Blood rushed to his groin at the memory, and he grew hard and achy under the spray. He’d been fascinated by her for months. Had wanted her long before they’d taken this journey together. And now that he’d had a taste of her, he knew once wasn’t going to be enough.
His body urged him to find out why the hell she wasn’t naked in this shower with him already, but before he could turn and call for her, understanding slammed everything to a screeching halt.
He’d been as close to the edge as he’d ever been in those tunnels. Krónos’s power had been rippling through his veins, just begging to be released with a wicked unrivaled fierceness. And yet, he hadn’t let it go. Not because he’d possessed some superhuman self-control, but because Cynna had pulled him back from that edge. She’d given him something else to focus on, something better to want. And it had been enough to keep him from giving in to all that wretched darkness that would undoubtedly be the end of him and possibly the world if he let it free.
His heart picked up speed, pounding a staccato rhythm against his ribs, and he lowered his head and opened his eyes as water ran in rivulets down his face.
He needed her. Not because she was some kind of insurance against an attack from Zagreus, but because she kept him grounded, kept him sane when he felt like he was losing his slight grasp on reality. And though the rational side of his brain warned he still didn’t know her well enough to make any kind of steadfast decision about her motives, his heart told him loud and clear that she wasn’t here to betray him. If betrayal had been her goal, she wouldn’t have comforted him like she’d just done. She wouldn’t have bothered to cut his hair and make him feel human again. And she certainly wouldn’t have kissed him crazy when he’d given her the chance to run.
He turned toward the shower door, desperate to feel her against him again, to taste her sinful perfection, to thank her in the only way he could. But before he could reach for the handle, the scars on his back tingled, and a new sort of awareness rushed over him.
Six people were in the castle. Not humans. Not Misos. Not satyrs or daemons. He tuned in to his senses and let the tentacle-like receptors of his mind fan out.
Argoleans. The six newcomers were definitely Argolean.
Warning bells kicked off in his head. His first thought was of Isadora—which only pissed him off. He was finally at a place where he had something—someone—else to crave, and the soul mate curse was still there, taunting him. Slamming the water off, he stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, only to realize there wasn’t one. His gaze shot through the open bathroom door toward the salon. A towel lay in a heap on the ground.
He grasped his clothes from the floor, crossed to the towel dripping wet, and scooped it up. After drying, he pulled on his jeans, shoved his feet into his boots, and realized Cynna was still wearing his shirt.
Cynna… Shit. Those warning bells turned to full-on flares.
His gaze scanned the salon, but he already knew she was gone. Tuning back in to those senses once more, he searched for her. She was still in the castle. One level down, in the main hall. Hell if he knew how he was able to track her, but he could, and right now he was glad for it.
He moved for the door. Voices—male voices—drifted from the stairwell, followed by Cynna’s curt one.
“No,” she snapped. “I don’t have to tell you anything. And I said, let go!”
That darkness surged inside. Nick rounded the corner and looked down the curved and charred staircase. Cynna stood in the archway that led into the main living area, still wearing nothing but his black T-shirt, struggling against Theron’s grip on her upper arm. Several other Argonauts—Titus, Zander, and Gryphon—stood around her, blocking her in.
“Take your hands off her.”
They all turned as one and looked up the staircase toward him. But Theron was the one Nick focused on. And his hold on Cynna’s arm. That darkness leapt and bubbled inside with the prospect of a bloodletting.
“Nick.” Theron released her. “Holy skata.”
Cynna jerked her arm away and shot daggers into the back of the leader of the Argonaut’s head. But Nick no longer cared what Theron was doing. His focus shifted to her. To the nervous look in her dark eyes, to the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze, and the fact she was actively searching for somewhere to run.
Away from him.
The reality was like a sharp stab to the solar plexus. Yeah, she didn’t want to be anywhere near the Argonauts—he could feel her animosity growing for them with every passing second—but this need to escape had nothing to do with them and everything to do with him.
That moment, when he’d held her in the salon, ricocheted through his memory. The way she’d tensed, then relaxed, then—reluctantly, now it seemed—agreed to join him in the shower.
She was spooked. That was why she’d taken off. That was why she was pissed now. She’d felt the same thing he had upstairs. The same deep connection that wasn’t rooted in a forced and silly soul mate bond but was deeper, more immediate, more…real.
He moved down the stairs, his gaze directly on her, not willing to let her out of his sight now for even a minute. “Are you okay?”
She darted a venomous look toward Titus, standing on her right, then one at Theron again. Still not meeting Nick’s eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.”
Theron’s dark hair swayed as he moved toward the stairs. “When did you get out? Holy skata, we’ve been frantically searching for you everywhere.”
Nick ignored the leader of the Argonauts, pushed past him, and reached for Cynna’s elbow. “Don’t take off like that again.”
Her gaze finally swung his way, but her eyes weren’t soft and compassionate as they’d been upstairs. No, now they held a sharp edge. One he’d seen before. In Zagreus’s lair. “I’ll go wherever the hell I want. I’m not your prisoner.”
So they were back to this now…
“Nick,” Theron said at his back. “There are things happening in Argolea that concern you.”
