Torin gazed at the sleeping Zhalia on the love chair through his monitor. Her even breaths made her seem so peaceful, but the wrinkles between her eyebrows gave her away. He reached to stroke the wrinkles away along with the nightmares that plague her lovely mind. "What terrible things make your sleep, so restless," he wondered.
"Diease, organize all the warriors for a meeting," demanded a familiar voice.
Cronus, thought Torin as he spun and rose to face the King of the Titans. Surprise flickered in his emerald eyes. Cronus, who used to look like an old, weak man, was now a much younger version. His dark chestnut hair replaced his gray hair, wide shoulders made his white and gold toga seem smaller. No signs of wrinkled skin, but instead had smooth skin of a perfect bronze shade.
"Cronus," muttered Torin, nodding his head. "New look?"
"None of your concerned," raged Cronus, crossing his arms. "I expect everyone to be there because it concerns the dimOuniak."
"Pandora's box," he repeated. "Does that mean you found it without the rest of the artifacts?
Cronus's eyes flashed red. "Not yet, but I have news, so organize everyone before you make me angry." He disappeared before Torin could response.
Torin sighed and started to text every warrior. "Why do I feel like Cronus's bitch?" he mumbled. Once finished, Torin returned to the monitor with the sleeping Zhalia, but the screen was empty. Frowning, he scanned the premises searching for her, but she was no where in sight. Worry ate his gut. Where did she go, he thought and dialed Lucien's number for answers.
"She left to finish something personal," interrupted Cameo, quietly closing the door behind her. "I knocked, but you didn't answer." She advanced to his bed and sat down, pushing her black hair behind her ear. "She told me to let Lucien and Maddox know, but I thought that you would also want to know."
Closing his phone, Torin release the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Thank you, Cameo," he answered, rubbing his face with his black covered hands. "Did she say why other then it was a personal matter?" Cameo shook her head, her loose black locks brushed her pretty face and her silver eyes holding a deep misery. She had a beautiful strong body, but still had her feminine curves in the right places. Any man would be crazy not to fall in love with her especially with her confident nature in bed. But even with all that, his heart did not fluttered when he looked at her.
"Torin," she spoke, breaking the awkward silence that was growing. "I realize we both agree that we would go our separate ways if we found the one we believe could be our mates, but I don't think she is the one for you." Cameo's stare pierced him. "She's all wrong for you, especially if she's Lucifer offspring. You know nothing about her and maybe she's working with her father deceiving the angels as well." Cameo rose and sauntered to the door. "My gut is telling me there's something real dangerous about her, so think about what I said." She slipped past the door, leaving Torin to his thoughts.
Zhalia stood in empty plane wearing a flimsy white robe, her long red hair hung loose and she was bare-footed. She stepped er... hovered, since she really wasn't standing on something. "Ugh...I hate this dumb plane because of this stupid robe," she nagged, yanking on the white material. She ran her hand through her hair. "Now, whose stupid cloud is this?"
"You should be careful to insult my cloud," snarled a cold voice. Zhalia swore when she recognized the cold voice. "Watch your language in my presence."
Rolling her gray eyes, Zhalia barked, "Your cloud can stuff it where the sun don't shine, Zacharel." Her eyes widened at her cold breath as snow gently started to fall on her. A man with empty emerald eyes and the purest white and golden tint wings appeared before her, snow dancing around his wings. "If you did not want me to insult your cloud then why the hell did you bring me here. Also, why do you always dress me in a freaken dress without my weapons and barefooted."
His eye twitch at the word dress and retorted, "It's not a dress, but a robe." He smoothed the wrinkles on his own robe. "As for your look, last time I let you wear what you wanted. It was fish-nets, a mini-shirt and a half a shirt that had your er...assets bursting out along with heels that could be used as a weapon." He waved his hand at the cloud. "My place, so respect it without your hooker looks."
Zhalia's lips twitched at the memory. The outrage and shock on Zacharel's face was worth looking like a slut. "It was funny, though." Hands on her hips. "So why did you sent for me? What happened to Lysander?"
"He's the reason I called you," he stated, crossing his arms. "Lysander will be gone for four weeks with his mate for the harpy games." Two sofa chairs appeared to his left and he glided to one of them. He sat in white sofa, Zhalia took the red sofa. "You have been placed under my charge until Lysander returns."
She frowned. "Don't you have an army of misfits to babysitting?" she asked, tucking her feet under her. "Why can't I get someone else? You and I don't really work out together," she pointed out.
Zacharel rubbed his temple. "As if I needed you to remind me. Its because no one wanted you because of your trouble streaks," he replied. "The Great Deity decided that one more misfit in my group won't be a problem." He glared at her with his icy emerald eyes. "So let me make this clear. STAY! Out of trouble or my punishment will be nothing compare to the punishment that I will inflict on you!" He stood. "Understand?"
She had a sudden urge to bark at the word stay but instead rested her chin on her hand. "Yes sir!" she mocked, saluting with her right hand. "Cause enough trouble to get you in trouble by the Deity." If looks could kill then Zacharel would not need his flamed sword. "It's a joke, Mr. Grumpy-pants err"-she looked at his robe- "Mr. Grumpy-dress." The nerve on his jaw jerked. "I think it my time to leave, so wave your magic wand fairy grandmother because I have a job to do."
Unclenching his fist, Zacharel warned her, "I'm not as kind as Lysander and will make your life a living hell." He flicked his hand before Zhalia could replied.
Zhalia jolted awake, landing on the floor next to the love chair and shouted at the ceiling, "News flash, been there done that!" She winced in pain and rubbed the lump on her head. "Dumb table," she mumbled, angrily.
"Bad dream," cried a female voice.
Zhalia flinched at the bitter voice. Cameo, she thought. She turned to see Cameo sitting on the arm rest of the couch. "It just got worst by including the urge to stab my ears." She clambered back on the chair and turned to face Cameo. "So how can I help you." Cameo open her mouth, but Zhalia held up her hand, stopping her. "Using the least amount of words possible otherwise I'm going to end up jumping off a bridge."
Cameo scolded, and ignore the suggestion. "Leave Torin alone. You do not deserve him especially if you're Lucifer's child. I don't trust you and I will protect my friends from you even if I have to kill you. So leave this place or.."-she palmed a knife- "else
