His breath caught. Slowly, one side of her kiss-me lips curled. And as his gaze zeroed in on only her, his blood flowed fast and hot. This time not from fear of falling to his death, but from excitement. Pure, unadulterated, sexual excitement.
No way was he done with her. Not by a long shot. No matter what Theron and the others said. Before this was over, she was going to be his.
Good gods…
Natasa swiped at her forehead, brushing aside the perspiration. She should have left well enough alone and let him fall to his death. Why hadn’t she? And why in Hades did the man—no, nix that…hero—put the human term “Greek god” to shame?
Disgusted, she let her feet drop to the ground, released the rope and headed for the crowd in the streets outside the main gates. She didn’t bother to see if he followed. Didn’t trust herself. If it weren’t for that stupid bird screaming like a banshee, she might not have looked back to begin with.
Keep telling yourself that, missy.
Her mind drifted to the sight of Titus pulling himself up on the wall walk. Muscular, sexy, panting to catch his breath. Her skin heated, and that internal temperature gauge she worked to control jumped another degree. She hoped he had the sense to check the rope before descending that wall after her. No way it would hold his weight. It had barely held hers.
Why do I freaking care?
More frustrated with herself than ever, she clenched her jaw and wove between Argoleans anxious for words from their queen. The crowd was thicker than she’d anticipated. They’d gathered in the mall in front of the main gates of the castle. She pushed and maneuvered her way through bodies. Her boot slipped on the cobblestone street and she nearly went down but caught herself at the last moment by grabbing on to a woman’s arm.
“What…?”
“Excuse me,” Natasa said, righting herself.
The woman jerked her arm back, frowned, and shook her head, then turned her attention back toward the castle.
Friendly. Another reason to get the hell out of here.
Natasa pushed through the crowd again. Finally, she reached the far edge. Drawing a deep breath of fresh air, she stepped up onto a sidewalk and scanned the marble buildings around her, then glanced back toward the crowd. A fountain rose up in the middle, one she hadn’t noticed before. One made of shiny marble with jets of water shooting out into a circular pool. In the center, a giant of a man slayed a great minotaur, and around him, smaller but no less impressive, six other statues of men, each holding a different weapon, looked on in awe.
The Argonauts, Natasa realized. A memorial to the great heroes who had settled this realm. As she looked to the six below Heracles, she couldn’t help but wonder which statue was Titus’s forefather, Odysseus.
“Over there,” a shrill voice echoed, cutting through Natasa’s thoughts. “She went that way.”
Natasa’s attention jerked away from the statue, and she looked back at the crowd. Then froze when she saw the woman she’d bumped into pointing her direction. And beside her, the Argonaut who’d just been on Natasa’s mind.
Shit. Shit!
She sprinted for the Gatehouse, the ancient building that housed the portal she’d used earlier to cross into Argolea. Caught wondering. Caught daydreaming. Dammit all to hell, the last thing she needed was to be caught by a man who was already a bigger distraction than she’d ever anticipated.
“Natasa, stop!”
Her pulse kicked up. The skin on her neck and spine prickled all over again. And heat flooded her veins. A heat she didn’t have time for right now.
Brilliantly colored flags attached to light posts waved in the air above. More voices echoed at her back. More than just Titus’s. Her boots hit the steps of the Gatehouse, and she skipped stairs to reach the top fast. Once inside, she paused to orient herself.
A guard moved out from behind a long counter, his armor flashing in the light of the setting sun. “Hey, you. Stop right there.”
Her gaze landed on the door straight ahead. She pushed her muscles forward.
“I said stop!”
He stepped into her path. He was twice her size and probably well-trained in hand-to-hand combat. But she had determination on her side.
“You’re not going anywhere, young lady.”
Young? She wanted to laugh but didn’t have time. “Move out of my way.”
“Or what?” the guard asked, looking smug and arrogant.
She skidded to a stop, pulled one of the two silver daggers she kept sheathed at her lower back, and braced her feet. “Or I will cut you.”
A low chuckle echoed from his chest. One that sent Natasa’s temper boiling. She arced out with the blade, not to kill him, just to injure him enough so he’d get the hell out of her way. His arm swung out before she saw him move, and the dagger went sailing across the room to land with a clank against the black marble floor.
“I said stop,” he muttered in a low voice.
Footsteps pounded at her back. Voices echoed from the steps out front. The guard edged forward.
Natasa’s panic and anger peaked.
“And I said move!” She shoved both hands against his chest.
Power raced down her arms. Smoke rose up around her. The guard shrieked. His head hit the marble with a crack, then his body slid to the floor. Whimpering, he curled in on himself, but not before Natasa saw the holes in the front of his armor. Holes the size of her palms. Smoking. The skin beneath singed and black.
Wide-eyed, Natasa turned her hands over and looked at her palms, which were also smoking. How the hell…?
“Holy Hades,” someone muttered.
She whipped around. Three men stood in the doorway. Three Argonauts. And at the front of the trio was Titus.
“Natasa,” he said slowly, taking a step forward. “Stop.”
She held her hands up in warning. Moved back. One step. Two. Stumbled through the doorway, unsure what she’d just done.
“You there!” Another voice rang out at her back. “Halt!”
She swiveled to find two more guards, each dressed in the same shiny armor as the first but holding spears, one standing on each side of the portal.
“Natasa,” Titus said calmly at her back. Too calmly. And way too close. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
Her pulse roared. Her adrenaline surged. She didn’t know what to believe. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Nothing…
Her gaze jumped from one guard to the other. They didn’t look nonthreatening from where she was standing.
She wouldn’t go back to being imprisoned. Not now. Not when she was so close to her goal. Her focus homed in on the portal, the stone arch shining like a beacon—her beacon to freedom. She stepped forward.
Both guards lowered their spears.
“Don’t—” Titus yelled.
Natasa didn’t wait for their response. She charged. The guard on the right thrust his spear out. She missed being skewered by a mere inch and grasped it with her palm. Heat radiated from her skin, and flames flared. The spear broke in two and turned to ash in her palm. Gasping, the guard yanked his arm back.
But the other thrust out his spear before she could deflect it. The tip grazed her side and tore her shirt. She sucked in a breath. Only, instead of shoving deep into her flesh as she expected, the guard sailed backward.
“Titus!”
She wasn’t sure who yelled, but she whipped around to find Titus at her side. The guard and his spear lay sprawled across the floor.
“Stop running,” Titus said, reaching out for her. “Let me help you.”