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  He waited for the darkness in Demetrius to roar to the surface—the same darkness that was in Nick, thanks to their twisted mother. Waited for the Argonaut to turn and pound his fist into Nick’s jaw—a move that, for reasons he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to overanalyze, he craved. But Demetrius didn’t move. He simply stared out at Isadora as if she were the antidote to his anger. And when she turned to look Demetrius’s way and her smile turned to worry, Nick couldn’t bear it anymore.

  He left Demetrius standing on the edge of the room and headed for the door. The Misos delegates who’d crossed over with him would find their own way back. If he had to spend one minute more staring at something he was helpless to prevent, he’d go mad. Like his fucking mother.

  He crossed the foyer, stepped into the early-summer sunshine and a courtyard full of flowering vines and swaying trees, closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath that did shit to ease the darkness inside.

  “Nick.”

  Isadora’s soft voice dragged his eyes open. He told himself not to turn, told himself to just walk away, but the soul mate draw was so strong, he couldn’t stop himself.

  She was a waif of a female. Too small, too soft, too…everything he’d never been attracted to but now couldn’t stop thinking about.

  “You’re not leaving so soon, are you?” she asked. “I want you to stay.”

  “Do you? Do you really?”

  Her eyes widened, and he knew his voice was too harsh, but he couldn’t seem to keep the bite from his words. “Of course I do. You’re as much a part of this celebration as anyone. Without you…” She lifted her slim shoulders, dropped them. “Without you, we never would have won.”

  Frustration, anger, yearning all coalesced inside him and overrode the only thing he could rely on: restraint. “You haven’t won. You were safer before Atalanta’s death.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Don’t say it. It wasn’t his place. This wasn’t his fight. He shouldn’t even care what happened in Argolea. But dammit, she was his. “Your Council will overthrow you as soon as this celebration is forgotten. I see it on Lucian’s face. I read it in his eyes every time he looks at you.”

  Shock at his bluntness ran across her features, but she didn’t argue, and he knew from her reaction that she’d already considered that fact. “The Argonauts won’t let that happen.”

  “You think the Argonauts are going to save you?” A smug huff slipped from his lips. “How long do you think they can last against the Council’s army? Because trust me, princess, the Council’s building that army as we speak. And when they have enough strength behind them, they’ll convince your people to disband the Argonauts. Atalanta was the only thing keeping them alive, keeping you alive. There’s no reason for the Eternal Guardians without her as a threat. Your Council doesn’t give a shit about gods or elements or orbs or what will happen if Krónos is released from Tartarus. They only care about themselves. And self-preservation means eliminating anything that poses a threat to their control. The monarchy, the Argonauts, especially that child inside you.”

  Isadora’s face paled, and she rested a protective hand against her swollen belly. “What would you suggest I do?”

  Don’t say it. Do not even think it. “Come with me.”

  A soft creased formed between her eyebrows. One he itched to kiss. “With you?”

  He stepped close—too close. Her sweet scent rose all around him. Possessed him. “I can protect you. In the human realm, the Council can’t touch you.”

  “But the gods—”

  “They don’t know where the colony’s located. And I have ways to keep you safe. Ways the guardians and even my brother can’t.”

  Her gaze searched his. And though he could see in her soft brown eyes that she was contemplating, something inside warned she was about to turn him down. “I can’t leave Demetrius. He—”

  That darkness surged before he could stop it. “You never had a choice. You didn’t know you were my soul mate when you were stranded on that island. If you had—”

  Pity filled her eyes. “Nick, I—”

  A shadow shifted behind her, and the scars on Nick’s back lurched to life. He didn’t want her pity, dammit. He wanted her.

  “You’re mine too.” He closed one hand closed around her nape. Used the other to tip her face up. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her in a way he never should. Kissing her in a way that made the darkness inside pulse with excitement.

  She groaned against his lips. He kissed her harder, digging his fingers into her scalp. Her hands came up to rest against his chest; her fingers curled into his shirt.

  She was drawing him in, pulling him closer. Victory flared hot in his veins.

