She was soft everywhere he was hard. Warm where he was cold. And the scent of her skin—a mixture of citrus, vanilla, and spices—left him lightheaded and aching to taste her. Everywhere.
Sampling her was all he could think about, all he could focus on as he lifted his wrist to his lips and sank his teeth into the tough flesh until the coppery tang of blood flooded his tongue.
He tugged his wrist away and held it over her parted lips. “You’re mine, mona mia. Your mind might not remember me, but your body does. It’s why you found me tonight.” His blood dripped into her mouth and slid across her tongue, connecting her to his life force. “And this will ensure that I can always find you.”
He watched as a droplet fell over her bottom lip, staining her perfect, pale skin bright red. And he fought the urge to lick it up with his tongue and press it deep into her mouth, where other, more arousing parts of his body belonged.
Oh, how he wanted that. Wanted to feel her lips and tongue sliding over every inch of his flesh. But there would be time for that later. A lifetime to remind her what he liked.
After she submitted to him in every way possible.
Heat erupted in the marking on his hip and spread through his groin as he pressed his bloody wrist against her lips and leaned close to her ear. A heat that left him hard and hot and ready in a way he hadn’t been in over five hundred years.
“You belong to me, mono mia,” he whispered. “You always have. I’ll make you remember. I’ll make you feel it too even if I have to force you. Because I’m never letting you go. You’re mine, female. You’re all mine now. Forever.”
* * *
“Everything looks good,” Delia said from the other side of the drape while Cynna pulled her cream sweater down over her black leggings then sat on the chair and tugged on her knee-high black boots. “Right on track. Have you shared the good news with your sister yet?”
“No, not yet.” Cynna slid the zipper up on the first boot, then did the same on the second, thinking of her half-sister, the queen of Argolea, and the stress this kind of news might cause her. “Nick’s still too worried to tell anyone. He’s sworn me to secrecy.”
As Cynna stepped out from behind the drape, Delia turned from the desk where she sat making notes on Cynna’s chart and smiled Cynna’s way, her white hair catching the light from above. “I hate to point out the obvious, but neither of you are going to be able to keep it secret much longer.”
Frowning, Cynna rubbed a hand over her growing belly and crossed the colorful rug in the small medical clinic Delia ran in the witches’ tent city high in the mountains outside Tiyrns. “Tell me something I don’t already know. In another week or so I expect him to start locking me in the house where no one can see me.”
Delia grinned. “I recall a time not long ago when you didn’t mind being locked anywhere with your mate.”
“I still don’t. But we talked about this before we decided to have this child, and he assured me he’d be reasonable. Ever since I told him I was pregnant, though, he’s turned into a complete nutcase. I’m ready to send him to a funny farm.”
Delia chuckled and pushed to her feet. “That’s a worried male for you. Especially an overprotective one. It makes sense he’s a little stressed, though. Especially knowing who his brothers are.”
Right. Zeus and Hades.
Even though Cynna had been with Nick nearly twenty-eight years, there were days when she forgot her mate was Krónos’s bastard son. That he was a god himself. That he was more powerful than nearly every being in this realm. When they were alone together, when his arms were around her and her cheek was pressed against his chest, he was just Nick. Her sanity. Her reason for living. The only person in the world who’d been able to save her from herself.
“And,” Delia went on, “he has every reason to stay vigilant, especially now that we know Zagreus has been released by the Fates.”
Cynna’s stomach tightened, and she protectively touched her belly again.
Delia, being one of the strongest witches in their land, had sensed the moment Zagreus had been released from his latest imprisonment. Cynna still wasn’t sure why the Fates had let him go, and she told herself he wouldn’t come looking for her, that he had no interest in her anymore, but always in the back of her mind, she worried.
She’d voluntarily spent nearly a year with the Prince of Darkness as his “mistress.” He’d told her numerous times that she was his. That she would never get away from him. Then she’d betrayed him by falling in love with one of his prisoners—Nick—and they’d both escaped Zagreus’s lair together.
