The Darkest Prison (5 page)

By the time they reached the camp he'd set up, Atlas was hard and aching. Nike had been pressed against his side the entire mile, her female scent in his nose, her heat radiating into his body.

When she spied the tent he'd erected, she gasped. Wide brown eyes flicked up to him with wonder before she raced forward, not slowing as she barreled through the front flap. He heard another gasp.

Grinning, Atlas followed her inside. He liked this softer side of her. She stood in the center, twirling, clearly trying to take everything in at once. He'd spread furs on the floor and had even carted a small round table here and piled it high with her favorite foods. There was a porcelain tub already filled with steaming water, rose petals floating on the surface.

Never let it be said that the Titan god of Strength did not know how to romance a woman.

Nike's hand fluttered over her heart, her gaze glued to the plate of strawberries and Feta. “How did you know I liked those?”

Because he'd always been hyperaware of her every action. He'd
 
watched her from his cell while she'd eaten them with her friends and he'd fumed that he was not the one with her, basking in her good humor. That was not something he'd admit to, however.

“Good guess,” he finally said.

She peered down at the rug and kicked out her bare, dirty foot. “I don't understand why you're doing this, Atlas.”

“That makes two of us,” he replied gruffly.

“But—”

“Just enjoy it, Nike. It's all I can give you.”

Her lashes fluttered up, and her gaze pinned him. “But why would you want to give me anything?”

“Stop analyzing my reasons. This isn't a ploy or a punishment, I promise you. And the food is not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking.” He closed the distance between them, placed his hands on her shoulders and urged her to the table.

There, they ate in silence. The rapture on her face, rapture that increased with every bite, delighted him. The wine she savored sip by sip, moaning with every swallow.

Bringing her here was worth the risk of Cronus's wrath, he thought.

Although Cronus had merely ordered him to keep her in Tartarus. Which he had done. The clouds around the prison were part of the realm. So technically
 
he had not broken any rules. Cronus, though, being Cronus, would not see it that way.

Still, Atlas couldn't regret it. He had never seen this joyful, eager side of the Greek goddess, and he found that he liked it just as much as he liked everything else about her. Which was way more than he should have.

When every crumb had been consumed, she turned her attention to the bath. “That's for me?” Utter longing radiated from her, yet she didn't move toward it.

“Yes. But I can't leave you. You know that, right?”

She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “What you're saying is, I can bathe with you watching or not at all.”

“Exactly.”

He expected her to fight him on that. Hell, she could have refused outright. What he did not expect was for her to push to her feet and discard her robe without hesitation. At the sight of her nakedness, he hissed in a breath. Already he'd thought her exquisite…but now, now…holy gods. She was the finest creature the gods had ever produced.

Her skin, so golden and smooth, covered lean muscle and succulent curves. Her breasts were soft, perfect for his hands, and her nipples were as pretty a pink as he remembered. His mouth watered for them.

She walked to the tub and stepped inside. Her ass, her back…his name. He was on his feet before he realized what he'd done. He wanted to kiss those tattoos, something she would probably fight him over. He wouldn't apologize for having given them to her, though. Hell, no. He liked them too much.

Nike pivoted slowly, and her gaze met his as she sank into the water. There was no hiding the desire he felt—it consumed him, ate him up and left him as bare as she was. Her expression, however, was blank.

Slowly, she worked the bar of soap he'd brought her over her entire body. She seemed completely unabashed as the suds danced over her, sliding down those magnificent breasts and hiding beneath the rose petals. She washed her hair, too, and soon the locks were dripping down her face and shoulders.

With every move she made, he inched a little closer to her. He just couldn't help himself. Finally she finished and stood. Another feast for his eyes. All those curves he craved more than anything else in the world were now wet. He wanted to lick away every drop.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked. Her voice was as devoid of emotion as her expression.

“I need you,” he managed to croak past the lump in his throat.

Finally. A reaction. Relief and desire, such intense desire, claimed her, and she grinned a siren's smile. “Then have me you shall.”

They were a mimic
 
of his earlier words, and completely unexpected. But, as he'd told her earlier, there was no good reason to analyze a change of heart. Not in either of them. Not now. He had the distance between them defeated a split second later. Had his arms wrapped around her, jerking her into him, a second after that. Their lips met in a wild tangle, their tongues seeking, rolling together. On and on the kiss continued, drowning him in all that she was.

