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!"

Ash held his hands up in frustration. "Why can't I ever win with you? If I want to sleep with you I'm a pig and if I don't I'm a jerk. What do you want from me?"

She stood in the open door of her car and stared up at him with those soulful eyes that seared him all the way to his gut. "I want you to translate the journal and to keep your hands to yourself."

"And yet still be attracted to you?"

She let out an evil laugh. "Exactly. Now you're getting the hang of it." She clapped him on the arm. "I'll see you tonight at seven."

He couldn't wait, he thought sarcastically. Maybe he ought to have Simi come with him. Every time he was around Tory, he felt the deep need for protection. At the very least he should make sure he wore a cup tonight so she couldn't cold-cock him when he wasn't looking.

What kind of masochistic bastard was he that he kept getting involved with women who loathed him?

You should forget about teaching her anything.

Yeah, but she held a part of his past and if he didn't get her away from Atlantis and Didymos, there was going to be even bigger problems. May the primal source take mercy on him if she happened on another of Ryssa's journals. He had what he thought were the most damning of them. But he didn't know what else his sister had written about. Tory and her obssesive quest had to be dealt with.

The last thing he needed was for the Dark-Hunters to find out that his mother was the one who'd created the Daimons they spent eternity fighting against and that they were being led by a tsoulos who was still selling himself to protect them. It would be disastrous for him.

No, he had to help her enough to get her sidetracked off this quest. Maybe he should find something Lemurian and get her on that topic. After all, its past had nothing to do with his.

You could just kill her.

That would be Savitar's answer. But Ash couldn't do that either. Theo had buried most of his family already and if he knew anything about his old friend it was how much Theo loved his family.

No, he'd have to find another way to move the inert mass that was Tory's obstinacy before it was too late . . .

Scylla and Charybdis. Like Odysseus, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Tory had everything laid out perfectly. Her notebook, the journal and a beer on ice for her prickly tall guest. She was on the couch, nibbling on a cheese cube when there was a knock on the door at the precise minute the clock struck seven.

Dang . . . how punctual could one person be?

Getting up, she went to the door and opened it to find Mr. Goth all decked out in a long pirate-styled leather jacket, black pants and a pair of black boots with neon green skulls painted on them. His hair was damp as if he'd recently bathed and he smelled like strawberries. He was also still in those dark sunglasses.

"Come in," she said, stepping back to let him enter.

He bent his head down so as not to bump her doorframe and went to the armchair where he dropped his backpack on the floor and then took his coat off. He laid it over the backpack and kept the fingerless black gloves on his hands.

She frowned at the tattoo on his muscled biceps that peeked out from under his black T-shirt. "I thought that was on your forearm."

He glanced down at the tattoo and shrugged. "Should we get started?"

Before she could shut the door, his cell phone rang.

He let out a tired sigh before he flipped it open. "It's Ash. Go."

She went to open the beer and handed it to him while he listened.

He gave her a grateful smile as he took the beer. "Uh, no. That would be really unwise. Trust me, she has no known sense of humor about anything male . . . Okay I'll see what I can do." He hung up and dialed the phone at the same time he took a swig of beer.

"I'll be right with you," he told her, then he spoke to someone else on the phone. "Hey, Urian, I need you to ride herd on Zoe in Seattle. She's one step away from running afoul of Ravyn who's threatening to behead her . . . No, I won't be able to get up there for a few days." He took another swig. "Thanks." Hanging up, he put the phone in his back pocket.

Tory frowned at him. "So what exactly is it that you do?"

"I'm a wrangler."

"A wrangler?" she asked, amused by the mere thought of him on horseback with a black cowboy hat decked out with skulls. "Like a cowhand?"

He laughed. "Yeah, only I wrangle people with nasty attitudes. You'd like them. Most are real jerks."

"Ah, a true meeting of the minds then."

"Something like that." His phone rang again. Growling, he pulled it out and looked at the number before he opened it. "No . . . You don't have to ask it, I know what you want. The answer is no. Hell, no, since it's coming from Dominic." He hung up and then dialed another number. "Hey, Alexion. I'm forwarding some calls to you for the next hour or so. I'm not in the mood to deal with it right now." He flipped the phone closed again, then dropped it into the pocket of his coat on the floor.

Raking one insanely large hand through his black and red hair, he sat down in her armchair and looked up at her. "I'm ready when you are."

"You sure? You look a little tense and I don't want to make any sudden moves in case you've had a lot of caffeine or something."

One corner of his mouth quirked up into a charming half smile. "I'm fine."

Tory went to the coffee table and picked up her journal so that she could hand it to him. "What's the best way to do this?"

He took the journal and carefully opened it before he balanced it on his thigh. "How much ancient, ancient Greek do you know?"

"Extremely fluent."

He spoke to her again and she recognized it as Greek, but had no idea what he was saying. It was beautiful gibberish.

She frowned. "Is that the same dialect as the journal?"

"No . . ." he said in English before he switched back to Greek, "Can you understand what I'm saying to you now?"

"That Greek I fully comprehended."

"Okay," he said in English. "You're good with the Iron Age language. That'll help."

