Daimon: Guardians of Hades Series Book 6

injected her with, a cocktail donated by several members of the enemy ranks. So far, she could teleport, cast barriers, and was faster and stronger than before. She could also see emotional auras.
And could release a pheromone that messed with every male in the vicinity.
Thankfully, she was learning to control that one, had been focusing on taming it because sometimes it slipped the leash. The first time it had happened, and Daimon and his brothers had been hit with an uncontrollable hunger for pleasure, Keras had banished Caterina from the meeting and the mansion. Marek had come up with a plan—satisfy that succubus side of Caterina before any meeting.
Since then, there had only been a few mishaps.
Daimon still hated it whenever it happened.
He kept a wary eye on the hybrid as Keras filled the others in on what had happened at the gate. The last thing he needed was Caterina feeling frisky when Cass was around. He would be fine, wouldn’t act on anything he felt and would resist the urges it stirred.
Cass wouldn’t.
He could easily see the witch using it as an excuse to throw herself at him again, attempting to break him.
“Cal, it’s probably safest if we use some of your blood.” Keras looked their youngest brother over. “If you are up to it?”
Cal swept rogue strands of his blond hair back into his ponytail and nodded stiffly. “Sure.”
He didn’t look sure.
“It shouldn’t take much. Just a drop or two.” Ares gave Cal a concerned look. Keras might be the oldest, but Ares was the real big brother of the group, the one who showed how much he was worried about his siblings rather than hiding it all behind a calm façade and empty eyes.
Sometimes, Keras was too much like their father.
Cal nodded again.
Keras went to the kitchen and returned with a shallow bowl and the biggest knife Daimon had ever seen.
“You expecting him to chop his hand off?” Daimon jerked his chin towards the blade. “Little excessive.”
Keras arched an eyebrow at the knife. “A blade is a blade.”
And yet, Keras had picked the biggest of the bunch.
Cal swallowed hard at the sight of it, but still crossed the tatami mats to their oldest brother and held his wrist out.
“Not inside,” Daimon snapped.
Keras stilled with the knife poised close to Cal’s wrist.
“Esher would flip.” He strode over to Keras, took the blade from him and walked into the kitchen. “He’d flip if he knew you’d used his sushi knife for slicing a vein open too.”
He set the prized knife back in position on the counter, smoothed his fingers over the handle and lingered. Esher had waxed lyrical about the knife for close to three months after he had bought it, braving entering a store filled with mortals to pick one out. It had been a win for his brother, and a serious test of his strength and courage. Esher despised mortals, had done since they had captured and tortured him centuries ago, driving him close to death several times before he had managed to escape.
Daimon picked a smaller paring knife from the block on the counter, walked back into the living room and straight through it to the front door.
He stepped out onto the porch and didn’t stop until he was in the middle of the front garden, standing on the largest of the steppingstones. At least if Cal bled here, he could wash it away and Esher might not notice.
Keras and Cal appeared in the doorway, took the step down to the broad flat stones set among pale gravel, and crossed the short distance to him. Marinda followed, tucked close to Cass, who rubbed her arms as she guided her towards them.
“Just relax, sweetie. It’s only blood,” Cass murmured and Marinda nodded and blew out her breath.
Had it been anyone but Cal’s blood, Marinda probably wouldn’t have minded as much. Daimon could see it as she looked at Cal, concern shining in her eyes.
Cal held his wrist out the moment he reached Daimon. “Get it over with.”
Instead of slicing his vein open as he clearly expected, Daimon ran the knife over his palm, making the cut just deep enough to draw a sufficient amount of blood.
Cal looked down at the thin dark line on his palm and shrugged. “That works too.”
Keras offered the shallow white bowl and Cal held his hand over it, turned it sideways and curled his fingers into a fist. He squeezed and droplets of blood formed on the edge of his hand, trembled and fell into the bowl, stark against the white.
When a small pool had formed in the bottom of it, covering it in a layer, Cal withdrew his hand and Keras pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to him. Cal wrapped the black material around his hand and then took the bowl from him and turned to Marinda.
Marinda swallowed hard. Pulled down another breath. Blew it out.
She hesitated and Cass rubbed her shoulders as she murmured gentle words of encouragement.
Marinda raised her hand and edged her fingers towards the bowl, and hesitated again. She clenched her hands into fists, closed her eyes and then opened her hand and quickly dipped her fingers into the blood. Her mouth twisted.
“That should do it.” Cass gently took hold of Marinda’s wrist and drew her hand away from the bowl, produced a cloth out of thin air and used it to wipe Marinda’s fingers clean. “Now, do you feel anything?”
Marinda opened her eyes and shook her head.
“Try anyway.” Cass offered an encouraging smile.
It was strange seeing this side of her—the warm, caring side that she worked so hard to hide from him and his brothers. Normally, he only caught glimpses of it, when she thought no one was looking and she was alone with Marinda.
Marinda closed her eyes again, breathed in slowly and tipped her head up, going still.
Cal inched back a step. Keras remained where he was. Daimon stood his ground too. At worst, Marinda would send him flying.
A thought hit