BOUND

  Rock was impenetrable. But one thing could destroy it.

  He turned to Theron. “Gimme the bow and arrow you took from Heracles’s trunk.”

  Theron slid the quiver from his back, handing it and the bow to Titus. “What are you going to do?”

  “Use my brain.”

  He headed for the boulders and rock-face and reached for a handhold to pull himself up.

  The others quietly moved for the cave entrance. When Titus reached the top of the cliff minutes later, sweaty and breathing heavily, he realized this part of the mountain didn’t peak like the ones around it. A domelike rock structure stretched out in front of him.

  He’d bet his life Prometheus was being held inside. A perfectly designed prison. From below, the screech of an eagle similar to the one who’d led him to Natasa echoed, and shouts and hollers of the eternal guardians followed.

  Urgency coursed through him. He hiked out to the far side of the dome, reached into his pocket, and drew out the reed. Liquid sloshed inside the cylinder. He set it at his feet, then moved back to the other edge. Stepping behind a boulder, he grabbed Heracles’s bow and reached for an arrow from the quiver at his back.

  C’mon, Odysseus…don’t fail me now. If Prometheus was in there, he hoped like Hades the god wasn’t on the far side of the cave.

  He closed one eye, lined up his target, and let go.

  The arrow whirred through the air and struck the reed standing on end.

  Thunder echoed, a plume of black smoke shot into the sky, and a fireball erupted, incinerating the rock and everything around it. The dome collapsed with a roar. Shielding his face from the toxic fumes, Titus rushed to the edge of the destruction and peered inside the hole left behind.

  Debris littered the floor of what used to be a giant cave. Frantic, he searched through the smoke and finally found what he was looking for. Chains. Just barely visible, sticking out from beneath a pile of rock.

  He pulled rope from his back pocket, tied off one end around a boulder, and rappelled into the cave. The eagle’s scream echoed from a tunnel to his left. From the rocks, coughing echoed, followed by a weak voice calling, “Who’s there?”

  Energy rushed through Titus’s veins. He lifted rocks and moved them out of the way. A bloody hand emerged from the stones. His adrenaline surged.

  He worked faster, finally clearing enough debris to see a face.

  Deep green eyes peered up at him. The face was old and wrinkled, the hair salt-and-pepper, stringy and covered in dust. But power resonated from the frail body chained to the rocks. Power and purpose.

  “Who are you?”

  A dozen emotions ripped through Titus. Anger for a situation he and the guardians shouldn’t be in, frustration that this was taking so freakin’ long, hatred for a father who’d condemned his daughter to pure torture…but mostly faith that he was going to be the one to free her from her bonds. “The one who’s saving your sorry ass.”

  He reached for the chain locking Prometheus to the rocks. The eagle blasted a screech that tore through Titus’s eardrums and knocked him off his feet.

  He pushed up on his hands and stared wide-eyed at the giant beast. This wasn’t the same eagle he’d followed before. Not even close to the one who’d swooped over him on the castle wall in Argolea. This thing was as big as a house, with bloodred eyes and a beak sharp as a machete.

  At his back, Prometheus whispered, “Don’t move.”

  Fuck that. Natasa was dying.

  Titus jerked the berries he’d taken from Odysseus’s trunk from his pocket and hurled them toward the eagle.

  They peppered the eagle’s face. It blinked, recoiled, then opened its mouth again to scream. But instead of attacking like Titus expected, it lowered its beak and pecked the berries across the ground until they were all gone.

  Footsteps pounded across the earth. Zander, Demetrius, and Theron rushed into the cave, weapons drawn. All three were bloodied and bruised, as if they’d taken a beating from the eagle in the tunnels. All three sported holy fuck looks on their faces.

  The eagle swallowed, then opened its beak to screech again. It’s giant red eyes rolled back in its head, and it dropped to the ground like a board.

  Surprise was swift and useless. Titus lurched to his feet and reached for Prometheus’s chains. One tug and he realized he couldn’t break them. “D! I need your magic!”

  The guardians rushed over.

  “What the hell was that?” Zander asked.

  “Lotus fruit.”

  Demetrius traced the chains, held his hands over them and muttered ancient, magic words.

