Entwined

  Dazed, Max slapped out, searching for the knife himself. Finally, his hand closed around the handle. Snow and gravel filled his palm. Adrenaline pumping, he pushed to his feet and stopped in front of the daemon, still on its knees, writhing in pain.

  Kill or be killed.

  Yeah, he’d learned that lesson well, hadn’t he? Only it wasn’t the way Atalanta had ever intended.

  Adrenaline pulsing, he swung back and through, just like she’d taught him, decapitating the monster before it could regain its strength and kill them both.

  He didn’t dwell on what he’d done. Didn’t even look down at the grotesque head severed from the daemon’s body. Max turned and headed for Jeb. He dropped to his knees next to the man, immediately ripped off his coat and pressed it to the human’s wounded chest.

  “R-run,” Jeb breathed.

  “I’m not leaving you out here.”

  Jeb’s hand closed over Max’s wrist. “There are…more.”

  Yeah, Max already knew that. Atalanta’s scouts traveled in threes. But that wasn’t all. There would be more coming. Lots more. Especially when this one didn’t check in.

  Max stared down at the human, wondered how things had turned so bad so fast. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of it. He wasn’t dumb enough to think Atalanta loved him and wanted him back. No, what she wanted was the disk he’d stolen from her. The key to controlling this world and the next. And she wouldn’t stop until she found him and took it back.

  Unless…

  He reached down and palmed the disk against his chest. It still burned warm, giving him a strength he hadn’t had before. It had gotten him all the way here when he should have been too tired to move. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but it had power. Like the glass that old lady had given him. And instinctively he knew only bad things would happen if Atalanta got it back.

  Remember your humanity, Maximus. Let it be your guide.

  The old lady’s words sifted through his mind. Maybe the disk could help Jeb, if only so the man could stay alive long enough to get out of this hellhole.

  And if not, well, at least Atalanta wouldn’t get it back.

  He squeezed his hand around the disk, then drew the chain over his head with frantic fingers. While Jeb watched him, Max stuffed the disk and chain inside his coat pocket.

  “Wh-what are you d-doing?” Jeb asked.

  A roar echoed from the doorway of the building. Max’s body stilled. They didn’t have much time.

  Quickly Max tucked his coat around Jeb again, pressed it into Jeb’s wounds and placed Jeb’s hand over the top for pressure. “Do me a favor and keep this safe. Do you think you can make it to the truck?”

  Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, Jeb turned his head slightly on the gravel, glanced toward the truck. Nodded.

  “Good.” Max squeezed Jeb’s hand. “The keys are in the ignition. Get in, lock the doors and go. And don’t look back. You’re right. More will come. But they’re coming for me. Not you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

  “Max?”

  Max pushed to his feet and turned toward the daemons.

  This was it for him. No way he could outrun two daemons. But maybe…just maybe he could draw them far enough away to give Jeb a fighting chance.

  He sucked in a deep breath. The image of his mother—his real mother—passed before his eyes: her red hair, her violet eyes, her sweet and beautiful face. He’d hoped some day to meet her. To ask her why she’d let him go. Now it really didn’t matter anymore. Funny that all that mattered was doing the right thing.

  “You bastards!” he yelled. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Go back to hell, you freaks!”

  The daemons growled in half warning, half anticipation of a kill yet to come.

  His adrenaline surged, and fear raced up his spine. True fear, because he knew what was coming next. He’d seen it up close and personal. But Max didn’t hesitate. He took off running into the trees as fast as his legs would carry him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The shower did little to chill Zander out. A frenzied storm bubbled beneath the surface of his control, and every second he spent here at the colony wasting time only energized the lightning inside him.

  He wrapped a white towel around his waist without bothering to dry himself off. When he stepped into the bedroom Nick had told him to use to get cleaned up, he found Titus leaning against the wall and Lena already setting out scissors, needles and medical crap on the coffee table in the sitting area.

  Lovely. Titus was here to make sure Zander didn’t snarl at the half-breed and that the healer, who obviously didn’t give a rat’s ass about Zander, did her job.

  He didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he crossed the floor and dropped into the chair the healer nodded toward. The sooner he got stitched up, the sooner he could haul ass back to the hunt and find his son. Fear and dread spread through his chest, condensed into rage. This time he had very definite, very gruesome plans for the next SOB he found.

  Titus didn’t speak as Lena went to work, just crossed his arms over his chest and chewed on the toothpick sticking out of his mouth.

  Lena pressed all around the edges of the wound with her fingertips. “It’s not too deep. This shouldn’t take long.”

  He kept his eyes on the pale yellow wall while she went to work.

  She glanced at his face. “Nick mentioned what happened.” When he didn’t answer, she stuck him with a needle—not, he noticed, gently. “Is it true? Does Atalanta really have your son?”

  Just the mention of his son sent the firestorm swirling all over again. He clenched his jaw, worked hard not to let the rage overtake him here, curled his hands into fists and tried to think about…nothing.

  Except it didn’t work.

  She set the syringe on the table, reached for a needle and threaded it, her focus intent on the instruments in her hands. “Does she…does Callia know?”