  She pushed hard, breaking the kiss, forcing him to stumble back a step.

  Her chest rose and fell from her deep breaths. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair falling free from the decorative pins. She was gorgeous and pissed and his. The darkness pounded in his veins, begging to be set free, and a triumphant grin spread across his lips. He leaned down to kiss her again.

  Her palm connected with his cheek, and a crack echoed through the courtyard. The sting of the blow rushed across his skin.

  “That was a warning, Nick. Don’t touch me like that again. Ever.”

  The darkness inside roared to life. Screamed for him to toss her over his shoulder, drag her into an empty room, and ravish her. Finally take what was his. Ruin her for everyone else, even her kingdom. And he wanted to. He hungered for it. But then he caught sight of the face in the shadows at her back.

  Demetrius.

  The darkness snapped and snarled inside him, gearing up for a fight he needed in ways he couldn’t explain. Nick rubbed a hand over his jaw and didn’t look away from his brother. “You want me, princess, admit it. You always have. I bet you’re wet right now just from that kiss.”

  Isadora gasped. Demetrius stepped out of the shadows, the shock in his eyes replaced with fury and wrath and all the darkness Nick fought deep inside.

  Finally...

  “Step away from her, Niko.”

  Niko. Oh yeah, Demetrius was good and pissed now. He never used Nick’s given name. No one did.

  “Afraid she’s finally come to her senses?” Nick asked. “That she’s ready for a real hero? Trust me, princess, I won’t need magic like my brother here to get it up for you.”

  “That’s enough.” Demetrius’s hand curled into a fist.

  It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, not for Nick. Yes, you bastard, hit me. Haul off and beat the shit out of me. Let’s finish this once and for all.

  Isadora pushed her way between them. ”Both of you, stop it.” She looked up at Nick with frustration and hurt alive in her familiar eyes. “What the hell’s come over you? I don’t need this right now. You’re supposed to be my friend. Why are you doing this?”

  Nick made the mistake of looking from his brother down to her. And though the darkness still whirred, one look was all it took for the soul mate bond to come screaming back.

  It slammed into him. Stole his breath. A sharp pain sliced through his chest, one so intense it echoed through his entire body.

  No… He was intentionally lashing out at her, wanting her to hurt because he hurt. Because he couldn’t cope. Because he still wanted when it was more than clear she didn’t want in return.

  Regret and anger made his head buzz, and he stumbled back, turning away. His hands shook as he brought them together and opened the portal back to the colony.

  “Nick, wait—”

  He couldn’t. Not even for her. And yet…

  A tiny voice in the back of his head—a dark voice he wanted to ignore but couldn’t—said he’d just planted a seed. Fear was the greatest motivator of all. And Isadora was smart. To save her child, she’d come to him.

  He just had to be patient.

  * * *

  Natasa’s pulse raced while she waited in the outer room of Aella’s tent. She swiped at her brow
and looked down at the perspiration on her fingers.

  Just nerves. That was all. Nothing more.

  She rubbed her hand against her thigh and tried to convince herself of that fact, but Aella’s tent proved to be too much of a distraction. It was larger and grander than all the rest, made up of three trees decked together and strewn with canvas to create multiple, spacious rooms. The female didn’t live as a peasant, like the rest of the Amazons and those they protected. Thick rugs ran across the decking beneath Natasa’s feet. Colorful pillows in all shapes and sizes were scattered along the floor near the far wall to form a comfortable lounging area. A purple velvet couch and matching chairs were set up on the other side of the room. Intricately carved tables, golden candlesticks holding flickering candles, even gilded mirrors hanging on the tent walls rounded out the rest of the space.

  For a moment, she was transported back to her mother’s palace in Egypt. To the gold, the jewels, the richly colored fabrics and ostentatiousness when there had been so many outside the carefully constructed palace walls suffering in the blazing heat and dust.

  That suffering—and the palace’s careless attitude toward it—had been a point of contention between her and her mother. Between her and her mother’s husband, the king. It had been the reason she’d run away at such a young age.

