LYSANDRA’S VISION came fast and furious when she touched Price Ashton’s hand. The images flashed and danced in her mind, making her instantly ill.

Long black hair, covered in blood. A child’s toy lying on the floor of a hospital room, drenched in red. Female screams of agony. Begging. Pleading. Please don’t do this. Pain. A woman’s body mutilated, beaten and lying in the corner of a dark concrete cell. By the time Ryse arrives, it’s too late.

A blonde this time. Scared and blind. She’s crying for her family, crying for the gods’ mercy. She doesn’t understand why she’s being taken.

A monster, with talons and red scaly skin, hungry for blood and power. Not of this world. Not of the underworld. A mixture of both, created by evil and birthed from dark magic.

Lysandra excused herself and all but ran to the caravan of cars taking the Deities back to the palace. She slid into the car behind Dynasty and Hanna, holding her mouth closed.

“Are you well, child?” Dynasty asked, her brows dipping as she studied Lysa.

“Sorry, my Queen. I’m afraid the day is wearing on me.” Gods forgive me for lying. She couldn’t tell anyone what the gods revealed to her, not yet.

Kindness shined in her eyes as Dyna reached out and touched Lysa’s hand. “It’s understandable. Such things should not be witnessed. This is a sad day for our people.”

Lysandra nodded and looked out the window as the car pulled away and Dante came running out of the arena. She laid her hand on the glass, reaching for him, but made no move to stop the car. The questioning look on his face almost broke her heart.

All she could think about were the women in her vision. If the gods gifted her with this knowledge, she had to decipher it, weed through it, and figure out what had happened and what hadn’t.

Once delivered to the palace, Lysa excused herself and let Hanna know she was going for a walk to get some fresh air. Her tears slowly dripped down her face with each recollection of her vision, the execution, the whip painting Nikki’s back with red stripes. Red was her least favorite color, simply because of all the blood she’d seen over the course of her visions. Decades upon decades of visions of death and destruction, mixed with beauty and majesty, weighed on her soul.

Apollo, give me strength to carry out your will, she prayed as she hiked.

She traveled back up the mountain to the last place she saw the demon who attacked Dante. The ground still bore the scars of the flames that held it captive. Even the trees displayed the damage. Right in the center, the earth was pitted, as if a large item had either fallen from the sky or sunk into the soil. She stepped lightly, trying not to disrupt the scene. To the right, the leaves were disturbed and covered in brown dried blood. Dante’s blood.

Lysandra bent down and stretched a shaking hand towards the leaves. Maybe she could get a vision if she—

“Don’t.”

Lysandra sprang up and twirled around to find Dante standing in the woods, his sand-colored eyes wide and worried. Her heart lurched in surprise at seeing him, and again as she took in the sight of him, so strong and handsome. Of course he’d followed her.

“Don’t touch it.”

“I might get a vision—”

“You might be touching demon blood.”

Lysa stepped back, her long skirts brushing against the leaves and dirt. “What would it do to me?” She approached him slowly, unsure if he was angry with her for leaving him earlier.

“I’d not risk it.” Dante pulled her into the safety of his arms and she instantly felt the lack of her Olympian powers. What she did feel was the heat of Dante’s chest, the strength in his arms, and the beating of his heart.

“What happened back there?” he whispered against her hair.

She wiggled deeper into his hold. “I-I had a vision when I touched the Prince.”

“I know that. But why did you leave me?” He kissed her over and over again before burying his face in her hair.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I just wanted to get far away from there. I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me for not asking permission.”

His body shook beneath her cheek. “Permission?” He chuckled. “You might not be used to this day and age yet.” He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “But I don’t own you. Your heart belongs to me as a gift, not as a piece of property. You don’t have to stay at my heels. I was worried about you, that’s all. You had a vision, and I can only imagine what you saw.”

Lysa gazed deep into those sand-colored eyes that would stand out in the human world. They stood out in the Olympian world. The humans would instantly recognize them as something otherworldly. Such a shame; he had beautiful eyes.

“He’s evil,” she whispered.

Dante frowned. His jaw tightened. “Who?”

“Ashton. He’s evil.” Her voice quivered and her eyes pooled with tears.

Dante held her tighter than ever and she felt safe in his embrace. “What did you see?”

“Women, young women, beaten and dying. I saw a monster with scales and talons in a black cloak.”

“Did you see Ashton?”

Lysa filtered through her vision, careful to examine every detail. “No. I didn’t see him. But I recognized one of the girls, one with long black hair. I saw her when the gods gave me a vision of Yankee. She was with him, alive and happy, in love.”

“With Yankee?” he scoffed. “Doubt it.”

Lysa lightly tapped his chest in reprimand. “I saw it. In the vision today, she’s…” Lysa closed her eyes and shuddered. “She’s in danger, Dante. Whoever this woman is, she’s in grave danger.”

“We have to tell Ryse.”

She nodded and stepped away from him. “I want to see if I can get a vision here first.”

“Be mindful of where you step.” Dante shadowed her around the crime scene. If he touched her, she wouldn’t get a vision, so she couldn’t even hold his hand while they circled and investigated.

After she’d gone over every scuffmark on the ground with no luck and no visions, she tried the trees. She touched the burned bark, she touched the singed branches, anything she could possibly get a read off of.

“Nothing. I see nothing.” Visions came to her so often, it was odd not to have one at all, especially when she was concentrating so hard.

