincent glanced up into his CO’s impassive blue eyes. “Or the guys that specialize in antiquities—or did you think the Owiqwidicciat would have some special Native American insight through his maternal DNA about freakin’ arrows?” He narrowed his glare on the major, becoming more pissed off as he thought about it. “Or, maybe, it would be because my father was French Haitian…perhaps I could check with a voodoo priest and get back to you?”

Major Harcourt sighed and took a swig of beer to wet his dry throat. “Gimme a break, D’Jardin, and drop the chip on your shoulder while you’re at it. I know you’re pissed off about us recalling you so soon for another job, but it doesn’t have anything to do with heritage. You’re the best man for the situation, given where these Artemis bastards are tracking.” He leaned in closer. “Yeah, we decoded it off the arrowheads, and it’s ancient Greek—so we’ve got some Mediterranean assassins, go figure.”

“I’d rather not,” Vincent said, coolly assessing his CO. “I’m on leave, remember? You promised me a month.”

Dismissing the comment, Harcourt pressed on. “You ever heard of this terrorist group, D’Jardin? We can’t figure out if they’re a splinter cell, an individual cell, a gang, bandits just out for financial gain by kidnapping the wealthy, or what. But they’re cutting a swath through Yukon country, crossing international boundaries from the U.S. to Canada and back again using the wilderness as camouflage, and headed—we think—toward pipeline outposts up in Alaska. It hasn’t been publicized yet for obvious reasons, and we were able to cite the Wall Street incident as an isolated, possibly organized-crime-related event…just like we could clean up the other situations that happened on foreign soil, keeping certain details out of the media and on a need-to-know basis. However, they’ve abducted an oil baron…that got presidential attention. Now the powers that be, who are much higher than you or I, want this problem to go away very quickly and very quietly, with a good group to pin it on. No matter what, terrorists did it. That’s the only reason I came to you. We clear?”

Vincent looked at the major and clenched his jaw with a nod. “Clear. Just as long as I don’t have to cut my hair.”

The major smiled and accepted Vincent’s surly peace offering in good humor. “No, you can leave the mane—will probably help you blend in on the job up there, anyway.” He took another swig of his beer and stared at the French barmaids with appreciation. “I’d be mad at me, too, you ornery SOB. But duty calls.”

“It’s not a mane, they’re dreadlocks,” Vincent corrected with a mutter, but the major’s attention was slow to return.

What else was there to say? The man had always been fair and wasn’t a bigot he’d give him that. But after living underground, hustling through the damned Everglades after drug dealers, the last thing he felt like was a wilderness job. His nerves were raw and the accusation leapt from disappointment. Not to mention, oil fat cats, mining and logging robber barons were the antithesis of victims to his mind’s eye. They had been the enemy as far as he was concerned. The things they did to the environment, and their ever-present threat to it, made him sick to his stomach. As it was, he’d come home to help vote on the proposed water quality standards for Neah Bay for submission to the Environmental Protection Agency. But now he couldn’t even do that and he’d have to chuck his personal philosophies to get the job done.

“What do you need in terms of resources, Vince?” The major finally looked at him, the tension relaxing from his weathered, bronze face as he put the arrow tip back in his pants pocket.

“Top squad, Bravo commandos,” Vincent grumbled, his gaze on his drink. “Five men.”

All his dreams of going back home to the Makah Nation where he grew up were evaporating as he sat, his mood darkening by the second. All he wanted was a few weeks to return to the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State…the small town of Neah Bay was calling his name…so was home cooking, and the beaches flanked with red cedar and pristine wildlife. He wanted to find a place of solitude that the people who lived by the rocks and sea gulls had known for thousands of years before invasion…to sit in the wilderness to stare across the Straight of Juan de Fuca to Vancouver Island. All he’d wanted to do when he walked in this bar was to relax, finally tie one on, and get laid—now this. “And a brunette.”

The major gave a start and then caught the joke and laughed. He downed his beer and slapped Vincent on the back. “You always get me, D’Jardin. I can never tell when your surly ass is serious or not. I’ll see you at o-eight-hundred in Anchorage. There’s a Black Hawk waiting for you at the military hangars here.” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his close cut hair as he slapped down a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and stood to leave. “You kill me, D’Jardin—I swear.”

Vincent watched his CO thread his way through the bar toward the exit. “Who was joking?” he said, polishing off his drink as he stood.

At least he didn’t have to go through a bunch of crap with rookies. The squad that assembled were familiar faces, and slow smiles crept across each one as recognition was made.

Lou, short for Lu Chen, everybody respected as a fighting machine despite his wiry, compact size. It was good to have him on the team, and his explosives expertise was undeniable. He offered Vince a slow, confident nod and Vince nodded back, feeling much improved as he quickly assessed the group. Dutch, the crazy Swede, was six feet, six inches, of blond destroyer. Having a solid artillery man was a must. Good. Jermaine, an insane brother from Brooklyn who was an unparalleled communications whiz, stood with sinew-cut arms folded over his cinder-block chest, attitude raw, and cornrows glistening. Cool.

Vincent laughed to himself as Donovan walked up and gave him a Cuban brotherhood embrace. Like him, Rodriguez could track anybody and find the wings of a fly in the middle of a hurricane, if he had to. They’d both survived Miami.

Jesse, one of the best snipers in the unit, stood back, chewing on a toothpick, his shock of red hair blowing from the force of the chopper blades as he pushed his lanky frame off the side of the craft. “Howdy, all,” he said with a wide grin and a distinctive Midwest drawl. “Good day for huntin’, ain’t it?”

Indeed it was.

CHAPTER 2

SHE SPIED THEM FROM THE TOWERING TREE TOPS, she and her nymphs blending into the thick canopy watching, their eyes keened like hawks to each male form that walked through the wilderness. These hunters carried weapons that no animal would stand a chance of survival against. Even their method of hunting was unbalanced, unfair. They made war against the innocent—her forests.

If they came in search of their missing generals of destruction, they would be trapped by their own folly. Those decimators of green places had been turned into stags as her great legends prophesized—he who befouled Artemis’s wilderness would be transformed and then hunted to his death. Was the edict not clear? Had they forgotten over the eons? The thought of such disrespect enraged her. She only wished she could deliver to them the fate that had befallen Actaeon, whom she’d turned into a stag and beset his own hounds upon!

Seething, Artemis followed the men with soundless footsteps, her nymphs taking strategic positions. They had employed mercenary Titans against her! These men were of no mere mortal proportions. Their height and stature, like her own, was surely a Titan blend, if not of pure blood.

Closely studying them, she keened her eyes, taking each in as she steadied her bow. One had hair like a flame and loped as he strode, another was thick and tall, his hair like sunburned wheat. Another was clearly of Nubian origin, perhaps Ethiopian, she couldn’t be sure. One had hair as dark as Egyptian onyx, his frame smaller, but his agile speed noteworthy. Another was hard to judge…Persian, Asiatic?

