I crashed into the man on the sidewalk. I’d been walking in the Paris gloom for the past hour, trying to get used to the sights and sounds of the mortal world. I was far from the slopes of my home on Mount Olympus. Everything here was brighter, somehow harsher. I realized things were utterly different as I passed a fully nude, silver-painted street performer juggling three-headed baby dolls.

No, this definitely doesn’t happen on Mount Olympus.

Out of my depth. That’s what I was. Put me on an immortal battlefield—I was home. Here? I was lost.

And it didn’t help that I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being followed. From the second I left the courtyard of Roth and Lilah’s French chateau, I could feel a presence. Something that flitted around on the periphery, staying just out of sight. At first I guessed it might be one of my warrior sisters, perhaps Iphi playing a trick. But it didn’t feel right. Apprehension tickled down my spine as I walked along the sparkling river.

It was precisely this feeling of unease that caused me to stumble into the stranger on the sidewalk. I had turned my head, searching for whatever or whoever was giving me the odd sensation, when I collided with what felt like a brick wall.

But it wasn’t a wall; it was a man. I sized him up quickly while righting myself. He towered over even my tall frame, but I wasn’t worried. After all, I was Elena de Artemis, the pride of the goddess Artemis’s warrior maidens. Skilled in witchcraft and battle, I had no cause to fear any mortal, no matter his size.

“Pardon me,” I said and ignored his outstretched hand.

“No, it was my mistake. I didn’t see you there.” His voice was a smooth baritone, and his dark eyes watched me intently. The gaze was so direct that I felt a twinge of…something. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. Something in the back of my mind. I didn’t like it.

I moved to step to his side and continue walking along the path next to the Seine. The waters flowed smoothly and reflected the moonlight that flooded the city. The scent of the flower market was heavy on the air, lilies and lavender demanding notice almost as much as the stranger before me.

“If you don’t mind.” He held out a well-manicured hand to pause my departure. “You see, I’m new to Paris”—he said the word as if it were distasteful—“and wondered if you could help me find my way to the Champs-Élysées? My hotel is there, and I can’t seem to remember which side of the river I should be on.”

I did not want to stay and chat, especially since something about the stranger was giving me a faint sense of alarm. Having been in battle for most of my life with Artemis, I always trusted my instincts. And my instincts were telling me things were not what they seemed.

“I’m afraid I can’t help. I’m new here too.”

He didn’t move, didn’t give even a hairsbreadth of space for me to pass. I could either step into traffic, dive into the river, retreat, or get him out of my way. Never one to turn tail, I chose the last option. Stepping toward him, I expected him to turn for me to pass. But he was unmoving. He was large and well-muscled, such that my first thought of him as a brick wall was proving to be more accurate by the second.

“Let me pass.” The hairs on the nape of my neck rose as he stared down at me.

“Perhaps we could catch a late dinner?”

Was I speaking in a completely different language or did the man have a hearing problem? “I said let me pass. I need to get home.”

A hail of honking horns drew my attention to the busy road. A sleek black limo cut through traffic and pulled up to the curb, blocking me in even more. My adrenaline ratcheted up. No, something was definitely not right.

He smiled and waved to the car. “In that case, may I give you a ride back to your home?”

Alarm bells were ringing loud enough to awaken all my fighting senses. I backed up from him a pace, my green eyes no doubt flashing with annoyance and power. I was ready to cast at him if for no other reason than to get him out of my way. But then I looked around. There were dozens of people taking an evening stroll, enjoying the crisp Paris night. The nearest bridge was covered with lovers and locks, the former hoping for a bit of magic from the latter. A smattering of tourists were beneath us, walking along the quay next to the glittering river.

I could not cast here. Not in the open. As Artemis’s master tactician, I was in charge of every battle, mindful of every move. If I used my powers, there would be a panic, which could put the mortals in danger. Though not particularly fond of mortals, I never took the life of an innocent. Not even in war.

The stranger did not back away, despite the fact that he must have noticed the shimmer of otherworldly power rolling off me. He held out his hand toward the waiting car. He was no mortal—something darker lived beneath his handsome surface. He continued to assess me, but not as a stranger would. He seemed more like a merchant, checking his newly arrived merchandise to assure himself no damage had befallen it on its journey to him.

Never one to look away first or ignore a challenge, I studied him right back. He wore a black suit, formal, with a deep sapphire shirt that was unbuttoned at the top. Far more formal than the jeans and sweater I had borrowed from Lilah, my closest sister, for my stroll. I would have worn my customary forest-green tunic and pants, but Lilah’s commentary—“You can’t go out looking like a wood elf, Elena; people will notice”—prevented that. The sweater proved itchy—even now, my back was irritated, almost burning, from the rough fibers.

The stranger’s face was a classical daydream of masculine splendor. Black hair cut to fall pleasingly across his olive forehead, with dark brows to match. Beauty had marked him, truly, but there was something else. His eyes. Instead of a window to his soul, they were a bottomless abyss. They did not speak of passion, love, or emotion. Instead, they were cold and dark, as if whatever light that had once lain within them had been snuffed out long ago.