He hated to stop, even for a moment, but he had to remove his clothes. If he didn't experience skin-to-skin contact soon, he was going to ignite into flames. Panting, he tore away his shirt, his boots, then his pants.

He pulled her back into his embrace. Finally. Blessedly. Skin to skin. Both of them groaned at the headiness. Her nipples rubbed against his chest, his tattoos, while their lower bodies thrust together. Then she was bending down, tracing those letters with her tongue—and gods, he had never been happier that he had them.

After she'd traced the last one, she kissed her way down his stomach. She dropped to her knees.

Was she going to…please, please, please…but she didn't like him enough to do it. Did she? “What are you—”

She sucked his cock deep into her mouth.

His head fell back, and he roared. All that wet heat was ecstasy, surely the first he'd ever truly known, for nothing had ever felt this damned good. Up and down she moved, allowing him to hit the back of her throat.

“Gods!
 
Don't make me come.”

She laughed, pulled off and licked his sac. “When have I ever listened to you?”

“Vixen.” With a growl, he dropped to his knees, as well. She could taste his seed. Later. More than anything, even more of that ecstasy, he wanted inside her, and he didn't want to have to wait for it. “Spread your legs for me.”

The moment she obeyed, he
 
had two fingers buried deep. More wet heat. And to his delight…“You're ready for me.” Never had he been more proud that he'd brought a female to this point.

She trembled, had to grip his shoulders to remain upright. “I'm ready for you every damn time I see you.”

And she didn't like it, he could tell from her tone, but he could only bask in the admission. “It's the same for me.”

At first, she blinked, as if she couldn't allow herself to believe him. So vulnerable she appeared, so—dare he wish?—hopeful. Then she placed a sweet kiss on his lips and breathed him in. “Don't say things like that,” she whispered.

“Why not? I spoke true.”

“Because they a-affect me.”

Headier words had never been spoken. “Let's finish this before I combust, sweetheart.”

“Please.”

He was sweating, panting, as he settled back on his ass, reached out and cupped hers. He jerked her onto his lap, forcing her to wrap her thighs around his waist. As her hands tangled in his hair, he lifted her, placing her eager core at the tip of his erection.

“Ready?” he asked hoarsely. This was it. The moment he felt he'd been waiting forever for.

“Ready.”

He thrust up and she pushed down, and then he was all the way in, surrounded by the very thing he had defied his king, his sovereign, to possess. It was better than he remembered, better than he could have imagined. He couldn't pause, couldn't give her time to adjust. Over and over he pushed in, pulled out, too overwhelmed by pleasure to do anything but ride out the storm. Perhaps it was the same for her. Her nails scored his back, and her moans rang in his ears.

Gods, he was close. On fire. Burning. Desperate. He reached between their bodies and pressed his thumb against his new favorite place.

“Atlas,” she shouted, her inner walls suddenly milking him.

She was climaxing, lost to all that he was, and the thought drove him over the last bit of the edge, as well. He jetted inside her, lost to all that
she
was, the most intense orgasm of his life claiming him.

Together, they fell backward, onto the softness of the fur. He kept his arms around her, unwilling to let her go. Now…always?

Yes, always, he thought, and his eyes widened. He wanted her always. Wanted more of this.
Had
to have more of this. When he'd forgiven her completely, he didn't know. When he'd softened, he didn't know, either. He only knew that she'd become an important part of his life. Perhaps she always had been; he'd just been too foolish to realize it.

What the hell was he going to do? They could be together each night after his shift, but they'd never have privacy, and her pride would soon chafe at his amorous attentions, all while he refused to set her free. It would have been the same for him when the situation had been reversed. Besides, she was too precious to hurt in that way. But the problem was, he couldn't be without her. He'd proven that already.

Damn, he thought next, suddenly sick to his stomach. Damn!

She loved him, Nike thought. Again.
I'm hopeless.

He'd just…he'd been so amazing. He'd whisked her away, given her everything she'd craved: food, water and his body. Gods, had he given her that delectable body. She'd savored every moment. Savored his taste, his touch, the feel of him pounding inside her.

Four days had since passed, but she craved more. Always she craved more. She'd spent the time locked inside her cell, pacing, trying to think of ways for them to be together. If he still wanted her, that is. Atlas had come by at least once a day to make sure she was properly fed and that her basin of water was filled, but he'd never said a word to her. Actually, they hadn't spoken since leaving the tent.