The most magnificent one in the lead had a mane like a lion’s…he walked with a royal cat’s agility, his aura almost stroking the trees with uncommon reverence as he passed them. Splinters of sunlight glinted off his tawny hue. His eyes were intense, that of a seasoned hunter…his shoulders broad and sure. He was at least two hands higher than her, and she stood as a goddess at six feet tall. Her bow lowered slightly, but then she reset her stance. She would not be tricked. This was no immortal, and certainly not one with reverence to her pristine lands.

Yet their mission intrigued her and she almost laughed aloud. Were they so foolish as to be searching for the missing? They already had them, the dead stags, that was the laughable thing. She had no real interest in slaughtering soldiers who simply followed orders—she had gotten to the generals who gave the orders. Once she’d conquered them all, no more orders would be given to harm the dear land. However, there was so much to learn…

Strange customs, strange palaces, buildings with lights that rendered no flame. Odd lifts that carried people away in fast-moving boxes higher than the tallest trees she’d ever witnessed. Chariots without horses…throngs of pedestrians more dense than all of Rome’s populace it seemed, and underground dragons that roared so loudly they shook the ground. All of this she’d seen quickly in her mind as she’d acclimated to the new time…some of it she’d seen as she’d dropped an errant stag in the high palaces. But the roaring, wide-tooth monsters that ate at land and trees had broken her heart. She had to understand this assault against the beloved earth, for it seemed to be everywhere, even against the seas. If there was one source to negotiate with, one king of all these lands, she’d have his head. Otherwise it could take years of battle to bring it all to an end, and she feared most deeply within her very being that time was running out for the wild.

“It’s like they’re ghosts,” Vincent said, shaking his head as he stooped with Donovan to study the ground. “There was a recent encampment here,” he added, feeling the heat off the small, charred remains of a campfire and hunting through the leaves to find where tents could have been pitched. “This is the only viable hiking path to the main pipeline outpost buildings, and all roads leading to it have roadblocks checking IDs, reporting nothing…no helicopter—”

His words were cut off by the whoosh of an arrow that tore through his fatigue jacket at the bicep, grazing his arm and then lodged deeply in the trunk of a tree. The squad immediately fell back, took cover behind trees, and open fired in the direction of the arrow.

Automatic weapon report rent the air. Flashes of bullets sprayed the terrain blasting away ground cover, bark, setting birds in flight, the stench of spent ammunition eclipsing the fresh forest air.

Completely appalled by the woodland destruction, Artemis gave a hand signal for her nymph warriors to wait. The Titans had harnessed the lightening of Zeus? How could they have? These were strange Titans indeed. Infuriated, she dropped down from the top of a tree landing in a crouch in the center of the glen, so startling the soldiers before her they began squeezing lightening from their weapons before she could speak.

But she was immortal.

Her flips defied the bolts that took down trees, and she heard one yelling, the magnificent one shouting for the others to hold their fire. Winded, she stood erect, and leveled her bow at his forehead. He had the expression of awe on his face that was sufficient enough to possibly spare his handsome life.

“Who dare penetrate my forests and defile them so!” she demanded.

Six stunned pairs of male eyes looked at her.

“Are you deaf? Mute? Speak and you shall live. Who is your general?”

For a moment, no words came to Vincent’s dry throat. He had watched a woman back flip through dead-aim AK-47 gunfire, miss M16 rounds, and the shells from a Glock nine millimeter pass through her, all after dropping from a seventy-foot-high branch above. But there she stood, unmarked…not a scratch on her radiant, caramel skin. She didn’t even have leaves or refuse from the tumbles in her thick, velvety hair.

He locked gazes with her dark eyes, witnessing how fury seemed to actually cause them to smolder in a hypnotic way. Rage and adrenaline made the bow she gripped slightly tremble, and his line of vision ran the length of her athletic arm to capture her breathtaking face and full, lush mouth. Six feet tall, built like an Amazon, half naked except for a gossamer of sheer white silk, everything male in him couldn’t help but appreciate her firm, round breasts, or the way her flat waist cinched in only to give rise to a slim swell of hips…and man, oh, man, the broad was all legs.

In a standoff, he stared at her, she at him. Even if she had guns behind her, if she let the arrow go—he’d dodge it and she’d be dog meat. If not him, one of his men would put her down, single shot. Lou already had a grenade on standby, pin in his teeth, to lob behind her toward her soldiers.

“What do you want with the hostages?” Vincent said, his tone even and controlled as he began to negotiate. “No demands have been made. State your purpose. Who are we dealing with?”

“You are not in a position to question the great Artemis!” she said through her teeth. “You are their leader?”

“I’m the one talking, sis,” he said. “Put down your weapon and we won’t fire.”

“No one dares presume to tell me when to disarm.” Without even blinking she let her arrow go.

Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Vincent dodged the tip of the spiraling arrow; Lou pulled the pin on the grenade and lobbed it over the crazy chick’s shoulder. The blast felled several trees as more women rained to the forest floor. The arrow that was destined for Vince hit Dutch dead in the chest, knocking his shot that would have entered the female attacker’s forehead off center. But instead of the huge Swede dying, he fell and began screaming as his clothes burned away and his body contorted. The men beside him tried to quickly grab him to pull him to safety behind a tree, but fell back in horror as he began to change into an animal.

Running forward, Vince heard the panic-laden shouts of his men, but he was not about to let the terrorist suspect get away. He couldn’t understand what they were screaming—something about a stag. Then all of a sudden as he neared her, nine millimeter drawn, something grabbed his feet and his world snapped upside down.

She slowed down as he bobbed from a vine, and then smiled. But he hadn’t lost his grip on his weapon, and he held it with both hands and fired at her.

Dodging the wicked things that flung from his lightning rod like hornets, she watched in amazement as he cursed, steadied himself, and did a sit-up, then had enough upper-body strength to grab the vine, extract a huge knife from his boot, and cut himself down.

“Who the hell are you people!” he bellowed, whirling around in a bull’s rage.

Admiration tried to thread itself through her, but she fought it as she stepped out from behind a tall tree. “Well done, Titan. But your weapons are no match for immortals, even if you did steal Zeus’s lightening rods.”

He blinked as she sashayed forward and placed one graceful hand on her hip. The fact that there was no more weapon report behind him, but he could hear his men yelling, made him take aim at the center of her forehead. An eerie chill slid down his spine and he spoke through his teeth.

“What do you people want, where are the hostages, and what the fuck are the terms?”

She cocked her head to the side, growing amused. His fear was beginning to become palpable, yet his courage was starting to awaken something else within that had been dormant for centuries. She lifted her chin in an attempt to make the coiling flame in her belly recede.

“We want peace. We want your people to stop pillaging the forests, to stop desecrating the land, to stop poisoning the lakes and streams. This demand is non-negotiable. The terms are simple—do what I ask, or die.”

The urge to pull the trigger was so great that his arm bounced from repressed emotion. “The hostages…where are they?”

“Stags,” she said calmly, moving closer to him and studying his body from head to toe. “And you have them already.”

