Bound (5 page)

More frustrated with herself than ever, she clenched her jaw and wove between Argoleans anxious for words from their queen. The crowd was thicker than she’d anticipated. They’d gathered in the mall in front of the main gates of the castle. She pushed and maneuvered her way through bodies. Her boot slipped on the cobblestone street and she nearly went down but caught herself at the last moment by grabbing on to a woman’s arm.

“What…?”

“Excuse me,” Natasa said, righting herself.

The woman jerked her arm back, frowned, and shook her head, then turned her attention back toward the castle.

Friendly
. Another reason to get the hell out of here.

Natasa pushed through the crowd again. Finally, she reached the far edge. Drawing a deep breath of fresh air, she stepped up onto a sidewalk and scanned the marble buildings around her, then glanced back toward the crowd. A fountain rose up in the middle, one she hadn’t noticed before. One made of shiny marble with jets of water shooting out into a circular pool. In the center, a giant of a man slayed a great minotaur, and around him, smaller but no less impressive, six other statues of men, each holding a different weapon, looked on in awe.

The Argonauts, Natasa realized. A memorial to the great heroes who had settled this realm. As she looked to the six below Heracles, she couldn’t help but wonder which statue was Titus’s forefather, Odysseus.

“Over there,” a shrill voice echoed, cutting through Natasa’s thoughts. “She went that way.”

Natasa’s attention jerked away from the statue, and she looked back at the crowd. Then froze when she saw the woman she’d bumped into pointing her direction. And beside her, the Argonaut who’d just been on Natasa’s mind.

Shit. Shit
!

She sprinted for the Gatehouse, the ancient building that housed the portal she’d used earlier to cross into Argolea. Caught wondering. Caught
daydreaming
. Dammit all to hell, the last thing she needed was to be caught by a man who was already a bigger distraction than she’d ever anticipated.

“Natasa, stop!”

Her pulse kicked up. The skin on her neck and spine prickled all over again. And heat flooded her veins. A heat she didn’t have time for right now.

Brilliantly colored flags attached to light posts waved in the air above. More voices echoed at her back. More than just Titus’s. Her boots hit the steps of the Gatehouse, and she skipped stairs to reach the top fast. Once inside, she paused to orient herself.

A guard moved out from behind a long counter, his armor flashing in the light of the setting sun. “Hey, you. Stop right there.”

Her gaze landed on the door straight ahead. She pushed her muscles forward.

“I said stop!”

He stepped into her path. He was twice her size and probably well-trained in hand-to-hand combat. But she had determination on her side.

“You’re not going anywhere, young lady.”

Young? She wanted to laugh but didn’t have time. “Move out of my way.”

“Or what?” the guard asked, looking smug and arrogant.

She skidded to a stop, pulled one of the two silver daggers she kept sheathed at her lower back, and braced her feet. “Or I will cut you.”

A low chuckle echoed from his chest. One that sent Natasa’s temper boiling. She arced out with the blade, not to kill him, just to injure him enough so he’d get the hell out of her way. His arm swung out before she saw him move, and the dagger went sailing across the room to land with a clank against the black marble floor.

“I said stop,” he muttered in a low voice.

Footsteps pounded at her back. Voices echoed from the steps out front. The guard edged forward.

Natasa’s panic and anger peaked.

“And I said move!” She shoved both hands against his chest.

Power raced down her arms. Smoke rose up around her. The guard shrieked. His head hit the marble with a crack, then his body slid to the floor. Whimpering, he curled in on himself, but not before Natasa saw the holes in the front of his armor. Holes the size of her palms. Smoking. The skin beneath singed and black.

Wide-eyed, Natasa turned her hands over and looked at her palms, which were also smoking. How the hell…?

“Holy Hades,” someone muttered.

She whipped around. Three men stood in the doorway. Three Argonauts. And at the front of the trio was Titus.

“Natasa,” he said slowly, taking a step forward. “Stop.”

She held her hands up in warning. Moved back. One step. Two. Stumbled through the doorway, unsure what she’d just done.

“You there!” Another voice rang out at her back. “Halt!”

She swiveled to find two more guards, each dressed in the same shiny armor as the first but holding spears, one standing on each side of the portal.

“Natasa,” Titus said calmly at her back. Too calmly. And way too close. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Her pulse roared. Her adrenaline surged. She didn’t know what to believe. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Nothing…

Her gaze jumped from one guard to the other. They didn’t look nonthreatening from where she was standing.

She wouldn’t go back to being imprisoned. Not now. Not when she was so close to her goal. Her focus homed in on the portal, the stone arch shining like a beacon—her beacon to freedom. She stepped forward.

Both guards lowered their spears.

“Don’t—” Titus yelled.

Natasa didn’t wait for their response. She charged. The guard on the right thrust his spear out. She missed being skewered by a mere inch and grasped it with her palm. Heat radiated from her skin, and flames flared. The spear broke in two and turned to ash in her palm. Gasping, the guard yanked his arm back.

But the other thrust out his spear before she could deflect it. The tip grazed her side and tore her shirt. She sucked in a breath. Only, instead of shoving deep into her flesh as she expected, the guard sailed backward.

“Titus!”

She wasn’t sure who yelled, but she whipped around to find Titus at her side. The guard and his spear lay sprawled across the floor.

“Stop running,” Titus said, reaching out for her. “Let me help you.”

Her chest heaved. She looked to the hand he offered. Then to the other two Argonauts behind him, moving slowly closer. And on both sides, the guards watching in shock.

He’d saved her life. Not knowing who and what she was. Even after she’d broken into his castle and burned that guard. And now he was offering help.

No one had ever offered to help her. Her pulse roared in her ears. No one could. At least not without demanding something in return.

“You can’t help me.” She lurched for the portal.

“Natasa! Son of a fucking bitch!”

Her body went flying. Air whooshed past her face, and the world swirled as she entered the portal. But something grasped her ankle just before she entered. Something warm and solid and tight.

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.