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  Natasa pulled on the ropes again. “Titus!”

  Lysa chuckled, a menacing sound, and moved out of the room. The door flapped closed in her wake.

  Alone, Natasa struggled against the ropes, but all her flailing did was cause the twines to dig deeper into her skin. Pain spiraled through her arms, slowing her fight.

  Her chest rose and fell. Perspiration slid down her spine. She swallowed hard and tried to think clearly. She’d never witnessed one of Aella’s so called “ceremonies” but she’d heard enough about them—and the males who were the sacrifices—to know what was about to happen.

  Sickness rolled through her stomach and was followed by the memory of the way Titus had reacted when those guards had touched him. And how different it was from the way he reacted when she touched him.

  She might still be rattled from that kiss, she might be afraid of her reaction to him and what he was really after, but regardless of anything he had or hadn’t done, he didn’t deserve what was about to happen. She’d brought him here. She’d led him to this. If she didn’t do something to stop it, she was no better than the gods who’d cursed her.

  She looked up at the rope and pulled hard. Fire ignited along her flesh. But the knots didn’t give. She ground her teeth and pulled again. “Come on!”

  Still nothing loosened.

  Frustrated, she blew out a deep breath then remembered what she’d done to that guard back in Argolea. The way his armor had melted beneath her palms. She’d never been able to direct what was inside her before, but then the fever hadn’t been as strong as it was now. Maybe there was a way…if she focused hard enough.

  She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and let it out. She fought to center herself. Then prayed this worked.

  * * *

  “Did you hear what I said, son?”

  Son. Zagreus ground his teeth and worked not to lose his temper. The word implied some sort of loving familial relationship, which this most definitely was not. But it wasn’t every day the King of the Underworld paid you a visit. And Zagreus knew better than to piss his dear old dad off first thing. “I really don’t see how this concerns me.”

  He also had better things to do than chase after his father’s latest conquest. He moved through the rock archway and into his office, tossing the latest report he’d gotten about those damn nymphs on his desk. A fish swam past the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the underwater view.

  Hades stepped up to his desk. “If Zeus and Poseidon find her before we do, it’s going to concern you big-time.”

  Zagreus met his father’s black-as-nights eyes. “Look around you, Pops. I don’t give a flying fuck what the Olympians do. I’m perfectly happy right here where I’ve always been.”

  Hades’s eyes flashed, and a muscle in his temple pulsed. From deep in the caves, a pathetic groan echoed along the rock walls. “How long do you think your little underwater torture tunnels are going to go unnoticed? If someone releases Krónos before we can stop them, the sick son of a bitch will confiscate everything you’ve built and probably set up residence in your humble abode. And if my brothers find the remaining elements before your mother and I do, they’re going to lord it over all of us and likely still come after you. Do you think you’re safe simply because you live in the human realm? You’re not safe, son. You’re living on borrowed time.”

  Zagreus straightened, and his jaw clenched. What his father said made a sick sort of sense, but he didn’t want to get involved. He’d survived nice and long on his own ignoring the Olympian gods and their petty battles. “What about Atalanta’s daemons? You did take control of her army after she died, didn’t you? Why not just use them to find what you’re after?”

  “Because I need the greatest tracker on the planet. And that’s you.”

  Smug victory spread through Zagreus. He was the greatest tracker. He could find anything. If he had enough time. The problem was, he couldn’t just leave on a whim like he used to be able to do. He had certain…prisoners he didn’t trust to the care of his guards. At least not for any extended length of time. “What is it you want from me?”

  “I want you to find Prometheus’s daughter.”

  “And what’s in it for me?”

  “Besides the ability to keep flying under the radar, doing whatever you damn well please?”

  One corner of Zagreus’s lips curled. “Yeah. Besides that.”

  Hades studied him, then said, “I’ll tell you where your nymphs ran off to.”

  Excitement lurched in Zagreus’s stomach. This could save him weeks of time. “You know exactly where they went?”