“Stop playing games, lady.” He fingered the trigger, but was disturbed by her unusual, almost otherworldly calm. “If you return them alive, all you and your environmental terrorist organization face are kidnapping charges and federal property damage, and if you tell us who’s behind all of this, you might even get close to a plea bargain. But if you take this bull too far, you’re going down and might get the chair. So, don’t lie—where—”

“I never lie,” she said, taken aback by the charge. “See for yourself!” Unafraid of his weapon, she brushed past him, still clutching her bow, and walked into the glen where the firefight had erupted.

He stood there, mouth agape, watching his men bobbing upside down from vines that had ensnared them. But the thing that paralyzed him was the sheer terror on their faces as they looked from each beautiful maiden to the huge, blond-coat, twelve-point buck that snorted and pranced, seeming bewildered and trapped between the women that had arrows trained on it.

Something very crazy, extremely implausible slithered through Vince as he stared into the eyes of the trapped animal…it had Dutch’s eyes, but that was impossible!

“Where’s my soldier?” Vince shouted, beginning to panic, too.

Female laughter filled the glen.

He locked gazes with Donovan, who had tears sliding down his nose…Donovan? Oh, shit. If he had broken this fast, after dealing with all the madness they’d seen in Miami and in South America, what had the man witnessed? Jermaine’s eyes were closed and his mouth was moving as though he was praying. Lou and Jesse wouldn’t take their eyes off the buck, and stared at it wide-eyed, upside down, not blinking.

“Cut one of them down and show him where his soldier is,” the woman who was clearly the leader said.

Jesse swung a punch that missed as a tall, lithe maiden with flaxen hair approached him and nicked his cheek with an arrow tip. Instantly, Vince reached out and grabbed the leader’s arm, pressing the nine millimeter to her skull. “If he dies, you die. What’d you do, poison him? What kind?”

She coolly regarded Vince as his man began to convulse. “Cut him down before he hurts himself. He’ll be a magnificent creature like the other one, I’m sure.”

Vince’s vocal cords seized as he watched them carefully lie Jesse down on the forest floor. How his clothes began burning, he didn’t know—but the way they burned was from a weird, cobalt blue flame that didn’t seem to harm his skin. The other men were shouting, and the huge, trapped stag was rearing on his hind legs. But Vince could barely hold his gun as he watched a man slowly, painfully, change shape, his bones snapping and body elongating as a wail ripped from his throat.

The sound of Jesse’s skull cracking to bear antlers cut through the forest with a horrifying echo. Red hair from Jesse’s head and beard turned into a thick coat that swallowed his skin, and the sound of a whimper fled his lips when his nose became a snout. As though growing out from his elbows and knees, his limbs extended and fingers fused together. Vince backed away as he watched his squad sniper roll over and struggle to stand like a newborn fawn.

“What the hell is this,” he whispered, blinking hard and touching the place where an arrow had grazed him. He knew there were all sorts of psychotropic drugs out there, but he’d never known of one that could produce an effect like this.

A red stag pranced hysterically in the clearing, making the blond one become even more skittish. Vince looked around. They were outnumbered three terrorists to one. They’d all obviously been drugged somehow…his face was hot, and he felt like he was moving forward against his own will.

“Can we keep these?” one of the terrorists asked, her gaze pleading with the leader. She walked up to the massive blond stag and tried to gentle the frightened creature. Oddly, it bobbed its head, stopped its agitated prancing and nuzzled her as she stroked it. The half-nude women looked back at their commander. “Please, Artemis,” she whispered. “I don’t think they were with the others.”

Another joined the willowy brunette that had spoken, pushing her long onyx braids over her shoulder. “He’s magnificent,” she murmured, going to the animal to lay her cheek against his neck.

“He’s not old like the generals, yes?” a wheat-haired captor said, producing an apple from thin air and feeding it to the animal with a flat palm.

Then three more female warriors moved forward, slowly approached the other large stag, attending to it gently and staring at their leader.

“It’s been thousands of years, Artemis,” the tallest one among the women gathered beside the red stag said, her voice strained and her expressive brown eyes seeming to beseech reason from their leader. “We all took the vow with you…but…in this new era the things we’ve—”

“It does not matter what temptations you’ve seen or felt in this new era! I care not. You will all keep your vow, as will I—a vow that I made when I was three years old.” The beautiful warrior folded her arms over her ample breasts and glared at her warriors.

Vince watched the one they called Artemis straighten her back as the female expressions became crestfallen. He blinked hard trying to get past the drugs they had obviously given him just so he could see straight. Something in his system was making him short of breath, making him stagger forward, had made his hand too heavy to hold a weapon. He was weaving where he stood, beginning to sweat. It was as though heat radiated off the leader and even though it went against all of his training, he stepped away from her to keep from passing out.

Regardless, during their standoff he was beginning to figure out their strange coded language—if it was a thousand-year-old vow, or so, then it had to be a Middle Eastern group, since that was the only reference point in his quickly fogging mind which had disputes that lasted that long…Greek or thereabouts in the Mediterranean, was close enough. Maybe leaders of each cell were called Artemis, a fake name, likely to denote who was in control of a specific engagement. That was plausible.

His mind scrambled for a rational explanation as an eerie silence folded over the glen. It was almost as though they’d become sealed away in a soundless envelope. It had to be the drugs, whatever was on the tip of the arrows—but what they didn’t know was that he and his men were the tip of the spear! Be strong. Maybe all this talk about the environment was bullshit, and fearing reprisal, the men behind some of the deadliest terrorist activity in the world had sent females out front to do their bidding…that would make sense, given the way the U.S. had been leaning on their resources. They’d abducted millionaires and billionaires, a ransom demand would have to come soon—who would waste such an opportunity. Dead stags his ass!

Obviously it was some grudge that went back before anyone could remember, and loyalists of the group were beginning to mutiny—not having the stomach, maybe, to kill off a bunch of military for whatever environmental cause they had. No. But it wasn’t an environmental cause. Vince shook his head, trying to clear it, feeling woozy, and hating the calm, smug expression on the one called Artemis’s face. Somewhere between them, one of the members of the group had to have figured out they were in deep shit and perhaps wanted a way out. But drugged, outgunned, outnumbered or not, his mission was clear; bring back the hostages alive, if possible, and find out the source of this terrorist cell to take it down.

“You don’t care about the environment,” he said, slurring his words, and trying to continue standing upright. “You blow up cars and innocent women and children, so stop the charade and tell us how much money you want for the CEOs.”

“Are you mad, barbarian?” she said with a gasp that cut through his skeleton.

On the verge of passing out, he slapped his chest, needing something to fracture the group, something to cause dissention to buy them time, searching for anything that would give him more information while the drugs wore off.

“I am Owiqwidicciat! My mother’s people are from the Makah Nation—what gives you the right to invade my forest, my trees, destroy my land? Huh? We walked here for thousands of years, and you come with death and destruction talking about peace? That’s bull! You’re no different to me than the first wave of invaders!”