“Argolea?” Cynna’s eyes widened, and she shot a look at Theron over Nick’s shoulder. “Oh, you should definitely go.”
“The Council’s got a serious set of sticks up their asses,” Titus said somewhere to Nick’s left. “Orpheus is doing the best he can to try to keep the peace, but shit, man. It’s O. We all know how well that’s going over.”
Zander muttered something Nick didn’t catch. Something about the Council and the witches and some kind of settlement. All crap Nick couldn’t care less about. And Argolea was the last place he ever wanted to visit again.
His hand tightened around Cynna’s elbow, and a desperate urge to get her alone, to finish what they’d started upstairs consumed him. He tugged on her arm, drawing her a step back toward the stairs. “You’re coming with me. We have unfinished business.”
Cynna dug her bare heels in and struggled against his grip. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s definitely stronger,” a female voice said near Gryphon. One Nick recognized. “I could feel it as soon as we came into the castle. It’s clearly coming from him.”
Nick’s irritated gaze darted to Maelea, whom he hadn’t picked out on first glance because she’d been standing behind her mate, then to Gryphon. “You brought her here? Stupid Argonaut. The therillium ore isn’t camouflaging this place anymore. Hades can find it again if he looks.”
Gryphon reached for his mate’s hand and drew her to his side. “We’re not staying long. You need to come back with us.”
“Who the hell is that?” Cynna mumbled, still pulling back from Nick’s hold.
“Maelea.”
Cynna’s eyes widened. “Maelea…as in Zeus and Persephone’s daughter?” She tugged harder against his grip. “Oh yeah. I’m so not getting caught with that. Let go of me right now.”
Nick’s irritation reached its breaking point. He clenched his jaw and pulled her another inch toward the stairs.
“Nick—”
“Lo
ok,” Nick answered before Theron could get more than his name out, “I’m not interested in whatever crisis you’ve got going back in Argolea. You all know the way out, so find the fucking door on your own.”
“Niko, stop.”
Nick stilled at the use of his given name. His gaze shifted to the right, toward Demetrius, whom he hadn’t even noticed when he’d come down the stairs because he’d been so focused on Cynna.
His brother’s dark hair was messy, his skin sallow, and there was a haunted look to his black eyes. One that stopped Nick cold.
“She’s sick,” Demetrius said. “We’re not sure what’s wrong with her, but Callia thinks you might be able to help.”
She.
Isadora.
His soul mate.
The swirling irritation came to a shuddering halt. Nick’s gaze drifted over the faces around him, seeing nothing and no one as he searched for that connection he felt to Isadora. The soul mate draw was still there. Lurking beneath the surface. But it wasn’t as strong as it had been even a month ago. Something he was grateful for but suddenly way the fuck confused by. Especially since he hadn’t realized she was sick. Now, yes, he could feel that something was off, but he’d had to think about her, to focus on her to realize it. Which was a thousand times different from years past.
His brow dropped low as he looked back at his brother. “What can I do? Your bond with her is stronger.”
“Not anymore,” Demetrius answered in a strained voice.
Nick had no idea what Demetrius meant, but when Cynna pulled back on his grip again, his attention darted her way.
“You should go with them,” she said. “They clearly need you.”
And she didn’t. His gaze sharpened on her dark eyes. And he saw again what he’d seen upstairs in the salon, just after he’d held her.
Fear.
Though right now, he couldn’t tell if it was because of him or the Argonauts surrounding her.
Indecision skipped through his mind and then fled. She might not need him, but he definitely needed her. And there was no way he was going to Argolea without sanity on his side.
He looked back at his brother. “Fine. I’ll go with you.” He nodded toward the female he had yet to release. “But she’s coming too.”
“What?” Cynna tugged hard on Nick’s grip. “No way in hell.”
Nick only held her tighter, pulling her up against his side. Demetrius’s eyes shifted her way, and though Nick’s gaze didn’t follow, judging from the increased beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips and the heat now rolling off her in waves where she pressed against him, he knew she was seething.
Too bad. He needed her to keep him from losing it for good. Especially now when he was heading back to the one place he swore he’d never visit again.
“Who is she?” Demetrius asked.
“I—”
“Just someone who helped me escape from Zagreus,” Nick answered, cutting her off.
“She’s Argolean,” Theron said cautiously at Nick’s back. “What was an Argolean doing with the Prince of Darkness?”
Nick huffed. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m right here,” Cynna growled from between clenched teeth. “I can answer my own da—”
Nick squeezed her elbow until she winced.
Theron stared at her a long beat, then finally glanced toward the other Argonauts. “Fine. She can cross with us. Z?”
“On it.” Zander brought his hands together so his pinkies touched. The portal between worlds popped and sizzled and opened with a sharp beam of light that illuminated the room.
A heavy weight pushed hard against Nick’s chest. At his side, every muscle in Cynna’s body contracted.
He leaned close to her ear while Gryphon and Maelea went through the portal, and whispered, “Don’t worry. We won’t stay long. And I meant what I said before. We still have unfinished business.”
“Fuck you,” she growled.
“Pretty sure you already did that.”
