Bound

Chapter Seven

Natasa stared into Titus’s mesmerizing hazel eyes and swallowed hard. She tried to resist, but there was something about him. Some pull she couldn’t seem to fight. Some need growing inside her with every passing second.

She licked her lips. Shifted her knees forward even though she knew she shouldn’t. Her gaze flicked to his bare chest. To his arms resting at his sides against the blankets, the shredded ropes still wrapped around his wrists. To his chiseled six-pack abs, rising and falling with his shallow breaths.

She wanted to touch him. Wanted to know if he was as hard and smooth as she imagined. As she’d felt pressed up against her in those trees. She lifted a hand, held it out, hesitated over his bare skin, her mind warring with common sense. “I—”

His hand captured hers, and a cool sensation slid from his fingers into hers. He tugged on her arm until her palm landed against the rock-solid surface of his chest.

A slow, gentle sigh escaped his lips.

The air churned around her. A fresh gust that filled her lungs, eased the fever she lived with every hour, and blew a calming breath all across her skin.

She drew it in. His spicy, masculine scent filled her nose. Tingles rushed over her flesh, soothing her irritable edges. And oh, he was hard beneath her hand. Silky skin over carved muscle and bone. Reflexively, she brushed her fingers against his muscles, loving the texture, the dips and angles of his rib cage, the way he groaned with every tiny movement.

As if she were the one who could soothe him. As if he needed only her.

Rough fingertips caressed the back of her hand and sent stimulating sensations all along her flesh. She glanced down, his tanned skin such a contrast with her much paler hand, then looked at his face. His eyes were once again closed, but unlike when those guards had touched him, this time pleasure toyed with his features. And a wicked, tantalizing smile curled his tempting lips.

That pull to him grew stronger. The irritability she was so used to eased. Normally, around others, she felt boxed in, trapped, and every breath was more stifling than the last. But next to him…touching him…all she could think about was what it would be like to brush her fingers over other parts of his body. What his naked skin would feel like sliding over hers. How thick and exhilarating he would be pushing deep inside her body.

“Gods,” he whispered. “That feels so damn good.”

It felt good to her too. She scooted closer and licked her lips again. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“Are you kidding?” He chuckled, and vibrations zinged up her fingers, shooting straight to her center. “You feel like heaven.”

Heat grew in her belly. An ache condensed between her legs, sending scorching threads of desire all through her core. The kind that overwhelmed the senses. The kind that begged to be sated.

His free hand closed over hers against her thigh. The frayed rope tickled her leg. He tugged again, not gently this time but quickly, until her weight shifted out from under her, and she fell against every hard, muscular inch of him.

She gasped, but the sensations rushing from his skin into hers were so invigorating, so restorative, she couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped from her lips. And then she didn’t want to because—oh gods—he felt good. The length of his body was flush against hers, easing the burn, calming her frazzled nerve endings, making her want in ways she never had before.

“You’re so hot, ligos Vesuvius.”

His sensual voice cut through the haze. Pressure built beneath her ribs. “Too hot?” She tried to sit up. “I—”

His arms closed around her, and he held her tight as if he didn’t ever want to let her go. “Not too hot. Never too hot.”

Her lashes lifted. Slowly, she met his gaze, and her breath caught. Energy crackled between them. A sizzle and arc she felt everywhere. His eyes seemed to be looking deep inside a part of her no one else had ever seen. Little warning flags fired off in her mind. “You…you shouldn’t be near me. I’m not what you think I am.”

“What do I think you are?”

She had no idea. She just knew she didn’t want to hurt him. Not like she had that guard. And the longer he stayed with her, the greater the chances she’d do just that. “I think…you’re blind to the real me.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, permeated her own, and brought another rush of refreshing tingles to her skin. His hand moved from the small of her back to her hair. His thick fingers sifted through her curly locks. “You know, the ancient Greeks thought having red hair was a sign of being a vampire.”

She lifted her head to get a better look at his face. “You think I’m going to suck your blood?”

His whole body tightened beneath her, and a smile played with the edges of his mouth. “At the moment, I’m hoping you’ll suck something else.”

He was cracking jokes. She couldn’t help it. She laughed. And oh, it felt good to laugh. To smile. She couldn’t remember the last time the pressure in her chest was gone and a lightness like she was experiencing now floated through her limbs. “Titus, I—”

He lifted his head, and before she could get the rest of the words out, his lips pressed against hers.

Soft. Cool. Electric. Tingles rushed through her whole body. She knew she shouldn’t let him kiss her, should be pushing away right this very second, but she couldn’t. And when he nipped at her lower lip, when she felt the tip of his tongue slide across the seam of her mouth, she gave up the fight. She opened to him, drew his warm, slick tongue inside, and tasted him for the very first time.

Thought fled. Reason disappeared. All the protests she’d been about to voice drifted out of her reach.

He was like a waterfall. Like a cool flood of relief, pouring over her skin, easing the burn from the outside in. Rejuvenating her in ways she couldn’t imagine.

She groaned. Or maybe he did. She wasn’t sure. All she could focus on was the way he cupped her face in both hands. The way he tipped his head and kissed her deeper. The way his lush, tantalizing tongue tasted like sin and salvation against her own.

She’d been kissed before, but it had been so long ago, she barely remembered what it was like. And she knew it had never been as refreshing and consuming as this. Her muscles tightened against his. Her fingers dug into his chest. Her legs shifted open until his thighs pressed against the insides of hers.

Desire built, awakened inside her. His hand slid from her hair to her lower back to pull her body tighter against him. And oh, he was hard, and thick, and clearly as turned on her. That excitement grew. Overwhelmed. Possessed her from every angle.