The leader recoiled from his charges and suddenly he could breathe, his mind felt clear, and he straightened.

“Your forest?” she said as the women with her covered their hearts with their hands.

“That’s right, lady, you heard me! My people are from the Olympic Peninsula, as far north as you can go. This is our country, not yours!”

Discernable murmurs filtered through the trees.

“You are from Olympus?” Pure shock entered the one called Artemis’s eyes.

“Damned straight I am!”

She opened her mouth and closed it, her eyes raking him for the truth. “Your weapons—you stole them from—”

“We stole nothing, unlike you!”

“I stole nothing; we took back what was ours by rights.”

“Zeus gave them the thunder bolts and lightning rods?” one woman whispered.

“I must know who sent you,” Artemis demanded.

“I want the same information, so I guess that makes it a standoff. I wanna know who’s poaching on my land.” Vincent walked away and touched a badly damaged tree with clear disgust. “How many years would it take to replace just one? After all the wildfires,” he added, shaking his head and looking at the blaze that had been started from the grenade.

He watched the female leader cover her heart with her hand, briefly close her eyes, and the blaze quieted. Vince rubbed his eyes with his fist.

“Cut my men down before they pass out. Tie ’em up if you have to, but get ’em right side up.”

He’d said it just to see how far they’d go, not expecting them to comply, and he was shocked when she nodded and wrists got tied then vines got hacked. His men fell into female arms and the stags reared. He couldn’t tell what was happening as the women gathered behind the two animals.

“Oh, all right! But you do not break your vow unless I break mine. Bring their belongings and weapons. Extract what we must know without harming them, if possible,” their leader yelled, and then she raised her bow, withdrew two arrows from her quiver, and threaded and released them both before Vince’s hand could rise with a gun. Her arrows found their marks and the great stags dropped to their knees. “Come,” she ordered. “Your men will befall no harm. That is no longer the objective of my nymphs, it seems. The ones transformed will return to the human forms. We should speak freely in my tent. I have much to ask you about this new world, Titan.”

CHAPTER 3

THEY HIKED HARD FOR WHAT FELT LIKE CLOSE TO an hour, going further into heavily forested terrain until they reached a grouping of nearly inconspicuous tents. The semi-circle of crude dwellings surrounded a small charred plot of ground where a campfire had recently been.

Vince kept his senses keened, looking for signs of more terrorists, looking for the males, and each man exchanged a glance as they were separated off from one another and forced into a tent with several female captors. Oddly, though, he noted, Jesse and Dutch still looked dazed, if not drugged. But he was counting on Lou, of any of them, to be able to get away. Lou was so damned flexible and double jointed, he could escape from almost anywhere like Houdini. He didn’t need his hands free to kill you, just had to get close enough.

Then Vince looked at the gun in his hand. Bizarre. They hadn’t bound him or stripped his weapon. And although Artemis’s female soldiers had an indefinable but palpable sense of anticipation sweeping their group, their leader trudged ahead of him unconcerned. There was almost a weary resignation about her, a sadness that worried him, despite the fact that he was still armed…and all the chick had on her was a bow and poisoned arrows. After what he’d seen so far, he’d come to the conclusion that that was enough.

It was all surreal, but he was sure that he was drugged once he stepped inside the leader’s tent. Firstly, it took him a moment to orient himself to the size. Outside it seemed about the height and width of a small military pop, but when he stepped inside, it loomed frighteningly large as though he’d walked into a forty-by-sixty palace chamber. Everything was draped in white satin and sheer gauze interspersed with finely woven Moroccan rugs, ornately decorated Mediterranean urns, and lama hides. Vince pushed the heel of his hand against his eyes to recapture reality.

“Wine or water?” Artemis said on a weary exhale, and then dropped her weapon against a white alpaca fleece by the far tent wall. When he didn’t answer, she turned to stare at him. “If you are not thirsty, barbarian, then I offer grapes…olives, goat cheese, bread? Surely by this point you do not think my goal is to poison you?”

She ignored him as she briefly lifted her hair off her lovely neck and stretched, and then helped herself to the bounty that graced her table. She settled herself in one lithe move and continued her solitary meal unfazed.

“I have many questions, many things I do not understand that I must know if I am to be the protectress of the wilderness. Sit, Titan, and talk genuinely, or draw my wrath…I grow weary of rage, so let us find an accord.” She popped a grape into her mouth and cocked an eyebrow. “Why do your people behave as they do—don’t they realize that if you hurt the beloved forest, you will also starve?”

He watched her eat and take a careful sip of dark mulberry-hued wine, and despite the incomprehensible circumstances, found himself drawn to the stain it left on her mouth. Tentatively he approached her table and sat on an ornately carved wooden stool across from her. As though reading his mind, she handed him her challis, and then poured wine into the empty one that he didn’t remember being there earlier. Yes, he’d drink only what she drank and eat only what she’d eaten, breaking bread with the enemy to better understand, but would not subject himself to be drugged or poisoned again.

“My people used everything the bounty of the wilderness offered,” he said quietly, taking a sip of wine and studying her eyes very carefully. “We wasted nothing, never hunted more than we could use. We respected the wilderness.”

An eerie tingling began in his chest and fanned out to slowly consume his body as she stared at him. Then she nodded.

“I believe you,” she said quietly. “My search of your soul agrees with your words. Continue…worthy warrior. Know that in all my years of battle, you are the only one I have allowed to enter my tent.”

Her bizarre statement was accompanied by a rosy flush on her high, regal cheeks, and she looked away as though somehow embarrassed. He couldn’t fathom why or what had happened and he glanced into his challis for answers. Albeit he knew his people worked with some pretty potent hallucinogens, but whatever these chicks were plying—man. He just wondered what she’d spiked the arrow with because not only was he seeing strange things but he also had the irrational urge to tell this woman the truth…not that such a thing was allowed. But if telling her beliefs from his people could give her something to identify with, and maybe save a hostage’s life, make her drop her guard, then it was a tactic he’d employ.

He searched her gorgeous face, trying not to become hypnotized by the subtle beauty of her eyes or the strange innocence that seemed to hide just beneath the surface of her placid expression. Her sad, philosophical tone washed through him, reminiscent of the elders he’d listened to as a boy on the reservation when they’d orally recite the history of lands lost and treaties broken.

“You can’t win this fight,” he murmured, not meaning to allow his voice to drop the way it had. “At least not through these methods.”

He watched tears rise and shimmer in her luminous dark eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “My nymphs do not yet understand that, however. I have seen the new weapons of this era…the suns that explode against the ground and burn all that is alive for eons.”

“Nuclear bombs, daisy-cutters, napalm,” he said flatly, for some reason wanting to reach across the table and hold her hands so badly his ached. Every fiber in him knew this tone of defeat; he’d heard it all his life spoken on the reservation, spoken in French by his Haitian father, spoken by people whose history would be distorted by the conquerors.

The tears in her eyes fell. “Yes,” she said nodding. “I am not the enemy.”

