The marking on her inner thigh tingled. No, it was still worth it. She’d rather die at the hands of the Council than never take a chance on something she knew in her soul could change the shape of her future.
She pulled the door open with one hand and lifted the cloak’s hood over her head with the other. Renewed determination flowed through her veins like sweet, rich wine. “I’ll see you here tomorrow night, Orpheus. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Chapter Ten
Someone was singing. And it definitely wasn’t him, because he couldn’t carry a tune for shit.
The sound was sweet to Zander’s ears, the voice relaxing. He didn’t recognize the song, couldn’t really make out the words, but he didn’t care. It sounded much too good just the way it was, even jumbled and muffled to hell and back. Something brushed his forehead. A hand? Then his shoulder, now his hip. Soft fingers moved to his leg. He breathed deep and relaxed further, listening to the velvety sounds of the voice as it grew stronger, clearer, and felt the silky smooth hand running over his skin.
His leg…
His eyes flew open. He could feel his leg. Only…shit…why was everything black?
“My eyes…” Whoa, was that his voice? It sounded way too thick and raspy to be him.
The singing cut off abruptly. “Zander?”
Callia? What the heck was she doing here? He searched his memory, tried to connect dots that didn’t want to go together. Came up empty. “I can’t see anything.”
“It’s okay.” Her hand brushed his forehead again. And oh, shit, her fingers sliding against any part of his bare skin felt really good. He tipped his head toward the sound of her voice and drew in a deep whiff of her scent. As sweet as summer roses. Oh, yeah, that was definitely her. “It’s a side effect from the drugs. It’ll wear off.”
Well, that was a relief. But why would he need drugs?
And then, like a light switch flicking on, he remembered. The daemons, the fight, him getting hurt and waking up in that cave with both Callia and Titus.
If she was with him it meant he wasn’t dead. But—His brain flashed to the way Titus had been touching her, and just that fast, his blood turned to a roar in his head.
“Relax, Zander.” Her hands pressed down on his shoulders. “I don’t want you getting up yet.”
Her voice calmed him. He stopped fighting. And wasn’t that weird? Until he’d heard her, he hadn’t even realized he was moving.
“That’s better,” she said.
He squinted because things weren’t quite so black anymore. A shadowy figure hovered over him. The edges of his vision were blurry but growing brighter. “Where’s Titus?”
“He went to find Demetrius.”
Probably a wise choice on the guardian’s part.
“Demetrius lured the daemons away after you got hurt,” she said.
He did? Zander’s brow creased. “What about the Misos?”
She let out a weary sigh, and he felt her hands on his leg again. Unwrapping bandages? He wasn’t sure. But she was slowly coming into focus. “A few…didn’t make it.”
“The young?”
“Lie back, Zander.” She pushed on his shoulders again.
She went back to whatever she was doing to his right leg. And her voice was soft when she said, “Six of them…They…There were just too many daemons and not enough…”
She didn’t finish. But he didn’t need to hear the words to know what she was thinking. Not enough Argonauts.
He let his head fall back and closed his eyes as nausea churned in his stomach. “There was a boy. No more than eight…”
“I don’t know what happened to him,” she said softly.
Silence settled between them as she worked. He thought about the boy with the blue eyes. This war was getting bloodier by the minute and he was about to take himself out of service until Isadora produced an heir. How many other young would die because there weren’t enough Argonauts fighting for them?
His mind skipped to Demetrius, and he wondered if the guardian had been injured and if Titus had been able to find him. And if so, would the guardian be able to get Demetrius help in time? There’d been at least seven daemons in the fray when Zander went down. Seven against one—even two—were tough odds. And if there was one Argonaut who even came close to Zander’s recklessness it was Demetrius.
Shit. Demetrius wasn’t immortal like Zander. He didn’t stand a chance.
Zander needed to go find them. To help instead of lying here like a frickin’ invalid. It was the least he could do until the king pulled him out of the rotation. He pushed up to his elbows.
“No,” Callia said quickly, her hands once more at his shoulders, pressing down. She wasn’t half as strong as he was on a good day, but for some reason she was able to keep him from getting up now. “You’re in no position to go anywhere just yet.”
“I’m fine,” he said, glancing past her to see where the hell he was.
They were in a cave, that much he could see. The same one as before? It didn’t look like it. This room seemed bigger than the last, the ceiling at least thirty feet above, nearly invisible in the dark. Water slapped and gurgled somewhere close, but he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. A couple of lanterns had been set up, one near his feet, another somewhere behind his head, their soft lights casting shadows across both the rock floor and Callia’s face.
He tried to look away but couldn’t completely tear his gaze from her features. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a tail at the nape of her neck, and the lanterns highlighted the curve of her cheekbones, the long supple line of her throat and the gentle swell of her lips. She didn’t look at him, had gone back to work on his leg while he’d taken stock of the room, but she knew he was watching. He could tell by the way she avoided his gaze.
What was she doing here? And why hadn’t she left yet? Even if he’d been injured badly, he was all right now. She could leave anytime she wanted.