  “How in Hades did you cause that explosion?” Theron asked.

  C’mon, c’mon…

  Titus swiped at his forehead. “Greek fire. Set off by Heracles’s poisoned arrows.” When they all stared at him, he shook his head. “They weren’t really poisoned. The tips were dipped in potassium nitrate, and the tube I found in Odysseus’s chest was filled with the ancient mixture. It just needed to be ignited.”

  Theron looked to Zander. “Remind me not to underestimate him.”

  “Don’t worry.” Zander lifted one brow. “On a good day I can barely keep up with him.”

  Come on, already. We need to go…

  “How did you find me?”

  Titus turned toward Prometheus, who pushed up to a sitting position on the rocks. Blood flowed from a wound in the Titan’s side, and he seemed frail and out of sorts, but he was still immortal. No matter how much he suffered—and Titus hoped he suffered a hell of a lot before the end of days—the god wouldn’t die. “Calypso.”

  “The nymph?”

  “Yeah. And she’s waiting for us to return. Get up, old man. I saved your ass. Now you’re gonna save my soul mate’s life.”

  “But I can’t,” Prometheus protested, slowly rising to his feet when Zander helped him. “Don’t you know…? No god but Hades can cheat death.”

  * * *

  Breathe. Focus. Draw on the strength inside you.

  Natasa struggled to open her eyes. Instead of a raging fire she’d prepared her whole life to be incinerated by, she rolled on a crashing sea. Giant waves exploded all around her. Water sprayed into her face. She gasped for breath, tried to open her eyes amidst the storming sea, but couldn’t.

  Focus…

  Her mother’s voice rang clear in her ears. Encouraging her. Leading her.

  The strength is inside you… Focus, Natasa.

  “You thought you could get out from under our deal.” Her mother’s voice shifted, morphed, grew deeper, darker. “You don’t double-cross a god, child. Especially not the God of the Sea. “

  “Poseidon, don’t—”

  A scream rang out.

  “Silence, nymph! Do not get between me and my…prey.”

  Calypso. That was Calypso crying out in pain. The island, the hemlock, Titus bringing her to the deity for help…it all rushed through Natasa’s mind.

  Fear condensed beneath her ribs. The deal she’d made with Poseidon flashed in front of her, as if set on a movie scene.

  “I fulfilled my end of the bargain and you repay me with this?” Poseidon snarled. His voice echoed in her ear, and his breath blew hot against her cheek. He was close. She still couldn’t open her eyes, but she pictured him leaning over her, all surfer, sun-tanned God of the Stormy Seas. “There will be repercussions for your treachery. I will hunt down that Argonaut you did this for and see his limbs ripped from his body. Then I’ll watch as he drowns in his own blood and vomit and remind him he has you to thank for every second of his misery.”

  No. No! A groan tore from Natasa’s throat, but the poison was too strong for the sound to reach her ears. Her limbs wouldn’t work. She couldn’t move her body. Paralysis settled in. Why had she ever thought this would save Titus? Her pulse slowed until only a flicker of life remained.

  The scent of the sea reached her nostrils. Natasa tried to suck in deep breaths.

  Poseidon chuckled, a dark, menacing sound.
“Give my regards to my brother in hell, traitor.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I already told you,” Prometheus insisted again as they flashed to the riverbank outside Calypso’s cottage. “Death is in the hands of the Fates. Not the gods.”

  Fuck the Fates. Where were the Fates when Titus had needed them? Nowhere. They’d appeared to the other guardians when their lives had been in turmoil, but not to him. Probably because they were the ones who’d screwed him over to begin with.

  He tamped down the resentment and focused on the only thing that mattered: Natasa. Grinding his teeth, he nodded toward the small house. “Go.”

  From somewhere inside, a scream echoed. Prometheus’s eyes widened.

  Titus bolted for the door.

  Natasa lay as he’d left her, still as stone on the kitchen table, her head tipped to the side, her red, silky curls falling over the butcher-block surface. His heart lurched. Slowly he stepped next to her and laid his hand over hers against her stomach.

  Cold.

  “Come on, baby…” He gripped her hand and felt for her pulse at her throat.

  Nothing.

