Wanting to give her everything she needed, even if she was just a hallucination, he thrust up to meet her. And as he slid his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth back to his, kissing her one last time, he released his hold on the living world.
He let go of all the failure. Each betrayal. And every single sin he’d committed over the long, lonely years of his life.
Every muscle in her body contracted. Her pussy spasmed around his cock. Then she braced her hands against his chest, pressed her forehead to his, and cried out.
The sound of her pleasure echoed in the air, triggering his own release. The power so strong, it rocketed down his spine and ricocheted through his entire body, firing like a thousand exploding stars in what was left of his grey matter.
Until the light faded from his vision.
Until the fight left his battered body.
Until all that remained was the darkness that had been waiting to claim him from the very beginning.
Breathless and sweaty, Max rolled off Ana and dropped to the dirt floor on his back, staring up at nothing in the darkness as he tried to slow his racing pulse.
She instantly curled her naked body against his, hooked her leg over his hip, and pressed her very fine breasts to his side. “Mm. I guess you’re not as weak as you thought.”
No, he wasn’t. He ran a hand down her hair as she rested her cheek against his chest. He was horny as shit. And a little wigged out that he’d literally bumped into his soul mate here, in the middle of a nightmare.
But then, that was the way with soul mates, wasn’t it? The Argonauts were always joking about how their soul mates showed up when they least expected.
He tipped his head to look down at her. Couldn’t see anything because it was so dark. “Are you all right?”
“Better than all right.” He heard the smile in her words just before her lips brushed his. “I’m perfect now that I’m with you.”
He let her draw him into a toe-curling kiss, but in the back of his mind he knew she wouldn’t be perfect for long. And neither would he. Not trapped in this pit.
When she eased away, he skimmed his other hand over her cheek, desperate to keep touching her. “I’ll find a way out of here.”
“For both of us?”
“I’m not leaving you. You’re coming with me.”
“I like the sound of that.” She pushed up on her hand, leaned down so her silky hair grazed his cheek, and kissed him again. “I like the sound of that a lot.” She drew back from his lips. “But where will we go?”
“I’ll take you to Argolea. You’ll be safe there. The satyrs can’t—”
“No.” She pushed off him. Shuffling sounding in the darkness. “I can’t go there. I won’t. I—”
“Hey.” Max stood and reached for her. Her shoulders shook, but she easily let him pull her against him. “It’s okay. Nothing bad will happen. You’ll be safe.”
“No,” she said, her voice muffled where her face was pressed against his chest. “You don’t understand. He’s there.”
“He who?”
“The Argonaut you call Aristokles. The one who killed my sisters.”
“Ari?” Max knew Ari had a checkered past. That after he’d lost his soul mate, he’d gone a little nuts and spent fifty or so years hunting Zeus’s Sirens, blaming them for her death. But he hadn’t targeted any nymphs. At least not that Max knew.
“Yes, Ari. The crazy Argonaut. He captured several of my sisters and used them as bait when he was hunting Sirens. They died because of him.”
The hysteria in her voice combined with her rapid heartbeat told Max she was truly scared. He ran a hand down her hair, trying his best to soothe her. “Ari’s not like that anymore. I promise. He’s better. He won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t care. I can’t be anywhere near him. It’s too much. Just… Don’t make me go there. Please.” She trembled against his chest.
“I won’t. I promise. You won’t have to go there.” Max held her close, his heart clenching at the terror he felt from her, anger welling inside at the same time over what Ari had done.
Ari had always been Max’s friend, but knowing the Argonaut had terrorized innocents like that… That he’d gone after Ana…
It caused a swirling, protective urge to well inside Max, one that came out of nowhere and made him tighten his hold on her. Made him vow to do whatever it took to keep her safe. Made him want to take a blade to the Argonaut’s throat the next time he saw him.
Long minutes later, she sniffled then slowly lifted her head. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“But—”
“Sh.” He leaned down and softly pressed his lips to hers. “It’s not your fault. We won’t go to Argolea. We’ll find somewhere else. Somewhere here in the human realm.”
“What if they try to find you? What if they find me?”
“I’ll keep you safe. Don’t worry.”
“But how? There are so many. And you’re just one—”
“I’m stronger than all of them.”
“You are? How?”
“I have the power of transference. I can take on the powers or gifts of anyone I face. I would have been able to best all those satyrs upstairs, but when they found me, I’d been injured by that energy blast. The energy blast you healed me from.”
“I… Oh my gods. You’re the Argonaut who was raised by Atalanta, aren’t you?”
A familiar bitterness swept through Max, but he fought to keep it from his voice when he said, “Imprisoned, not raised. Until I was ten. But I did learn a lot from her.”
“Wow.” Awe filled Ana’s voice. “I had no idea that was you. You really are powerful.”
He smiled, pleased by her reaction. “I can definitely keep you safe. And I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
“I believe you,” she whispered.
Sinking into him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his heart in a way that eased the pressure in his chest over what had been done to her.
He held her like that for several minutes, thinking about where they could go, then softly said, “Once I get you settled, there’s something I have to do.”