“Don’t remind me.” She yanked back on his grip once more, her eyes like daggers, but he only held her tighter, not letting her move away. “The second you release me, I’m gone.”
That pressure in his chest eased, if only for a moment. Because this, her feisty defiance, gave him something solid and real to focus on instead of the shit that was about to go down. And staying centered on her kept that poisonous darkness from bubbling to the surface. “Then I suggest you get used to my touch, female, because there’s no way I’m letting you go. And that means you’re gonna get a whole lot more of me real soon.”
Cynna was on the verge of hyperventilating. Not only were Nick’s fingers digging into her elbow, leaving bruises in their wake, but he’d dragged her through the portal and was now hauling her with him into the castle.
The Argolean castle.
Gods almighty. Gods al—fucking—mighty.
Perspiration dotted her forehead, collected along her back, and slid down her spine. His “soul mate” clearly knew the queen. Which meant there was a chance Cynna might run into the bitch in this horrid place. Anger and panic and disbelief tangled in her chest until she couldn’t breathe.
She focused on drawing air deep into her lungs, then pushing it out so she didn’t actually lose it. A gust of wind swept through the ginormous entryway, sending a shiver down her spine, and that was when she realized that not only was she in the middle of her own worst nightmare come true, she was wearing nothing but Nick’s thin T-shirt. No shoes, no pants, not even underwear beneath the soft black cotton that hit her midthigh. And thanks to the fact she’d bolted before she’d even had a chance to think about clothing, that meant she was probably still sporting that just-fucked look too.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.
“Stay close to me,” Nick whispered at her side.
Fury whipped through her with the force of a tornado. “Fuck y—”
“Cynna.” His gaze darted down to her while they walked behind the Argonauts. “This isn’t a game.”
She knew this wasn’t a game, dammit. For her, it was the furthest thing from a game. It was the last possible place she wanted to be. Her own private version of hell. A—
“I know you’re pissed,” he said, easing his hold on her elbow a touch. “But I’m asking you to please not make the situation worse. Fifteen minutes, then we’re gone. Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”
His words were filled with a note of anxiety that drew her focus from her roiling anger. She chanced a look his way. His jaw was tight, the muscles flexing beneath his scruffy skin, and his eyes were hard and guarded as he stared straight ahead.
He’d told her his soul mate was bonded to his brother. She’d witnessed the tension between the two males back at the colony even if she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. Her mind drifted over their conversation in the jungle, when he’d been telling her about the soul mate curse, and she remembered vividly the animosity in his words when he’d mentioned the female at the center of their messy little love triangle. Using her gift, Cynna searched for any sense that he was lying, only she found nothing. He was telling the truth. Being near his soul mate gave him no kind of happiness.
“Only those of us with the markings feel the draw.” He’d told her that as well, that the female in the soul mate equation wasn’t affected by the curse. Which meant, being here, being close to her, had to be like a new form of torture for him. And Cynna was making it worse by freaking out.
Her jaw unclenched. The muscles in her arms relaxed. As they moved up the stairs, she sighed and figured she could either continue being a bitch…or she could get through this and then get the hell away from him for good.
“You don’t have to hold me so tightly,” she muttered. “I clearly can’t go anywhere. And I won’t. For at least fifteen minutes.”
Nick’s grip released her elbow, and blood rushed to the spot. She reached over and rubbed her sore elbow but was distracted when his hand clo
sed over hers hanging at her side, his fingers intertwining with hers to keep them close. She glanced up, caught the gratitude in his amber gaze, and suddenly couldn’t breathe again.
“Thank you.”
Thank you…
He needed to stop saying that to her. All it did was make her feel worse. Because he had absolutely no reason to thank her, dammit. Not after the things she’d done.
She focused on slow breaths, in and out, as she walked up the stairs beside him, knowing she needed to pull away from his hand. But a dangerous place inside didn’t want to let go. And just recognizing that fact sent her adrenaline spiking all over again.
“Yo, Nick.” The Argonaut with the long wavy hair tied at his nape with a leather strap caught up with them just as they reached the landing on the next level and pushed a shirt into Nick’s hands. “Might want to put this on before you go in there.”
“Thanks, Titus.” Nick took the shirt, let go of Cynna’s hand, and tugged it on, the light blue button-down covering his bare chest. And though she was still irritated she remained half-naked and that no one had brought her more to wear, a tiny place inside Cynna was glad this soul mate of his who seemed to enjoy tormenting his existence wasn’t going to get to see all the sculpted goodness and strong muscles Cynna had sampled only an hour or so ago.
Her body warmed at the memory of his hands running over her naked flesh, his mouth nipping at her sensitive skin, the wicked things he could do with his tongue, and instantly she wondered if this female had ever experienced any of that. As quickly as the thought hit though, she dismissed it. There was no room for jealousy in her heart. After everything she’d done, it was pretty clear she no longer had a heart, anyway.
He grabbed her hand again as they headed down a long, wide corridor with an intricately carved dome ceiling and ornate pillars lining the hall, and she let him hold her, not because she wanted to touch him, she told herself. But because she was doing exactly what he’d asked—not making a scene.