No. No! A groan tore from Natasa’s throat, but the poison was too strong for the sound to reach her ears. Her limbs wouldn’t work. She couldn’t move her body. Paralysis settled in. Why had she ever thought this would save Titus? Her pulse slowed until only a flicker of life remained.
The scent of the sea reached her nostrils. Natasa tried to suck in deep breaths.
Poseidon chuckled, a dark, menacing sound. “Give my regards to my brother in hell, traitor.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“I already told you,” Prometheus insisted again as they flashed to the riverbank outside Calypso’s cottage. “Death is in the hands of the Fates. Not the gods.”
Fuck the Fates. Where were the Fates when Titus had needed them? Nowhere. They’d appeared to the other guardians when their lives had been in turmoil, but not to him. Probably because they were the ones who’d screwed him over to begin with.
He tamped down the resentment and focused on the only thing that mattered: Natasa. Grinding his teeth, he nodded toward the small house. “Go.”
From somewhere inside, a scream echoed. Prometheus’s eyes widened.
Titus bolted for the door.
Natasa lay as he’d left her, still as stone on the kitchen table, her head tipped to the side, her red, silky curls falling over the butcher-block surface. His heart lurched. Slowly he stepped next to her and laid his hand over hers against her stomach.
Cold.
“Come on, baby…” He gripped her hand and felt for her pulse at her throat.
Nothing.
Another scream echoed from somewhere in the house, but Titus was too panicked to wonder where it was coming from.
Come on, come on, come on…
Zander and Demetrius tore off toward a back room. Theron moved up slowly on Titus’s side. Titus’s fingers shook as he continued to feel for any sign of life. “Come on, ligos Vesuvius…”
Footsteps echoed at Titus’s back. He felt, rather than saw, Prometheus in the room. At the back of the house, a crack sounded, followed by a female scream and the crash of furniture splintering.
A blip. Right there against her throat. Hope surged. Titus gripped Natasa’s shoulders. Shook her. “Wake up, baby…”
“Fotia,” Prometheus whispered.
“Zeus will be sorry he wasn’t here to see this.”
A chill spread down Titus’s back, and he froze. Very carefully, he lifted his head and looked toward the sound of the voice. In a doorway on the far side of the room, a blond-haired, blindingly beautiful god stood staring his direction. Only he wasn’t looking at Titus; he was staring through him, toward Prometheus.
Blood dripped down Prometheus’s side. His hair was a wild gray tangle around his head. He stepped out from behind Titus. At his side, Theron moved toward the door and muttered, “T, get back.”
“Well, well. Look who’s free?”
“Poseidon. Still as big a pussy as your brothers.”
Thoughts pinged around the room. Titus looked from one menacing face to the next. Prometheus didn’t appear fragile anymore. He stood erect, as if he’d grown two feet, and tension flowed in the air, as thick as blood.
Behind Poseidon, Demetrius carried a ragged Calypso in his arms. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes wide and frightened, her dress ripped at the shoulder and hem.
Poseidon spread his feet and nodded toward the blood trickling down Prometheus’s side. “Still nursing old wounds, I see, uncle.”
“And you’re still forcing yourself on unwilling nymphs,” Prometheus tossed back. “Why don’t you go back to the sea where you belong before you get hurt?”
Poseidon’s eyes narrowed. “She’s mine, not yours, thief.”
Prometheus’s eyes flashed. “I only stole that which already belonged to humans. Nothing more. Your king is more of a thief than I could ever be.”
They were talking about fire. The fire Prometheus had stolen from Zeus and which had led to his imprisonment.
“And I’m stealing it back,” Poseidon answered. “She made a deal with me, and I’m not letting her go. Alive or dead, she belongs to me.”
Titus’s gaze shot to Natasa, lying unmoving beneath his hands. A deal. She’d made a deal with Poseidon.
For you. So he can’t have the element…
She’d made a deal with the god of the oceans to keep her fever in check. Her rambling admission last night that she’d dreamt of him, that she was sorry she hadn’t waited, finally made sense
“Stupid, ligos Vesuvius,” he whispered, leaning close and running his finger over her soft cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your deal backfired.” Prometheus stretched his arm toward Natasa. “And fire is stronger than water, Olympian. Remember that.”
Heat erupted beneath Titus’s fingers. The table burst into flames. He jerked his hands back on reflex, cringing at the burn. Natasa’s emerald-green eyes flew wide open. Her lips parted, and a blood-curdling scream pushed out her throat.
“No!” Poseidon yelled.
The house shook, and a deluge of rain poured from the ceiling. But the flames beneath and around Natasa only grew higher. The fire spread down the table legs, along the floor and to the walls, climbing in swirling, angry eddies until the entire house was engulfed in flames.
“Titus!” Theron yelled.
Titus ducked as the fire spread across the ceiling. He held up a hand to block the heat from searing his skin. From across the room, Poseidon’s eyes flashed brilliant blue. He shot a scathing look toward Prometheus and growled, then disappeared in a crack of thunder.
Zander and Demetrius rushed out of the house with Calypso. Prometheus looked back at Natasa on the table. A sad expression turned his lips, then he lowered his head hastily and followed the Argonauts.
Natasa continued screaming as her body was burned alive. Horrified, Titus reached for her, but the flames erupted around her, as if protecting her from his touch. He fell back on his ass.
“Titus!” Theron yelled again.
Smoke filled his lungs. Heat singed his hair. A hand grasped his sleeve. Yanked him up. Pulled hard toward the exit.
“No! Let me go!” Titus fought against Theron’s grasp. “I can’t leave her! I can’t—”
An earsplitting crack echoed. Titus looked up just as the beams above gave way.
“Go, now!”
Theron threw Titus out of the house and onto the grass before they were caught in the inferno. Rain poured down around them, soaking their clothing, their skin, running in rivulets down Titus’s face. The small structure exploded in flames. Each droplet of water seemed to spur the blaze higher instead of dampen the fire.
Titus dropped to his knees in the mud and rested his hands on his thighs. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Wet hair hung in clumps in front of his eyes.
Natasa…
His entire world had ignited in that house. Everything he hadn’t known he’d needed. Not just his chance to finally be free of his curse, but his heart. A heart that would always belong to her.
Natasa blinked several times.