Acheron (Dark-Hunter #15)(60)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

"Stop," she interrupted. "You’re really translating that, aren’t you?"

He looked perplexed by her question. "Is that not what you wanted?"

Tory didn’t even know how to respond to his question. Yes, it was what she’d wanted more than anything. But no one knew this language.

Except a Goth, punk alcoholic frat boy with a stud in his nose . . . and a body made for sin.

How in the world was this possible?

"Where did you learn Greek?" she asked.

"In Greece."

She couldn’t accept that. "No, ancient Greek. Who taught this to you?"

"I grew up with it."

"You’re lying. I know you’re lying. No one on this planet speaks ancient Greek the way you do. I’ve consulted experts all over the world and not one of them could do what you just did."

He shrugged nonchalantly as if her concerns were nothing. "What do you want me to say?"

She shook her head, not really sure herself. "I want you to tell me how you know ancient Greek like that."

"My family spoke it and I learned it from the cradle. In many ways, it was my native tongue."

She would have called him a liar but for the fact that her own parents had been that way with her. Even so, she couldn’t do what he’d done. It was simply amazing. "Tell me about your accent when you speak. It’s not a typical Greek accent."

He answered her in flawless Greek. "I was born in a place called Kalosis. It’s so small that it’s not on a map. It’s an island province and my accent is a cross between my mother’s and old Athenian."

"When did you come to the U.S.?"

"After my twenty-first birthday."

"And yet you speak English like a native?"

He switched back to his mainstream American English. "I’m exceptionally good with languages. As for my native accent, it comes and goes depending on my mood and the word I’m speaking."

Such simple explanations really, and they made her suddenly feel like Torquemada during the Inquisition. "I’m sorry, Acheron. I just realized how shrewish I must sound while you’re trying to help me." She let out a tired sigh. "You and I have gotten off to a really bad start, haven’t we?"

He shrugged. "I’ve gotten off to many worse ones during my lifetime."

She appreciated his graciousness. "Yeah but not from someone you were trying to help, I’d wager."

Ash had to bite back a sarcastic laugh at that. If she only knew . . .

She smiled at him and strangely everything seemed to be forgiven. "Again, I’m sorry that I attacked you. It’s just Atlantis has been my whole life. You can’t imagine how important the history and my research are to me."

Probably as important as keeping it hidden was to him. "Look, I was a shithead in Nashville. I admit it and for that I apologize completely. I don’t normally embarrass people like that. It’s just I know for a fact that Atlantis is only a myth. You found some really interesting artifacts, but that’s all they are. It’s apparent to me that you’re a brilliant and sincere scholar and I can appreciate the dedication. However you’re wasting valuable time on a moot topic."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How do you know it’s a myth?"

"How do you know it’s not?"

She leaned forward, so close that they were almost nose to nose. "Because the man who brought my grandfather over as a child told him stories of Atlantis and the ancient island of Didymos to entertain him and to take his mind off the severe burns he’d received from the Nazis. My papou said that the way this man described Atlantis and its marvels was as if he’d lived there. The man described the same exact buildings that I’ve found buried in the Aegean."

Ash went cold as she pricked memories he’d buried. Why had he ever told Theo those stories?

Because he’d been a terrified child and Ash had wanted to comfort him. Reassure him. Damn. How could he have known that that one act would come back to burn him so badly sixty years later?

"But the most important is this." She reached into the wooden box on the table and pulled out a coin he hadn’t seen since he’d placed it in Theo’s tiny hand when he’d left the boy with an adoptive family in New York with the promise that he’d be back to visit. It held the image of Ash’s mother on one side and her sun symbol on the other.

Fuck.

Tory tapped the coin. "The writing on one side is something I’d never seen anywhere else until our discovery last summer. On the other side, it’s Greek and though I don’t know all of it, I can make out the name Apollymi. Now tell me this isn’t from Atlantis."

"It’s not from Atlantis," he said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. It had actually been from his pocket. "It could be anything. Might not even be a coin. It could be a necklace. Maybe she was someone’s wife." Or his mother.

"I never said it was a coin. They wouldn’t have had money at the time, would they?" Her gaze pierced him. "You know the truth, don’t you?"

Ash made his phone ring. "Hold that thought." He pretended to answer it and got up as he tried to think of a plausible answer.

Damn her for being so quick.

Tory watched as Ash walked out of the room to take his call. He came back a few minutes later.

"I have to go."

"But you can’t. I’ve got more questions for you."

He seemed frustrated about something. "I really don’t have time to answer them."

"Can you come back?"

He shook his head at her. "I doubt it. I travel a lot for work and I won’t be in town much longer." He grabbed his backpack from the floor and headed for the front.

She followed him. "I can pay you for your time."

"It’s not about the money."

She pulled him to a stop. "Please, Acheron . . . please."

Ash wanted to shove her away and frighten her. The god in him didn’t like to be grilled.

The man in him wanted to taste those lips that beckoned for a kiss. "I can’t, Tory." I can’t. . . . His resolve set, he gently took her hand from his arm and left.

Tory wanted to scream as she watched him descend the stairs in front of her house that led to the street. He turned right and headed toward Bourbon Street.

There had to be some way to get him to help her. He was the only one who could read that book and by all the conviction inside her, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

At the end of the day, she was a Kafieri and no one told a Kafieri no. "You can run from me all you want, Mr. Parthenopaeus, but you won’t be able to hide. You will give me what I want." She was going to make sure of it.

CHAPTER 4

Ash did his best to get Tory out of his mind, but it was impossible. There was just something about her that beckoned him.

