Authors: Elisabeth Naughton
Her heart screamed no, but her mind told her it was the only way. She reached out. Energy flowed from his fingers to hers. A crackle of power across the empty space that told her the face in the blue glow—whoever he was—was more than relief. He was a god. And stronger than any she’d known before.
“
Yes, child. I’m the only one who can stop the flames. I will cool you so you have more time. You have but to promise to give me one tiny thing
…”
* * *
Titus paced the outer room of the medical clinic in the colony, his jaw twitching as he waited for news.
The muscles in his chest tightened, and he ran a hand over his sternum to ease the ache. Thankfully, Nick had sent a helicopter to pick them up, but when he’d reached Natasa again, she’d been lying so still against the rocks, for a moment he’d thought she was dead.
The memory of that—the gut-wrenching fear he’d felt and the way she’d mumbled “No, no, no…don’t take me back to the water,” over and over—was still enough to make him draw in a breath, then let it out slowly in an attempt to regulate his pulse.
She wasn’t dead. She’d been hotter than hell, but alive. He’d held her close all through the flight back to the colony, and for whatever reason, she’d cooled slightly under his touch, but not enough. Now, as he paced the waiting room, all he could think about was whether or not they’d been too late. Whether or not the infection had spread. Whether or not he was going to lose her so soon after finding her.
A lump formed in his throat. One he couldn’t swallow. The door behind him opened, but he didn’t turn to look. Couldn’t. He closed his eyes.
Don’t let her be dead. Please don’t let her be dead
.
“I brought you clothes.”
Nick. It was Nick.
Fixing an impassive look on his face, Titus turned. Fresh clothing sat on the chair, and Nick stood in the doorway, his massive arms crossed over his chest, the long sleeves and fingerless gloves covering the ancient Greek text on his forearms and the backs of his hands, just like Titus’s.
His gaze skipped to the Misos leader’s face. Hard jaw, amber eyes narrowed in speculation, the UV clinic lights above reflecting off his shaved head and highlighting the long, jagged scar on the left side of his face.
He didn’t seem thrilled to see Titus, but then Nick never seemed thrilled to see anyone. “Thanks.”
“My men said you ran into some trouble with a tribe of Amazons. And Zagreus.”
Titus tugged off the seawater-scented coat he was still wearing and reached for the long-sleeved Henley, thankful for something clean. He really wanted to take a shower but couldn’t leave Natasa. “You could say that.”
“Zagreus is not someone we want to fuck with.”
Zagreus wasn’t someone the Argonauts wanted to fuck with either. Titus tugged the clean shirt over his head. “He didn’t follow us.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I scouted the area before I called you. Zagreus and his goons were long gone.”
“What the hell were you doing with a tribe of Amazons?”
That was a story Titus wasn’t ready to get into yet. He glanced toward the door. “What’s taking so long? I need to see her.”
Nick turned to look through the empty doorway. “Lena will tell us when there’s news.”
Titus flexed his fingers and resumed pacing. Worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind, and that fear he’d been fighting came raging back.
“You look like shit, you know,” Nick said.
Titus huffed and ran a hand over his head. His hair smelled like the ocean and hung to his shoulders in knotted waves. A rubber band to tie the mess back from his face would be good, but he didn’t even have the urge to go look for one. “I’m fine.”
“
You don’t look fine; you look fucked
.”
Titus hesitated midstep, and realized the thought had come from Nick. He’d been alone with Natasa so long, he hadn’t heard another thought in hours. And the shock of it was enough to remind him just how much he needed to be near her again.
“Look,” Nick said, “As much as it doesn’t overjoy me to do so, I need to alert Theron that you’re both here.”
Titus jerked around. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because”—what the hell was he going to say?—“Theron’s distracted with everything happening in Argolea.”
“
Yeah, right
.”
Shit, even Titus knew that was a stupid excuse. He scrubbed a hand down his face. Nick was a smart guy, and if Titus lied to him, he’d only run to Theron anyway, to double check his story. His best shot was honesty at this point. Or partial honesty.
“Theron thinks Natasa’s working for Zagreus. That she was in Argolea to find Maelea for that reason. That’s why I called you for help instead of taking her there.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Is she?”
