TWISTED (Eternal Guardians Book 7) (16 page)

He narrowed his eyes to see through the foliage. Twenty, maybe thirty houses. Most dark. Based on the position of the moon, they were in the wee hours of morning, and the majority of the inhabitants in the village ahead were sound asleep. He tuned in to his senses. Counted seventy-five humans in the area, max.

Whoa.
 

He blinked against the lights. His tracking abilities had always been good, but being able to sense every human in the area… That was something new. Something that set off a wave of unease all through his abdomen and made those scars vibrate even more.

“What’s…wrong?” Cynna asked.

“Nothing.” He eased her toward a palm tree and unhooked her arm from his shoulder. She didn’t put up any resistance, just slid to the ground, leaned her head back against the base of the tree, and closed her eyes. Kneeling next to her, Nick studied the bloodstain growing larger on her side.

Shit. That needed tending now. Not later. Especially if he planned to keep her alive to figure out what was really going on.

He tugged her blade from the sheath at his back, laid it on her lap, and closed her fingers over the handle. “Hang on to this.”

Her eyes crept open. “Abandoning your prisoner? Not a smart move. I’ll be gone before you can blink.”

“I’ll take my chances, female. Stay quiet.”

He didn’t wait for her answer. He pushed through the brush, then hesitated on the edge of the jungle as he looked toward the village. The houses were small, made of stucco, no bigger than three to four rooms. But power lines ran to each one, telling him they had to have phones.

He bypassed the first two—someone was awake inside each one. How he knew he wasn’t sure, but he felt it. Zeroing in on the third, he tuned in to his senses again. Heavy human breaths sounded from inside. Two adults. Three children. All sound asleep.

He stepped up to the door and wrapped his fingers around the handle. Locked.

A frown pulled at his lips. He was just about to let go and check the back of the house when a burst of energy radiated against his palm.

He glanced down. That odd electrical charge pulsed between the cool metal and his warmer flesh. Then a click sounded in the quiet night air, and the doorknob turned in his hand.

Nick let go and pulled his hand back. Looked down at his palm, then at the door handle. Carefully, he reached for the knob again and found…sure enough…the thing was no longer locked.

Holy fuck
. His senses told him the humans inside were still sound asleep, which meant…he’d just
thought
that damn door open.

His hands grew sweaty, and he pulled back again. He’d never had the power of telekinesis before. Yeah, sure, as a demigod, he’d been blessed with certain gifts. His were the ability to hear amplified sounds and to see objects from great distances. Gifts that had made him an incredible hunter and tracker and had helped him protect his people from Atalanta’s daemons. But this—being able to manipulate matter with just his mind, if that was what he’d just done—this was something entirely new. And, a voice in the back of his head warned, something that could be incredibly dangerous.
 

“He senses you’re growing stronger.”

Cynna had said those words to him. In his cell, before she’d pleasured him. At the time, she’d been warning Nick about Zagreus’s plans to double his efforts with the nymphs, but until this moment, Nick hadn’t cued in to her meaning.
 

Now he did. Now he knew that if Zagreus suspected Nick’s link to Krónos was giving him abilities he hadn’t had before, then it meant it was entirely possible the Prince of Darkness had let Nick go on purpose. To what end, Nick still didn’t know, but the fact the devil had released Cynna with him meant she was somehow deeply linked to Nick’s freedom. Or his potential servitude to the gods.

Those scars on his back vibrated stronger, but he didn’t have time to speculate about that reality further. Before any of the humans awoke, he needed to find that phone.

Cautiously, he pushed the door open and stepped into the small, dark house. A living area with a rug, two chairs, and beat-up end tables took up the space to his left. A U-shaped kitchen sat to his right. Ahead, an open doorway led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.

He moved into the bathroom, didn’t bother with the light, and opened the cabinet under the sink. Finding antiseptic and bandages, he shoved them into his pockets, then headed back into the living area. A grunt echoed from the bedroom to the left, and he hesitated. Seconds later, heavy breathing returned, signaling the human had gone back to sleep.

Nick scanned the dark room in search of a phone. The house might be worn. The furniture might be old. But the Chevy out front was a newer model, and in today’s world, everyone had a cell phone.

He spotted it in the kitchen, plugged into a charger. Reaching for the device, he ran his finger over the screen and typed in the first four passcode numbers that came to his mind. The screen unlocked, illuminating the room in an eerie white light.

Wicked
. He could get used to that.

His thumb hesitated over the Phone button. And out of nowhere, his mind drifted to his soul mate, Isadora.

Would she help him if he reached out to her? He’d gotten the message loud and clear the last time they’d been alone together: she didn’t want him. She didn’t feel the soul mate draw as he did. She’d chosen Demetrius over him, and that decision was never going to change. But for the first time in…Nick couldn’t remember how long…he didn’t care.
 

He looked down at the phone, pushing thoughts of Isadora from his mind. There was only one person he trusted to help him get out of this mess. Only one person he dared turn to right now.
 

The only question was whether or not the fucker would agree to help.

CHAPTER TEN

C
ynna startled awake.