  What a fool she’d been. So filled with ideals and the thought she, of all people, could make a difference. She hadn’t made a difference. She hadn’t even been able to take care of herself. Instead she’d been locked away. And now, the world as she’d once known it was no more.

  The enormity of her situation bore down upon her, opening a hole the size of Mount Olympus in her chest. She should have been patient. Should have listened. Should have waited for her mother to tell her who and what she was. Maybe if she had, she’d know what to do now.

  Canvas rustled on the far side of the room, jolting Natasa from her thoughts. Two guards stepped beneath the archway and moved forward, holding the flaps of the tent door open so the Queen of the Amazons could glide past.

  “Thank you, Smyrna, Clymene.” The queen nodded. “You may both wait outside.”

  The guards nodded and moved back the way they’d come, leaving Natasa to face Aella on her own.

  Natasa bowed, wondering what the hell Smyrna had already told her. She wished she had her remaining dagger, but she’d known to leave it her tent. No one armed was allowed anywhere near the queen. “Your Grace.”

  “Rise, Natasa. And tell me of your travels.” Aella sat on the ornate couch. Though she was tall like all Amazons—literally towering over Natasa—she wasn’t as hard. There was a softness to Aella’s features, a beauty the others lacked. Her skin was pale, her hair dark and styled in curls that fell down her back. She wore khaki trousers, knee-high black boots, and a long blue tunic cinched at her waist with a stylish gold belt. And on her fingers and wrists, ancient jewels marked her as the queen of her race.

  Natasa moved to one of the sitting chairs. She liked Aella. Had been relieved when the Amazon had agreed to protect her. But she was smart enough to know everyone in this world was out for only one thing: self-preservation. That didn’t make Aella her ally in any sense of the word. “I know you’ve been told I brought a prisoner back with me.”

  “I was,” Aella answered, clasping her hands around one knee. “A male, as I understand it. This surprises me, I must say.”

  “I didn’t do so to upset you. It’s just…” Gods, how did she rectify this? “He’s important to my quest.”

  Aella’s eyes narrowed. Natasa had told Aella she was searching for Prometheus, but not why. And she knew the queen had agreed to protect her in the hopes that when Natasa did find the Titan, he might be able to aid the Amazons with their little Zagreus problem. But that was a big maybe, and they both knew it. “How so?”

  Shit. Perspiration slid down Natasa’s spine. Lies ran through her mind, gathered on her tongue. “He knows things. About the gods. I’m prepared to leave here with him now. I only came back to”—Come on, lie better than this. His life is on the line here!—“to gather my things. And to thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

  Crap. Had she just said that? She was leaving Antiope with the Argonaut now? Great. Score one for not thinking faster. But now that it was out there, she couldn’t take it back. Her future was going from bad to worse faster than she could blink. All thanks to her inability to leave well enough alone…or to leave one Argonaut she didn’t need alone.

  “I think,” Aella said slowly,” I would like to meet this male for myself. Before you go, that is.”

  Natasa’s adrenaline jumped. Oh, no no no. That couldn’t be good. Forget the fact Titus was an Argonaut—a fact Natasa was not about to share with anyone in this tree city—he was the exact specimen Amazons looked for when in need of a man. Strong, sexy, powerful, and handsome. Not to mention just a tad bit dangerous. Amazons loved danger. In fact, they thrived on it.

  So do you.

  Natasa shook off the thought and tried to figure out how to deter the queen. Think, dammit.

  Aella pushed from her seat and gestured toward the tent’s door. “Lead the way, my dear.”

  Panic cycled in. “But—”

  A wicked smile spread across the queen’s lips. “But nothing. I’m anxious to see for myself what has you so…flustered.”

  * * *

  Bound and crippled…

  The bound part, Titus didn’t mind. Especially if Natasa was the one doing the binding. Hell, if she wanted, he’d let her do just about anything to him. Which totally went against everything he’d become thanks to his curse. But those few seconds they’d spent pressed up against each other in the trees hadn’t been nearly long enough. And if the only way he could get more rubbing, more touching and a hell of a lot more skin-on-skin contact from her was to submit, he’d do it.