“What?” She eased back once more, and though he couldn’t see her, he sensed she was looking up at him.
“I have to find my cousin. She was kidnapped. That’s why I was in the human realm. Her name is Talisa. She was at a club, and—”
“Zagreus has her.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw her. I was running from Zagreus when the satyrs caught me. I was his prisoner, too. I tried to help Talisa escape, but Zagreus caught up with us and took her back. I barely got away.”
Max’s adrenaline soared. “Where?”
“Where what?”
“Where is he holding her?”
“Oh. In the nymph kingdom of Ehrendia. He’s taken it as his own and enslaved all the nymphs there. It’s his new torture palace.”
Max’s stomach clenched. “And what about Talisa? What does he want with her?”
When she didn’t answer, Max shifted his hands to her shoulders. “Ana?”
“He…” Her voice wavered. “He’s obsessed with her. I don’t know why. But he’s keeping her as his own. As his… personal sex slave.”
Every muscle in Max’s body coiled tight, ready for a fight. He let go of Ana, stepped back, and paced the length of the round room, working like hell to keep from giving into the rage boiling up inside.
He’d heard all the stories about Zagreus and the sick things the bastard was into. If he hurt Talisa… “I have to go after her now. I can’t wait.”
“You can’t. Not on your own. Even with your gifts you’re no match for Zagreus. He’s a god.”
Max knew that. But if he could get close enough, he could use Zagreus’s powers against him.
“You’ll never get close to him,” Ana said in the darkness. “He has too many sentries. He’s trained the si
lens to fight for him.”
Max paused and glanced her way, realizing she’d read his mind. “How do you know—?”
“What you’re thinking? Because I know you.”
She did, he realized. Because she’d felt their soul mate connection, too.
Max’s mind spun. If he couldn’t go after Zagreus on his own, he’d need help. He’d have to get the Argonauts.
Shuffling sounded, then Ana’s fingertips grazed his arm, and her heat and sultry scent of jasmine surrounded him, making him lightheaded all over again. “You don’t need them.”
He stared down at her in the dark. “Who?”
“The Argonauts. You’re not really one of them. If you were, they would have been here already. They would have rescued you from the satyrs by now. They probably think you led Talisa to Zagreus.”
Something hard gathered in his chest. Something cold and familiar. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true. You were raised in the Underworld. Zagreus is from the Underworld. You know they’ve never truly trusted you. It’s why you’re not already a full-fledged Argonaut. Why you’re still in training. They know you’re more powerful than all of them combined. They’re afraid of you. They’re afraid of what you will become. That’s why they’ve kept you on the fringe of their group. Close enough to control, but not close enough to truly belong.”
Her words reeked of truth. He’d been busting his ass for the Argonauts for over twenty years. By his age, most had already been inducted into the Order, but they kept brushing him off. It didn’t matter how hard he worked or how many times he proved himself. Their answer was always the same—your time will come. Even his father, the one person who was supposed to be his champion, kept putting Max off.
They were afraid of him, he realized. They were all terrified of what he could do.
Ana’s other hand brushed his arm, her heat sinking deep into his flesh. “You don’t need them. There’s an army waiting at your fingertips.”
His eyes narrowed. “What army?”
“The satyrs. Upstairs. They’re nothing more than stupid fools. All you have to do is lead them. That’s why they’re here. They’ve been trying to lure Zagreus back to lead them, but he’s moved on. They could be yours though, Max.”
She pressed her naked body against his, and in the dark, his blood pumped hot as her breasts grazed his chest and the softness of her hips brushed his own. His head grew light all over again as if she had some kind of magickal power over him.
“With the satyrs,” she whispered, “you could overthrow Zagreus and take Ehrendia for yourself. You could be king. And I could be your queen.” She pushed to her toes and nipped at his jaw. “And together we could rule however we want. Without having to answer to anyone ever again—the Argonauts included.”
Her voice was like a drug, overwhelming his senses. One he couldn’t ignore. Lowering his mouth, he kissed her hard, his body hot and aching to feel her consume him again. And as he lowered her to the ground and she drew him into her heat once more, he thought…
Yes.
She was right.
He was strong. He was powerful. He could lead his own army. He could become king.
He could do it all without those miserable Argonauts who’d lied and cheated and cast him aside for way too long. He could do it all with her.
Because she was his soul mate. His destiny. The only person in the world who mattered now.
Chapter Thirteen
Metal clanging.
No, not just any metal. Blades. Muffled blades, striking against each other. Somewhere close.
He shouldn’t be able to hear them. He shouldn’t be able to hear anything.
The unmistakable hiss and whir and clash of swords continued to echo nearby, but Zagreus heard something else now, too.
Laughter. Feminine laughter. Just as muffled.
He struggled to make sense of the sounds. As he did, he slowly realized he was lying on something soft. Heavy blankets pressed down on his body. A pillow was tucked behind his head.
Except… That couldn’t be right, either. He’d made his choice. There was no afterlife for him.
That sweet feminine laughter rang out again. That sweet familiar feminine laughter. Followed by a male’s surprised voice. Then a thud. And a grunt.