Plus, she’d helped Nick come into his god-powers. Her actions had resulted in Hades destroying Zagreus’s home. And the fallout from all of that had been Zagreus being sent to the Underworld for gods only knew what kind of inhuman torture before being imprisonment with the Fates. For twenty-five years.
Nerves prickled her skin. After all that, after Zagreus’d had time to think about her year with him, the minor god had to know Cynna had lied to him. That she’d never been the one he’d been looking for. Yes, twenty-five years was a lifetime to some, but a blink of an eye to an immortal. Now that he was free, he had to be thankful she was no longer a distraction.
Wouldn’t he?
Cynna’s gaze skipped over Delia’s features as fear churned in her chest. The witch was an elder in her community, wise beyond her years, but to those around her she was youthful and beautiful. The only feature that gave away her age was her snow-white hair. “Have you seen something in your visions? In your glass?”
“No. Wherever the Prince of Darkness is hiding, it is beyond my sight.”
Cynna breathed easier. Delia was able to use water and mirrors to search for beings in this world and other realms. If she couldn’t see Zagreus, it meant he wasn’t in Argolea or anywhere close.
“But something stirs inside him,” Delia said, her piercing blue eyes locked on Cynna’s. “I feel it gathering strength, spurring him toward a goal I cannot bring into focus just yet. And it is making him stronger. I told you once that he is more than Hades’s son. You and your mate would be wise to remember that he is more powerful than the Argonauts believe him to be. And that he does not forget. Ever.”
Well… shit.
Icy fingers of dread tiptoed down Cynna’s spine. She placed her other hand protectively on her belly. Where Zagreus was concerned, nothing and no one was ever safe.
The tent flap behind Cynna rustled, and seconds later a witch with light purple hair stuck her head into the clinic. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Delia.” The witch bowed slightly then quickly looked toward Cynna. “You have a visitor. They said it was an emergency.”
The conversation with Delia pushed Cynna’s worry right back to the forefront, and she immediately thought of her mate. But when the witch stepped aside, it wasn’t one of his men from Kyrenia where she and Nick lived who appeared in the doorway. It was Cynna’s niece.
Cynna’s worry quickly shifted to her sister. “Elysia? What’s wrong? What’s happened? Is it Isadora?”
“She’s fine.” Elysia gripped Cynna’s hand. Her face was flushed, her dark hair wind-blown, and her skin was pale, as if she’d just seen a ghost. But her grip was strong. “My mother is fine. She’s with my other aunts. But I need to take you to them.”
“Why?” Cynna asked, brows drawn low. They weren’t Cynna’s family. Casey and Callia were Isadora’s half-sisters on her father’s side, the late king. Cynna was related to Isadora through their mother.
“Because you’re the only one who may be able to tell us where he took her. Or what he plans to do with her.”
“He who?” When Elysia tugged on her hand, Cynna pulled back, staring at her niece in complete bewilderment. “And who did he take?”
“Talisa,” Elysia said, meeting her gaze. “Zagreus has Talisa. He grabbed her and poofed right out of that club in the human realm as if he’d been waiting for her. And he called her mono mia.”
Cynna suck
ed in a shocked breath.
Fear filled Elysia’s eyes. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
Horrified, Cynna slowly nodded.
She’d been wrong. Zagreus was not coming for her. But this news would ultimately draw her and Nick right back into his path.
“Then Cerek was right,” Elysia said. “You are the only one who can save her now.”
* * *
Darkness surrounded Talisa. She blinked several times, only everything was fuzzy in her line of sight, and she couldn’t see more than a dim orange glow from somewhere close.
Groggy, she tried to sit up, but the pounding in her head caused her to lie right back down.
Lifting a hand to her forehead, she cringed when her fingertips passed over a tender lump and slid into her hair.