Tory crossed her arms as she tried to understand the time period the journal covered. "So the diary is from the Bronze Age."

He rubbed his thumb over his brow. "What did your dating tell you?"

Her cheeks heated as she was forced to admit the fact he'd pegged her correctly in Nashville. The troll. "It was basically inconclusive."

"I'll bet," he mumbled, then louder he said, "Brace yourself. The journal is from the Stone Age. The Mesolithic period to be precise."

Tory sputtered in disbelief. There was no way it was that old. Not even slightly possible. "You're screwing with me."

He shook his head slowly.

Tory stared at it. "No. You're wrong. Completely and utterly. It's just not possible. Do you understand what you're saying?"

"I understand totally."

Still she refused to believe him. "They didn't have books then. They weren't civilized. They didn't have writing . . . they didn't even have houses! People were still living in caves. They barely had fire."

He remained completely stoic under her tirade. "And you know this how? 'Cause you lived during that period?"

"Well no, but the archaeological record tells us that writing isn't that old."

"And the archaeological record is only as sound as the latest find." He held the journal up. "Congratulations, Dr. Kafieri, you just extended it."

Stunned, Tory couldn't do anything other than stare at the book in his hand. "It's too well preserved to be that old."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It is what it is."

"Yeah, but if it is that old, how do you know the language when we've never had anything from that period in written form before now?"

"I told you, it's basically the same language I was raised with. I lived in a pocket community where our Greek isn't the same as what you were raised speaking." He inclined his head to the book. "This is my language."

Tory shook her head as she tried to fully comprehend the importance of her discovery. Of what he was telling her. It was so mammoth. So much more than she'd ever hoped to discover. "Do you understand the significance of finding a diary this old?"

"More than you do."

"No one's ever going to believe it. No one." They'd laugh her out of the profession if she even tried to present this.

Ash took another drink of beer. "You're probably right about that." Because he was going to make damn sure of it.

Her eyes bright, she cradled the diary against her like a precious infant. "I'm holding something that someone once cherished . . . eleven thousand years ago. Eleven thousand years ago," she repeated. "My God, Ash, do you understand how old that is?"

Better than she could imagine.

"This book could tell me everything. What they ate, how they lived . . ." Tears filled her eyes. "With this book, we've unlocked a world that no one alive has ever glimpsed before. I can't believe this discovery. No wonder no one knew the languages or that the equipment couldn't get the right date. It was coming up with dates, but no one believed it so we kept testing and retesting. Oh my God," she breathed. "Eleven thousand years ago. Just imagine how beautiful the world must have been."

Not from his perspective. Personally, he'd like to be able to purge most of those years out of his memory. "You're getting your skin oil all over the journal. You might not want to do that given its age."

She immediately set it down. "Thanks. I tend to get carried away sometimes." She sat next to him on the floor and captured his gaze as she braced her hands on the arm of his chair. "What else can you tell me about it?"

Again, more than she'd ever believe. He could tell her who every person in it was and introduce her to two of them who were currently living and breathing. That was scariest part of all. But the contents of it were harmless. All it showed was how sheltered and naive Ryssa had been as a girl. How precious she'd been. "What else do you want to know?"

Before she could answer, her phone rang out with Ozzy Osborne's "Bark at the Moon." "Hold on a sec. That's David."

Ash leaned back in his chair while she went to answer it. You know you shouldn't have told her what the journal was. But then it didn't really matter. There were only a handful of beings who could read it and one of them was human. Besides, better he look at it and read the book first. Now he knew he had nothing to fear from it. But he needed to keep Tory near him and distract her from this quest before she found a journal that was damning.

It could have raised questions he didn't want answered.

"That's terrible! Was anyone hurt?"

Ash frowned at the stress in Tory's voice before he turned his attention to her call.

"Okay, just keep me posted. Thanks, sweetie." Her features were pale as she returned to him.

"Is everything all right?"

"No, someone attacked a member of my crew in Greece yesterday."

Ash frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh it was awful. We lost some research and a couple of artifacts that'd just been brought up. David said Nikolas tried to stop the muggers, but he couldn't. He'll be all right, but he's really banged up from it." She shook her head. "I swear we're cursed. Every time we get close to bringing up large chunks of the find, something bad happens."

"Maybe it's the ancient gods telling you to leave it be."

She snorted. "Maybe, but I can't. Both of my parents gave their lives to prove the existence of Atlantis. My uncle sacrificed his life and his sanity to it. My cousin may have given up the search, but I swore on my parents' graves that I wouldn't. Not until my father's reputation is restored. I'm tired of him being the punchline at parties whenever someone brings up Atlantis." She looked at him. "I'm sure you have no idea what it's like to be mocked and ridiculed-"

"You don't know me well enough to make that assertion."

"Sorry," she said quietly. "You're right. Who was that redhead by the way?"

Her constant shift in thoughts baffled him. "What on earth are you talking about now?"

"In Nashville, you were with a beautiful redheaded woman who got up and left in a pique. Who was she?"

Damn, she'd been attentive. "An old friend."