He managed to pry his eyes open. Darkness surrounded him, but he had a giant what the fuck? moment when he recognized the outline of the gothic, four-poster bed, the ginormous stone fireplace against the far wall, the velvet furnishings, dark red walls, cathedral ceiling, and the iron chandelier hanging from the peak of the room.
His bedchamber.
In Ehrendia.
Only… That wasn’t possi—
His gaze shot down his body. He pushed the blanket to his hips, blinking at the wounds that were no longer open and oozing on his torso as he remembered. Wounds that were now nothing but thin red lines that would likely disappear by tomorrow.
He should be dead. Completely gone. His hand moved to his abdomen, and he ran his palm over a wound he remembered opening all the way to his ribs.
Disjointed memories—or were they hallucinations?—echoed in his head. He’d put the amulet around Talisa’s neck before the satyrs had attacked. He’d freed her. She’d returned to her realm.
But other images pushed in. Her, wielding two blades. Spinning in the moonlight. Striking out. Slashing through satyr after satyr like a seasoned warrior. Battling her way closer.
Then her silky dark hair falling around his face. Her, tugging a white cotton garment over her head. And her lush lips pressing against his, her tongue claiming his mouth, her taste overwhelming every one of his senses.
Tingles rushed outward from the marking on his hip, causing his skin to warm. Those images had to be part of a dream. Delirium. They couldn’t be real. There was no reason she would ever kiss him.
She didn’t even like him.
But as the thought circled, he had another vision. Of her drawing back from his lips. Staring down with wanton violet eyes. And this time he heard the faintest whisper—in her voice—say, “It’ll never be too late, dios. Not for you and me.”
His heart—a heart that shouldn’t still be beating—kicked up in his chest.
The muffled sound of weapons clanging echoed close again. Twisting his head, he realized they were coming from the courtyard beneath his window.
He rolled, dropped his legs over the side of the bed, and pushed up to sitting. Then groaned.
Motherfucker. He was definitely still healing because that hurt like a bitch. Drawing several deep breaths so he wouldn’t pass out, he glanced down and realized he was naked.
Those images of Talisa straddling his hips pinged around in his brain again. He looked at the sheets beside him, almost thought he could smell her there, but still couldn’t figure out how or why or what the hell was going on.
Grasping the blanket, he wrapped it around himself, then grunted as he stood and hobbled toward the tall, arched window.
Someone had drawn the drapes. As he pulled one side back, sunlight streamed into the room, burning his retinas. He winced and turned away, clutching the blanket ends together at his chest while he blinked rapidly to let his eyes adjust to the brightness.
Voices echoed below. The clash of metal sounded once more. And that familiar feminine laughter rose up in the air, distracting him from the lingering pain in his body.
Several nymphs rushed around the courtyard, but his gaze skipped past them. To the grassy area just beyond. To the blades clanking. Where a handful of other nymphs stood, watching as Rhen and—holy shit—Talisa sparred on the grass.
He closed his eyes, sure he was hallucinating. She couldn’t be here. He’d let her go. Told her to leave. Released her. But when his eyelids lifted and he focused once more, she was still there.
She was no longer wearing the torn and filthy gown his fucked-up head tried to tell him had been stained with blood. Instead, she was dressed in the chunky-heeled,
knee-high boots, tight black pants, long-sleeved blouse, and black leather bustier she’d been wearing the night they’d met in that club. Her hair was pulled back in a neat tail that fell down her sexy spine, her cheeks were flushed, and she wielded that blade with deadly precision, just as she had in those woods against the satyrs.
Holy Hell. That had all been real.
His spine tingled as he watched Talisa battle Rhen back, her weapon whirring through the air as she arced out, the muscles in her arms and legs flexing with the movements. She was like a cat playing with her prey. Every time she’d get close enough for a death blow, she’d back off and give Rhen another chance. He was good, but she was clearly better, and they both knew it.
Talisa backed Rhen into the rock half-wall that separated the courtyard from the grass, smirked and stepped back, lowering her blade. The moment she did, Rhen charged.
Zagreus tensed where he stood at the window watching, but Talisa clearly predicted the move. She ducked under Rhen’s sword, rolled across the grass, popped up, and brought the flat of her blade down against his back.
Rhen froze. Sweaty and breathing hard, he slowly glanced over his shoulder. A slow smile spread across his face. And muffled because of the distance and the glass, Zagreus heard Rhen say, “You win, princess. But I want you to teach me that move.”
Talisa lowered her weapon and smiled. The nymphs clapped in obvious awe. Rhen laughed at something Talisa said. But Zagreus couldn’t focus on their words. He was too busy staring at her face. At the grin across her lush lips that lit up her eyes and made her ten thousand times more beautiful than he remembered.
She was in her element, he realized. Wearing that sinfully sexy get-up, a blade in her hand, doing the one thing she’d been born to do—fight.
Images filled his mind again—the battle with those satyrs; him, falling to the ground; her, leaning over him, pulling on his arms. And her voice, whispering. “I’m not leaving you out here. We’re going back to the castle together.”
Followed by other words. Whispered in his ear. In the dark. He just wasn’t sure where. Or why.
Wicked Page 19
