by Lazu, Sotia
A Guard for the Titan
TITANS, Volume 3
Sotia Lazu
Published by Acelette Press, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A GUARD FOR THE TITAN
First edition. October 29, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Sotia Lazu.
Written by Sotia Lazu.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
A Guard for the Titan (TITANS, #3)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Rhea
Epilogue
Previous books in the TITANS series:
Book 0 – Under (FREE)
Book 1 – A Nereid for the Titan
Book 2 – A Maid for the Titan
(Sign up for Sotia’s Newsletter, and get your FREE copy of Breathe – TITANS 2.5)
Chapter One
Mid-August in Athens was a drag. Well, not for other people. The city had much to offer when the crowds had fled to the islands, but Iphigenia wasn’t among the lucky ones who got to experience it. No. She was spending the night in the Acropolis museum. Alone.
Why did she even have to be here? Who in their right mind would break into this place? To steal what? Archeological stuff went for millions, probably, but they were hard to carry unnoticed, and it wasn’t like someone could rob the most prominent museum in Greece and get away with it.
But the job paid her rent, so she wouldn’t complain about it. Much.
She looked from one monitor to the next—again—and sighed. It wasn’t even midnight yet, and she barely kept her eyes open. The rest of the year, the night shift was taken by two people at a time, but nothing worked in Greece in August. She and Petros had flipped for who would stay back, and she lost. So she got to watch flickering screens and pray for morning.
Something caught her eye in the far-left feed. Movement in the Marble Conservation unit? She studied the image. Shifted the camera. Checked the other cameras in that room.
Nope. Nothing to see there, except for the incredibly lifelike oversize statue of her guy. The faint glow of the safety exit signs reflected off his eyes, making them shine.
Her guy. She had the hots for a statue. No wonder, when her sex life was nonexistent since she broke things off with Pavlos.
She checked the rest of the units, saw nothing, as expected—even crime seemed to go on vacation in August—and ducked to the mini fridge by the desk, for yesterday’s meatball pasta. No food or drink was allowed near the equipment in the security department, which worked out fine, because she’d rather eat with her guy.
She needed a life.
Iphigenia took her food to the kitchen, blitzed it in the microwave oven, and skipped down the stairs. Her pulse sped up as she approached Marble Conservation. It was silly, but the highlight of her nights this week was eating and talking to what was believed to be the statue of a Titan.
She was at work when they first brought him in, four months ago, and couldn’t tear her gaze away as they uncovered him.
Even down on one knee, he was larger than life, and he was gorgeous, despite the dirt, algae, barnacles, and marine debris clinging to him. The sculptor who carved him out of marble had done an amazing job. Iphigenia could see the tension in every corded muscle as he raised his head defiantly at an unknown enemy, and his eyes seemed to see right through her, though the irises were blank.
And she was in desperate need of an actual flesh-and-blood man to obsess over.
She pulled out a stool from the working bench and sat facing him, her dinner in her lap.
“So how was your day?” she asked, twirling her fork in the pasta. The camera would record her eating—which was a no-no here too, so she’d be careful—but its position kept her face hidden, so nobody would see her talking to herself. “Mine was boring. Mom called, to tell me for the millionth time I should quit from any job that makes you come in on Dekapentavgoustos”—the fifteenth of August, the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, was a major holiday in largely Christian Orthodox Greece—“and go back home, to Ioannina. You know the drill. Find a nice guy, settle down, spawn a couple kids...” Certainly not work for a living, and especially not as a security guard. Not what a woman should be doing with her life was her father’s mantra when her job was mentioned.
The flash of gold that brightened the statue’s eyes was gone so fast, she must have imagined it. And his jaw seemed clenched a little tighter. Or it was the fact that the scientists working on him had cleaned his face and upper body, uncovering more details she’d missed before.
Do you want to go back home?
Where did that come from? As far as she was concerned, back home was only for Christmas and Easter. Summer was for Mykonos and Santorini and Milos, and any of the dozens of Greek islands with stretches of sandy beach.
The sense of relief that flooded her felt foreign.
She looked around, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. She was alone. Of course she was alone. She and her Titan.
“Wish you were real,” she said. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be intimidated by a woman who speaks her mind.” Or by anything, judging by the fierceness in his blind gaze.
I’m not. I like a strong female.
The answer came in a deep male voice. In her head. Lovely. Now her fantasy guy talked to her too.
She speared a meatball with her fork, securing the pasta, and brought it to her mouth. Not bad, though it could use more grated cheese. Her culinary skills were far from enviable, but she was improving. Mom would be proud.
“This is nice,” she said with her mouth full. Not like her Titan would mind.
She studied his stiff shoulders and tight chest. He looked like he worked out, but not at a gym. It was easy to picture him building a house with his own large hands.
Was all of him big?
Naughty. She smirked to herself.