“Then who is?” he asked quietly, unable to forebear reaching across the table to clasp her hands. He set his gun aside and stared at her. But it was impossible to touch her satin hands and stare into her eyes at the same time without feeling her thread throughout his system.

“You do not believe in the cause you fight, do you?” she whispered. “You know they are wrong. You know who desecrates the land.”

He nodded. “But I can’t let you execute them. There are courts, other ways…laws…”

“The words are hollow even to your own ears,” she said, squeezing his hands. “Your people heard those words and laws, too, and were betrayed by failed treaties.”

He looked away, but could not remain out of the gravitational pull of her dark irises except briefly. “Who are you?” His voice came out as a hoarse, broken whisper. The tingle that began in his chest and spread throughout his body had become a dull ache centered in his groin.

“I am Artemis,” she said, her gaze rambling over his face. “Goddess…and I have never in my existence wanted to break my vow so thoroughly. Therefore, the true question that besets me is who are you, Titan? Of what hidden Olympus do you herald? I have never felt honor as pure as yours enter my ethereal body and lay siege to it.”

He couldn’t answer that—not because his actual hometown was classified data, which it was, but simply because as she touched his jaw and allowed her fingers to gingerly explore his lips, his voice failed. “You are definitely a goddess,” he finally managed. “And I wish the world was different…wished they understood your heartbreak and mine, but they don’t.”

“Are you displaced, too?” she asked, leaning forward. “A being greater than mere mortal trapped by the disbelief of the era?”

Her question made him smile. “I am trapped by the disbelief of this era, yes, and therefore, I guess displaced.”

She sat back quickly and laid her hand over her heart, gaping at him for a moment. “I felt the earth people in your aura. I felt the reverence of the trees toward you as you passed them—the forest welcomes you, and you understand it…honor it. That is why I didn’t…” Her words trailed off as her gaze slid away. “That is why you are still standing.”

Her admission snapped him out of the haze. He had to remember that she was an adversary. Was he crazy! But, damn, she’d turned him on. “You felt the trees, too?” he asked, unable to hold back the question. “They hold the spirits of the ancestors, you know.”

“Yes…” She closed her eyes and he almost leaned across the table to take her mouth, but thought better of it.

“I honor the wilderness. It’s a part of me, how I was raised. Artemis, I…”

“You never looked at me like the others long ago,” she added, her voice both sad and filled with wonder. “You saw me as a hunter, an equal. You didn’t try to molest me—why not?”

“Because you had a bow and arrow, a serious squad, and obviously we’re evenly matched in a firefight. But, that wasn’t why I came here, anyway. We came for the hostages.” He had to wrest his mind back to the mission!

She nodded, her exotic eyes smoldering with something he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Your words again ring true. You saw me as an equal…none of the others did before, that is why they sealed their own fates—but that was a very long and bitter time ago.”

He stared at this beauty, a black widow that could most assuredly take lives, wondering how a gorgeous woman like this ended up as an assassin. “How many bodies?”

“If I ask you the same, could you answer?” she said evenly, no apology or defensiveness in her tone.

“Touché. We’re both soldiers.”

“Warriors,” she corrected. “To be a soldier is to take orders, hence why I rarely execute soldiers. They are only doing the bidding of those who control them. A warrior, however, is under his or her own command.”

He nodded but looked away for a moment, wishing that the times were different and that he could be a warrior.

“You may be conscripted into service by them, but you still have the presence of a warrior,” she said quietly. “I did not mean to offend.”

“No offense taken. You spoke the truth.” Again his gaze searched her face. There was something magnetic about her, something almost supernatural, like she claimed. “And you are definitely a goddess with a sound mind and decent heart…you know that no good end will come of this if you persist. Why don’t you let the hostages go or tell me your demands for them? Give us a chance to work something out before you have blood on your hands and a murder rap you can’t shake.”

She sighed. “Their bodies will return and they will not be dead. In this era of disbelief nothing I do holds together for long. The temples are now for tourists, true believers are too few against the world gone awry with carnal distractions. I just wanted them to feel the terror of being hunted for no purpose. That will stay with them forever, even as all else fades. My goal was to humble, that was all.”

The melancholy tone of her voice, the new shimmer of tears in her eyes, and the way her fingers traced his open palms was mesmerizing. Relief also wafted through him—she’d promised not to kill the hostages. Progress…even though she’d given him ridiculous wood.

“What do you want in exchange for their release?”

She looked away, and he slowly closed his hand around hers, almost swearing that he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears when he did.

“To break my vow. It is no longer of use. I have fought the good fight and now wish to take my place with the others as a distant memory.”

He wanted to tell her not to commit suicide, that she didn’t have to become a distant memory, but what promises for a good life beyond prison walls could he offer? A free spirit like this would surely die behind bars. Once she turned over the hostages, the authorities would hunt her down to the ends of the earth. He could offer her no assurances; he was in no position to cut a deal. That was the stuff of lawyers. He was just Special Forces, a soldier, and all of this was well outside his realm of expertise and comprehension. But people’s lives were at stake, so he had to set aside any personal concerns about this abductress.

“Break your vow with me, Artemis,” he said, not even sure what her vow was. “Trust me. I—”

The sound of one of his men’s tortured moans made him stand and grab his weapon. Artemis was also on her feet in a flash, but staring at the tent wall, rather than down the barrel of a gun.

“If any of my men are violated—”

She covered her heart for a moment and grabbed her bow. “Never! That was not supposed to happen. If it has, then my own have betrayed and shamed me!”

“Take me to them now!” he shouted, all previous negotiations vanished.

“As you wish,” she said, unafraid and seeming to do so from some personal sense of integrity, not from any threat he imposed.

Running in tandem, they followed the sound of the cries, barging into a very small tent that expanded inside into a huge space with floors covered in white pelts and pillows. Artemis and Vincent stood at the entrance and became very, very still. He opened his mouth and then closed it. She tried to look away, but couldn’t.

Artemis felt her face flame hot. She did not believe her eyes. Never in her existence had humiliation singed her so completely. There was no way to blame this on the barbarian; he was bound.

Deep shame made her simply give her bow over to the Titan beside her. The nymphs of her sacred grove had desecrated a body. The reign of the goddesses was surely at an end, if it had come to this.

The soldier with long onyx hair who had the likeness of a Persian barbarian was lashed to a tent post with his hands over his head, his body drawn flat against the floor pelts. His legs were splayed, each ankle bound by heavy silk cords…his manhood naked and rigid, that is, as much as one could see beyond the homage her most loyal nymphs paid to it. She didn’t need to investigate further, knowing full well the extent of the so-called torture being delivered to her captive’s men. So engrossed in their love play, the nymphs never looked up and the captive never opened his eyes.

Artemis thrust her bow at Vince and turned away. “Shoot them all,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “It is your right. I would have done no less if three of your men ravished one of my maidens. Your soldier probably wants to die from this humiliation as well.”

