Bound

Chapter Four

Titus hit the earth hard, his shoulder and hip taking the brunt of the impact. Pain radiated up his side and ricocheted through his limbs.

He rolled, and pine needles flew up around him. Natasa jerked her ankle from his grip and scrambled to her feet. Pushing up on his hands, he had the impression of towering trees that rose to the sky and blue-green mountains lingering in the distance. But the view was lost on him. And he didn’t have time to wonder where they’d landed. The female already on her feet and racing away was his sole focus.

“Natasa!” His boots scuffed the dirt. He found his footing. She’d rounded a stump and was heading for the hillside that led to—he didn’t know where. “Son of a bitch.”

Phin and Orpheus should be right behind him. As long as no one else went through the portal and programmed in a new location, they would come through in the same spot. So long as she didn’t get too far away, they’d find him.

He watched to see which direction she headed, then took off at an angle.

Her steps were near-silent, the push and pull of air in her lungs undetectable even though she had to be breathing hard. She was obviously trained how to disappear, but Titus knew a thing or two about hunting. And he wasn’t going to be bested by some slim redhead who had somehow managed to give the Argonauts and every other fucking guard in Argolea the slip.

She appeared from behind a cluster of spruce. Just before she veered off again, he threw his weight forward.

Their bodies collided. A grunt echoed from her chest. He wrapped his arms around her and twisted so he took the brunt of the impact. More pine needles and dirt flew up in the air. He rolled, then wrestled her to the ground, pinning her hands above her head so she couldn’t move. “Stop!”

“Let me go!”

“Not on your life.”

She wriggled beneath him, but he held her tighter with his gloved hands. She stared hard into his eyes. Several second passed where the only sound was her labored breath, the only movement the rise and fall of her chest. And though her muscles remained tensed beneath him, and he didn’t doubt for a minute she wasn’t plotting a way to escape—or a way to crack his head open with a rock—relief spiraled through him. “That’s better.”

“Get,” she said through gritted teeth. “Off. Me.”

Not exactly calm. But better than before. If only slightly.

“When you tell me what you were doing in Argolea, I’ll be happy to. Until then, I think we’ll stay right where we are.”

Her eyes flashed. “You saw what I did to that guard. If you want to live, I suggest you let go. Now.”

Yeah, he’d seen the guard’s burns, but he had a hard time believing she’d done that to the ándras on purpose. Granted, her skin was warm—warmer than he was used to—but it wasn’t burning. And it definitely wasn’t smoking, by any means. There had to be a logical explanation for what he’d witnessed back at the Gatehouse.

His bet was magic. She could be a witch, a sorceress, even someone just dabbling in spells. Gods knew he’d seen enough magical shit to know anything was possible. And she’d definitely looked as shocked as that guard, so he was pretty sure singeing someone wasn’t a power she could just conjure at will.

“I told you back at the half-breed colony that our conversation wasn’t over.” He gripped her hands tighter and leaned down so their faces were only inches apart. “I suggest you start talking, ligos Vesuvius.”

Her eyes sparked at the nickname—little volcano—and he smiled at her reaction. Oh yeah, it definitely fit. He tried to read her mind. Couldn’t. A fact that only intrigued him more.

“You want me to talk?”

“Start with what you were doing in Argolea. And why you’ve been hunting Maelea.”

“How about I start with this?” She cracked her forehead against his. Pain spiraled across his scalp, throwing him off center. In a flash, she flipped him to his back, freed her hands and pulled a dagger he hadn’t bothered to check her for from the small of her back. The blade pressed against his throat with deadly precision. “And this.”

He froze beneath her. Shocked, awed and vibrating with excitement because when she’d slammed her forehead against his the only thing he’d felt was his own pain at the impact, not a single emotion seeping from her.

And, fuck, that was so freakin’ hot. Not just the fact she could still touch him, but that she could kick his ass doing it.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” he managed. “Especially after I rescued you back at the half-breed colony.”

“You—” Her eyes widened then narrowed to thin slits. “You didn’t rescue me.”

He fought back the amusement. And the desire roaring through his veins with the force of a freight train. She weighed less than half what he did, and even with the blade against his throat and not totally healed from his injuries, he could easily take her. But he didn’t want to. He was enjoying her weight pressing down on his stomach and chest. Enjoying her bare hand pushing against his shoulder, her fingertips just barely brushing his collarbone at the edge of his shirt. Loving the absolute absence of any emotion transfer.