“No. Most definitely not.”
“How can you be sure?”
Because he felt it. Deep inside. In a place he’d never felt anything before. But he knew that wouldn’t be enough to convince Nick, so instead, he said, “Because Zagreus came after her too. He wouldn’t have done that if she were working for him.”
“Unless she changed her mind and was running from him.”
He’ll come for me. Will think…I failed
.
No, he didn’t believe that. He shook off the thought. She’d been feverish and mumbling those words. They didn’t mean anything. Plus, her working for Zagreus wasn’t a logical explanation, not with everything he knew about her.
“She wasn’t,” he said firmly.
Nick tipped his head and studied Titus speculatively. “What is it about her that’s got you in such a knot? It’s more than the fact she’s attractive. I’ve seen you barely glance twice at an attractive female. Why is this one so special?”
Because she’s mine
.
Another burst of understanding ricocheted through Titus. Holy shit… She was his soul mate. It wasn’t the element drawing him to her; it was a deeper connection, one he’d never expected—never
wanted
—to find. Until now.
“I…I don’t know,” he lied. His head felt suddenly light. His skin cold and clammy. He swallowed hard and tried to mask his reaction, but knew he failed…miserably.
Nick stared at him so long, sweat broke out all over Titus’s skin.
“You look like you haven’t slept in three days,” Nick finally said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Fine or not, you look like you’re in over your head.”
A truer statement had never been uttered. Titus shook it off. “I’ll sleep on a chair in her room. I won’t let her out of my sight. Just do me this one favor—don’t tell Theron and the others we’re here. I promise nothing bad will happen to the colony. As soon as she’s better, we’ll leave.”
“And go where?”
Titus didn’t know. He just knew he wasn’t losing her. Not to the gods, not to the Argonauts, and not to some fluke infection. Not when he’d finally found her.
After several long, tense seconds, Nick turned for the door. “You can stay. For now. Mostly because I don’t feel like dealing with anyone from Argolea. But if any strange shit happens, you and your chick are out of here. Got it?”
“Got it.” Grateful, Titus nodded. “Thanks.”
Nick paused in the doorway. “Don’t thank me yet. I have a knack for fucking things up myself. An hour from now you may be wishing you’d found refuge anywhere but here.”
His boots echoed down the long corridor, and Titus drew in a breath, then let it out slowly.
His soul mate…
Skata
, he should have figured that out sooner.
He dropped into a chair and rubbed his throbbing temples. The click of shoes from the hallway brought his head up.
Lena, the colony’s healer, came into the room, her brown ponytail swinging at her back. “Titus?”
Fear stabbed through his heart. He pushed to his feet. “Yeah.”
Don’t say she’s dead... Please don’t say she’s dead
...
Lena crossed her arms over the clipboard in her hands and pulled it against her chest. “We were able to close the wound and treat the infection. Her temperature has come down.”
Relief as sweet as wine whipped through Titus and dragged the strength from his legs. He dropped back into his chair and closed his eyes.
Thank you, Dimiourgo
s
.
“
There’s more
.”
Apprehension tightened his chest. He glanced up. “What more?”
“How did you…?”
He rose to his feet. “Just answer the question.”
Lena pursed her lips. “She’s still running a fever above 102. It’s not as bad as it was, but we can’t seem to bring it down. And we can’t find any reason for it either. No other infection, no underlying health problem. It’s like…”
“Like it’s part of her,” he finished, reading her confused mind.
She nodded. “Right now she’s stable, but there’s no telling if it will creep back up again. The infection wasn’t nearly as bad as the fever.”
Which meant her increasing temperature wasn’t from infection after all. It was from the fire element.
I’m unstable. In a lot of ways
…
He swallowed hard. “Can I see her?”
“We were hoping you would. Marc and the others who brought you here told me her temperature seemed to lower when you were touching her. Maybe you’ll be able to have an effect on her my healing skills can’t.”
That didn’t make any logical sense to Titus, but he nodded and followed Lena into the hall.
Sconces lit the corridor. The medical clinic was located in the lower levels of the Misos Colony, which was really just an old castle built on an island in the middle of a glacial lake.