  He wasn’t in the mood to talk. Especially about Callia. But he also wasn’t in the mood to piss off one more person who could push him over the edge. “Yes.”

  “And you’re here looking for him. Where is she?”

  “Home.”

  “In Argolea. Where she’s safe.”

  The disapproval in her words was more than evident. He clenched his jaw to the point of pain so he didn’t let her have it.

  She drew the needle into his skin and back up again, never meeting his gaze. “You underestimate her, Argonaut.”

  Like he gave a rip what she thought.

  She continued stitching. He went back to watching the wall. Silence descended as she worked. Finally, she tied off the ends of the threads, snipped and covered the wound with a clean dressing, then said, “That’s it. I’d tell you to be careful with it, but I have a feeling you’ll just do whatever the hell you want, so I won’t bother.”

  She packed up the rest of her things, flicked a look at Titus still leaning against the wall. “I’m done.”

  Titus nodded once and Zander had the distinct impression he was being babysat.

  Which rankled. Big-time. That fury bubbled and swirled.

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Lena stopped with one hand on the door. “Just don’t be surprised if it’s not what you expected.”

  Rankled? Shit, forget Titus. The healer knew how to irritate the fuck out of a person. He needed to get the hell out of here, like now, before he blew his lid.

  Zander pushed to his feet.

  “Hold up, old man.”

  Titus ambled toward him, shifting the toothpick to the other side of his mouth and shoving his big hands into his pockets. His shoulders remained relaxed, but the intensity in his eyes was a big ol’ red flag that he had something on his mind.

  I don’t have fucking time for this.

  “Well, make time,” Titus muttered.

  Zander heaved a sigh, because even in his mood he knew taking Titus on right now had bad news tattooed all over it. “What?”

&n
bsp; “The healer had a point.”

  Zander shot his kinsman a bored look.

  “Callia has a right to be here.”

  Not a fucking chance. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Zander didn’t make it a foot away before Titus stepped in his path. “Too dangerous for whom? Her or you?”

  Zander narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you getting at?”

  “I’m just saying. It should be her decision, Z, not yours. To hell with how it affects you.”

  Zander’s eyes widened. Titus knew Callia was his vulnerability? Fucking fantastic. His mind skipped back over the connection Titus and Callia seemed to share and that rage worked its way in again. He clenched his jaw to tamp it down. “Screw how it affects me. You know it’ll be a thousand times worse if those daemons find her now. I’m not letting them touch her. Not letting anyone touch her. She’s been through enough. You don’t like my methods, don’t agree with my decision? Too fucking bad. She’s not your soul mate, so it’s not your damn call.”

  One side of Titus’s lips curled, just a touch. A lame-ass grin that made Zander want to shove his fist through the wall…or through Titus’s face, he didn’t care which.

  “Suspicion confirmed,” Titus muttered. Then louder, “Word to the wise, dude. You are officially fucked.”

  Zander glared at Titus as the other Argonaut moved toward the door. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “Do yourself a favor, Z. Before you fuck this up any more than you already have. Tell Callia the truth.”

  Zander stared after Titus as the guardian left the room, confused by what had just happened here. He’d never understood Titus, and now was no exception, but he had a strange feeling the guardian was trying to help him, not twist the knife. Outside in the hall, voices drifted to his ears, but he couldn’t make out the conversation. All he heard were Titus’s words pinging around in his head.

  Tell Callia the truth? Yeah, right. That’d unleash a whole new set of problems he didn’t need. Being honest—truly honest with her—meant opening himself up to his humanity, something he’d been trained not to do. Could he do it now? Let go of that self-control, tear open his soul and give it to her once and for all? Consequences swirled in his mind. History and stories of Argonauts from Achilles’s line long dead. It would change him. Who and what he was. And the fundamental part of him that was a guardian. The immortal fighter he and the others had come to rely on. And then there was his son…

  Footsteps drew close. A door slammed. Slowly his eyes lifted until he was staring at the very face he’d conjured in his mind. “Thea.”

  “I trusted you.” Her eyes flashed. “‘I won’t shut you out.’ That’s what you said to me. I trusted you and you left me there while you ran off to play god.”

  “Thea—”

  “Don’t ‘thea’ me.” Callia advanced on him, shoved her index finger into his chest. Was as pissed as he’d ever seen her. And more gorgeous than he could have imagined. “You don’t ever get to call me that. He’s my son, Zander. Do you get that? Mine. You didn’t even know about him until recently.”

  “Callia—”

  She swatted at his hands. “Go to hell. I don’t need you, you know. I can get Theron or one of the others to help me get him back. I only came up here to warn you that you’re not going to push me out of this. I won’t let you.” Her eyes blazed as she turned for the door. “Stay clear of me, Zander.”

  She had one hand on the door handle by the time he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and lifted her off the floor. “Wait.”

  She struggled against his hold. “Let me go.”

  “I can’t.” He pulled her back against his chest as words he hadn’t yet decided to speak bubbled up. “I’ve tried. Gods, I’ve tried but I haven’t been able to. I need you.”

  “You never needed me. I was nothing more than a fling. A way to stick it to the Council. Something to pass your precious time.”

