TWISTED (Eternal Guardians Book 7) (12 page)

S
oft humming woke Isadora.
 

Rolling to her side, she peered through the open doorway of her bedroom that led into the nursery. A low light burned in the darkness, and her daughter’s happy coo drifted from the other room, but it was the sweet male voice that pulled her from the bed.

She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length hair as she crossed the room, her pulse picking up, her stomach tightening as it always did when he was close. The sleeves of her silky blue pajamas fell past her fingers as she reached for the doorjamb, and her feet drew to a stop.

Warmth curled outward from her chest and expanded through her limbs. Demetrius stood near their daughter’s crib, cradling Elysia in one of his big arms, letting her hold on to the index finger of his other hand with her little fist while he swayed and hummed a lullaby Isadora recognized from her youth.

The Argonauts all seemed surprised at the softness he exuded when he was near his daughter, but Isadora had known it was in him for a long time. Ever since those days they’d spent on that deserted island together, when she’d gotten her first true glimpse of the real man, not the closed-off and hardened guardian he wanted the world to see.
 

He was still dressed in the black pants and long-sleeved thick shirt he always wore when he was fighting in the human realm. A smudge of dirt smeared his cheek, and his dark hair was tousled around his face, as if he’d run his fingers through it several times in frustration. He’d obviously come right to the castle after crossing back into Argolea, but she could tell without even asking that he still hadn’t found his brother. She felt it as surely as she felt that Nick was still alive.
 

“I wish that was my welcome-home greeting.”

His humming cut off, and he turned to face her, surprise evident in his black eyes. “Did we wake you?”

“Yes.” She stepped away from the door and moved into the room to stand next to him, peering down at their daughter. Her brown eyes were all Isadora, but that thick black hair and that tiny dent in her chin were her father’s, and every time Isadora looked at Elysia, she saw the man she loved. “And it’s a good way to wake.”

She reached for Elysia’s other hand, and the baby cooed and gripped Isadora’s finger, locking the three of them together.

This was what Isadora wanted. Her family all in one place. But that niggling vision she’d had wouldn’t leave her, and she feared their separation of late was only the beginning of the end.

She looked up when she realized Demetrius was staring at her. He was still swaying, but concern now shadowed his eyes, and his features were drawn tight as he studied her. “What?” she asked.

He let go of Elysia’s hand and placed his palm over Isadora’s forehead. “Are you ill? You look pale.”

Sighing, Isadora released the baby and pushed his hand away. She hated when everyone worried over her like she was some glass doll. And that wasn’t the way she wanted her mate to touch her, not after the days they’d been apart. “I’m fine, Demetrius. Just tired. There’s been a lot going on here, but then you wouldn’t know because you haven’t been around.”

It was a dig. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself from saying it. Turning out of the nursery so they didn’t argue in front of their daughter, she crossed to the windows in their bedroom and folded her arms over her chest. Frustration clouded her mind as she looked out at the sparkling view of the Olympic Ocean under the full-moon light. Followed by a wave of confusion that she found herself being short with him when what she really wanted was him home and with her.

The door to the nursery closed softly, then Demetrius’s footsteps crossed the floor. But he didn’t touch her. He stopped several feet away as if he couldn’t read her mood and wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Well, that makes two of us.

“I’m back for good,” he said in a low voice. “No more weeks away at a time.”

She focused on the lap of water against the beach far below, shimmering in the moonlight. “You talked to Theron, didn’t you?”

“I need to be here.”

No, he’d talked to Theron and found out what she’d decided about the Misos and the Council. “We’re perfectly safe here in the castle. I don’t need you sacrificing your duties out of guilt.”

He moved close, his body heat wrapping around her, warming her, and then his big hands landed against her upper arms, gently turning her to face him. “You are never a sacrifice,
kardia
.”

Tears burned in her eyes. Useless tears she didn’t understand.

His hands slid up to cup her face and tip her gaze up to his. Confusion clouded his features. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

She didn’t know. And that frustrated her more than anything. It was more than that vision—a vision she wasn’t about to accept. It was more than what was happening with the Misos and the Council. It was even bigger than the distance that was stretching between them. It was something else. Something she couldn’t grasp yet. “I’m just tired,” she managed. “And I miss you. So much.”

He pulled her in close, wrapped his arm around her, and slid one hand into her hair. “I’ve missed you too. You have no idea how much. I’m sorry I haven’t been here. I’m sorry I left you to deal with everything on your own. I won’t do that again.”

As she fought back the stupid tears, she rested her head against his chest and closed her arms around his back, drawing in a deep whiff of his masculine scent, loving his heat, loving his strength, loving
him
more than she ever thought she could. “No, you’re doing what you need to be doing. I want you to find Nick. We can’t let the gods have control of him if he really does have Krónos’s powers inside him. I’m just…”

“What?” His fingers paused their gentle massage against her scalp.