  “Every single backstabbing one.”

  Zagreus’s blood ran hot. And images of how he was going to string those nymphs up, how he was going to torture them and make them pay rushed through his mind. No one left him. No one dared and got away with it.

  “How?” he asked skeptically.

  “My daemons intercepted a few of the creatures protecting them from you.”

  Zagreus tipped his head and considered what his father was offering. This was Hades’s specialty. Making deals, manipulating the outcome. But Zagreus knew his father never offered a deal unless it included something he desperately wanted. The only reason he was here now was because he needed someone who resided in the human realm full-time to do his bidding. The Olympians—and Zagreus’s parents because they ruled the Underworld—operated under restrictions in the human realm, only able to stay roughly twelve hours at any one time. “What about Mommy Dearest?”

  “Your mother and I have…an understanding. She wants to find Prometheus’s daughter as much as I do.”

  Zagreus huffed. Persephone never did anything unless it was exactly what she wanted to do too. “And she’ll stand against the Olympians? Even her father?”

  “For me she will.”

  Zagreus wasn’t so sure. But then, his parents’ sick and twisted relationship was beyond his comprehension, so what did he know? “And all I have to do is find this female, and my part of the bargain is done.”

  “Yes,” Hades answered.

  Zagreus pursed his lips. It was asking a lot, considering he’d have to leave his tunnels. But the payoff…

  He grew hard just thinking about those nymphs.

  “Fine. I’ll do it. But I want the location of my nymphs first. As soon as they’re back in my lair where they belong, I’ll find the female you can’t seem to live without.”

  Hades’s eyes flashed. He didn’t like the addendum. But Zagreus wasn’t about to back down. Because if his father had come to him, that meant he was Hades’s last chance at finding the chick. The God-King of the Underworld wouldn’t bother to look sideways at his only son if he didn’t have to.

  “Agreed,” Hades said. “But if you double cross me, this” —he gestured to the cenote that made up Zagreus’s lair— “will be the least of what comes crashing down around you. Your nymphs are in the Amazon tree city of Antiope, in the redwoods on the northern coast of California.”

  A wicked grin rushed across Zagreus’s face. “Amazons, you say? I haven’t had an Amazon in quite some time.”

  “Try not to go hog wild.” Hades turned for the door. “And don’t forget to bring me Prometheus’s daughter, or you will regret it.”

  * * *

  Titus’s head swam.

  He was aware of someone dragging him, of hands closed tight over his arms tugging hard. But he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus on even one watery object rushing by. The emotions bombarding him from every side were too strong—greed, anger, lust. A helluva lot of lust that wasn’t turning him on in the least.

  He was dragged up some kind of stairs; then the guards swung him around and pressed him back against a cold, rock surface. Before he could make sense of his surroundings, his arms were jerked away from his body. Shackles closed over his wrists. His legs were pushed apart and strapped to something solid.

  The guards stepped back. The emotional transfer slowly faded, and, w
eak from the impact, Titus drew a shaky breath, then stiffened when his vision cleared and he caught sight of the faces around him.

  Dozens of Amazons and nymphs, all looking on with excitement and curiosity. He was on some kind of stage. In the darkness, torches alive with flickering flames illuminated the space. And somewhere close, drums beat a steady rhythm while voices echoed a chant he couldn’t make out.

  Okay, this was not looking good. He tugged against the restrains, but was too weak to make them budge. Shit. This was not the fantasy he’d been daydreaming about. Had he made a crack about these warriors being girls? He was suddenly wishing he hadn’t been so cocky when Natasa had tried to warn him.

  Natasa…

  Skata, where was she? He couldn’t remember what had happened after those guards had come into her tent. Worry gathered beneath his ribs. His gaze raked the crowd, searching for her in the sea of faces.

  The chanting grew louder. The crowd parted, and then he saw her. Not Natasa, but a tall, slender female dressed in a flowing green robe with an ornate golden headdress decorated in multicolored feathers. Jewels dripped from her ears and throat and wrists and fingers, and desire burned in her eyes as she drew close.