The room went still. Nymphs shrieked and scurried away from Donovan’s body. Vincent looked at the bow in one hand, the Glock nine in the other. Confusion tore at him as he stared at Artemis’s back and then the plea on Donovan’s face. He frowned at his man for a moment—these chicks could claim they were raped in the capture, would have DNA evidence on his man, and all of this bull could compromise a case and military careers. Shit!

“Let’s, uh…let this matter go under the banner of détente and not kill anybody. There’s been enough bloodshed and I don’t think these ladies meant him too much harm while trying to extract vital information,” Vince said, returning Artemis’s bow. Without arrows what good was the partial weapon? Besides, he needed to understand what freaky trap they were laying.

“That was our only desire, goddess,” one of the nymphs said, covering her nudity with her hands as she knelt on the floor. “Throughout the ages we have remained celibate in your honor—but we were instructed not to hurt them and to extract vital information…that was our quest.”

Vince looked at Donovan and tried not to crack a smile, despite the compromising position. The man could barely catch his breath, and since Donovan was still tied up, it wasn’t like he savaged them…maybe a lie detector test would save the man if the madness ever came out.

“Can I check on my other men…just to be sure they’re not, uhmmm, being molested? And, maybe, let this one be untied so he can defend himself against further ravishment? Again, all in the spirit of dètente.” He shot Donovan a glance and his man silently acknowledged the look while trying to steady his breathing.

“What is dètente spirit? I don’t know this word. I have never heard of this entity.” Artemis stared at Vincent for a second and then looked away, appearing horrified and flushed by what she’d witnessed. She wouldn’t even dignify her nymph’s entreaties.

“It means relaxing the hostilities between warring nations, I believe.”

Artemis nodded. “In dètente, then, release that prisoner and feed and clothe him.”

She stormed out of the tent with her head held high and her back rigid. Cool forest air from the chilly spring slapped her cheeks and the sudden temperature drop was welcomed. A troubling heat had unleashed itself between her thighs…along with a thawed river that dampened her hotly swollen valley. She could barely take a step without a stab of need piercing her as though one of her arrows, and her breasts suddenly felt heavy, the very tips aching like bees had stung them. When the barbarian stood next to her, it seemed as though all the air had left the clearing, even taking the smallest amount that remained in her lungs with it. What was this magic he owned?

Not sure where to begin, and for the first time in her life feeling shaky, she glanced at the semi-circle of tents. Pointing toward one at random, she sucked in a deep breath, set her shoulders, and forged ahead. She didn’t care that the barbarian found this amusing. His customs were clearly very different from hers.

Closing her eyes briefly, she peeked in a tent, and then dipped her head out before the large warrior beside her could enter. She stopped him with both hands against his chest.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice a raw whisper. “I…I don’t know what has become of my followers.” She covered her mouth and then turned away.

“Allow me to inspect my men,” Vincent insisted, hoping that nothing crazy like a butchering would meet his eyes. If they all went out like Donovan, fine. But crazy people had a way of turning fun and games into something deadly.

Still on guard, he pulled back the flap a bit and peered in.

After a long pause, he let the flap fall very slowly and straightened himself, rolling his shoulders. He needed to walk away for a minute to get his mind together and to shake off the hot shard of desire that had filled his shaft. The image of what he’d witnessed replayed itself a few times like a CD with a skip in it before he could get the visual out of his mind.

“Horrible, wasn’t it?” Artemis said quietly, touching his shoulders. “Virgins since longer than I can remember and now it has come to this.” She looked up and swallowed hard. “I wish they would have never called me back here.”

For a moment, he just stared at her. Virgins? They were all virgins? What kinda insane environmental cult was this?

“Can I check on my remaining soldiers?” he asked, forcing his voice to be rough, forcing his mind to remain focused on the very real dangers these women presented…trying to get the hard-on to die down.

Artemis nodded but didn’t move. He could tell that she was giving him permission to go look, but that she didn’t want to see any more for herself. In a way he couldn’t blame her and was glad that she’d simply be staring at his back as he took a glimpse inside each tent.

“It is bad, is it not?” Artemis asked as he slowly returned to her side.

He nodded, mouth dry, and kept his gaze on the horizon. “Yeah.” That was all he could say before turning so that she couldn’t see his arousal. “I have one more man to check.”

Artemis graciously nodded as he strode away, peeped into the tent that held Jesse captive and winced. He quickly dropped the tent flap, inhaled a deep breath through his nose and tried to do math in his head to regain focus on the mission.

“The offense is grave,” Artemis murmured when Vince returned to stand before her.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “So, how do we resolve this?”

“My nymphs are in the wrong, therefore, by rights, as has always been; you may decide the punishment…even though I am a goddess. There are still laws.”

“All I want,” he said quietly, “is for the hostages to be returned unharmed, and for me and my men to be able to walk out of here alive.”

She frowned. “That you would doubt my word when I said they would be unharmed is troubling.” She turned away and headed toward her tent.

“You also said they would be unmolested, and they have been.” There was amusement in his tone as she stiffened and dipped inside her tent.

He put the safety back on his gun and watched her pour water from an urn into a basin to splash her face. “Mind if I do the same?” he said calmly, watching her from across the expanse.

“Yes, I mean no—you are more than welcome to wash the stain of humiliation from your face.”

“I am not embarrassed,” he said in a low rumble. “It’s spring.”

She dabbed her damp cheeks with a thick towel and then wound her hair up into a knot atop her head, applying the wet side of the towel against the nape of her neck. A deep rosy hue stained her cheeks and small beads of perspiration kissed her cleavage. He couldn’t help allowing his eyes to travel down her breasts and over her erect peaks, knowing that if she felt anything near what he was feeling, she was also wet.

Against his better judgment, he neared her and gently removed the towel from her hands, dipping it in the cool basin water and then dabbing her collarbone with it.

“What was the vow?” he murmured, staring at her.

“That I would remain a virgin always until the end of time…as would my nymphs.”

Her breathing had become shallow from his attention, and it had the effect of stilting his too.

“Why?” he asked hoarsely. “To what end?”

She licked her lips as they parted and the pink tip of her tongue darted out. “Because rutting males are barbarians that pillage the wilderness,” she whispered.

“But what about marriages to honorable men, and then having children?” he asked, stepping in closer. “You need us barbarians for that, right?” Then again, he thought about the advances of technology and realized that that wasn’t a given.

“I don’t understand what has happened…why this time when we were called it was so different…why they would break a vow held for so long?” Her voice was an exhausted lament as she stared up at him. “Unless they felt the decency in each of you that I felt?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, finding it very hard to keep up any ruse with her or even to think of her as the enemy. There was something completely disorienting about her the moment he stood physically close to her. It also dredged the truth, this magnetic pulse and he fought with himself not to ask, but caved to the need to. “What is it about you that the moment I’m close like this, I…”

“My aura,” she murmured in a near rasp, her eyes now heavy-lidded and her breathing shallow. “I’ve never let any male being get this close—you have one, too…an aura field that is…spectacular.”