He hated that.

But not half as much as he hated the way he’d bailed on her like a coward the day before. He kept telling himself it was for the best and yet he couldn’t quite convince himself of it. There was something about being around her that was comforting which given her normal hostility toward him made no sense whatsoever.

Now he sat up on the roof of the house he was helping to build, trying to clear his head and get back to business.

Someone touched his foot. He glanced up to see Karl in front of him. Ash pulled one of the earbuds out. "Yeah?"

"Visitor."

Assuming it was one of his associates in New Orleans, Ash set down his hammer and headed for the ladder. It wasn’t until he was halfway down that he saw Tory waiting for him. Her hair was pulled forward into wavy pigtails. She wore a long beige skirt and brown blazer.

But it was her large brown eyes that seared him.

Looking at them and not at what he was doing, he missed a step and went slamming down the ladder, straight to the ground where he landed in a most embarrassing lump that wasn’t helped when the ladder then fell across him, drawing all eyes to his clumsy stupidity. Pain hit him hard in his back, hip and shoulder as he struggled to find some semblance of dignity.

Given the way he was sprawled, it was actually hopeless. Sighing, he moved the ladder off his legs.

Tory came running over to kneel beside him. "Are you all right?"

The answer had been yes until she placed her hand on his chest. In this position, all he could think of was pulling her across him and making use of her hand for something much more pleasurable.

"Yeah, I’m fine." Then he glanced around at the other people staring at him in concern. His face heated in embarrassment. "I’m fine, everyone," he said louder. "Just a small slip."

They went back to work while he wanted to make himself invisible. He never did stuff like this.

"You should be more careful," Tory said in a chiding tone. What happened to her concern for him? Obviously it’d gone the way of his last vestige of dignity. "You could have broken your neck or as big as you are landed on someone and killed them."

Okay . . . the woman was nuts.

"What are you doing here, Tory?" He rolled over and pushed himself up, then realized he’d done some real damage to his leg as it throbbed painfully in protest at being used again. It was all he could do not to grunt or limp.

Her smile dazzled him. "I’ve come to tempt you."

It was too late, she already had and he knew she didn’t mean it the way he did. "I can’t be tempted."

"Yes, you can. All people can be tempted."

But he wasn’t a person. He picked the ladder up and returned it to its previous position. Then he went to pick up the nails that had spilled out of his tool belt. When he started back toward the ladder, she planted herself firmly in his way.

"Tory . . ." he growled.

"Look, I’ll be honest, there has never in the whole history of mankind been a more stubborn human being born than me."

"Yes, there has. Me."

When he started around her, she ran around him to the ladder and put herself on the first rung. He should be pissed as hell and yet she was so adorable standing there in her long skirt and flats with one arm wrapped around the rung over her head that it was all he could do not to smile at her. "Fine, you don’t have to translate it. Just teach me how and I’ll leave you alone. If it helps, I’m a really quick learner."

He ground his teeth in frustration. "I don’t like arguing. I don’t like conflicts. I basically like to be left alone to do my thing and that doesn’t include teaching you anything. Now do you mind?"

"Please . . ." her expression was the hottest mixture of cute pleading and raw seduction that he’d ever seen. "I’ll be your baklava slave until I die."

He scowled. "My what?"

"Baklava slave. I make the best you’ve ever tasted and I’ll keep you supplied in it until you’re fat and old."

"I don’t eat baklava."

"That’s because you’ve never had mine. Unless you’re allergic to nuts, you’ll love it."

He tried to pry her loose from the ladder, but true to her words, she wouldn’t be moved. His anger snapped. How could he be one of the most powerful beings in the universe and not be able to move a single frail women out of his way?

She made her eyes look like a sad puppy. "Please, Acheron," she said in Greek. Then she switched to English. "Three days and then you’ll never have to see me again. Tell me what you want in exchange and I’ll do it."

Karl laughed as he overheard them. "Why don’t you ask her to be your sex slave? For that I’d teach her whatever she wants."

Her jaw dropped as if that was the most nauseating thought she’d ever had. "Ew!"

That one single sound caught him off guard. "Ew?" Ash repeated. "You can’t be serious?"

"Yeah, ew! I don’t even know you really and here the two of you think I’m just going to jump in bed with you. No thanks! God, you’re such an arrogant man pig."

Arrogant man pig?

She screwed her face up in distaste and left the ladder. "Fine, I’ll research without you." She shivered. "Sleep with him for a translation, disgusting," she said under her breath as she walked off.

Ash hung his arm on the ladder while watching her head for her car. He was completely stunned.

She didn’t want to sleep with him . . .

She thought sleeping with him was disgusting.

Everybody over puberty wanted in his bed. Everybody.

Except Tory. A burst of hope went through him as he realized that she might be one of the exceptionally rare people who was immune to his Aunt Epithymia’s curse. Even women who didn’t find men attractive looked at him.

There had only been a handful of them throughout history and up until now they’d always been men who were immune . . . or those who were blind.

To find a human female who didn’t want him . . .

He could be normal around her. Let his guard down and not have to be worried that she was going to start grabbing at his crotch. The novelty of that alone made him crave being around her.

Before he could stop himself, he went to her car and stopped her. "I’ll teach you."

She turned angrily and pressed her index finger into his chest. "I’m not sleeping with you, buddy."

He smiled at her. "I’m not asking you to. I swear it. I would never ask that of you."

Her jaw fell open before she raked him with an offended snarl. "What? You think sleeping with me would be repugnant? Oh you’re such a jerk!"