  Another scream echoed from somewhere in the house, but Titus was too panicked to wonder where it was coming from.

  Come on, come on, come on…

  Zander and Demetrius tore off toward a back room. Theron moved up slowly on Titus’s side. Titus’s fingers shook as he continued to feel for any sign of life. “Come on, ligos Vesuvius…”

  Footsteps echoed at Titus’s back. He felt, rather than saw, Prometheus in the room. At the back of the house, a crack sounded, followed by a female scream and the crash of furniture splintering.

  A blip. Right there against her throat. Hope surged. Titus gripped Natasa’s shoulders. Shook her. “Wake up, baby…”

  “Fotia,” Prometheus whispered.

  “Zeus will be sorry he wasn’t here to see this.”

  A chill spread down Titus’s back, and he froze. Very carefully, he lifted his head and looked toward the sound of the voice. In a doorway on the far side of the room, a blond-haired, blindingly beautiful god stood staring his direction. Only he wasn’t looking at Titus; he was staring through him, toward Prometheus.

  Blood dripped down Prometheus’s side. His hair was a wild gray tangle around his head. He stepped out from behind Titus. At his side, Theron moved toward the door and muttered, “T, get back.”

  “Well, well. Look who’s free?”

  “Poseidon. Still as big a pussy as your brothers.”

  Thoughts pinged around the room. Titus looked from one menacing face to the next. Prometheus didn’t appear fragile anymore. He stood erect, as if he’d grown two feet, and tension flowed in the air, as thick as blood.

  Behind Poseidon, Demetrius carried a ragged Calypso in his arms. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes wide and frightened, her dress ripped at the shoulder and hem.

  Poseidon spread his feet and nodded toward the blood trickling down Prometheus’s side. “Still nursing old wounds, I see, uncle.”

  “And you’re still forcing yourself on unwilling nymphs,” Prometheus tossed back. “Why don’t you go back to the sea where you belong before you get hurt?”

  Poseidon’s eyes narrowed. “She’s mine, not yours, thief.”

  Prometheus’s eyes flashed. “I only stole that which already belonged to humans. Nothing more. Your king is more of a thief than I could ever be.”

  They were talking about fire. The fire Prometheus had stolen from Zeus and which had led to his imprisonment.

  “And I’m stealing it back,” Poseidon answered. “She made a deal with me, and I’m not letting her go. Alive or dead, she belongs to me.”

  Titus’s gaze shot to Natasa, lying unmoving beneath his hands. A deal. She’d made a deal with Poseidon.

  For you. So he can’t have the element…

  She’d made a deal with the god of the oceans to keep her fever in check. Her rambling admission last night that she’d dreamt of him, that she was sorry she hadn’t waited, finally made sense

  “Stupid, ligos Vesuvius,” he whispered, leaning close and running his finger over her soft cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Your deal backfired.” Prometheus stretched his arm toward Natasa. “And fire is stronger than water, Olympian. Remember that.”

  Heat erupted beneath Titus’s fingers. The table burst into flames. He jerked his hands back on reflex, cringing at the burn. Natasa’s emerald-green eyes flew wide open. Her lips parted, and a blood-curdling scream pushed out her throat.

  “No!” Poseidon yelled.

  The house shook, and a deluge of rain poured from the ceiling. But the flames beneath and around Natasa only grew higher. The fire spread down the table legs, along the floor and to the walls, climbing in swirling, angry eddies until the entire house was engulfed in flames.

  “Titus!” Theron yelled.

  Titus ducked as the fire spread across the ceiling. He held up a hand to block the heat from searing his skin. From across the room, Poseidon’s eyes flashed brilliant blue. He shot a scathing look toward Prometheus and growled, then disappeared in a crack of thunder.

  Zander and Demetrius rushed out of the house with Calypso. Prometheus looked back at Natasa on the table. A sad expression turned his lips, then he lowered his head hastily and followed the Argonauts.

  Natasa continued screaming as her body was burned alive. Horrified, Titus reached for her, but the flames erupted around her, as if protecting her from his touch. He fell back on his ass.

  “Titus!” Theron yelled again.