“Really?” he asked quietly, his groin throbbing so hard that he could barely breathe. “Your nymphs, they have this, too…is that what seduced my men or were they drugged?”

“We don’t use drugs; only Aphrodite does…it is their auras, which is why we stay in the wilderness and away from humans…normally.”

He didn’t know if it was complete hocus pocus or what, but the rational side of his brain was oozing out of his ears as she began to slightly pant. Her dewy skin made his fingertips burn to touch it, but he didn’t want to take liberties that could get anybody killed, so he kept wetting the towel and slowly bringing it over the swell of her breasts and down her bare arms, teasing her neck as they spoke in dètente.

“I am not against marriage,” she gasped, “and I am the protectress of women in labor…during childbirth.”

“Then why do you shun one of the most fundamental rites of spring…mating, making love, and becoming one from two?” He couldn’t deny it; he wanted this woman—bad guy or not.

Her answer was a quick gasp and a shudder as his thumbs finally grazed the swell of her breasts and he dropped the towel, standing inches from her. “I cannot remember.”

CHAPTER 4

A YEAR OF ABSTINENCE WHILE UNDERCOVER imploded in his groin as he took her mouth and summarily drowned in the sweetest kiss he’d ever tasted. He couldn’t help it; it was an involuntary reaction to stimuli too great to ignore. Her smooth hands fought with his jacket and stripped away the heavy outer layer, and she pulled back, her eyes glittering with pure fascination as her fingertips gently outlined the definition of his chest, making him suck in air quickly between his teeth.

“Your bodies are so different from ours,” she murmured, her gaze following her hands.

He didn’t breathe for a moment as she explored, then gasped as her fingertips left his abdomen and settled on his groin.

She drew away confused and concerned. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I—”

He stopped her apology with a kiss and sought her ear. “No, it doesn’t hurt…but aches like this,” he murmured and then kissed down her neck to spill the attention down her collarbone to bring a distended nipple between his lips through the sheer fabric she wore. When she gasped and arched, he gently thumbed the other nipple and then kissed her earlobe. “It hurts like that.”

“Oh…” she whispered on a rush of breath, sealing the space between them. “Then it is normal for every place else to hurt, too?”

He gently cradled her face with both hands and kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, and then softly swept her mouth. “Yes…you tell me where it hurts, and I’ll kiss it till it stops aching.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face away.

“Especially there,” he murmured, gently bringing her face back to his with a finger beneath her chin and then slowly taking her mouth.

He lifted her with care, knowing he was wrong, knowing he was out of order, was so far off mission he couldn’t get back on track—but another more primal mission had taken priority. At least for the moment. Right now there was only right now, and the goddess draped in his arms clung to his neck with complete faith in her eyes.

When he deposited her on the bed amid the silk and pelts he studied her, taking his time to pull his t-shirt over head, slowly, cautiously, removing his weapon, unlacing his boots, wondering if he’d lost his mind…but her agonized stare wasn’t something that could be feigned. He unzipped his pants; she licked her dry lips and slid off her sheath. That was when he was sure it was safe. If she knifed him in bed…well…that was a risk he was willing to take. Never in his life had he been so drawn to a woman so fast, who was this beautiful, and so very off limits.

Thousands of years came to a central ache of need between her legs, so strong that she almost cried out with no shame when he freed himself from his clothes. Definitely a Titan, his body was pure chiseled symmetry, his mane a gorgeous rival to the most majestic of creatures on earth. Her hands throbbed to touch him, the center of her palms burning, her fingertips tingling. Unable to restrain herself, she reached out, and his burning body covered hers. The sound that rushed from her came up from her diaphragm, forced out of her by the sheer weight of him covering her. She arched and writhed against him, not exactly knowing what her body craved but sure that he owned it.

Torturous kisses flowed over her shoulders and breasts, his body heat receding like a hard tide, pulling down her abdomen, over the swell of her hips, sweeping over her thighs, opening them, plundering the very sensitive ache that throbbed between them until her body spasmed with sobs.

Limp, gasping, set adrift on her own sea, she never knew a kiss or a gentle tip of a tongue could cause then release such a building floodwall of pain. Yet before she could summon her wits, the hot tide of him flattened her, and she clung to his back, wrapping her legs around his waist, holding on as he kissed her deeply, making her taste her own salty sweet essence.

A strong hand flat-palmed the small of her back. Agonized eyes met hers. His dark bronze skin was damp with a glistening sheen. The scent of him was the very wilderness itself. She breathed him in with tears of appreciation in her eyes as her fingers twined in his luscious, textured hair.

He didn’t speak, but stared at her, easing himself inside her by infinitesimal degrees, holding her still by his weight and his firm grip that now captured her buttock, his eyes making her trust him, his grimace making her know how difficult his slow advance was…until she couldn’t watch him any longer, the pain-pleasure too great a beast to contain. Each brick of his defined abdomen pressed against hers, his pelvis locked into her pelvic cradle, his thick, muscular thighs trembling, holding back…her hands swept down his spine trying to gain purchase on his sensual, tight rise of haunches that were the source of his locomotion and power. He had to let whatever he held back go.

She was going mad, needed to hunt it, needed to let it run wild and free and had to chase it with her body lunging. Her quick breaths must have told him that. His breathing grew shallow as he lodged deeper within her, a groan forced from them both in unison.

Then he moved…beginning as a slow rolling motion that clenched every muscle in her body, his long, thick shaft a spear of pure pleasure each time it slid in and out of her. The exquisite sensation made her need to run hard, nearly gallop after what he’d loosed. But he held her firm, refusing to let her go until she arched and begged him, “Let me hunt you!”

He let go of her hip, kissed her hard, threw back his head, and ran. Tears stung her eyes as he thundered against her soft ground, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body lunging with his, against his, at times outpacing him and making him holler. Sweat slicked skin, air scorched lungs, muscles strained, veins standing in necks, they caught up to each other, the capture complete, total, bedlam—a battle of flesh and searing bodies, their mutual deaths coming in waves of convulsions, blinding ecstasy, and then they dropped twitching.

Heaving in air, sweat dripping off the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tightly, he slowly gathered her in his arms and rolled over so she could breathe.

She laid her cheek against his chest, eyes shut, listening to his heart thud, gasping, hair wet, wild, a massive spill across his chest and shoulders. His warm caress up and down her back offered reassurance. What had she done on the vernal equinox? The power of this Titan’s pull was so strong that she shuddered. And, yet, she could feel panic rising within him as his haze of passion abated. She also understood why.

He kissed the crown of her head. “This…”

“Yes. I know. Even though it wasn’t supposed to happen, it was…supernatural.”

She felt his body relax.

“I’m just a soldier, Artemis. I have to eventually report back…I have to tell the authorities something…have to take back the hostages.”

She nodded. “Shush, I know. At least wait until your heart stops beating so hard.”

He smiled; she could feel it against the crown of her head. “That might be hours from now,” he whispered.

That, too, she knew.