The crew hadn’t fully uncovered him from the waist down. She’d heard he was found half buried in the bottom of the sea, near Rhodes. He could be a water deity—Poseidon himself—but a different name clung to her thoughts. Atlas. The Titan forced by Zeus to hold the sky in place.
Zeus couldn’t force me to do anything.
Her breath caught, as the mental image of him naked filled her head. His feet were planted at shoulder width, legs slightly bent at the knee and muscular thighs straining. His stomach was ribbed, his pecs and biceps bulging as he raised his arms over his head, balancing his invisible precious cargo. Even half-erect, he was long and thick, and when Iphigenia licked her lips, it wasn’t to taste the tomato sauce.
She shook off the thought and its effect, stuffed more pasta in her mouth, and swallowed it only half-chewed. “Petros is right. I need to get laid.” Only her work-buddy meant with himself, and serial daters weren’t her style.
She tilted her head at the statue she’d decided was Atlas—it had to be him; it felt right. “You’re not a serial dater, are you? Of course you’re not. You’re... a hunter. A provider. You bring home the bacon, but you don’t expect your little woman to be the one who cooks it. You like her to challenge you. To be smart and funny. And se
xy. It doesn’t scare you when she tells you what she likes.” Even if it leaned a little toward kinky.
It was getting hot in here. The collar of her shirt felt constricting. If there were no cameras in the room, she’d pop a couple of buttons, but it wouldn’t look professional if someone decided to browse through tonight’s footage.
Neither would rubbing against Atlas’ hard body.
Okay, she needed to eat and go back to her station, before she did something more stupid than talking to a piece of marble.
The statue’s eyes shone again, and this time it was definitely not a reflection. Maybe there were gems or pieces of glass inset in the irises? Had glass been invented when the statue was sculpted?
She stood, placed her dinner on the stool, and approached to take a closer look. God, his face was breathtaking, with the square jawline and chiseled cheekbones. His lips looked generous even drawn in a snarl, and his wild, long hair was uncharacteristically unadorned, compared to the other statues she’d seen around the museum. He looked like a man ready to take on the world. And his eyes were now purely gold.
Chapter Two
Up close like this, she smelled even better than the food that had him pining for his sense of taste since she set foot inside this chamber. She carried with her the scent of flowers and ripe, plump fruit. And she was gorgeous. Her midnight-black curls were begging to be loosed from that tight bun, and for him to dig his fingers in them.
There were two problems with that fantasy—he was currently five meters tall, and he was encased in marble.
No matter. He shouldn’t be having the urge to touch a female that didn’t belong to him.
When the archeologists fished him out of his watery grave, he’d thought his punishment was over. That he’d finally be taken out of stasis and allowed to catch up on all he’d lost. He’d find his Pleione and be complete again.
But Pleione hadn’t come to him, and he was still here, on a land that was the same yet different, listening daily to people speaking a mangled version of the Greek he once knew.
His mind-reading power had returned to a degree, and he’d absorbed the knowledge those who touched him had of the current world—a world for whom Titans and Olympians were creatures of myth. Still, he couldn’t touch Iphigenia’s mind except for the few occasions she opened her thoughts to him.
Like now.
Iphigenia reached for him, and her small palm seared his cheek.
She found him as fascinating as he did her, and despite himself, he praised Zeus for freezing him in place in this position, so he was almost eye-level with her. Beneath the thick fringe of dark lashes, the green specks in her hazel eyes made a stark contrast with the pallor of her face, and her full, rosy lips were kissable.
But he couldn’t kiss her. Because she was flesh, and he was marble. And his heart belonged to Pleione.
Pleione might have moved on in the eternity they’d been apart though, and when Iphigenia touched him like this, his soul felt complete.
“Wish you were real,” Iphigenia said again.
“I am real,” he wanted to scream.
She snatched back her hand and let out a startled laugh. “I’m going crazy. Not like you can talk in my head.”
He could, but he didn’t want to scare her away, so he tried hard not to project his thoughts. Her proximity tugged at every cell of his body. With the exception of Pleione, he’d never been so drawn to a female. Damn Zeus and damn Kronos. Atlas should never have stood by his brother’s side in the fight against the Olympians, but Kronos had convinced him Zeus was a threat to Titans.
Kronos had been right.
Zeus no longer existed though, or if he did, he was powerless enough that humans weren’t aware of his presence. And Atlas never felt so close to breaking free.
His still heart ached. If Zeus had faded away, perhaps so had the Titanesses. For all Atlas knew, Zeus might have gone after the females once he was done with the males. There was no mention of their fate in what Atlas had gleaned of the Greek Mythology in his rescuers’ minds.
“Your eyes aren’t glowing anymore.” Iphigenia’s voice pulled him back to the present. She rolled her eyes. “My mind’s playing tricks on me.”