I bristled at the thought of what a creature with eyes like those wanted with me. I’d seen enough. I whirled on my heel, staring contest be damned. The sooner I got back to Roth, Lilah, and my sister maidens, the safer the city would be. The stranger could go straight to Hades, for all I cared.

But what I saw behind me stopped me dead. It was Paris, the famed vampire, charging right at me. His fangs were bared, a look of raw fury on his face. The last I’d seen of him, he’d been fawning all over my mistress, Artemis.

I marveled at the rage in every one of his movements. It was as if he were giving off sparks of hate and anger. Then he disappeared and reappeared much closer, teleporting through the crowds.

If the stranger was a wall, Paris was an avalanche, his malice bearing down on me with a violent certainty. Why was he picking a fight with me? And in the mortal world of all places? He was a block away, no more, and closing fast. My palms began to tingle, the beginnings of a vicious hex taking shape. But I still had the onlooker and collateral-damage problems.

“Please, allow me.” The stranger held the car door open. His gaze was still glued to me, as if he were totally unaware of the homicidal vampire charging right at us. With only seconds to make my decision, I glanced from the stranger to Paris, and chose.

“Where can I have my driver drop you?”

I certainly wasn’t about to tell him the location of my sisters at Roth’s chateau. “Just drop me in front of Notre Dame.” Though unfamiliar with the Paris streets, I knew how to make it back to the chateau from there, at least.

“Surely not. Allow me to take you to your home.”

“I, ah, I am staying at a hotel near there. So that’s as good a place as any.” I shifted in my seat, leaning away from the stranger, who now seemed uncomfortably close in the confines of the car.

The second I’d stepped in, the stranger had followed me and the car tore from the curb. But Paris had teleported again at the last second, covering the remaining distance in a heartbeat and fixing me in his dark glare as I sped away from him. Something told me it would not be the last I saw of the vampire prince, though I had no idea what quarrel he had with me. Not that it mattered, I’d gut him if I had to, though my mistress wouldn’t be too pleased about it. I kept checking behind the vehicle for any sign of him.

“Don’t worry about him,” the stranger snapped. He scowled, contorting his otherwise handsome face. “He is and always has been beneath you. Nothing more than a peasant.”

I glanced at my door, my hand itching to pull the handle so I could escape into the darkening streets.

“Locked.” The stranger smiled. “For safety, of course.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, sizing up what it would take to turn him to dust. Getting into this car was a mistake. I’d foolishly been caught in a snare. But something about the stranger was familiar. All these events were more than simple happenstance. The run-in on the sidewalk was no accident, but I couldn’t tell how Paris fit into the picture.

I focused once again on the playing field, trying to determine how to gain the upper hand. But my heart sank when I realized how thoroughly trapped I was. Though not familiar with the City of Light, I knew the car was speeding away from the river, the center of town. Away from my sisters and safety. And the stranger seemed fully aware of what had gone on at the riverbank. He must have known Paris was following me. He also knew where I would be and how to get me where he wanted me—here, in his car, hurtling through the night, with no clear avenue of escape.

“This isn’t the way to Notre Dame.” I turned to face him directly. The darkness in his eyes made me wince inwardly. But I wasn’t afraid. This was a situation I could handle easily, though the stranger would be much the worse for wear. I wasn’t about to be the punchline of some kidnap plot retold by my enemies on Olympus at my expense. I kept calm and summoned my power. My palms tingled again, the harbinger of the stranger’s death. He may have sprung the trap, but I was no ordinary quarry.

He raised a hand and rubbed a lock of my hair between his thumb and forefinger. He moved so fast I barely caught the flicker of his arm. Now I knew he was no ordinary hunter. He sifted the golden strands and looked at them with something edging on wonder. My palms were no longer simply tingling, they were burning with the desire to strike the presumptuous stranger down. Never had a male dared to take such liberties with me. But I sat still, playing along until I saw the perfect opening to strike. Moves had to be made in their turn.

“I thought you were lost to me. Do you have any idea how long I have been searching for you?” He spoke softly now, but he stared past me, through me, as if lost in memory.

His voice. Now so close in the car, it was like a cold caress, and it was familiar. Without understanding how or where or why, I realized I knew this man. My heart sped to a rapid pace, a mix of terror and déjà vu washing over me. Goosebumps broke out along my skin, and a sense of dark foreboding cut deep. I was in danger, as sure as if I were in the midst of a battle of the gods.

“Stop the car. Let me out.” The coldness in my voice rivaled the chill of apprehension in my heart.

“I can’t do that, Helen. Not now that I have you again.”

“My name is Elena, not Helen. And if you don’t let me out, you are going to regret it in a multitude of painful ways.” I no longer bothered hiding my power. The palms of my hands glowed a deep orange as orbs of flame lit there, fire ready to rip from them and tear the stranger to pieces.

But something was different. My magic was still powerful, could easily torch the stranger and the car—but the orbs were perhaps a little smaller, the fire a tinge darker. What was happening? It wasn’t just my magic—I felt different, the low hum of the goddess’s influence no longer imbuing my body. Only one thing could cause such a shift—Artemis had abandoned me. Why? I was struck dumb, unable to believe it. My moon mother had turned her back right when I needed her the most. What in Hades is going on?