He worked to stay focused and not get lost in her. Worked to keep his brain online. “I all but carried you down to the infirmary after that panic attack.”

Her eyes flashed again. She leaned closer but didn’t move the blade. And holy Hera, this close he could smell her. Roses and…lemons. Underneath the floral scent he remembered from the colony, she smelled citrusy. And her eyes weren’t just green. There were flecks of aqua floating in those mesmerizing irises. “I don’t have panic attacks.”

“My error. You must have been sleepy, then.”

She drew back. A slow smile spread across his face—the first he could remember feeling in ages. Her eyes narrowed even more. “You think this is funny? How funny will it be when I slit your throat?”

“You won’t.”

“Confident, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am. If you wanted me dead, you would have let me fall off that castle wall. You didn’t because you’re not done with me.”

Shock ran over her face. “I—”

“And that’s fine by me, because I’m not done with you either. This, whatever it is between us, isn’t even close to being over.”

Her mouth closed. Her gaze held his. And in the silence…he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Which…only turned him on more. He always knew what those around him were thinking, feeling, plotting. He searched her expression for clues to her thoughts, but all he could see was surprise. And arousal. And the same damn heat searing his veins.

His stomach tightened. Beneath his pants, he grew hard. Oh yeah. He wanted this female. No matter who she was working for. Wanted her all to himself. At least for a little while.

She climbed off him and stepped back, the blade held out like a warning. “Go back where you came from, Titus. And forget you ever met me. I won’t be returning to your realm—ever.”

He rolled to his side, pushed to his feet, moving in slow motion so as not to spook her. A breeze rustled the trees at his back and blew a lock of hair that had come free across his cheek, the sensation normal. Familiar. Expected. The only touch against his skin he could count on these days.

Except for her. She could touch him. And he had to know why.

“I’m not going anywhere but where you’re going,” he said calmly. “Until I get what I want, you’re stuck with me.”

Her breath quickened. A flush rose up in her cheeks. She stepped back again, waving the dagger in front of her like a sword. “You’re not going anywhere with me.”

“Then start talking.”

Voices echoed from the bottom of the hill. Several. Female. Natasa’s gaze jerked that way. With her so easily distracted, Titus knew he could overpower her, but he didn’t. He stood where he was and waited. Because even without her touching him, this was more fun than he’d had in months…no, years.

She faced him again, but instead of frustration and surprise, panic marked her features. “You have to go. Now. I’m not fooling around anymore.”

His senses went on high alert. “Who’s down there?”

She sheathed the blade at her back and bent to pick up a length of rope from the ground. The same kind of rope she’d thrown to him from the wall walk when he’d been struggling to make it to the top. Thin, strong, otherworldly rope that must have fallen out of her pocket when they’d been wrestling in the dirt. “No one you want to meet. Just go!”

The conversation with Theron flashed in his mind. Followed by the Argonaut leader’s suspicions. He grasped her arm at the biceps. “I said I’m not leaving until we talk, and I meant it.”

“Gods!” She swiveled, pushed both hands against his leather breastplate, and shoved hard. But she was only about five-seven and weighed maybe a hundred and thirty pounds, and her push didn’t even budge him. And there was no heat in the movement. Not like when she’d attacked that guard. “I’m trying to help you now. Why won’t you listen?”

“Natasa?”

Natasa froze against him. Titus looked over her head toward the tall brunette standing near an old-growth pine. The one decked out in full camo gear, her hair pulled back in a tight tail, her hand holding a blade the length of his leg. And behind her? Five more just like her.

“Shit,” Natasa muttered, her eyes sliding closed.

Sirens? No, these female warriors weren’t flashy enough. Zeus only recruited the sexiest, most alluring females into his private army. While these chicks weren’t butt-ugly, they definitely weren’t Siren material. And no way could he imagine a Siren being caught dead with a bandanna over her hair and camo face paint smeared across her cheeks and hands.

Natasa dropped her arms and turned to face their guests. “Ilithyia.” She nodded at the others. “You’re out earlier than I expected.”

“And you’re out later,” the one in front, the one clearly in charge, said. “Who is this…male?”

The sneered word and the way her gaze raked Titus’s body from head to toe put Titus on alert. He focused in on his gift, searching for answers to questions unasked. “Argonaut, traitor, male” were words that rose up from the group at his front.

“No one you need to concern yourself with,” Natasa answered.

