BOUND

  At Natasa’s side, her father chuckled and muttered, “Take that, you scheming Olympians.”

  Wide-eyed, the Argonauts looked from one god’s enraged face to the next, then at each other. But it was Titus, Natasa focused on. Still kneeling in the mud, staring up at her with pained, heartbroken, beautiful eyes.

  She dropped to her knees in the muddy ash and rested her hands on her thighs. She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted, but something in the bottom of her soul said it had come with a price.

  “You saved me again,” he said quietly.

  “We saved each other. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

  A weak smile tugged at his mouth.

  She wanted to reach out to him, to gather him in her arms. To kiss away the pain brewing in his eyes. But she was the cause of it. All the heartache he’d experienced, all the panic…it was all because of her. And now…now even her touch caused him agony.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t think there was another way. I didn’t want Poseidon to have the element, and I made that deal with him before I ever even knew about you. I…I was trying to protect you from getting hurt.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “No, it’s not. I should have believed that everything I ever needed would find me if I was patient. I don’t know how I can ever make that up to you.”

  The flicker of flames reflected deeply in his eyes. Her flames. “You just did.”

  Gods, Titus…I love you.

  A sad smile turned his lips. Didn’t come close to reaching his beautiful eyes. “I know.”

  Tears ran down her cheeks to mix with the rain. Vaguely she was aware of someone wrapping a wet shirt around her naked body, but she barely cared. All she could see and feel and focus on was the man—hero—who’d brought her back to life. Who’d given her life.

  “I’ve spent my whole life thinking I didn’t need a soul mate,” he whispered. “I was wrong. I love you too, Natasa. More than you will ever know.”

  They were the words she longed to hear, and yet her heart shattered in the rain between them. For months, all she’d hoped and prayed and pleaded for was that the fever would leave her. Now she only wanted it back.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Krónos’s son… Krónos’s son…

  No. Fucking. Way.

  Nick swallowed the revulsion as he followed Zagreus down a long hallway. The walls were made of rock, the floor dirt and mud beneath his feet. Water dripped from cracks in the ceiling, drizzled down the walls and pooled on the ground. They were in some kind of cave. Underground. The chain cuffed to his wrist rattled with every step.

  They’d flashed here from the colony. Zagreus had pulled him into the tunnels. Hades… He didn’t know where the hell Hades had gone. Questions swirled in his mind—if Isadora was okay, what was happening back at the colony, where his people had gone, and what would become of them. But circling loudest was the biggest question of all, the words Hades had dropped like a bombshell.

  Krónos’s son…

  No. Not possible. His father had been human. His mother—the same blood he shared with Demetrius—a goddess, albeit twisted. He had the markings on his forearms and wrists, proving he was a demigod. Proving what Hades had said couldn’t be real.

  The crack of a whip echoed through the corridor, followed by a muffled scream, and then a moan.

  Nick’s adrenaline surged, followed by a thrill, which he couldn’t stop, that shot through his veins.

  “You’re wondering if my father was lying,” Zagreus said, not bothering to face him. “I assure you he wasn’t. My father doesn’t lie. Deceives, yes. But never lies.”

  Another scream echoed off the stone walls. The darkness inside Nick surged to the forefront, excited, anticipating what lay on the other side of these rocks.

  “They’ll die. You know this, right? Your Argonaut friends might have survived this battle, but they won’t win this war. They’re going to waste all their time finding the remaining elements only to destroy the Orb of Krónos, when now it’s probably the only thing that can save them.” He shot an amused look over his shoulder. “You didn’t think Krónos wouldn’t have a backup plan, did you?”

  Zagreus stopped and turned fully toward Nick. Nick drew up short and held his breath. The god was tall, close to Hades’s seven-foot stature, and just as dark—inside and out—as his father. If there was one thing Nick had learned in his dealings with Zagreus’s satyrs over the years, it was that the god was unpredictable. Viciously so.