At some point she’d taken a hard hit to the head, but she was having trouble remembering when that was or who had hit her. And....
Weird. Her hair was loose. She’d had it pulled back from her face before. She was almost sure. Her skin also smelled like…
Lilacs? That was even more bizarre.
Confused, she dropped her hand to her side only to realize she was lying on something soft—a bed—and there was a blanket covering her legs. She lifted her head and blinked several times again to bring the light comforter into view, then the wooden footboard of the bed, and the dark silhouette of—
She sucked in a breath and stilled as she squinted and tried to see clearer. Someone was sitting in a chair across the room. Someone big. Someone who was watching her from the shadows.
A weird sense of déjà vu rippled through her. That she’d been in this situation before. That she’d been watched like this in the past. That the person, male, being seated across from her wasn’t a stranger as her mind wanted her to believe. But that he was familiar. Known.
Hers.
“I see you’re finally awake,” the deep male voice said. The memorable voice. Zagreus’s voice. “That’s good, since we have much to discuss.”
This time it wasn’t just familiarity that rolled through her. It was heat. Wicked, sinful, sizzling heat. A heat something in the back of her mind said she’d experienced before. With him.
She sat up slowly, tamping down the ridiculous warmth inside, and scooted back into the pillows, thankful she wasn’t restrained.
She wasn’t sure what had happened in the time between his bringing her to this room and now, but the darkness out the windows told her it was still night. And she was wearing some kind of thin white nightgown that made her think someone—hopefully someone who was not him—had stripped, bathed, and dressed her.
She smoothed the blanket over her lap and worked to keep her temper in check. Losing it never won her any battles with her father or the Argonauts, and she knew it would win her even less with Zagreus. Plus, she could tell whatever spell he’d cast on her before was still working.
“Wh—” Her voice wavered, so she cleared it quickly and said stronger, “Where am I?”
“The Kingdom of Ehrendia.”
Shock hit. That she was actually in the mystical nymph kingdom. She’d heard rumors of its existence, of the magickal things that happened there, but no one from her realm had ever actually found it. She opened her mouth to say just that then remembered who had brought her here.
Zagreus. The Prince of Darkness. The god with a reputation for abducting and torturing nymphs.
Her back tensed, and she quickly closed her mouth.
In the shadows, he shifted in his seat but made no move to stand and come toward her—something she was thankful for.
“It’s protected,” he said. “The borders of this realm. In case you’re wondering. No one can enter without my knowledge. No one knows you’re here. And no one is going to come looking for you here, least of all your little Argonaut friends.”
So he knew she was Argolean. She glanced down at her arms, relieved the markings on her skin were covered by the long sleeves. If he’d been the one to change her, though, he had to have seen them.
Not that she cared. She lifted her chin. “And why am I here?”
The question she really wanted answered was why are you here? But she knew not to ask it. Knew that the answer was simply so he could torment some nymphs, as was his pattern.
“Because this is my home.” He leaned back in his seat, looking relaxed and at ease, not a bit on edge as she felt.
“You live here?” She almost huffed. “This is a far cry from the cenote lair you last occupied in the Yucatan.”
One side of his lips ticked up in the shadows. A smirk that shot another sultry blast of heat all through her. “My cenote lair was memorable.” His humor faded. “Of course, it was demolished long ago. Which you already know.”
His father had obliterated Zagreus’s underground hideout nearly twenty-eight years ago when he’d discovered Zagreus had double-crossed him.
Talisa wasn’t exactly sure why Zagreus had betrayed the god-king of the Underworld, nor did she care. The gods were always deceiving each other for one reason or another. All she cared about right now was learning something useful she could use to get out of this nightmare. And not antagonizing the powerful immortal in front of her.
Her mind spun with what she could ask without doing just that.
He leaned forward to rest his muscular forearms on his knees. “I know you have questions, mono mia. Now is your chance to ask them.”
She blinked several times. Mono mia? My only one?