  “That’s not true.” She squirmed against him, and though it wasn’t the reaction he wanted, he couldn’t help it. His blood ran hot and went due south. Being close to her always electrified him, especially when she was grinding her sweet ass into his hips like she was doing now. “You were everything. Are everything.”

  “Liar.” She pushed back, jammed the heel of her boot into his shin. He winced as pain shot up his leg. “You believed the worst about me without hesitation.”

  He had. She was right. And he’d never forgive himself for that fact. “I didn’t stop needing you. I never stopped wanting you.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she scoffed. “I can feel how much you want me. That’s all you ever wanted from me, isn’t it, Zander? Sex. Yeah, we were good at that, weren’t we?”

  A space in his chest went cold at the bite to her words. Instinctively, he let go.

  She didn’t flee like he expected. Instead, she turned slowly, the fire brewing in her rivaling the rage he kept locked inside. “Why don’t you come and take me then, Zander? Since we both know that’s all I ever was to you.”

  “Callia.” Something had shifted in her. Something fueled by revenge and that wicked attraction that had drawn them together the first time. “Stop.”

  “Why?” One side of her mouth twitched, but there was no humor in her eyes. There was only anger and heat and malice. “I thought you said you needed me.”

  “I do.” He backed up until he hit the couch. Held up his hands as she advanced, hoping to ward her off. Had no idea how things had turned so fast. “But not like this.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I think just like this. Come on, Zander. I’m just a weak female. You have all the power here.”

  “No, I don’t.” Warning bells went off in his head. Even though this was wrong, even though he knew what she was doing had nothing to do with him and was all about making her point, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her for long. Not when she was the one person he’d never been able to resist. “You do. You always have.”

  The muscles around her violet eyes tightened. She had her hand on the towel at his waist before he even saw her arm dart out. “You’re right. I do.”

  She yanked the towel from his body and tossed it on the ground. Her eyes settled on his hips and his very—dammit—erect arousal. “You may be saying no, but your body is definitely saying yes.” She lifted her gaze. Pushed her hands against his chest and moved closer until the long lean length of her body was pressed tight against his. “Come on, Zander. Show me how much you need me.”

  The blood pounded hard in his veins. Her sweet female scent surrounded him, enticed him, latched on and wouldn’t let go. The tips of her breasts pushing into his chest and the soft sway of her hips cradling his erection drove him wild. But the callousness of her tone was the one thing he couldn’t ignore.

  “Callia,” he gripped her shoulders. “Don’t tempt me right now.”

  “Why not?” She resisted his push, sank her teeth into the base of his neck. “You said you wanted to fuck me in that cave.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Now’s your chance.”

  He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, knew he needed to get the hell out of here but couldn’t seem to move. She was angry and hurt and feeling self-destructive after everything she’d learned today, which was the only reason she was here doing this to him now. But even though he understood that, it didn’t change what he wanted. What he needed.

  Heaven help him…

  He let go of her shoulders, slid his arms around her waist. Tugged her close and buried his face in her hair. “Thea…”

  “I knew it.” She lifted her head, dug her fingernails into his chest. “You son of a bitch.” As it had in the cave, an energy force shot from his body into her hands and straight back out again, hitting him square in the torso.

  He gasped, the rush of power strong enough to knock him off balance. But this one wasn’t nearly as powerful as the one she’d thrown at him before, and he didn’t go down. Instead he reached for her shoulders again, but s
he twisted out of his grasp. “Go to hell, Zander.”

  She made it three steps before he snagged her by the arm. “I’ve been there way too long. And I don’t want it anymore.”

  “Zan—”

  He yanked her close, covered her mouth with his. The kiss was hard and pointed and left no doubt as to what he wanted. When she pounded her fist against his chest, he didn’t let go. When she curled her fingers into his skin again, he drew her tighter, locked one arm around her waist and slid his other hand up into her silky hair so she couldn’t throw his own pain back at him again. He walked her backward toward the door. Her spine hit the wood. She mumbled something against his lips, but he didn’t loosen his grasp. Instead he changed the angle of the kiss, stroked his tongue over hers and pushed aside all the consequences of what he was about to do.

  Her shocked violet eyes seared his when he pulled back, but he didn’t let it deter him. “You don’t need me?” he said. “I got that loud and clear. But you get this. I didn’t do anything to protect you when I should have, and I have to live with that, but I won’t make the same mistake twice. And if that means leaving you a hundred times in Argolea where you’re safe, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

  “You—”

  “As for this?” He nodded down to where he still held her tight against him. “It’s not at all what you think it is. Its eight hundred years of searching for you and ten trying to live without you. It’s being close to you and wanting something I can’t have. And that’s not sex, Callia. That’s you. Just you. The only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

  He let go of her and moved back, but he kept his eyes on her in case she came at him again. A storm brewed in her violet irises. One he knew all too well. Her lips were plump and pink from his kiss. Her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. She glared at him as her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths. When she took a step forward, he braced himself.

  “You don’t fight fair,” she whispered.

  “I never claimed to.”

  “The soul-mate curse is bullshit.”

  His eyes ran over her face. Her perfect, familiar, gorgeous face. “It’s my reality. Not yours.”