  Zagreus tipped his head. “Didn’t you ever wonder how Atalanta got out of the Underworld to fuck your father? She couldn’t leave there. That was her deal with Hades. Ultimate power combined with the thrill of immortality but confined to her own living hell. Pretty sweet, if you ask me.”

  Nick clenched his jaw and didn’t respond. He wasn’t about to antagonize the god. Not when he was shackled and clearly outmatched. More screams echoed off the rock walls, amping the vibrations in his chest.

  “Prepare for the unexpected. That’s my motto.” Zagreus grinned. “Before we go in there” —he nodded toward a door at the end of the corridor—“and you begin your training, I’ll satisfy the curiosity I know you won’t admit to. Your mother, Atalanta, sought out Krónos in Tartarus. And there she made a deal with him. To free herself from the Underworld and Hades’s contract.”

  Nick knew this already. The prophecy Hades had created said that two siblings would be perfect halves of a whole—one Argolean, one human—and that when they were united, only then would Atalanta be freed from her prison in the Underworld. His mother had tried to create her own prophesy by getting pregnant with him and Demetrius, but it had backfired on her big-time.

  “Krónos agreed,” Zagreus went on, “some would say in the hopes that she would escape and come back to free him. But we know differently. He agreed to create you. His backup plan, which was a good idea, since Prometheus fucked him over with the Orb. He made your mother mortal for a few hours, impregnated her, then restored her immortality and sent her to Argolea to find your brother’s Argonaut father. She thought she’d won, but Krónos was the real winner. You see, you’re not just any demigod. You have Krónos’s power and darkness within you. And my father wants me to train you to access that power so he can lord it over his scheming brothers and all of Olympus. But I have other plans for you.”

  Krónos’s son… It was true. Bile rose in Nick’s throat while Zagreus’s voice faded into the background. He’d thought the darkness inside him came from his mother, but he’d been wrong. He was the son of the most malicious and twisted god ever to walk the heavens.

  Zagreus moved to the end of the hallway and punched a code into a keypad on the right. The heavy metal door clicked open, and the sounds of torture, of suffering escaped on a breath of heavy air. That darkness jerked inside, drawing Nick forward like a magnet.

  Zagreus ducked under the header and moved inside a vast room. Whips echoed through the air; chains rattled. Screams and moans intermixed until Nick couldn’t tell which was which.

  His heart beat fast. Sweat slicked his skin. His body vibrated as if a live wire were arcing beneath his flesh.

  He moved into the room, then drew to a halt.

  Oh, holy…fuck.

  Six women—no, not women, nymphs, he realized—were chained naked to the far wall, some facing the rocks, some with their backs pressed to the cold stone. In front of each one, a satyr held either a whip, a flogger, or a cane. Bruises covered the females’ bodies, and beneath their feet, droplets of blood stained the dirt-strewn ground.

  Nausea rolled through Nick’s stomach. But every crack of leather against skin sent his blood higher. Every scream increased his heart rate. Every moan made the darkness hungry for more.

  “Welcome to my own version of hell,” Zagreus announced, a smile in his gloating voice. “Cynna, come and meet our newest trainee.”

  Footsteps echoed. The sweet smell of jasmine reached Nic
k’s nose. Barely able to drag his attention from the torture, he looked toward the female standing in front of him.

  Long hair dyed blonde with streaks of blue that didn’t match her caramel skin tone. Heavy, dark makeup that accentuated her large, exotic eyes. Breasts that pushed high and all but spilled from the tight leather corset. Toned legs stretching a mile beneath the short leather skirt, before stopping in four-inch-spike-heeled, knee-high boots. And in her hand…a flogger, the ends of each strip of leather anchored with a tiny barb.

  His gaze lifted back to her face. To her chocolate irises. To something familiar in her features. He’d met her before, or someone like her. Or maybe he’d just fantasized about her. His blood hummed with darkness and an arousal he couldn’t fight. He waited for her to say something, but her lips remained closed. No spark of recognition flashed in her eyes. They were empty. Soulless. Dead. Just like him.