  Titus swallowed hard. He recognized those eyes.

  The Queen of the Amazons.

  He tugged against his bindings—harder. But her heated gaze didn’t waver. It was fixed solely on him.

  Fuck…me. This was not good. Not by a long shot.

  The queen moved up the stairs. The drums beat faster. The air grew thick and constrictive. She stopped in front of him, closed her hands over the lapels of her robe, and tugged. The garment fell in a pool at her feet, leaving her dressed in nothing but jewels.

  Holy Hades. Titus couldn’t help but stare. She was butt-ass naked. And yeah, unlike her warriors, she was gorgeous and totally built, with the mark of the Amazons, a crescent moon, tattooed over her right breast. But she wasn’t the female he wanted. And he was seriously not interested.

  “Um, look.” He tugged on the restraints. “I’m flattered, really, but I think you’ve got the wrong idea here.”

  The queen turned away as if he hadn’t even spoken; then she held up her hands. A hush fell over the crowd. “The gods have seen fit to send us a prize. Tonight we thank them for their generosity.”

  The gods? Not even. The gods didn’t give a rip about anyone but themselves. Before Titus could point that out, the rock at his back moved, and a loud scraping sound echoed through the night. The entire slab shifted. His feet left the ground. His eyes widened. The motion stopped abruptly, leaving him lying flat on his back, staring up at the starry sky.

  Skata. His situation had not improved. This wasn’t just a stage. It was an altar. And, holy fuck, he was the sacrifice.

  He pulled hard on the restrains. “Hold on—”

  The queen climbed up on stone slab and stood with her bare feet on each side of his thighs. He tensed, but thankfully, the fabric of his pants prevented any kind of emotional transfer. Then she looked down, and her eyes locked on his. Hard amber eyes. Eyes that glowed as if she were possessed.

  Titus’s adrenaline lurched. He struggled harder on the cuffs, twisted his wrists, then caught sight of the jeweled dagger she held in both hands high over her head.

  Every muscle inside him froze.

  “For all those who came before,” the queen announced in a loud and confident voice, “and for all those who will come after because of this sacrifice, we give thanks.”

  She lowered to her knees, sat back on his lap, and grinned. But her eyes were clouded, distant, possessed. And Titus had the ominous feeling she wasn’t looking at him, but through him. To something…he didn’t want to see.

  “And when his seed is finally spent,” she finished, her glowing eyes growing wider, “then, my sisters, we shall feast.”

  Chapter Eight

  Natasa’s fingers were still smoking when she sneaked out of her tent. She could barely believe that had worked, but the singed ropes proved it hadn’t been a fluke. Power rushed through her, infusing her with confidence. If she could direct it, maybe—just maybe—she could beat this thing before it killed her.

  Chants rose up in the air, followed by a voice, singing some kind of garbled song to the beat of multiple drums. The sounds were coming from the amphitheater.

  She stayed in the shadows, darting around tents and tree trunks as she crossed the city. When she reached the crowd, she couldn’t see anything besides the golden glow off torches and the backs of spectators gathered for a show.

  She spotted a tree with limbs low enough to climb, wrapped her hand around the first branch, and pulled herself up. In seconds, she was above the crowd, with a clear view of the stage.

  Her breath caught, and sickness rolled through her belly. Titus was shackled to the altar. He was still wearing his pants, but Aella straddled his lap, a dagger held high above, and her naked body was swaying and grinding against him, moving to the beat of the drums and like she was gearing up to fuck his brains out. But the wide-eyed holy shit look on his face wasn’t one of arousal. And the way he was yanking on those ropes told Natasa he wasn’t enjoying a single second of this.

  Mine. Some deep-seated possessiveness bubbled up from inside, rolled through every part of her, and spurred her into action.