“Let’s leave this place. It makes me sick.” Dante rubbed at the wound on his stomach. His skin had a green tint and sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Oh, Dante, I’m so sorry. How inconsiderate of me. Yes, let’s leave.”

Hand in hand, they made their way back to the palace to find Ryse. After seeing him whip Nikki and behead Salina, her stomach churned at the thought of telling him any bad news.

Apollo, grant me courage.

Dante stopped in the middle of the forest. “Do you know where we are?”

“It all looks the same to me,” Lysa confessed.

“This is the place where I first kissed you.” He smiled and the world spun faster.

Lysa couldn’t figure out how in the heavens she’d existed for so long without that smile. Dante was everything good in her life and more. “Perhaps, since the circumstances are better, you should kiss me again. I promise, I don’t mind.”

Dante’s lips spread wide with his grin as he slid his hands around her waist and stepped close. She laid her hands against his chest. “I am your humble servant, my lady.”

Laughter bubbled up within her and she let it flow.

Kissing was a good thing. A very good thing indeed. Kissing Dante made her whole body hum and tingle. Her breasts felt heavier, her belly clenched low. Nervous fingers traveled up Dante’s neck and into his silky blond hair. Lysa tilted her head so she could better explore the divinity of his mouth. On instinct, her tongue teased at the seam of his lips and then danced with his. He put his hand on the back of her head, deepening their kiss.

Dante was her breath, her oxygen, the very meaning of her life, and she had nearly lost him. It made her appreciate him all the more.

Before she lost control of her senses, she pulled back and met his eyes.

Black eyes.

“Dante!” She jumped back.

“What? What did I do?”

Lysa covered her mouth. “Your eyes. They’re black.” Fear made her shiver. This had to be an effect of the demon blood that Apollo couldn’t get out of him.

Dante squeezed his eyes closed. “Stay back. I don’t want to take any chances with you.”

“No, come on. We must go tell the others.” She grabbed his hand and stopped dead in her tracks. A vision hit her hard and fast. She gasped and let the scene play out.

An Olympian male, desperate to prove himself. A seal is broken by blood and death. Evil brings him back to life as a creature. Part demon, part Olympian. It kneels at the feet of its creator. It’s hungry. A feast of Olympians at his fingertips. He’s the bridge between life and death, this world and the underworld, Heaven and Hades, gods and demons. Through him, the lines have been crossed, the barriers of safety broken.

Lysa sucked in a deep breath and fell to the ground, grasping at her throat to stop the suffocation.

“Lysandra? Lysandra, answer me.” Dante shook her shoulders and when his hands touched her this time, her Olympian powers drained from her body. His eyes were back to their normal color. “What happened, Lysa?”

“I had a vision…when I touched you. I shouldn’t be able to do that. How is this possible? Your eyes were black and now they’re not.” She panted and her eyes traveled over his face and body. “What did you do?”

Dante shook his head. “Nothing. I did nothing. I felt nothing. Well…” He blushed and couldn’t meet her eyes. “I felt passion, desire. But nothing negative.” He helped her to her feet. “What about you? Did you notice anything, except for my eyes?”

“No. I’m frightened, for you. Please, we have to go tell the Deities. Perhaps you should see a Paean?”

“If Apollo couldn’t cleanse the demon blood from me, I doubt an Olympian healer can.” Dante stared at the ground and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go.”

They didn’t speak as they hiked back down the mountain and to the palace. The first thing they did was seek out a well-known Paean and scientist named Christophe. He drew Dante’s blood and checked him over from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Christophe’s gift allowed him to recognize the Olympian magic in blood and analyze the various powers gifted from the gods.

“I’ll take a look at it more closely as soon as I can. Prince Hayden has me working on something right now, but…” He snapped his fingers as his eyes lit with an idea. “Your blood might actually help me with it. Do you mind if I use a few drops for another experiment?”

“I suppose not.” Dante kicked his head to one side.

“You are a guardian of our Lady, are you not?” Christophe was already sucking blood out of the vial with a dropper and placing it in a petri dish.

Dante lifted his chin and Lysa’s heart pinged with pride. “I am.”

“Then I suppose you will be blood bound to her soon enough. Better safe than sorry,” he mumbled under his breath. He was already leaning over his microscope and squinting into the lenses. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Without any more than that for dismissal, Lysa and Dante turned towards the exit. Again, Lysa was hit with a vision. Nothing violent this time, but still disturbing. In a second, she knew all about how Christophe had discovered the miracle in Avery’s blood, how Princess Salina had brainwashed him, how he nearly lost his family because of it. She also saw his intelligence and his loyalty to the Deities and gods. Christophe was a man who could be trusted.

“Another vision?” Dante asked as he guided her down the hall.

“Yes. It’s rather irritating; when I need a vision, they cease. When I don’t need them, they flow like springs.”

“Do I want to know what this one was about? I did just give this man my blood.” Dante rubbed the crease of his elbow and pursed his lips. A silly, almost teasing twinkle lit his eyes when she suppressed a smile.

Lysa took his hand, happy to feel the relief from her magic for a moment. “He is a devoted follower of the gods. You needn’t worry, my brave warrior.” With a heavy sigh, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “There are much worse individuals than Christophe out there. And I’m afraid it’s time to tell Master Ryse about my other visions.”