He ached to ask her to stay, but it would get him nowhere. Her shift would end, and she’d leave. And in a few days, when the rest of the security guards were back, she’d no longer be able to come to him for their odd, one-sided chats.
The thought of losing this limited interaction with her tore a gash deep inside him.
It was because she was the only one who talked to him like she saw him. Not because she was special.
“It’s the dark, kicking my imagination into overdrive. I was never fully weaned off my night-light,” she mused, not moving away. “Pavlos hated it. We’d fight about it almost every night. He said he couldn’t sleep with a light on, even if it was no brighter than a candle. I couldn’t sleep without it, not because I was annoyed—unlike his grouchy ass—but because I was afraid. He never got that.” The man never got much of her, from what she’d told Atlas, which was why she’d left him a week before they were to be wed.
Smart girl.
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “It’s not uncomfortably dark in here. I mean, I can see all around the room. But knowing I’m alone and underground...” She laughed again, and the sound sunk through the marble, to soothe Atlas’ aching soul. “Being alone is supposed to be a good thing in this case. Means no intruders, which makes my life easier.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Atlas saw movement. He couldn’t turn his head to see better, but there was definitely a dark shape at the other end of the room, closing in on them.
“Behind you,” he yelled in Iphigenia’s mind. The words struck the walls around them and bounced back to him. He’d spoken them aloud.
Her eyes widened. “You... You can talk?” She leaned in closer and placed two fingers on his lips.
Behind her, the shape was close enough for Atlas to see it was a male. And he held a weapon. A gun, according to the memories Atlas had absorbed.
Iphigenia was only armed with a Taser—she’d told him last time she came down here—and still studied Atlas’ face instead of spinning toward the intruder.
She’d have no time to defend herself.
A second man sneaked up beside the first one, pointed at Iphigenia and mouthed something, and the first one nodded.
They would harm her, unless Atlas did something. Now.
Before he realized he was moving, he leapt upright, curled his body around hers, and blinked the two of them to the last place he remembered being at—Mount Othrys.
Hazel eyes impossibly wide, Iphigenia pushed at his chest and kicked her legs. “Let me go.”
Atlas carefully set her on her feet, and after a moment’s consideration focused on condensing his mass, to reduce his height to that of a tall human. He still towered over her, but he didn’t want to intimidate her.
It worked, judging by how she glared at him. “What are you?” she asked. When he opened his mouth, she cut him off with a raised palm. “Never mind. I’m dreaming, and any moment now I’ll slide off the stool and bust my head.” She took a step back, looked around, and frowned. “Christ, my subconscious is a dark place. Wake up, Iphigenia. Come on, girl.”
Atlas was surprised his lips could still form a smile. “You’re not dreaming.” The words came easy in Modern Greek, though maybe he should let her believe that. It’d certainly make things easier and keep her from panicking.
But she didn’t seem anywhere near hysterics, as she glanced from side to side speculatively. He took in the scenery too. With the stars above as the only source of light, it wasn’t easy for human sight to register the houses in the distance, but he saw them, and they were more or less the only thing that had changed since he called this place home. The terrain was still rocky, with sparse flora, and the air smelled clean and pure.
Atlas filled his lungs with unneeded oxygen. He was free. He
could move again. He could search for his Titaness.
Though he felt anchored to this small human female... No. Not anchored. Responsible for her. He’d take her to safety, and then go off on his journey. First though, he’d tell her the truth. It felt like the right thing to do. If she didn’t believe him, he’d erase the past few minutes from her memory. He was back to his true self; he had the power to do so.
“We are on Mount Othrys, where Zeus attacked us,” he told Iphigenia.
“Us?” She arched a brow, but her gaze skipped all over the place.
He shrugged. “Us, Titans.”
She nodded, too composed for a human who just found out Titans existed. “Huh. I didn’t know I knew that,” she muttered.
Her words didn’t make sense. He tried to read her thoughts again, but it didn’t work. “I don’t understand.”
A few curls had escaped her updo, and the wind swirled them around her head, much as it did his long tresses. She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “I can’t dream up something I don’t know, even if I’m not aware of it when I’m awake.”
Ah. This explained her demeanor. “This is not a dream, Iphigenia.” He took her hand and was glad she didn’t pull away. “I am a Titan, and I’ve been trapped in statue form since Zeus fought my brother—his father—over this world.”
She snorted. “So you just decided to wake up now and take me on a stroll to Mount What’s-its-Name?”
“Othrys. And I didn’t decide it. Two armed men were about to attack you. I reacted. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to take you. This world hasn’t been mine in eons.”
She took a step back, and then another, her expression guarded. “You’re telling me I’m alone, in the middle of nowhere, with a very naked Titan, who can change his size and teleport anywhere he pleases?”
Teleport. A much more descriptive term than blinking. “Only to places I’ve been before or seen in—” Humans’ minds, but she didn’t let him finish.