  Frantic, she glanced around the crowd. She was seriously outnumbered and the measly dagger she had left wasn’t going to save Titus. Aella’s guards blocked the stage, armed to the hilt, preventing anyone from interfering with the ceremony. She looked down and around, but didn’t see anything that would help. Then she noticed a child’s bow and arrow set leaning against the side of a tent. The kind the Amazons used to train their women.

  An idea hit. She looked at her fingers. She didn’t know if it would work. But if she didn’t try, he was going to die.

  For reasons she didn’t understand, she wasn’t ready to lose him. At least not like this.

  * * *

  Never had Titus been thankful for his curse until this moment.

  Not only were the Amazon queen’s eyes freakin’ glowing, she was shaking and rubbing against him like something was trying to claw its way free from her body.

  He was never going to look at jiggling breasts the same way. This was not a turn-on. It was a major-ass turn-off. And shit, he did not want those things touching him.

  He swallowed hard and jerked against the bindings. He couldn’t move them even a centimeter. The only consolation was that as soon as she did touch him, he’d be in too much pain to pay attention to what she was doing to his body.

  And skata, do not even think about what she’s going to do to your body.

  Closing his eyes, he imagined Natasa’s fire-red hair and those mesmerizing green eyes to distract him from that first touch of skin against skin. Wondered—again—why she’d pulled away from him back in her tent. She’d wanted him. He’d known it even if he couldn’t feel the emotions from her.

  A whir echoed through the air. The queen jerked against his legs. A scream rose in the night.

  His eyes shot open. The queen lurched to her feet on the stone slab, standing over him and batting at her head. The feathers in her headdress were smoking and burning. She knocked the heavy metal adornment from her scalp. It cracked against the slab, then dropped to the wood decking with a thud.

  Gasps rose up from the audience. Furious, the queen whipped toward the crowd to see where the arrow had come from.

  Another whir cut through the silence. The queen flinched. This time the banner just to the right of her head ignited in flames.

  “Guards!”

  Screams echoed.

  Titus lifted his head to see what the hell was going on. Nymphs and Amazons rushed in every direction. The guards scrambled, armor clinking. Another whir echoed through the air, then the queen’s robe, lying where she’d dropped it on the stage, bust into flames.

  “Natasa,” the queen growled. She pointed toward the trees on the far side of t
he crowd. “Find her!”

  Excitement flooded Titus. She’d come for him, even after she’d been so freaked out in her tent. He pulled against the bonds and searched for her in the sea of faces.

  The queen leapt off the altar and lurched into the crowd.

  Another whir. Another banner caught fire. Titus pulled and wrestled with the bindings. If he could just break free… If he could get to her...

  “There!” A voice rang out clear.

  Before Titus could track where the guard was pointing, an entire tree exploded.

  A thud echoed to his right. He strained to look behind him. Natasa pushed to her feet yards away, her eyes as intense as he’d ever seen them, her face illuminated by the flames around her, making her look like a fire-goddess.

  Relief and hope and excitement shot through his entire body. Then quickly shifted to bone-chilling fear. At her back, closing in fast, an Amazon raced toward her with sword held high.

  “Behind you!”

  Natasa dropped the bow in her hand and reached back for her dagger. Panic overwhelming him, Titus strained against the cuffs with every ounce of strength left. She didn’t have time to react. She—

  The chain anchoring one wrist gave with a snap. The other burst free. He bolted upright, kicked out at the shackles around his ankles. Couldn’t take his eyes off Natasa.

  She whipped around. The Amazon knocked the dagger from her hand, and it went flying. Natasa stumbled and hit the end of the stone slab with a grunt. Titus’s heart lurched into his throat, and he reached for her but she was too far away.

  “Natasa!”

  The Amazon pulled her blade back, but before it could slice deep into Natasa’s flesh, the warrior jerked. Her blade cracked against the stone slab, hit the wood decking, and slid down the steps of the stage. Then her body slumped to the ground with a thud. A black arrow stuck out of her side. Blood pooled all around her body.