Ilithyia moved out of the trees and held her sword point out, her dark gaze zeroed in on Titus as if he were a fly she was about to grind to dust beneath her boot. “I must have missed the memo about Halloween coming early this year. But perhaps today we’ll get a treat after all, ladies.”

Titus didn’t know who the hell these chicks were, but he’d had just about enough. He stepped forward, but before he could set their leader straight on a few very key points, Natasa moved fully in front of him. “He’s my prisoner, Ilithyia, not yours.”

Ilithyia slowed, and her brows narrowed, her gaze jumping from Natasa to Titus and back again. “Prisoner?”

Yeah…take that, camo girl.

Whoa—wait…prisoner? Titus’s gaze snapped to Natasa, but from behind, he couldn’t see her eyes. Only the defiant lift of her head that told him she was serious.

A shot of wicked heat rolled through his hips, along with mental images of all the different ways he could be her prisoner.

“Yes. Mine.”

“He’s not bound.”

“I was just about to do that when you barged up on us.”

Ilithyia’s eyes narrowed even more. Tension crackled in the cool May forest. “Aella will not like this.”

“This has nothing to do with Aella,” Natasa answered in a hard tone. “She knows I have my own agenda. And she is not to interfere.”

“Oh…the queen will definitely not approve of this.”

“Natasa is so screwed.”

“My gods, is he hot or what?”

“He’s exactly what we’ve been waiting for.”

Thoughts pinged around from the group, but Titus was too distracted to tell which was coming from whom. His focus had shifted entirely to Natasa. And, lucky him, her thoughts were the only ones he couldn’t read.

“Fine,” Ilithyia said after a long beat. “Bind him and we’ll escort you back. We wouldn’t want you to lose your prisoner along the way.”

The smug way she said prisoner dragged Titus’s attention away from Natasa and back to the Amazon glaring his direction

Amazon… shit. He looked out over the group. That was what these females were. Amazon warriors. He’d never run across one, but he knew they roamed the earth, just like the multitude of otherworldy beings that stayed hidden from humans. He quickly ran through what he knew of them: they didn’t like the gods, they loathed men even more, and they marked themselves with the crescent moon.

He cut a glance at Natasa’s arms, but her sleeves fell all the way to her wrists. He looked past her to the other females to confirm his suspicions, but they too all wore long sleeves.

Natasa turned his way and pulled the rope from her pocket. As she unwound it, he whispered, “What the hell is going on?”

“Shh,” she muttered, grasping his wrists together, not meeting his gaze. “Do as I say. And for gods’ sake, don’t open your mouth. I can’t protect you if you piss them off.”

Protect him? Did that mean she wasn’t one of them? Yeah, she was tough enough, but something in his gut said she didn’t fit in with this group. He glanced back at the Amazons while Natasa wrapped the rope around his wrists. They’d spread out in a U-shape around him, their swords each drawn in aggression. But it was the glint of victory in the leader’s eyes that told Titus he’d stumbled into something he should have left alone.

He didn’t have a weapon with him. Nothing but his bare—well, gloved—hands. Sure, he could take a few down if it came to that, but he didn’t like the idea of hurting a female if he didn’t have to. He had no doubt he was faster than these chicks, which meant he could escape if he ran like hell. But what would happen to Natasa if he did that? Even if she was only part Amazon, he didn’t have to read minds to know there was a power struggle going on here. A big one.

Where the hell was Phineus? Why hadn’t he come through the damn portal yet? Titus lifted his bound hands and reached for the Argos medallion he wore on a chain around his neck, the one that was a beacon back to his order. He found nothing but skin.

Skata. He’d lost it. Probably when he’d been rolling around in the dirt with Natasa. Goofing off instead of doing his fucking job.

“Come,” Ilithyia said after Natasa cinched down on the rope. “Queen Aella is waiting.”

The twine cut into his skin, but Titus barely felt it. Because Natasa’s eyes finally met his. And in their emerald depths he saw worry, and the unspoken plea Do this. For me.

His heart picked up speed, and that warmth he’d felt before came rushing back. Her prisoner. He could pretend to be her prisoner for a little while, couldn’t he? Theron had told him to find out who the hell she was and what she was after. By staying with her, he’d only be doing his duty.

Images of being tied beneath her, of being forced to do whatever sinful thing she wanted rushed through his mind.

His blood pulsed, his heart raced, and any lingering doubt disappeared.

Yeah, he could do this. After all, they were just girls. What was the worst that could happen?

“Theron? We have a problem.”