What the hell did he mean by that? And why in Hades did it sound so damn decadent?
She shook off the strange feeling of déjà vu—again—and clenched her jaw. “Who changed me into”—she lifted her arms and looked down at the silly white gown—“this?”
“The nymphs. After they bathed you. You were muddy from before.”
Before. When she’d tried to run from him and tumbled into the dirt.
“Where are my clothes?”
“Being cleaned and mended.”
“When do I get them back?”
“When I decide you deserve them.”
He had her clothes, which meant he had her dagger, dammit. She glanced around the barren room. The shelves were now empty. Any books or candlesticks she could use as weapons had been removed.
Her temper inched up, but she worked to keep it in check. “Where are my friends?”
He studied her a minute, and she was sure he wasn’t going to answer, then he surprised her and said, “The male opened a portal after we left and sent the female home.”
“How do you know that?”
“My traveling companion saw it happen. He reported the news to me after we arrived here.”
She hadn’t noticed any companion with Zagreus in that club but refrained from asking more. She was just thankful Elysia was safe. “What about Max?”
“The blond male who attacked me?”
Her jaw clenched. He knew exactly who she was talking about. And Max had been defending her, not attacking for no reason.
Zagreus shifted his weight to one hand on his thigh and shrugged. “I have no idea. Probably dead.”
She pushed out of the pillows and gasped. “You ordered your satyrs to kill him? You son of a—”
“I already told you, they weren’t my satyrs.” His words were clipped, his voice harsh, and any friendliness she thought she’d heard before was long gone. “And I’ll remind you who you’re speaking to, female.”
Her mouth snapped shut. All too late she remembered he was a god. A powerful one. One who could incinerate her with a flick of his wrist. But that word—dead—was all she could focus on.
“This male meant something to you,” Zagreus said in the silence.
“Yes,” she snapped, working like hell not to yell. Trying—at the same time—not to give in and cry. “H-he was my cousin.”
Zagreus stared at her so long, she was sure he was just waiting for her to completely break down, but she wasn’t about to give him that. She swallowe
d back the misery and lifted her chin—again.
He dropped his hand from his leg and shrugged once more. “Well, if he’s of any special importance, those satyrs will realize it before they kill him. He could still be alive yet.”
“Special importance for what? For you?”
“Not for me. Regardless of what you think you know, I have no ties to the satyrs anymore.”
He pushed out of his seat before she could ask what that meant. But instead of stepping toward her as she expected, he turned for the door. “The satyrs may no longer be mine, but you are. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
He yanked the heavy wood door open and glanced back with a withering look that stopped her from popping off again. “The candlestick was a bad idea. You’ll remain in this room until you can prove you’re no longer a threat. Tomorrow night, you’ll join me for dinner. If you can get through that without incident, I’ll consider letting you out of this tower. But don’t get any bright ideas. The castle walls are heavily guarded. I see everything, and this, princess, is your new normal. The choice to be a prisoner or a guest is entirely yours.”
He stepped through the doorway but paused with one hand holding the old wood door open.
“And just for the record,” he added, this time not looking at her, “your being here is not a coincidence. It’s destiny. You found me, mono mia, not the other way around. You can fight that feeling all you want, but it won’t go away. It’ll just burn hotter until you give in to it. Or until you die.”
He turned his head and pinned her with eyes that pierced her very soul. “Running won’t save you. Not from what’s inside you, and never from me.”
The door snapped closed, followed by a loud clank that told her he’d locked her in.
As his footfalls faded on the stairs, she gasped and stared into the glowing embers of the fire he must have lit in the big stone fireplace across the room, trying to make sense of everything.
She had no idea what his words meant. Coincidence? Destiny? He was speaking in riddles. And how the hell did he know what she felt? He couldn’t. She didn’t feel anything for him, dammit! Nothing but contempt.
Wicked: Eternal Guardians Page 8