At the time, she'd felt too raw, too exposed. She'd feared her feelings for him had been shining in her eyes, so they most assuredly would have seeped from her voice. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a mate. His strength matched hers. She would never have to worry about hurting him. He was witty and charming. He was a protector, a warrior. He was deliciously vengeful, she knew firsthand.

She smiled, wishing she could reach between her shoulder blades and feel his name. She was certain the letters would be as hot as the man himself. But…

Why hadn't he spoken to her?

Why didn't you speak to him?

Because she hadn't known what to say. Did he still want her? Did he feel anything for her? How would she react if he didn't, which was most likely the case? Part of her wanted to take anything he would give her. The other part of her knew her pride wouldn't allow her to do such a thing. But there at the end, when they'd returned to Tartarus and he'd closed the bars to her cell, she had thought she'd glimpsed regret. Regret that he had to seal her inside. Regret that they couldn't spend more time together—in bed and out.

Nike tugged at her collar and screeched. Damn this. She was the epitome of strength, yet was as helpless as a babe. How could she win a man's heart when she couldn't even win her own freedom?

Atlas heard a screech of frustration and knew immediately who had uttered it. Nike. His Nike. His beautiful Nike. He'd deliberated about what to do, how they could be together, for four days. Well, the time for thinking was over, it seemed. She was close to her breaking point. She'd tasted freedom; being sequestered now had to be a thousand times worse than before.

He hated that she was locked up, and he knew they could never be together while she was. He also knew they could not be together if he released her. She would most likely run, and he would most definitely be punished.

Maybe she loved him, maybe she didn't. Maybe she'd stay with him. Or try to. She liked him and was attracted to him, he would go so far as
 
to say. After everything that had transpired between them, she wouldn't have slept with him otherwise. But love? He wasn't sure.

And it didn't matter, really.
He
loved
her.
Perhaps he always had. He'd never felt so strongly about a woman. He'd never wanted to spend his every waking minute with someone before, had never wanted to cuddle someone into his side for every sleeping minute. He'd never wanted to eat every meal together. To talk and laugh about their days. To spar, verbally and physically. But he did with her.

And since they couldn't be together, no matter what way things panned out, there was only one thing to do.

He pounded up the stairs and to her cell. She was banging a fist into the wall, plumes of dust forming around her. The sight of her nearly undid him. He wanted to kiss her, put his fingers all over her, sink inside her.
Harden your heart. Do what is needed.
His hand was shaking as he lifted the sensor.

She heard the slid of the bars and turned. A gasp parted her beautiful lips. Without a word, he held out his palm.

“What—”

“Just take it.”

She frowned as she accepted.

Still silent, he pulled her along the same path he had just taken. The same path they'd taken those four days ago. No one tried to stop him this time. In fact, as he passed the guard's station, the two gods on duty rolled their eyes.

Outside, with the clouds all around him, he whirled on Nike. He still wanted to kiss her, but knew that if he did so, he would not be able to let her go. And he had to let her go.

“Atlas,” she said with a seductive grin. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck. “Another outing? I'm glad.”

He shook his head and placed his fingers on the designated indentions in the collar. Cool metal met his touch. Then he leaned down and fit his lips over the center.

Her grin fell away. A tremor moved through her. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Be still.” He drew in a deep breath, held it…held it…and then slowly released it. As that breath slithered through the inside of the collar, the metal loosened…finally splitting down the center and tumbling to the ground.

Eyes wide, she reached up, felt her bare neck. “I don't understand what's happening,” she said. They were the same words she'd spoken before. He hadn't had an answer then. He did now. He loved her, but he could never tell her that.

“Go,” he said. “Flash somewhere. Maybe earth. And whatever you do, stay hidden. Do you understand me?”

“Atlas…no.” She shook her head violently, even fisted his shirt. “No, I can't. When they discover I'm gone for good, and they will, you'll be charged with a crime. You'll be locked away, placed with the Greeks who hate you. Or, if you're lucky, you'll be killed.”

She felt, he realized, both amazed and saddened. She cared for him, which meant she would suffer without him. If anything, that only increased his determination to save her. She did not deserve a life behind bars.

He forced his expression to harden. Forced himself to jerk away from her. “I can't stand to look at you anymore. I've had you, and now I'm bored with you.”