"You were really nasty to her. By the way she was acting, I assumed you two were hooked up."

It was his turn to snort at the very idea. "Oh I can guarantee you we're not an item." That would involve Artemis admitting openly that she was intimate with him. So what if they had a daughter together and half her pantheon knew they slept together, she still couldn't bring herself to admit he was anything other than her platonic pet.

"You were still mean to her," Tory chided.

He had to bury the ire he felt at her condemnation when she had no idea how much shit he'd taken from Artemis over the centuries-including the fact that she'd kept his daughter's birth a secret from him for over eleven thousand years. The goddess was lucky he hadn't killed her over that little stunt. "Look, my private life is private. If that's the only topic you're interested in, I'm leaving."

She slapped lightly at his knee. "Don't be so testy all the time."

"Yeah well, I don't like talking about myself and I despise personal questions."

"Fine. All I want is that brain of yours for a few." She handed him a shallow Rubbermaid container of baklava.

Ash frowned. "What's this?"

"I told you. Baklava."

"And I really don't eat it, but thanks for the thought." He returned it to her.

"Your loss." She grabbed a triangle of it before she set it back on the table. "Now teach me how to read this."

Ash opened the journal again. "There are a few additional characters and diphthongs that aren't in the classical Greek you're used to. The endings and conjugations are also different."

She nodded, then pointed to a word. "Adelphianosis. Is that 'brother'?"

He was impressed by how quickly she identified the unfamiliar language. "Yes."

She frowned. "So if I'm reading this correctly, it says that her brother . . ." she pointed to the word before it. "Styxx?"

"Yes."

She shook her head in confusion. "Why is he named Styxx? That was a female goddess name."

He'd always thought it an odd choice for his brother's name too, but what the hell? No one had asked him and Ryssa's parents had never been right in the head. "And how many men are named Artemis?"

"Good point. It just seems strange to me."

"Well that's why it has the additional X at the end. It's to differentiate the masculine from the feminine forms."

"Ah, that makes sense." She looked back at the book in his lap and he felt a strange dipping sensation in his stomach. Like a punch only it was more sexual than that and it took him completely by surprise.

He didn't react to people like that.

Yet he had this sudden compulsion to lean forward and just breathe in her scent. To touch her cheek and see if it was really as soft as it appeared. Or better yet to take her hand and press it against the sudden bulge in his pants that cried out for her body. His cock tightened at the mere thought of her unzipping his pants and touching him.

Unaware of his sudden mood, she trailed her finger down the page, trying to decipher Ryssa's neatly written words. "So this is her talking about a fight with her brother?"

It took a full three seconds for those words to descend past the desire he had to kiss her. "Uh . . . yeah. Her brother was angry because she was planning to visit her aunt in Athens and she didn't want her brother to go with her because he was annoying to travel with."

Tory glanced up as she heard the deepening of Ash's voice. She couldn't tell where he was looking since he still wore those dark sunglasses. "Can you see all right?"

"Fine."

"Why don't you take the sunglasses off?"

"I see better with them on."

"Oh," she dragged the word out as she had sudden clarity. "You're one of those, aren't you?"

"Those what?"

"Vain guy who needs glasses, but doesn't want anyone to know it and you can't stand contacts so you wear prescription sunglasses instead." She rolled her eyes. "I've had several of you in my classes. Really, no one will think less of your manhood for needing glasses-that alone does not a geek make." She indicated hers by tapping a fingernail on the lens. "Look at me. I'd rather be able to see than be vain about it."

Ash hid a smile at her latest wrong conclusion about him. Without commenting, he reached for his beer and took a drink while she returned to the journal.

They sat there for over two hours as she learned his native tongue. It was so strange to hear someone else speaking it after all this time that he couldn't help but be warmed by it. There was even a part of him made homesick from the sound. It was a feeling he didn't get often since he'd had a less than desirable existence there, but then home was home.

Even a bad one.

And honestly, he liked having this connection to someone. He'd been alone for so long. Had taught himself to trust no one. Yet he found himself wanting to trust her and he didn't know why. Perhaps it was her fierce loyalty. He craved someone to be that loyal to him. If only they would . . .

"What do you mean the journal wasn't there," Costas Venduras asked as he narrowed his gaze on his underling. As members of the Atlantikoinonia-a society founded to serve the goddess Artemis-it was their sacred duty to protect anything relating to Atlantis.

George swallowed nervously before he answered. "We took all the artifacts the man had with him, but the journal wasn't in with them."

"You know what the oracle told us. Atlantis can never be uncovered. Use whatever means necessary to ensure that all the artifacts are returned to the sea or destroyed."

George nodded. "Yes, sir. As the goddess wills it, it will be done." He started to leave, then hesitated. "By the way, we think the young professor might have the journal with her in New Orleans."

Costas felt his temper rising at the mere mention of that nosy little trifle who'd been a source of aggravation for him for over a decade. "Then send a team to recover it. In fact, our little professor has become too much of a liability for us and our cause. I'm tired of dealing with her. Signal the others with a TOS for Dr. Kafieri."

"Termination on sight. Yes, sir. It will be done."

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