  Zagreus wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her to his side. Her skin was shades darker than Zagreus’s. She hooked her hand over his shoulder in a move that spoke of familiarity, but Nick caught the tensing of her jaw and the flash of irritation in her eyes that screamed she didn’t want the god’s hands on her.

  “What do you think, my sweet Cynna?”

  She cocked her head, regarding Nick with distaste. “He’s not your usual plaything.”

  Zagreus leaned in close and nipped at her ear. “No, agapi. He’s not. He’s very special. And as a gift to you, I’m leaving his preparation in your hands.”

  The vibrations turned to a full-blown roar in Nick’s his blood.

  Surprise lit Cynna’s familiar eyes. “Me?”

  Zagreus grinned. “It’s time you took the next step.” His expression turned hard and cold. “Break him, Cynna. Or I will break you once and for all.”

  * * *

  The knock at the door drew Natasa’s head up.

  Casey, the queen’s sister, had brought her an entire wardrobe of clothing, which Natasa was currently staring at in the walk-in closet of her room in the Argolean castle. Pants, shirts, dresses—she hadn’t worn a dress in over three thousand years, and the last one she remembered certainly hadn’t looked like these intricate numbers. When the hell was she ever going to wear all this stuff?

  A renewed sense of claustrophobia pressed in. She’d been feeling boxed in all afternoon, and she needed some space, needed to think. She wished Titus were here so she at least had a friendly face to gaze upon. These people were nice but…she was overwhelmed.

  Casey smiled and hooked the hanger on the bar. “That should be the last of it.”

  There was more? What else could a person wear?

  Head spinning, Natasa followed Casey out into the suite and froze.

  Titus stood in the middle of the room, looking big and gorgeous and every bit the hero she’d just been wishing for.

  “Casey.” He nodded once. His hazel eyes met Natasa’s. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  Her heart beat wildly. The last twenty-four hours had been a blur of activity. The Argonauts bringing her, Prometheus, and Calypso to Argolea, where the gods couldn’t touch them. Meeting the queen. Being welcomed instead of hunted. Talking with her father and realizing…he’d passed the fire element to her mother and then to her, to keep it safe. And he’d known all along that it would eventually burn through her but that she’d rise from the ashes. He’d planned it that way.

  She wasn’t exactly thrilled with that news—it had hurt like hell. Even now she trembled at just the memory of being burned alive—but he’d intended for it to happen long ago, not four thousand years later. Her being imprisoned by Zeus in the air element had altered everything.

  But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was that Titus was standing in her room, staring at her with those mesmerizing eyes. Closer than he’d been in hours.

  Casey looked to Natasa. “Well, ah, that’s probably enough for now. We can talk more tomorrow. It’s a big change being here, trust me, I know, but you’ll get used to it. And I think you’ll like it.”

  She glanced between them again. Obviously noticed neither was looking at her. “I should go check on Isadora and the baby. Natasa, if you need anything else, just come find me.”

  Common courtesy kicked in, and Natasa muttered a thank-you, but she still couldn’t tear her eyes from Titus.

  The door closed behind Casey. Late afternoon light streamed into the room through the arched windows behind him, showcasing the waves in his tied-back hair, the white shirt and crisp black pants he wore. He’d showered, and though he was as handsome as always, there was something different. She stared at him, tried to figure out what, then realized it was the first time she’d seen him freshly shaved.

  “What do you think of the room?” he asked.

  It took a second for his question to register, but when it did, she tore her gaze away from his smooth jawline and glanced around the room. Small talk. She could do small talk. So long as he stayed.

  “Um…” The suite was big, a large sitting area by a fireplace, a desk and chair near the balcony door, and across the room a giant bed she was sure would gobble her up. Combined with the huge walk-in closet and marble bathroom, it was fancier than anywhere she’d lived before, but it didn’t feel like home. “It’s…nice.”