Her arms dropped to her sides as if weighed down by rocks, but she quickly pulled them around her middle. “Then keep me locked up and stay away from me. You don't want to do this.”

Still willing to give up her freedom to be near him? Damn her. He fell a little more in love with her. “Go! I can't stand the sight of you anymore. Don't you get it? You make me sick, Nike.”

“Shut up.” Tears filled her eyes. Real godsdamned tears. “You don't mean that. You
can't
mean that.” The last was whispered brokenly.

His heart constricted painfully.
Do it. Finish it.
“I'd rather be killed or locked away than look at you another moment. Because every time I look at you, I'm reminded of what we did and I—I want to vomit. I was using you, wanting to punish you, but I took things too far. Even for me.” Hating himself, he turned away from her. “So do us both a favor and go.”

For a long while, she didn't speak. He knew she didn't flash away, either, for he heard no rustle of clothing. But then, he
did
hear a whimper. A sob. More of those tears must be falling.

Gods, he couldn't do it. He couldn't send her away like this. He spun, meaning to grab on to her and tell her the truth, to force her to listen. To make her leave another way. But she was gone before their eyes could meet and his hands encountered only air.

“You insolent fool!”

Atlas peered up at the fuming Cronus. Not like he could do anything else. His wrists were chained to poles, forcing him to remain on his knees. The very collar he'd removed from Nike was now wrapped around his own neck.

He'd known this would happen, but he hadn't cared. He still didn't. Nike was free, and that was all that mattered.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

“No.”

“One Greek can raise an army. That army can attack us. Ruin us. I told you that, and still you defied me.”

“Nike won't do that,” he said confidently. He trusted her to disappear. Even as angry as she had to be with him, she would not endanger herself to save people she had never truly liked.

Cronus slammed his fist against the arm of his throne, ever the petulant child. “You can't know that! You aren't my All-Seeing Eye.”

Atlas arched a brow, refusing to be cowed. “Would you risk being imprisoned again to help your fellow Titans? I may not be able to see all the secrets of the heavens and hell,
 
yet I know you would not.”

The king had no response to that, but that didn't stop him from growling. “You disobeyed a direct order, and you will be punished.”

“I understand.” He offered the statement without hesitation. It was the truth. He understood that the god king had to make an example out of him. Otherwise, others would see him as weak. They would disobey him as Atlas had.

“I think you actually do.” Some of Cronus's fury abated. “Only this morning I saw a portrait of you. A portrait painted by my Eye. With it, she showed me exactly how to punish you.” The king smiled evilly and looked to the ghostlike girl still standing at his side. “You know what to do, sweet Sienna.”

Sienna strode forward, a knife appearing in her hand. She stopped in front of Atlas and dropped to her knees, placing them eye to eye. So this was it, he thought. The end. As an immortal, he'd never thought to reach this point. Still. He found he only regretted that he hadn't had more time with Nike, that he hadn't gotten the chance to apologize for his harsh words the last time they were together and that he would never have the chance to confess his love.

With absolutely no emotion on her face, the girl dug the tip of the blade into his wrist and cut out his sensor, rather than chop off his head. That's when he realized Cronus meant to lock him away rather than kill him. Good. More time to think about Nike and what could have been.

But then Sienna moved the blade to his chest and pressed, slicing. It stung, but that was not what made him struggle against her ministrations. No, it was the fact that she began carving Nike's name from his chest. He roared loud and long, fighting for all he was worth. Guards were called over and hard hands settled over him, pressing him down, holding him steady. Still he fought, but in the end, they managed to remove all four letters.

As they walked away from him, he glanced down at himself through burning, watery eyes. Blood poured down his chest and four open wounds stared up at him, the muscles torn, the skin completely gone. He might have hated that brand at one point in his life, but he'd grown to love it as much as the woman who'd given it to him. More than that, it had been the last remaining evidence of her presence.

His hands fisted, and his back straightened. Blood and sweat mingled, stinging further. Another roar burst from his lips, and he tossed it to the domed ceiling. He didn't stop until his throat was shredded from the strain.

“Are you quite finished?” Cronus asked him.

His gaze fell to the dais, narrowing. “I will destroy you for this,” his vowed brokenly. “One day you will die by my hand.”

“Not likely. Take him to Tartarus,” the king told his guards, unconcerned. “Where he will rot for all eternity.”