His tongue probed deep into her mouth, tasted her everywhere, and she returned his kiss with the same enthusiasm, the same hunger. Time seemed to stand still as his mouth plundered hers. As he took what he wanted. As she let him.

Her head grew light. She needed air. Didn’t want to break the kiss. Didn’t want to let go. He nipped at her upper lip, soothed the spot with his tongue, then finally eased away so she could draw a breath.

“Gods, you taste better than I’d hoped.”

She gulped in air and tried to tell him he tasted good too. But before her vocal chords could work, he kissed her again. Hard. Greedy. Deeply. Like a man starved. Like she was his very last meal.

Her brain turned to mush. Her body a pool of want. All she could focus on was more. But something inside warned she was losing control. That this wasn’t a good idea. That as much as she craved his touch, this wasn’t the right time or place. And if the Amazons outside heard what was happening inside her tent, they’d both soon regret it.

She pushed against his chest. She didn’t want to let go but somehow found the strength to shift to her knees so there was space between them. “Titus. Wait. Just…give me a second.”

“No more waiting. I want you.”

His fingers dug into the cotton at her hips, and he tugged. She opened her mouth to tell him she wanted him too, that she wasn’t trying to stop him, but that they both just needed to be careful. But then she registered the temperature around her. Not cool and refreshing like he’d been. But humid. Thick. Stifling.

Warnings fired off in her brain. The sexual haze cleared enough so she could listen. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t be just an Argonaut. There was something else about him that drew her. Something she reacted to. Something that told her…she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

“Tasa?”

She pushed away before his body could press up against hers again and somehow found her feet. The room spun, and she reached for the tree trunk behind her. He sat up, but she held out a hand to keep him from reaching for her once more. “No, don’t. I…I need to think.”

“Don’t think. Come back. I know you want me. You have no idea how much I want you. Touch me again.”

Minutes ago, he’d wanted answers as to why she was living amongst the Amazons, what she’d been doing in Argolea, why she’d been following Maelea. Now none of that mattered?

The air grew oppressive and claustrophobic. Her mind sputtered, trying to make sense of what had happened. She’d been tricked once before, and look where that had landed her. When he moved to his knees, she stepped back again, careful so he couldn’t touch her.

“Natasa.”

His voice changed. Tensed. Filled with a desperation that only kicked her nerves into high gear. “Wh-what are you doing to me?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said calmly. Too calmly. He held out a hand. “Natasa, come back to me.”

She didn’t know what to believe, didn’t know whom to trust. He suddenly felt like some glowing, shimmering salvation, and she, more than anyone, knew things that seemed too good to be true usually were. “Who are you?”

Unease seeped into his eyes. “You know who I am.”

“No, I don’t.” Panic flooded her voice, and she fought against it but couldn’t keep it away. He was using magic or seduction or something unnatural to scramble her brain. “What the hell do you want with me?”

He moved to his feet, pushing to his full height. He was gorgeous in the dim light, half naked with his wavy dark hair loose around his face and those ropes hanging from his wrists. But he was also a threat. There were multiple people searching for her. Numerous beings that wanted her. And because he’d once been nice to her, she’d let down her guard. Assumed he could be trusted. Assumed—foolishly—he wasn’t after the very same thing.

Panic turned to fear. She eyed her dagger on the box next to him. Knew she’d never reach it before he did. “Stay back.”

“Natasa, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you.”

There was that word again—help. The same word he’d used in Argolea just before she’d jumped through the portal. But he didn’t really want to help her. He just wanted what she had.

“I don’t want your help. I told you before I don’t need your help. I—”

The tent flap jerked open, and they both looked toward the burst of light spilling into the room. Two guards stepped into the space and glanced between them—the same two who had tied Titus to the tree.

Relief immediately rushed through Natasa—relief that she and Titus had been interrupted—but then she caught the gleam in the guards’ eyes.

“What’s going on?” Natasa asked. “I told you—”

“Ladies.” Titus turned toward the guards and held up both hands in a defensive move. “Let’s not act hastily now—”

The guards moved up on both sides of him. Malice and heat and triumph swelled in their eyes. The taller of the two said, “The queen is ready for you.”

Titus stiffened, tried to shift out of their grasp, but their hands landed on his arms before he could get a foot away. And the moment they made contact with his skin, his eyes rolled back, his features twisted and his knees gave out.

Natasa tensed. Yeah, she’d wanted him to back off so she could think, but not like this. They were hurting him. If anyone was going to hurt him, it was going to be her.

“Stop,” she ordered. “What are you doing? He’s my prisoner, not yours.”

“Not anymore,” the other guard said. A malevolent grin spread across her thin lips. “He’s the queen’s now. And the altar is prepared.”

Oh shit.

They dragged Titus toward the door. Natasa closed her hand over the shoulder of the closest guard. “I said stop—”

The guard moved so fast, Natasa barely tracked her. One second she was holding Titus up by the arm; the next she had Natasa pinned to the base of the tree, a sword at her throat.

“Aella said you might be a problem,” the guard sneered. “Therefore, you are to remain here, where you can’t get in the way.”

Natasa’s breath caught at the contempt in the guard’s eyes. The guard shoved Natasa’s hands together, cinched a rope around her wrists, and jerked them high over her head. Natasa gasped. The guard looped the rope through the D-ring screwed into the wood and pulled hard.

Pain sliced into Natasa’s skin. She winced. The guard laughed and stepped back.

Lysa—Natasa remembered her name now—tipped her head and grinned. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, female, you are not invited to this ceremony.” She leaned close, so close Natasa could smell the earthy scents of dirt and moss on her unclean skin. “The queen thanks you for your most generous…donation.”

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, weak 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.”