Rise of the Blood Read Online Free Page A

than catching a flight. Although, perhaps that was what one wore in first class. I wouldn’t know.
    Most stunning of all, she wore the ultimate accessory—Apollo Demas, looking more gorgeous than I’d ever seen him before, and that was saying something. He was dressed all in black—shirt, tie, suit, wingtips. His leonine golden hair stood out against it like the rays of the sun. His turquoise eyes were even bluer in contrast. And the glint in them as they gazed down on the bronzed beauty beside him and up again at the cameras flashing all around was luminous. Not to mention devastating.
    I looked to Jesus. “Tell me they’re not on our flight,” I growled quietly, trying not to attract any attention as we veered very widely around the paparazzi pile-up.
    He avoided my gaze.
    “ Tell me ,” I repeated.
    “I can’t,” he said. To his credit, he sounded like he felt badly about that. “He’s apparently coming out of retirement to do a very special film. There’s some wealthy financier putting up a lot of the money for it, hoping it’ll help revitalize the Greek economy. I think maybe you know him—Hector Papadopolous.”
    “ Uncle Hector? ” I asked, stunned.
    “Is he?” Jesus asked disingenuously.
    “Let me guess,” I continued, “Brunette Barbie is Apollo’s co-star.”
    “Serena Banks,” he said, with something like awe in his voice. “Hottest thing to hit Hollywood since…since maybe ever.”
    He blushed at the glare I sent him. “I’m just saying,” he continued lamely.
    I felt a pang of envy, which was as selfish as it was stupid. I’d wanted Apollo to move on, and yet… And yet what? There was no and yet .
    I shot a sudden glance at Nick and caught him looking back over his shoulder, even though Apollo and Serena were now well out of sight. He jerked guiltily when he noticed me watching.
    “What?” he asked.
    “You tell me.”
    “Just wanted to be sure none of the paparazzi had caught sight of you and that we were in the clear.”
    “Uh huh.”
    “Really.”
    I let it go. After all, I’d ogled Apollo a time or two, so I had no moral high ground here. Our airline rep escorted us straight to the gate, where we got to board with the first wave, passing cushy first class seats where Serena and Apollo would probably be sharing champagne and caviar. Served them right, being faced with fish eggs.
    “You okay?” Nick asked me as we got seated…back in coach.
    “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”
    “You tell me.”
    I gave him my very most level look. “I’m fine.”
    “Fine.”
    “ Fine .”
    And with that, I snapped open the Sky Mall magazine and prepared to mentally spend money I didn’t have on things I didn’t need. Mental retail therapy.
    Nick sighed and pulled the airline magazine out of the seat pocket in front of him. I glanced sidelong as he did it and came face to face with green cat’s-eyes staring at me from the cover. Serena Banks. Of course. She had the feature story.
    I buried myself in Sky Mall, trying not to care as Nick, I was certain, turned straight to the article.
    I did care when the rumbling started.
    Despite the fear of heights that kept me out of the Karacrobats, my family’s acrobatic troupe, I wasn’t generally phobic about flying. Oh sure, my heart raced and I white-knuckled the armrests on takeoffs and landings, but I had a really advanced case of denial for the intervening air travel. My best guess was that it was a control thing. When I was close to the ground, I had the illusion of some sort of control. Sitting still while the plane jittered and banked and got underway took monumental amounts of willpower. Once we hit cruising altitude, I figured my only options were live, if things went well, or kiss my ass good-bye if they didn’t. But I had a bad, bad feeling about this flight. I hoped it was just nerves and not my Apollo-granted foresight, because we’d already taken off, and the control I’d never actually had was well out of my reach. But