She rose from her seat. He blew out the candles, cleared the dishes, and rolled the cart out into the hall. When he came back in, she was standing in the middle of the room, lost and unsure what to do next.
He must have sensed her worry—or maybe he’d read her mind. She realized through dinner he’d answered her unasked questions several times. He disappeared in the giant closet and came back with a pair of yellow silk pajamas and held them out to her. “Come on. You look exhausted.”
Nerves echoed through her belly. She moved to the end of the bed and fingered the silky fabric, careful not to touch him. She could hold her own with Amazons, satyrs, could even best a couple of Olympians, and yet at the moment she felt like the most helpless person in the world. “Are you leaving?”
“Do you want me to?”
She met his eyes. Felt that pull to him in the bottom of her soul—the one she’d felt before. In the redwoods. At the colony. On Ogygia. But this time it was more basic. More electric. More raw. And it overrode everything else.
“No,” she breathed.
“Then I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief was swift and oh so sweet. She managed what she knew was a feeble smile, moved into the bathroom and changed. When she came back out, he’d turned down the lights and pulled back the covers on her side of the bed.
Her heart picked up speed. Memories of the night they’d spent tangled together at the half-breed colony spiraled through her. Stomach tight with anticipation, she slid into bed and pulled the covers up. He sat on the opposite side, tugged off his boots and dropped them on the floor, but he didn’t take off his clothes. And he didn’t climb under the blankets with her. Instead, he lay out on top of the comforter, keeping as many layers of fabric between them as he could.
Silence fell over the room. She stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, blinking back tears of anger and frustration. This was so much harder than she’d expected. How were they ever going to make this work? How long until he got tired of her and went back to his “regular” females—the ones he’d told her about? He was a sexy, virile warrior, and though she believed that he loved her, he’d told her he wasn’t built to be celibate. With her—now—that was all he could be.
He rolled toward her, tucked his hands up by his face. “Don’t think like that,” he said softly. “You are the only one I want. We’ll get through this.”
Great. He was reading her mind again. That was going to get old fast.
She turned her head on the pillow. Moonlight danced across his cheeks, made his hair seem almost white, his skin luminescent. “How?” she whispered.
“I’ll talk to the witches about spells or try drugs or…I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“Titus—”
“This is my problem, Natasa, not yours. I don’t want you to worry. It’s gonna be okay.”
“It’s our problem. You can’t even touch me with your gloves. How is that ever going to be okay?”
“Because…I can’t think about the alternative.”
She closed her eyes against a rush of pain.
“Give it some time, baby. Maybe my reaction to you will lessen as the fire element settles.” His voice strained. “This isn’t going to be our new normal, okay? I won’t let it be.”
Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. The fire element was already settled. That wasn’t going to change. He was grasping for a thread of hope that wasn’t out there. But weakly—for him—she nodded.
“Sleep,” he said gently. “We’ll figure it out.”
He was determined to keep them together, but Hera’s soul mate curse niggled at the back of her mind.
The one person he wanted most in the world, but who was the worst possible match for him.
Yeah, that pretty much summed her up perfectly, now didn’t it?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Titus stood on one of the many roofs of the castle in Argolea and leaned against the railing, looking down at the courtyard below.
June had skipped across the land, the heat of summer bursting flowers on trees and vines, replacing the spring buds and occasional rain. But the warm summer wind blowing across his cheeks and under the collar of his shirt didn’t ease the chill inside. It only reminded him he was as cold and alone as he’d ever been.
“She looks like she’s adjusting fairly well.”
Theron.
Titus didn’t turn. Just continued to watch Natasa and Prometheus in the courtyard below. Midday sun glinted off her flame-red hair. She was wearing tight jeans that molded to her curvy hips and a fitted green T-shirt that matched her eyes. Holding her hand out, she summoned a giant fireball. He watched in awe as she manipulated the flames into a stalk, a fountain, then finally a tight ball again, which she blew away from her hand. The rolling knot of fire floated up in the air, growing smaller the higher it rose, until it finally burned out and disappeared in the sky.
Theron was right. Over the last two weeks, she had adjusted to life in Argolea. Very well. Though the Council was still griping about all the Misos who’d been evacuated to their land, they hadn’t even protested the fact Natasa and her father were here. Of course, the fact Prometheus was a Titan and could smite them in one breath probably didn’t hurt matters.
Prometheus, for his part, was helping the Argonauts look for the last remaining element—water—but so far they’d had no luck. Even he didn’t know exactly where it had landed after he’d scattered the elements in the human world. After thousands of years, the shape of the planet had changed, and water was the most variable of all.
In his spare time, Prometheus was educating the queen about the gods and Krónos and teaching Natasa to use her new gifts. Titus still sometimes had trouble realizing she was the real deal—unquenchable fire. But unlike the Armageddon the ancient texts all made her out to be, she was more. She had the strength to release or control it all within herself. And though eventually she’d be able to manipulate fire into the other elements, she couldn’t yet. Titus still harbored a shitload of anger toward the god who’d passed the fire element to his daughter, knowing it would cause her intense suffering until it consumed and resurrected her, but even he could see Prometheus cared for her.
An eagle soared through the sky, swept over the castle wall, and screeched as it flew above Natasa and her father. It landed a few feet from Natasa on the green grass, spread its wings, and screeched again as if to say, Come over here and pay attention to me. Natasa smiled and held out her hand, then took a step toward the bird. Just before she reached it, the bird fluttered its wings and took off for the sky again. She shielded her eyes against the sun and watched it fly away. But there was a look in her eyes…a sadness…a longing…
Pain.
His heart twisted into a hard knot beneath his ribs. It killed him to see her so unhappy. They’d spent the last two weeks tip-toeing around each other. He was still spending nights with her in her room, but they were both growing increasingly frustrated with the situation. And lying next to her at night when she was asleep was pure agony. To be near her like that and not be able to touch her…
Gods, he hated this. Hated, even more, that Theron was standing behind him now, watching him suffer. He’d decided to stay with the Argonauts—mostly at Natasa’s insistence—but he was only half-committed at best. And Theron knew it.
“How did you find me?” Titus finally asked, unable to stand the silence—and prying eyes.
“I followed the sound of ultimate misery.”
Fucker. Titus huffed. “You’re a comedian now. Great.”