Isadora turned from her sister, Casey, and the prepared speech she was about to give and looked toward the leader of the Argonauts.

The sitting area in her royal office was full. In addition to Theron and her sister, several of the Argonauts were in attendance providing security. Zander and Demetrius stood across the room, quietly speaking, while Gryphon sat with Maelea on the blue velvet couch, his arm around her shoulder, her nerves as palpable as Isadora’s since she had to face the crowd too. In seconds, Isadora was to step out onto the veranda that overlooked the city and address her people with the news that the evil goddess Atalanta was finally dead.

For most, that would be enough to set one’s nerves on edge, but Isadora had bigger issues to deal with. Not only was the Council waiting in the ballroom downstairs with the Misos delegation—a race the Council deemed unworthy—but somewhere in the mix, Nick, the leader of the Misos—a man most hated by the Council—was wandering around, looking for the female that had been in Maelea’s room earlier. Any number of fireworks could go off with the current mix of people in the castle, and the unease Isadora heard in Phineus’s voice about some problem wasn’t helping matters.

Theron pulled the communications gadget Titus had recently been experimenting with from his pocket and pushed a button. “What’s going on, Phin?”

“We lost her.”

“Dammit,” Theron muttered. “Where?”

“Through the portal.”

Isadora handed the papers to her sister and crossed the room to stand at Theron’s side. Tension radiated from his powerful shoulders. Across the elaborate space, she felt Maelea’s worry as if the female were right next to her.

“Well, go after her,” Theron said. “Her coordinates should be easily accessible.”

“Titus did go after her,” Phin said through the com unit. “Grabbed on to her leg as she jumped through. But we can’t follow.”

Theron scrubbed a hand over his head in clear frustration. Casey—his mate—moved to stand on his other side. “Why not?”

“Because something’s wrong with the portal. It’s not working. Orpheus and I have tech guys here looking at it, but the panel’s totally fried. We have no idea where they went or even if Titus can get back through this way.”

Theron shot a look at Demetrius and Zander, then to Gryphon and finally Isadora. “And just how in Hades did that happen?”

“We’re not sure. But, Theron? Man, you should see the guard down here. That female put her hands on him when he got in her way and tried to stop her. His armor damn near melted beneath her palms. Guy’s got third degree burns all over his chest. Callia’s looking at him now, but I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean, skata, even I can’t do that.”

Callia was Zander’s mate and Isadora’s other sister. She was also a trained healer. Gryphon stood from the couch and moved closer. Demetrius and Zander did the same.

Unease flitted through Isadora’s veins. She could tell the guardians were all thinking the same thing as she. Phineus’s gift was the breath of fire, bestowed upon those in his line from the Fates in honor of his forefather, Bellerophon, the great hero who’d slayed the Chimera, a gigantic fire-breathing beast. But Phineus rarely used his gift, for reasons Isadora didn’t quite understand. And the fact he was telling Theron this female—this Natasa—had done something even he couldn’t do, meant things were far worse than they’d all assumed.

“Skata,” Theron muttered. He glanced toward Zander. “Phin, I’m sending Z to you. The queen’s about to take the podium and Demetrius, Gryphon, and I can’t leave just yet. Figure out a way to get that portal working again and find out where the fuck Titus is. Fire-and-brimstone shit goes along with our suspicions that she’s working with Hades and Zagreus. As long as she’s out of Argolea, that’s all I care about. But I want Titus back ASAP. You got me?”

“Got it.”

Theron clicked off the com unit and slid it back in his pocket. At his side, he squeezed Casey’s hand and whispered, “Don’t worry.” Then he turned his attention to Zander. “Find him. The last thing I need is another lost Argonaut. Skata, you guys keep disappearing on me like fireflies.”

Gryphon chuckled, and one side of Demetrius’s lips curled—a smile Isadora loved to see. But her joy was short-lived.

As Zander headed for the door, she looked toward Theron. “Burnt armor? Who is this female?”

“I don’t know,” Theron muttered. “But we’ll find out. Right now, let’s just get this speech over and done with. This celebration is quickly turning into a friggin’ nightmare.”

Reluctantly, Isadora turned for the double doors that led to the veranda. She hadn’t foreseen any of this coming, but then her gift of foresight wasn’t exactly predictable, especially not now when she was pregnant. She waited while Gryphon and Demetrius opened the doors, then drew in a deep breath and prayed Theron was wrong.

They couldn’t afford to lose any of the Argonauts, especially Titus. His gift of reading minds was too valuable to their cause.