“He’s seriously fucked…”
There was more to her than met the eye. She was—
“Dude.” Phineus’s hand closed over Titus’s shoulder. He pulled hard, spun Titus around. HIs open palm cracked against Titus’s cheek. “Snap out of it!”
Titus’s head snapped to the side. Worry, confusion, and jolt of fear ricocheted through his cheek, shooting like a rocket into his chest. The air exploded from his lungs. His throat closed. Then pain spiraled through each cell in his body.
His strength rushed out on a wave before he could stop it. He collapsed to his knees, gasping. Fell forward on his hands. Tried like hell to catch his breath.
The emotional transfer didn’t always dissipate quickly. He could control bits and pieces of it if he was ready, but he’d been so distracted by the thought of Natasa, this one had taken him completely by surprise. Luckily, if there was one thing he could count on, it was that the spearing, vicious pain still echoing through his limbs would eventually pass. But in the seconds it took to filter through and finally out, he was as weak as a baby, and fighting the urge to cry out like one.
“Fuck me,” Phineus muttered, reaching for Titus’s arm to haul him up. “What the hell is with you now? I barely touched you.”
Titus weakly managed to knock Phineus’s hand out of the way. “Don’t…touch me.”
“Skata. Something’s wrong.” “I need to get Theron.”
“Don’t you fucking get anyone.” Titus braced both palms on the floor, leaned forward and sucked back air. Sonofafuckingbitch, that hurt. “Especially Theron. I’ll be okay…just…give me a minute.”
He drew in a breath, then another. The emotions slowly receded, and synapse by synapse, his mind came back on line. But she was still there. Natasa. Circling his gray matter. Tempting him. Drawing him toward her with some uncontrollable power.
“Skata, man,” Phin muttered, crouching down so he and Titus were at eye level, careful this time not to touch him. “What’s going on? You went streaking out of that kitchen like you’d seen a freakin’ Fate.”
Not a Fate. His fate.
Or so something deep in his gut told him.
He wanted to find her, but good luck doing that right now in this state. Wherever Natasa had gone, he wasn’t following. And even if he could, he had a pretty strong hunch if he tried, Phin would haul his ass to Theron and tell the leader of the Argonauts that Titus had finally gone completely wacked.
Which probably wasn’t far off the mark.
His strength slowly returning, Titus eased back on his heels and braced his hands on his thighs.
Shit… Hearing voices was bad enough. He didn’t want the others to discover the true extent of his weakness. The fact they knew he didn’t like to be touched was more than he wanted to share. Argonauts couldn’t be weak. They were strong. They were warriors. They were heroes. Not fucked-up mental cases that could be dropped with a simple touch.
Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he swiped it away. Anxiety pushed at his chest for the second time that day, but this time not from missing something he shouldn’t be searching for, from fear of losing the only thing that truly mattered in his life. Serving with the Argonauts was the one thing keeping him sane. And it was high time he remembered that and stopped chasing a superhot wet dream that would only lead to more trouble he didn’t need.
“I’m fine.” Carefully, he rose to his feet, the lie coming easily to his lips—like always. But the disappointment lingered. And would, he knew, long after he’d gone back to his old, isolated life. “I picked up a thought from that servant who was causing a ruckus in the kitchen.”
“What kind of thought?” Phin’s brow wrinkled as he rose to his full height.
“A predatory one.”
When Phin continued to stare at him like he was hovering on the edge of ape-shit crazy, Titus frowned. “Theron told us to be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary, right? With the Misos delegation visiting for the ceremony and the Council in the castle for the day, we need to stay alert. Nick still thinks the Council has a spy planted at the colony.”
Phin’s gaze raked his features, and Titus’s pulse picked up speed again. But whatever the guardian was thinking, this time he kept it carefully locked down. Which wasn’t exactly a good sign.
“Why’d you hit the floor like that?”
“I’ve been under the weather, dickhead.” Titus swiped at the sweat on his forehead again. “Why do you think I’ve been holed up in my room for days?”
“You should be better by now. Have you seen Callia lately?”
The last thing Titus needed was the queen’s personal healer worrying over him again. She was the only person who knew his secret, and he didn’t want to give her any reason not to keep her trap shut. “If I go running to Callia every time I have a little sniffle, Zander will get some crack idea we’re having an affair. And I don’t need Achilles’s I can’t be killed descendent on my ass, thank you very much.”
He didn’t give Phin time to answer, simply moved past the guardian. And this time made sure to intentionally brush his shoulder against Phin’s to kill whatever lingering doubt remained.
Thank the Fates for clothing and armor that prevents the transfer. “We need to stop dicking around and get out there. Weren’t you the one saying they were ready to start?”
Phin’s boots echoed in the corridor at Titus’s back. “You sure you’re up for it?”
No, he wasn’t up for hours of schmoozing with the Council and the colonists and celebrating Atalanta’s death with his guardian brothers. He wanted to find the redhead. But that was a dream he was going to have to let die. For good.
“Let’s just go get this over with.” He pushed the door to the kitchen open once more. “And stop looking at me like I’m a two-headed dragon about to charbroil you, you putz.”
Phineus didn’t laugh at Titus’s crappy joke. Instead, his unspoken thought reached Titus’s ears. A thought that, at least, took Titus’s mind off his own fucked-up issues.
“No, that would be the other way around, smartass.”
Perspiration slicked Natasa’s skin as she dropped with a soft thud onto the balcony of what she hoped was Maelea’s room.
Straightening, she brushed the unruly curls away from her face. She’d ditched the wig and servant’s uniform on an upper floor before climbing down the outside of the castle, thankful to be wearing the easy-moving black pants and fitted top again. The twenty-first century might overwhelm the sense with its abundance of technology, but she definitely liked the clothes.
She took a long, deep draw of late May air then let it out slowly. Yeah, okay, so it wasn’t exactly great timing to be doing this, when the castle was abuzz with activity, but she didn’t have much choice. She was running out of time, and Maelea was nearly her last hope. If the female couldn’t help her…
She lifted a hand to knock on the french doors, and her thoughts strayed to the Argonaut who’d almost caught her in the kitchen. Her hand paused in the air. Sweat slid down her spine. Her pulse thrummed again.
What was it about him that called to her? It was more than his good looks, more than his warrior status and even the strength she sensed within. There was something there, something a place deep inside her wanted to explore. Something that drew her toward him like a parched traveler to an oasis.
A frown pulled at her mouth. A parched traveler? The analogy had never been more appropriate. And she didn’t have time to waste thinking about it.