  Smoke filled his lungs. Heat singed his hair. A hand grasped his sleeve. Yanked him up. Pulled hard toward the exit.

  “No! Let me go!” Titus fought against Theron’s grasp. “I can’t leave her! I can’t—”

  An earsplitting crack echoed. Titus looked up just as the beams above gave way.

  “Go, now!”

  Theron threw Titus out of the house and onto the grass before they were caught in the inferno. Rain poured down around them, soaking their clothing, their skin, running in rivulets down Titus’s face. The small structure exploded in flames. Each droplet of water seemed to spur the blaze higher instead of dampen the fire.

  Titus dropped to his knees in the mud and rested his hands on his thighs. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Wet hair hung in clumps in front of his eyes.

  Natasa…

  His entire world had ignited in that house. Everything he hadn’t known he’d needed. Not just his chance to finally be free of his curse, but his heart. A heart that would always belong to her.

  * * *

  Natasa blinked several times.

  The fever was gone. The heat inside her still smoldered, but it was contained somewhere…safe. Power gathered at her center, yet it wasn’t the same uncontrollable intensity she’d experienced before. This was strong. Directed. Hers.

  She unwound her arm from her knees and held her hand out. Imagined flames. Fire ignited in the palm of her hand. Her eyes grew wide with wonder. She closed her hand into a fist, and the flame went out. No pain. No struggle. Just strength. Opening her palm once more, she saw nothing but perfect skin.

  “Holy Hera.”

  The whispered words brought Natasa around. She looked out over smoking ash and rain-soaked grass toward a group of men and one woman. Three men stared in shock. The woman sat on the ground tugging her dress into place. Another man was smiling—this one familiar—and the last was on his knees, his hands on his thighs, his head hanging forward, dark, stringy, wet hair shielding his face.

  “Fotia,” the smiling man said in a low and proud voice. “My rising phoenix.”

  No, not a man. A god. A Titan.

  Her father, Prometheus.

  Slowly, the kneeling man lifted his head. Hazel eyes met hers. And warmth exploded deep in her chest.

  Titus.

  “Oh my gods,” he whispered.

  He lurched to his feet and sprinted across the mud and
ash toward her.

  Natasa pushed to her feet, as anxious to get to him as he was to her. His arms closed around her. But before she could grab on, he yanked back and dropped to his knees again, gasping for breath.

  “Titus?” She reached out to help him up, afraid he’d slipped in the mud or fallen or—

  He held up a hand to block her from touching him again. Slapped his other hand against his chest and rasped in a breath. “Don’t. Just…wait.”

  Understanding dawned at the pain she saw twisting his features. The fire element was contained. It was no longer consuming her. And he could feel her.

  No, no, no…

  “Rising phoenix? Smart move, old man.”

  Natasa jerked her attention from Titus toward the dark-haired god who’d appeared out of nowhere, moving toward her from the left, a licentious smile curling his lips.

  Zeus. She felt the power radiating from him, knew he was the King of the Gods, knew he was here for her.

  “I told you this would pay off, brother.”

  She whipped to her right, where Poseidon was also advancing fast, a blinding, evil light alive in his blue eyes.

  “From the transmutation of fire,” Poseidon went on, “we can create the other elements. Hades will never be the wiser.”

  “You were right,” Zeus said, his eyes locked on Natasa. He tsked. “I missed you, flame. That was naughty of you to run away.”

  The three Argonauts drew their weapons, then put themselves between her and the gods. Titus tried to push to his feet in the mud, but dropped back down when his legs gave out. Her father moved toward her, as if he were going to try to protect her.

  Instinct crashed in. A need to guard. One that had nothing to do with self-preservation and everything to do with protecting those she loved.

  She lifted her hands over her head, swirling them high. Flames erupted in a circle all around her, the Argonauts, the nymph, and her father, blocking the Olympian gods from reaching them.

  Poseidon jumped back and cursed. Zeus thrust his hands forward, throwing lightning toward the flames, trying to break them open. The bolts hit the flames and shot back. Zeus scrambled to the side and only just missed being fried. Irate, Poseidon swept his arms toward the lake and back in a fierce move. Water surged forward, flooded the land and crashed against the flames. The wall of fire grew higher, protecting them.