  The crippling thing, however? Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

  The tent flap pulled open before he could get lost in the fantasy of her in that black leather dominatrix outfit, wielding a crop while he was tied to this tree, naked and ready. Excitement pulsed in his chest but quickly morphed to annoyance when the same two guards who’d strung him up stepped back into the room.

  “Ladies…I was just thinking about you. How about some water? I’m parched.”

  “No one will know…”

  “I want…”

  The Amazon’s thoughts and the way they inched forward put Titus on instant alert. His back tightened. He shifted against the ropes wrapped around his wrists. “Now hold up, girls.”

  Neither stopped. Both looked ready to devour him whole.

  Shit. He twisted in his bonds. “The redhead said I was to be left alone.” When neither backed down, he shot a look at the one on the left, the one eyeing him like fresh meat. “Hey. I know you. You’re Medusa’s sister, right? The resemblance is uncanny.”

  “Have you ever seen a chest plate like that?”

  The blonde laid her hand over the seal of Odysseus. Titus flinched. Though they weren’t touching his skin, they were way too damn close. “Ladies—”

  “Take it off him,” the brunette said. “I don’t care about the damn breast plate.” “I want to see his muscles beneath.”

  Oh, holy fuckballs, no.

  Titus jerked hard on the rope. It scraped against the tree and loosened. But before he could pull free, the blonde wrapped her hand around his throat.

  Emotions rushed from her hand into his skin and whipped through his body, condensing with the force of a bullet from a gun directly into his chest, stopping him from yanking free.

  Excitement, arousal, lust bombarded him from every side, stripping away all thought, all ability to move. His muscles contracted and released. Pain rushed through his neck and ricocheted through his mind. His ability to read their thoughts fled. He tried to fight against the force, ground his teeth to stay in control, but the second Amazon tore off his breastplate, cape, and tunic and stripped him to the waist be
fore he could find the strength to stop her.

  “Like marble,” the brunette said in awe, her eyes wide. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Touch him,” the blonde answered, still holding him pinned against the tree with her hand. “Is he as good as he looks?”

  They were talking about him as if he wasn’t even there. As if he was a sculpture, not a man. He struggled beneath the blonde’s hold, but the emotional transfer still radiated through him, like flickering electricity, zapping him of every ounce of strength. And it was getting stronger, the lust and excitement in her flowing faster with each passing second.

  The brunette lifted her hand. A strangled no! echoed throughout the room, and belatedly, Titus realized it had come from him. But he couldn’t do anything to stop her. Her hand landed against the bare skin of his chest, and another blast of emotions pummeled his body.

  His arms sagged against the ropes. Pain ricocheted up his shoulders. Voices echoed through the tent, but his vision swam, and he couldn’t make out the shapes around him anymore. From what seemed a great distance, canvas rustled and footsteps echoed. Followed by another voice. This one clearer. Softer. Oh so familiar. One he struggled to put with a name.

  “Let go of him.”

  Pressure eased. Hands lifted from his skin. Titus’s legs buckled, and he slid to the ground, landing with a thud against the floor. The ropes loosed from the tree and fell to the ground as his arms dropped.

  “What the hell did you do to him?”

  Someone knelt at his side. A female, but he couldn’t see who. Couldn’t read her thoughts. She lifted a fuzzy arm, and Titus tensed, mentally preparing himself for another zap that would knock him even further on his ass. But when her hand landed softly against his shoulder, there was no pain. Only warmth. A warmth that soothed the electrical charges flickering through him and eased the agony spiraling in his veins.

  “We didn’t—”

  “Back up! Let him breathe.”

  Natasa. That was Natasa’s voice arguing with the guard. And oh yeah, that was her silky hand sliding across his bare shoulder toward his neck, tipping his face up so she could look in his eyes, bringing not only heat but arousal to his flesh—his own arousal, no one else’s.