His eyes narrowed with suspicion as he watched her, as gorgeous and perfect as she’d been every other day of her life, and so totally not his it made his chest ache and reig-nited the resentment he always struggled with whenever she was close.
But there was something more. Something not quite right about her. Her skin was pale. Dark circles marred the skin under her eyes. The way her shoulders tensed, she looked like she carried the weight of the world and more.
Not your problem.
“I need to go find Demetrius and Titus.”
“No, you don’t,” she said without looking up, her hands continuing to rewrap his leg.
“If Demetrius is injured—”
“Then you’ll be no help to him. Just sit back and relax.”
Irritation growing, he moved to sit up. “This is bullshit.”
She dropped her hands from his wounded leg and pushed him back down to his elbows. “Bullshit is you thinking you’re invincible. You’re not. So just lie down and stop acting like a five-year-old.”
His temper flared. “I don’t need you to fix me, Callia. I’m already healing, in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t even know why the hell you’re here. I’m immortal. I don’t need you or anyone else to heal me.”
“Ilithios.” She pushed to her feet so fast his head snapped back. And when she glared down at him there was a fire in her eyes he didn’t remember seeing before. “Six hours ago you had a bullet lodged in your spinal cord. Do you get what that means, Zander? It means I had to cut you open and take it out. Then heal you all over again. It wasn’t just a simple procedure. You might be immortal, but without me right now you’d be paralyzed. And you’re not going anywhere until I’m satisfied I didn’t fuck up and injure you worse than you were before.”
She stepped over him and disappeared into the dark. And alone, he stayed right where he was, his weight perched on his elbows, his mouth hanging open, his eyes staring after her. It wasn’t so much what she’d said that had stunned him speechless—though he couldn’t remember ever hear
ing her swear before—it was the look in her eyes when she’d been saying it.
Anger, sure. Frustration, yeah, that was obvious. But overriding all of that was fear. True fear. The kind you experience when you think someone you care about is on the verge of dying.
She was afraid. For him.
His heart rate kicked up in his chest. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath as he lay back down on the pallet and told himself it didn’t matter. But it did. He wasn’t such a jackass that he couldn’t see that it mattered. A lot.
Fuck. He was supposed to bind himself to Isadora in a matter of days. He didn’t need his soul mate finding a way back into his life. Not after all this time.
Callia came back into the room, her footsteps echoing across the hard ground. She’d unbound her hair, and now those red locks partially shielded her face. She was careful not to make eye contact, just stepped around him, knelt down again and went back to work on his leg.
And though he didn’t like it, he felt like a prick. Especially when her fingers brushed his leg again and sparks of electricity rushed across his skin at the simple contact.
He didn’t talk while she wrapped a bandage around his thigh. Tried like hell not to react to every graze and tug and sweep of her flesh against his that seemed amplified now, after his little realization moments before. But when her hands stopped moving and she glanced up toward his chest, he drew in a breath and waited—for what, he wasn’t even sure.
“You’re shivering. Are you cold?”
He was? Okay, now that was weird. He hadn’t even noticed.
“No, I’m fine,” he said. But even before the words were out, a shiver racked his body and knocked his teeth together.
“Ilithios,” she whispered again, rising and crossing the room. She came back with a blanket and proceeded to wrap it around his body. “I’ve had senile patients who were easier to deal with than you. Even the king isn’t this much of a pain in the ass.”
He couldn’t help it; one corner of his mouth curled. She’d always been able to make him smile, even when he’d been in a pissy mood.
She felt his forehead, cursed, then knelt near his head. Her scent surrounded him like a wreath of roses. Leaning over, she lifted at his shoulders. “Sit up.”
“What are you doing?”
She pushed him up gently, shifted around and moved behind him. “You’re obviously freezing. Until we get your temperature regulated I’m going to use my body heat to warm you.”
Her body heat? Oh, man, no. “Look, I don’t need—”
“Shut up with the ‘I don’t need’ crap, Zander. Right now I don’t really give a rip what you think you need.”
Her blunt words cut off his protest. What had happened to the agreeable gynaíka he’d known all those years before? That one had been pleasant and proper. This one didn’t take crap from anyone. Especially him.
She eased back to sit, slid one leg on each side of his and pulled him back against her. And oh, sweet goddess, there was a reason he hadn’t let himself get near her in ten years. When she was close like this, he forgot everything, including his own name.
Her perfect breasts pressed against his back. Her hips cradled his like they were made just for him. Her arms wound around him, and she tucked the blanket in tighter, locking her heat against his. He could feel her heartbeat against his spine, feel the warmth between her thighs near the wound on his lower back. And when she exhaled, her silky, hot breath ran down his neck and made him shiver all over again.
“Just relax,” she said near his ear, obviously misreading his reaction. But yeah, like he was going to correct her now? Not a chance. The blood was already pounding in his veins and that tingling in his groin felt way too good to ignore.
“That’s better,” she said softly. “I don’t know why males have to be such babies when they’re hurt.”
He closed his eyes, rested his head back against her shoulder and told himself this wasn’t sexual. It was…medicinal. Yeah, that was it…
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he muttered. Her hands rubbed up and down his arms, and that tingle grew with every brush of skin against fabric.
