“Come,” Ilithyia said after Natasa cinched down on the rope. “Queen Aella is waiting.”
The twine cut into his skin, but Titus barely felt it. Because Natasa’s eyes finally met his. And in their emerald depths he saw worry, and the unspoken plea Do this. For me.
His heart picked up speed, and that warmth he’d felt before came rushing back. Her prisoner. He could pretend to be her prisoner for a little while, couldn’t he? Theron had told him to find out who the hell she was and what she was after. By staying with her, he’d only be doing his duty.
Images of being tied beneath her, of being forced to do whatever sinful thing she wanted rushed through his mind.
His blood pulsed, his heart raced, and any lingering doubt disappeared.
Yeah, he could do this. After all, they were just girls. What was the worst that could happen?
“Theron? We have a problem.”
Isadora turned from her sister, Casey, and the prepared speech she was about to give and looked toward the leader of the Argonauts.
The sitting area in her royal office was full. In addition to Theron and her sister, several of the Argonauts were in attendance providing security. Zander and Demetrius stood across the room, quietly speaking, while Gryphon sat with Maelea on the blue velvet couch, his arm around her shoulder, her nerves as palpable as Isadora’s since she had to face the crowd too. In seconds, Isadora was to step out onto the veranda that overlooked the city and address her people with the news that the evil goddess Atalanta was finally dead.
For most, that would be enough to set one’s nerves on edge, but Isadora had bigger issues to deal with. Not only was the Council waiting in the ballroom downstairs with the Misos delegation—a race the Council deemed unworthy—but somewhere in the mix, Nick, the leader of the Misos—a man most hated by the Council—was wandering around, looking for the female that had been in Maelea’s room earlier. Any number of fireworks could go off with the current mix of people in the castle, and the unease Isadora heard in Phineus’s voice about some problem wasn’t helping matters.
Theron pulled the communications gadget Titus had recently been experimenting with from his pocket and pushed a button. “What’s going on, Phin?”
“We lost her.”
“Dammit,” Theron muttered. “Where?”
“Through the portal.”
Isadora handed the papers to her sister and crossed the room to stand at Theron’s side. Tension radiated from his powerful shoulders. Across the elaborate space, she felt Maelea’s worry as if the female were right next to her.
“Well, go after her,” Theron said. “Her coordinates should be easily accessible.”
“Titus did go after her,” Phin said through the com unit. “Grabbed on to her leg as she jumped through. But we can’t follow.”
Theron scrubbed a hand over his head in clear frustration. Casey—his mate—moved to stand on his other side. “Why not?”
“Because something’s wrong with the portal. It’s not working. Orpheus and I have tech guys here looking at it, but the panel’s totally fried. We have no idea where they went or even if Titus can get back through this way.”
Theron shot a look at Demetrius and Zander, then to Gryphon and finally Isadora. “And just how in Hades did that happen?”
“We’re not sure. But, Theron? Man, you should see the guard down here. That female put her hands on him when he got in her way and tried to stop her. His armor damn near melted beneath her palms. Guy’s got third degree burns all over his chest. Callia’s looking at him now, but I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean, skata, even I can’t do that.”
Callia was Zander’s mate and Isadora’s other sister. She was also a trained healer. Gryphon stood from the couch and moved closer. Demetrius and Zander did the same.
Unease flitted through Isadora’s veins. She could tell the guardians were all thinking the same thing as she. Phineus’s gift was the breath of fire, bestowed upon those in his line from the Fates in honor of his forefather, Bellerophon, the great hero who’d slayed the Chimera, a gigantic fire-breathing beast. But Phineus rarely used his gift, for reasons Isadora didn’t quite understand. And the fact he was telling Theron this female—this Natasa—had done something even he couldn’t do, meant things were far worse than they’d all assumed.
“Skata,” Theron muttered. He glanced toward Zander. “Phin, I’m sending Z to you. The queen’s about to take the podium and Demetrius, Gryphon, and I can’t leave just yet. Figure out a way to get that portal working again and find out where the fuck Titus is. Fire-and-brimstone shit goes along with our suspicions that she’s working with Hades and Zagreus. As long as she’s out of Argolea, that’s all I care about. But I want Titus back ASAP. You got me?”
“Got it.”
Theron clicked off the com unit and slid it back in his pocket. At his side, he squeezed Casey’s hand and whispered, “Don’t worry.” Then he turned his attention to Zander. “Find him. The last thing I need is another lost Argonaut. Skata, you guys keep disappearing on me like fireflies.”
Gryphon chuckled, and one side of Demetrius’s lips curled—a smile Isadora loved to see. But her joy was short-lived.
As Zander headed for the door, she looked toward Theron. “Burnt armor? Who is this female?”
“I don’t know,” Theron muttered. “But we’ll find out. Right now, let’s just get this speech over and done with. This celebration is quickly turning into a friggin’ nightmare.”
Reluctantly, Isadora turned for the double doors that led to the veranda. She hadn’t foreseen any of this coming, but then her gift of foresight wasn’t exactly predictable, especially not now when she was pregnant. She waited while Gryphon and Demetrius opened the doors, then drew in a deep breath and prayed Theron was wrong.
They couldn’t afford to lose any of the Argonauts, especially Titus. His gift of reading minds was too valuable to their cause.
Chapter Five
Titus didn’t try to speak to Natasa as they walked through the forest. The looks she shot him and the way she tugged on the damn rope attached to his wrists whenever he slowed to glance around told him not to even try. If it were just the two of them, he’d have tugged back until she fell into him and her skin brushed his again, but the six Amazons with their blades drawn—three in front and three in back—nixed that little fantasy.
Still, his view wasn’t all that bad. Natasa had one fine ass in those fitted black pants, and the way her hips swayed when she walked brought all kinds of other images to mind. Like what she’d look like dressed in a black leather bodysuit, wielding that rope like a whip and ordering him around in a sexy dominatrix voice.
He stepped over a downed log covered in moss and flanked by sword fern. Above, gigantic sequoias rustled in the wind. The weather was cool but not frigid, and the teasing warmth of early summer could be felt in the damp breeze. His gaze followed the thin layer of fog rolling through the maples and red alders. They had to be near a coast somewhere. In a place with gigantic evergreen trees. The redwoods, maybe?
He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that they’d been walking for about three hours, and the rope was starting to seriously piss him off. As was the fact no one—not even the Amazons—seemed to like to talk. Their thoughts he could hear, but he’d stopped focusing on those about thirty minutes into their trek because they weren’t telling him anything that would help his situation. It was mostly meanderings about hunting and skinning deer, concerns about their food supply and speculations about the size of his dick.