“What are we gonna tell the major, Vince?” Donovan glanced around the glen where they’d originally been ambushed as the men gathered into a tight huddle surrounded by beautiful nymphs.

“We were drugged,” Dutch said, nervously glancing around, but a mellow smile cascading across his face as the women from his tent waved coyly at him.

“Yeah, uh, the fight broke out here,” Vincent whispered, indicating with a nod. “A firefight ensued. Several grenades got lobbed…we were running, got hit with arrows that had the hallucinogen, couple of us were caught in the vines…uh, then, we staggered in that direction and found an encampment after freeing our own men. More fire power got unleashed, and the abductors fled. We dropped from the effects of the drug—but the other side had already pulled back—we hit one or two, but they dragged their own to safety. But we got all the hostages that were stashed.”

“I don’t know, brother,” Jermaine said nervously. “Some of us left a lot of DNA evidence back there.”

“Ballistics won’t match up unless we go back through and act it out,” Lou said, glancing around and wiping his palms down his face. “For bigwigs that important, they’ll raze the forest looking for a trail.”

“I know, but what else can we say?” Dutch said, raking his finger through his hair.

“They didn’t kill nobody, didn’t ransom them like they could have,” Jesse said, glancing around the group, “and seriously made up for the inconvenience, if you ask me.”

“That’s the thing, dude,” Lou fussed under his breath, “nobody’s gonna ask you what you think. You’d better get this story tight and right, or all our asses are gonna spend a very long time in the brink.”

“Damned straight,” Vincent said. He looked around. “We go back to the original glen, anything we say we’re gonna do, we do. If we say we blew it up—we gotta blow it up. If we say we sprayed an area—we gotta spray the area. If…” his voice trailed off as he watched a goddess walk toward him.

Artemis sauntered over to the group and the small circle of men opened to allow her in. She touched Vincent’s face with trembling fingers and then lifted up to take his mouth. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m a goddess…it will all work out. Men will see what they need to, the hostages will remember what they should, and you will each be honored for your courage.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off hers, wondering if this very insane woman really did have something supernatural about her. He wanted to tell her he was going to miss her, one very long afternoon with her wasn’t enough. But with his men standing there, each with the same expression on their faces as they stared at their temporary captors, he couldn’t. Contact with her after this would have vast repercussions.

Her sad gaze told him that she understood as she touched his face one last time. “Goodbye, gentle Titan…if you ever want to see me, visit my temple in Crete and call me by name…or simply go to your Olympus and find a meadow beneath the crescent moon…and whisper my name. I will come to you there.”

His ranks splintered, the men in his squad walked over to the respective nymphs trying to get their names, the method to contact them, and all pandemonium broke loose. Artemis shook her head and smiled with a quiet chuckle. Vincent raked his fingers through his locks, hoping all would be well. Then he watched sadly as Artemis began running, her long tresses sweeping her back, and her nymphs waving goodbye.

Somehow going into a tent to collect bound and gagged old men with tears running down their faces seemed completely anticlimactic. But as the squad opened the tents, they backed away in pure horror leaving the flaps flung up. Each tent was tiny, the size it appeared on the outside. What happened to the sumptuous love dens? Where were the bound and gagged hostages they’d been shown?

A buck was bound and gagged in each tent now. The animals had congealed blood on their coats exactly where the original mortal injuries had been. Glassy, dead, animal eyes stared at Vincent and his men. The poor creatures had been dead so long that rigor mortis had set in and each animal was washboard stiff.

“Oh, shit—we got played, partner,” Donovan whispered.

A cold sweat made Vincent’s t-shirt cling to him. The twitching of one deer freaked everybody out.

“What the fuck do we do now?” Jermaine yelled, beginning to walk in a circle.

Then another deer twitched, and still another, until the fragile nervous systems around Vince snapped, frayed, and popped, and guns got drawn toward the carcasses.

“No!” Vince shouted, not sure why. “Don’t screw with any more evidence. Leave it. Let’s put our heads together, we have to think through this, pick up the trail, we gotta…”

His voice trailed off as a human cough riveted everyone’s attention to one of the tents. A pudgy CEO lay naked, shivering, and bound by vines, leaves stuffed in his mouth. Terror-stricken, they watched each dead animal reanimate and then transform into a hostage. Jesse and Dutch stared at each other, voices choked.

“We weren’t drugged,” Jesse whispered.

“It happened.” Dutch wheezed, grappling at his chest as though having a heart attack, and then stumbled away and puked.

Nervous glances passed around the squad.

“Gotta still be the crap that’s in our systems,” Lou said, his voice quavering.

Vincent looked at the tents and then out into the vast wilderness, knowing. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s all it is.”

EPILOGUE

ARTEMIS KEPT HER WORD. THINGS WORKED OUT, more than he could have imagined. Since the glen, every man on the squad retired. Donovan got a boat as an unspoken and untold gesture of appreciation from the CEO he helped half carry to the rendezvous point. He headed down to the Caribbean and disappeared. Last anyone heard, Donovan regularly had three gorgeous, out-of-this world babes on his yacht.

Jermaine went back to Brooklyn, and then moved to Harlem to buy a brownstone in the up-and-coming section…the squad quietly heard tell that some appreciation dollars fell off the table. Now Jermaine is tracing his family genealogy after a nymph mentioned something about him being a dead-ringer for an ancient king. Jesse went to Wyoming, and somehow some cattle land got ceded to him, mysteriously enough, along with a hundred head of healthy beef. He’s a happy man who only takes a harmonica into the woods these days. His hunting days are over.

Dutch was traveling abroad, last anyone heard, and getting VIP treatment wherever he goes—no expense spared—all financed from a nice, quiet Swiss account. Lou moved to southern California, joined Greenpeace, and became a New Age guru. Some say that a nice investment portfolio that changed hands as a private thank you allows him to pursue his environmental platform with gusto.

Major Harcourt still knows something about the whole story wasn’t right. There were no hallucinogens found in anyone’s systems, but all insisted on such bizarre occurrences that mind control or a new, experimental substance that leaves no trace could be the culprit. He is still searching for that drug or method of group hypnosis.

That day in the glen changed each and every man—both those who were captives and those who were hostages. Vince…well…he went back on home to Neah Bay on the Olympic Peninsula and is using his quiet, unspoken gift from the appreciative wealthy to help build up the town and rebuild the traditions of his people…preserving, especially, the culture and the oral stories called by some legends and myths.

He spends a lot of his days contemplating the universe and the wisdom of the ancestors as he burns incense and waits for the crescent moon in a quiet glen…from where he sits he can see across the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Vancouver Island. The equinox is their anniversary. She comes so swiftly that he doesn’t mind waiting to be hunted, knowing soon he’ll be felled by a true goddess.

He loves her, plain and simple. She finally learned his name and has visited his people, unbeknownst to them what she really is. She still thinks he’s a Titan, and cannot believe him to be a mere mortal…because she hasn’t been so adored since the times of old, and never, ever, quite so personally.