“I’m lonely without you.”

“
Kardia…
” He eased back, then bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. No matter what. You are my everything.”

The kiss was sweet. A soft brush of skin against skin, but the moment his flesh touched hers, she wanted more. Needed their connection if for no other reason than to prove to herself that this overwhelming desire to find Nick wasn’t personal. He wasn’t the man she loved. This one was. This one was her life.

She lifted to her toes, slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, then groaned when he opened and kissed her deeply. His hands tightened around her back, and at her front, she felt his body’s reaction, felt his muscles tighten and his erection swell against her belly.

“Prove it to me,” she whispered. “Prove it to me right now.”

He drew back, just enough so he could look down at her in the dim light. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” Right now she’d promise whatever he wanted just to be close to him.

He brushed a lock of hair way from her temple in a move that was so tender, her heart rolled beneath her ribs. “After, you let me make you something to eat. You’re thinner than when I left.”

She pushed down the irritation, the reminder that he still thought of her as weak, and rose back to her toes. “After. But right now all I want is you.”

E
scape
.

The word pulsed in Cynna’s head, growing louder with every passing second.
 

Her eyes popped open, and a searing burn slid up her throat. Rolling to her side, she coughed, trying to expel the vileness inside her.

Her body shook with her coughing fit. When it passed, she blinked and looked around. She was lying on her side on the bed in her room. Something sticky covered her fingers. Something red and—

Her eyes grew wide as she looked down at the dried blood on her hand and the puddle of red on the mattress beneath her. She jolted out of the bed and raced for the bathroom before she lost what was in her stomach.

Pain radiated outward from her belly. Backing away from the toilet, she leaned against the wall while she tried to catch her breath. Her mind was a foggy mess. She patted her arms and legs, looking for wounds but couldn’t find any. What had happened? Where had all the blood come from? The last thing she remembered was being in Nick’s cell, her hands traveling over his body, bringing him to release, then coming back here to her room and—

Zagreus…

Oh shit.

Bits and pieces flashed in her memory. Him, the satyrs, her fighting frantically. But she couldn’t piece them together, couldn’t form a coherent picture of what they’d done to her. Panic spread through her veins, and she frantically checked every part of her body, looking for marks, for wounds, looking for what Zagreus had been up to.
 

The only thing she found was a slightly swollen red bump on the inside of her right forearm and a tiny puncture wound in her skin. The rest of her body was untouched.

Relief stole through her. A relief that he hadn’t let his satyrs have their way with her, that he hadn’t raped her. It might be stupid, but giving herself to Zagreus was one thing. Having him take without her consent was something altogether different. And since she was only just barely holding it together these days, she feared something like that might send her over the edge.

Escape.

The word drowned out everything else. Whatever Zagreus had done to her was a result of her going to Nick last night. And that meant Zagreus didn’t trust her and that this was only the beginning. It also meant Nick was in as much danger as her.

Escape…

She’d thought of escaping just after she’d come here, after she’d made that deal with Zagreus and realized what he wanted from her. But it had seemed like such an enormous undertaking, one she wouldn’t be able to do herself with so many of Zagreus’s satyrs lurking about. But with Nick’s help…

Escape. Go now.

Slowly, she inched her way up the wall until she was standing, then leaned forward and braced her hands on her thighs as she breathed and worked not to get sick again. From the corner of her eye, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

Blood stained her mouth, her chin. Dried blood was gathered in her hair. Hand shaking, she touched her finger to her lips, trying—fighting—to remember how it had gotten there, but couldn’t. Her stomach rolled again, and she only just made it to the toilet before she retched once more.

She had to get out of here. She couldn’t stay. Not anymore. Something in her gut told her whatever Zagreus had done to her last night was nothing compared to what he intended to do next.

A plan formulated in her head. A plan that would free her for good.

Only she wasn’t going alone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

N
ick couldn’t sit still.

He paced the back of his cell, the shackles and chains on his wrists rattling as he moved. He knew it was night. Even though his cell was dark, he kept track of time and figured it had to be about two in the morning. A good twenty-four hours since Cynna had last come to see him.

She hadn’t been by at all today. No one had come for him, in fact, which was odd. In the six months he’d been here, he couldn’t remember a single day where they hadn’t poked or taunted or tortured him in some way. Except for yesterday and all of tonight.

The scars on his back tingled, a sign something was happening behind the scenes, something that wasn’t good. Had Zagreus seen what she’d done? Was this his new form of torture? Pleasure, then silence, then…
son of a bitch
…worry?