Lena stopped outside a heavy wood door. “We’ll check on her in a bit. If you need anything, let us know.”
He muttered his thanks. On a deep breath, he pushed the door open, then stepped into the dimly lit room and looked toward the bed.
The scent of institutional cleaners met his nose. Medical equipment filled the perimeter of the white room, and a small window high on the far wall looked out over the lake. But it was Natasa, lying with her head on the pillow and her body covered by a thin blue blanket, who drew Titus’s attention.
His heart bumped. Someone had brushed her hair. Shimmering coppery-red curls surrounded her face, looking like swirling fingers of flames against the white pillow, which seemed so fitting now. He let the door close behind him and moved quietly toward the bed. An IV was hooked to her hand, but there were no other machines attached to her body. Her skin was still pale but thankfully had more color than when he’d been holding her in that helicopter.
Something in his chest contracted hard as he stared at her. A feeling he wasn’t prepared for. Yeah, she was his soul mate—he knew that now—but there was another connection between them. Something more. Something he sensed on the edge of his mind that he couldn’t access.
Slowly, he stepped around the bed and touched her forehead with the back of his hand. Warmth immediately flowed from her into him, but she sighed, leaned into him, seeming to need his touch as much as he needed hers.
His chest vibrated with a thousand emotions. He grasped the shirt he’d just put on, tugged it over his head, and dropped it on a chair. The bed was standard hospital fare—single and barely wide enough for one, let alone two—but her temperature had cooled when he’d held her before. He hoped now that the infection was gone, whatever connection they had would somehow cool her even more.
He climbed into the bed, rolled to his side, and tugged the blanket over them both. She didn’t open her eyes, but she shifted his direction and curled into him. And when he wrapped his arms around her, the sigh that escaped her lips was like the sweetest, softest, most beautiful music he’d ever heard.
In that moment, everything made sense. She wasn’t just the second half of his soul. She was so much more. Their fates were tangled together, and he knew somewhere deep inside that she was destined for more than just being used as a pawn by the gods. She was destined for greatness.
An odd tingle started in his chest. His whole life centered around duty, around his service to the Argonauts, but she was changing his priorities. And he had an ominous feeling if she asked him, he’d go to the ends of the earth for her.
Even if it meant forsaking his Argonaut brothers to do so.
Chapter Eleven
Zagreus paced the living room of Epimetheus’s home in the wilds of Arizona and looked out at the early morning orange-and-pink sky swirling behind angry red mountains.
This place was in the middle of freakin’ nowhere. He had no idea how the elder god lived way out here in the sticks with no one around for miles and didn’t lose his fucking mind.
“Here, here.” Epimetheus rushed into the room, holding a silver tray set with a delicate china teapot, two cups, and saucers. He set it on the coffee table. “I brewed it fresh.”
Stringy silver hair pulled free from the tie at Epimetheus’s nape, falling forward over his wrinkled face. He wore a tan garment that looked like a muumuu over black pants. Bare feet with brittle, too-long, yellowish toenails peeked out from the cuffs. He pushed the wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose, poured steaming liquid into one dainty cup, and handed it to Zagreus. Zagreus lifted one brow as he gazed down at the pale green liquid.
Epimetheus poured his own cup, smiled, then took a sip. When Zagreus only stared at him, he gestured with his hand. “Drink, drink. Sweet nectar from the gods.” Then, under his breath, “and the local goat.”
Forget what he’d
thought
. Epimetheus had already
lost
his fucking mind.
Zagreus set the cup down untouched and waited until the god situated his frail body on the plastic-covered couch. “I want to know about a redhead. Otherworldly. Great power. A mark in the shape of a triangle on the back of her neck.”
Epimetheus swirled the liquid in his cup. “A female, did you say? Don’t you have enough females?”
“How many I have and what I do with them are my business, not yours.”
“It is, it is.” Epimetheus eased back his seat. “I meant no disrespect.”
Zagreus ground his teeth. Epimetheus might be an elder god, but he was as docile as a flower, and as dumb. He was, however, one of the oldest beings on the planet, which was the only reason Zagreus was here now.