“It is,” she answered. “I’m just trying to help you here.”
Suddenly, he could think of a number of ways she could help. And they all started with her hands rubbing those sinful circles on his naked flesh, not the blanket covering his skin.
When he realized where his thoughts were headed, his eyes popped open and he tried to refocus. But he didn’t move away from her body. Couldn’t. “Where is ‘here,’ anyway?”
“Somewhere in the Cascade mountain range. I’m not sure exactly where. Titus brought me here. After he hid you in that cave, he went back to Argolea to get me.”
“How did we get in this cave? It looks different from before.”
“You remember that?” When he nodded, she sighed and lifted her left leg so her knee was pointing toward the ceiling. The motion eased him further into the warmth of her body, distracting him from his question. “That was this same cave, just nearer the opening. It was too cold, though. A storm’s moved in and I was worried about infection and keeping you warm.”
Oh, man. She felt so good. Too damn good. He cleared his throat. “How…how far in are we?”
“About a hundred yards or so, I’d guess. I thought you’d be warm enough this far in, which is why I didn’t have a blanket on you earlier. These mountains are volcanic and there’s geothermal activity underground.”
For the first time he realized there was no breeze blowing through this cave, and though he was cold, the air wasn’t nearly as chilly as the interior of a cave in the middle of the mountains should be. “That’s why the air isn’t frigid.”
“Yes. And because the hot springs are heating it.”
“Hot springs?”
She nodded and pointed to the right, into the dark. “There are at least four pools over there. We lucked out because there’s no way we could have built a fire in here.”
And that explained her short-sleeved shirt and the fact he thought he’d seen a drop of perspiration on her brow earlier.
They sat like that a few minutes in silence, and he could feel his body warming from the heat of hers pressed against his. That tingling continued to grow little by little with every stroke of her fingers against his arms and chest.
Jeez, of all the healers Titus could have gone to for help, he had to bring her. Her skills were rare, but there were other healers in the city of Tiyrns who could have been just as helpful. Though none were as closely linked to the king and the Argonauts as she was.
Warmth gathered in his chest under the motion of her fingers. Reflexively, he quivered, and she pulled him tighter, again misreading his body’s reaction. If he were smart he’d pull away right now. He wasn’t going to die—he knew that for sure now—and whether she wanted to believe it or not, he didn’t need her. Not to save him, at least. But he did want her. As her hand slid over his chest, brushing the rough fabric of the blanket against his nipple and sending sparks of desire shooting to his groin, he knew he wanted her more than he had during the king’s little exam. More than he had that first night in the castle, more than he could ever remember wanting anything in his long-ass life.
Which was wrong, wasn’t it? He was binding himself to Isadora, and Callia…she was still betrothed to that SOB Loukas, though he had no idea why they hadn’t finalized the union yet. It was wrong to be thinking about sex with her now, especially here, when she was simply being a Good Samaritan.
Her hands brushed over his chest again, the fabric tweaking his other nipple, and he drew in a sharp breath. Her hand stilled, and at his back he felt her heartbeat kick up. He waited, unsure what to say or do. Then she brushed her fingers over his nipple again, almost as if she were experimenting with his reaction to see what he would do next.
And either that was totally twisted and sick or…or it meant some part of her was as turned on as he was right this minute.
r /> Whoa. Wait. That’s wrong too, isn’t it?
Questions, options, answers he wasn’t sure he was ready for pinged around in his brain. But no matter what he told himself, it didn’t feel wrong. Right now it felt…pretty damn right.
You can’t do this. End it before it begins. She’s not yours.
But technically she was his, wasn’t she? Regardless of how they felt about each other deep down, she was still his soul mate. And they had a physical connection he’d never experienced with anyone else. He knew she felt it too by her shallow breathing and the increased pulse at his back. The question was, what was he going to do about it?
His mind spun with possibilities too wicked to put into words. She lifted the other leg so he sank deeper into the vee between her thighs. Heat gathered there, pressing against his lower back, shooting erotic flames from her body to his until blood pooled hard in his groin.
He closed his eyes, tried to slow his breathing. It had always been like this with her. This instant arousal whenever she was close. Would it be so horrible to act on it here and now? Once he was bound to Isadora, that was it. Her forever and no one else. He intended to live up to his vows, which meant once the ceremony was complete he’d never again have the opportunity to feel Callia’s body pressed up against his like this, never again get to marvel at the softness of his soul mate’s skin sliding against his or taste the sweetness of her on his tongue.
And oh, yeah, he could still remember that honey-sweet taste sliding down his throat…
His eyes popped open. Screw remembering. He could have that now. She was here. He was hard. And judging from the way she continued to rub his chest and arms, she wanted him too.
One night. No strings. He was strong enough for sex, that he knew for sure. His cock jerked as erotic images of the two of them together flashed in his brain. His erection grew even harder. He sucked in a breath even as a little voice deep inside cautioned, You’re playing with fire.
Her hands stilled against his chest. “Are you still cold?”
His throat was so thick he couldn’t answer. No, he was hot. Burning, just for her.