The stranger, unaware of the change, glanced down at my hands for a moment before returning those dark eyes to mine. “I’m not afraid of you, Helen.”

I pushed past my rising panic about Artemis and focused my ire on the stranger. “That is a tactical mistake you won’t recover from.” The flaming orbs grew larger. One touch and he would burn. Both touches and he would be ashes. Then I could return to Olympus to beg forgiveness for whatever I’d done to displease my mistress. “Tell your driver to stop. Now.”

“I’m sorry to do this. I truly am, my love, but you leave me no choice,” he said with a note of false resignation tinged with exhilaration. He was enjoying this. As if he were toying with me all along.

“That’s it. I gave you a chance.” I raised my hands and pressed them to the creature’s chest. The fire should have sent him up in a blaze of screaming agony.

The stranger suffered no injury. My fire pierced him, yet did no damage. In fact, he smiled.

I took my hands away and stared at them, wondering if I should shake them into working properly. “Moon mother, please,” I whispered.

“You can’t hurt me, my love. But unfortunately,” he continued, and whisked out a pair of engraved silver bangles, “you could harm others in my employ.” He spared a glance toward the driver.

I drew back my palm to strike him, but he caught my wrist with ease and clapped a bangle around it. Then he captured my other hand and did the same as easily as the first. My flames vanished. Impossibly powerful dispelling shackles, they bound my magic.

I flung myself against the door of the car, trying to wrench it open and fall out into the street. The door did not give. With a cry of rage, I pounded on the glass, but it did not shatter. Artemis’s strength was truly gone from my veins. I kept struggling, fighting to escape him. I will not be taken like this. But as I told myself these things, the truth hit me hard. I had fallen. Artemis had abandoned me. I was in enemy hands.

“I planned for this, you see.” He watched me, a caged bird helplessly beating my wings against the bars.

“Stop struggling.” His voice grated on my ears as I focused my energy on breaking the rear window. His arms closed around me like a vise. Pulling me to him, subduing me with an ease that caused rage to roar through my heart and mind.

“Shhh, shhhhhh, don’t fight them. You couldn’t get them off if you tried.” He kept me stilled against him with one strong arm and ran his long fingers down the side of my neck, tracing the silver runes that had marked me as Artemis’s servant. “Your beautiful skin. How could she mar it like this? It was so perfect.” He spoke as if I were a work of art on a wall in Artemis’s chambers, now defaced. “And this,” he said with deep contempt while perusing the birthmark along my jugular, no doubt pulsing a bright red in my distress.

“Get off me.” But I was outmaneuvered and under his control … for the time being.

He squeezed me closer, his breath in my ear. “For now.” The stranger relaxed his grip. He set me beside him once again and regarded me with his strangely familiar gaze.

He was powerful, far stronger than any ordinary immortal. Strong enough to subdue a warrior of the gods. I was not going to escape with brute force. So I switched tactics—reconnaissance. Calming myself and slowing my heartbeat through sheer will, I began, “Who are you?”

“Don’t you know, Helen?” His eyes twinkled with some dark secret.

“Why are you calling me Helen?”

“Because that’s your name.”

“My name is Elena. You have the wrong person.”

He waved my comment away with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “She changed your name to suit her own vanity. You are Helen. And, I assure you, I would know you anywhere. You, your body, your scent, your”—he glanced down at the apex of my thighs—“everything.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath, if only to calm the bloodlust careening through my veins. I had been kidnapped and muzzled by an insane creature of unimaginable power. I didn’t have a strategy for this situation tucked away in my mind—because this turn of events should have been gods-damned impossible. But I wouldn’t give up my chosen tactic, not until I got all the information I could.

“Who is it you think changed my name?”

“That bitch Artemis. She thought it would be fun to wipe your memory and make you more of her disciple. As if that would change you, make you somehow unrecognizable. For an all-powerful goddess, she truly is a simpleton.” He shook his head.

My anger bubbled over at the slight. “When my mistress finds out what you’ve done, she will flay the skin from your bones, wait for it to grow back, and then do it again and again until you beg for death. If I’m lucky, she’ll allow me to be the one to do the flaying.”

He laughed, a rich sound that still managed to lack any true depth of feeling. “I sincerely doubt that.”

Irritation rankled under my skin. “How do you know me?”

“I already told you,” he said and sank back into the seat, confident I was no longer a danger or a flight risk. “I know everything there is to know about you.”

“Why didn’t my magic harm you?”

He smiled faintly, as if remembering something that amused him. “We made a deal, you and me, a long, long time ago.”

“A deal about my magic?” Goddess give me strength to withstand this delusional fool. I had no memory of him, just the faintest sizzle of recognition on a visceral level.

“Not exactly.” His gaze still raked over me, all of me, possessive.

I stiffened my back. “I demand to know why you think you know me.”

He leveled me with his dead stare, a hint of amusement in the curve of his lip. “Because I’m your husband.”