  His lips curled, and like a magnet, that smile pulled her gaze right back to his familiar and gorgeous face. She liked the wisps of hair floating free, but she wanted to tug that leather band from his nape. She liked his hair wild, liked sliding her fingers through the silky locks, liked pulling on it when she drew his mouth to hers.

  He sucked in a sharp breath and shifted his feet. Looking toward the windows, he scratched his forehead as if he didn’t know what to say.

  Her gaze settled on his hands. His strong, talented hands covered by leather gloves.

  He’d been wearing similar gloves when they’d met. The sight of them reminded her of the Amazons touching him. Of his tortured reaction. Of him falling to his feet in the mud on Ogygia when he’d tried to embrace her after she’d risen from those flames.

  “Um. It’s getting late,” he said. “Are you hungry? I can call down and have the cooks send something up for us.”

  There were too many tortured emotions running through her to think about food, but he was working hard for normal and she was determined to give him that. They hadn’t had any normal in their relationship yet. “Yeah, okay. That would be…nice.”

  He moved to the desk and lifted a phone. Speaking into the receiver, he ordered—she didn’t know what. Nerves rolled through her stomach as she turned a slow circle in the suite and tried to find control.

  He hung up, then stepped toward the balcony door. “Have you seen the view? You’ve got one of the best in the castle.”

  The only view she wanted was of him, but she didn’t say so. When he pushed the door open and stepped outside, she followed—not because she wanted to but because she didn’t know what else to do.

  He held the glass-paneled door open for her. As she passed, she caught a whiff of his scent. Spicy. Musky. So familiar it brought a rush of memories and a host of tingles to her belly. His heat slid across the space between them to tickle the fine hairs along her neck, reminding her he wasn’t just her refreshing chill. He was more. And she wanted him so desperately she was barely holding it together.

  She drew in a lungful of his scent. Held it. Was so afraid that this was all of him she was ever going to get.

  He cleared his throat and perched his gloved hands on the railing. Then he pointed off toward the sparkling ocean and dramatic cliffs beyond the castle walls. “That’s the Olympic Ocean. That big building down there is the Argolian, which houses the Council chambers. Most of the buildings in Tiyrns are made of white marble, hence the term ‘White City.’ We’ve got a pretty big port. The Aegis Mountains border us on the north and east, and farmland runs to the south.”

  She scanned the majestic city as he pointed out landmarks. He was right. The
y’d given her a room on one of the upper floors, and it really was a gorgeous view, especially with the sun setting over the ocean in swirls of pinks and purples. But she didn’t care about the view. All she cared about was the man standing next to her, what was happening between them, and how they were going to fix it.

  She cued back into the conversation, realizing he’d paused. Feeling foolish, she cleared her throat. “Where’s your home?”

  He pointed toward the north and the purple-blue mountains beyond. “Just outside the city. The Thasian River runs in front of my house and dumps into the ocean about four or five miles downstream.”

  “Oh.” She tried to sound interested, but knew she failed. A small part of her was disappointed he hadn’t taken her there, that he’d let the queen give her a place to stay in the castle. She knew why, and it made sense—her father was here, and she couldn’t touch him, so how the heck did she expect them to have any kind of future together anyway?—but it still stung.

  “Hey.” His soft voice pulled at her. She looked over. Then sucked in a breath when she realized he was watching her with soft, captivating eyes. “I still want to take you there. I will take you there, but Argolea isn’t the Utopia people think it is. There’s political strife in our country thanks to the Council, and I’m not risking your safety until I know things have calmed down. But know this…home for me isn’t a house. It’s wherever you are.”

  Warmth bloomed in her chest. He still wanted her. Even with what felt like a giant ocean forming between them. She inched her hand closer to his on the railing. Desperately wanted to touch him. Emotions brewed in his eyes—the same ones she felt—and he lifted his gloved hand, closed it over hers, and squeezed.