A shiver racked her body as she glanced around the dark jungle, searching for the source of the sound that had awoken her. Shadows danced in front of her eyes, a mixture of palm fronds and darkness she couldn’t see clearly.

She swiped the sweat from her brow and tried to sit more upright against the base of the tree where she’d drifted to sleep, grimacing at the pain shooting across her side with the simple movement.
Skata
, she was in bad shape. Holding her breath, she glanced down but couldn’t get a good view of the wound.

She shivered again. Her spine was damp, her muscles weak, and, based on the thin sheen of sweat coating her skin, she was pretty sure she already had a fever. She gritted her teeth and leaned forward. Some kind of bird or bat or creature she didn’t want to think about howled high above, and the brush rustled to her right.

Animals. Nothing more. She wasn’t quite sure how she knew, but she was confident Zagreus hadn’t sent anyone after them. Lykos—
 

A whisper of…something swept through her mind. A memory she couldn’t quite bring into view. One of her and Zagreus and Lykos in her room. Her pulse picked up, and sweat slid down her spine. Something had happened there. Something she couldn’t quite remember but which she knew was important.

Fingers shaking, she untied the jacket from her waist and dropped it on the ground. Then she reached for the edge of her shirt, drew a deep breath, and pulled the fabric away from the wound.

Blinding pain spiraled outward from the spot, but she bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Through watery vision, she looked down at the wound, jagged and red and still bleeding.

Her head grew light. Letting go of her shirt, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the base of the tree, working to suck back air.
 

She was going to die out here, and no one would know. No one would even care. And why should they? All the bad shit she’d done was finally catching up with her. What she’d done to Lykos, the months she’d bent to Zagreus’s will, and Nick—especially all the horrible things she’d overseen with Nick. She’d be the first to admit she deserved every bit of misery piling on her now.

A wave of regret rushed over her, one so strong it made her want to let go, give up, quit fighting this unwinnable battle. The rustling to her right grew louder, and she knew if some kind of animal had smelled the blood, she needed to get a grip on her weapon so she could defend herself. But she no longer cared. Her blade lay on the ground at her side, but she didn’t reach for it, didn’t even want it anymore. All she wanted was peace. And to forget everything she now couldn’t change.

“I see you made it far.”

Cynna’s heart rate jerked. Nick wasn’t supposed to be here now, not when she’d finally decided enough was enough. Dragging in slow breaths, she pried her eyelids open and looked up.
 

She couldn’t see him very well. He was nothing more than a watery silhouette in the darkness, but she could smell him. That unique sandalwood and earthy pine scent she remembered from his cell. And she could feel his body heat growing closer, warming her chilled skin in a way that reminded her…she wasn’t dead. At least not yet.

He knelt at her side, set something she couldn’t see on the ground beside her, then reached for her shoulders. “You need to lie down.”

Her brain wasn’t working, and she didn’t have the strength to fight him, but she tried. When his hands landed on her overheated skin, she struggled, but he pulled her away from the tree easily, shifted her around, and laid her out on the damp ground. Pain spiraled across her skin once more with the movement, and she bit her lip against a groan.
 

“Sorry.”

Sorry?
He
was apologizing to
her
? Gods, this was so fucked up. “You were supposed to leave.” Dammit. She hated how weak she was. Hated that he’d come back and was seeing her like this. Hated even more that his hands felt so good and that part of her was rejoicing over the fact he’d returned. “Wh-what are you doing…back here?”

“Helping you.”

“I don’t need…your help.”

He lifted her shirt from the wound. She tried to push him away, but he laid her arm on the ground, then scooted closer so her forearm was pressed against his knee, preventing her from moving it. “Oh yeah, because it looks like you’re doing so well on your own.”

She was too tired to try to stop him. He tugged the waistband of her pants down, exposing more of her flesh. Cool air washed over her belly, but she didn’t dare look down again. Was afraid she’d get sick if she tried. Blinking several times, she stared up at the swaying dark fronds above and tried like hell to pull them into focus.

“Hold still,” he said. “This might sting.”
 

Something wet and cool spilled over her abdomen and side, making her suck in a breath. A sharp stab shot all across the wound, and she bit down on her lip against the pain dancing over her flesh.
 

“Hydrogen peroxide,” he mumbled, pouring more liquid over her skin. “It’ll clean it out until we can get it stitched.”

Cynna closed her eyes and breathed deep. He rubbed a rag all around the wound, wiping the blood from her skin, then applied some kind of dressing to the gash. When he was done, he pulled her shirt back down and pressed his palm against her forehead.

She focused on slow breaths until the pain receded to a dull throb. Fabric rustled, then she felt his hands on her shoulders, lifting her up. Agony ripped through her side all over again but it was quickly replaced with another sensation. This one of heat and electricity as he slid behind her, stretched his legs out on either side of her, laid her head back on his shoulder, and then lifted something toward her lips.

“Drink.”

He pressed a plastic bottle to her lips, and Cynna immediately opened. Cool, fresh liquid spilled over her tongue, moistening her bone-dry mouth.

Water. He was giving her water. Just as she’d given him water in his cell. She swallowed. This time she couldn’t help but groan.

“Easy,” he whispered, drawing the bottle back.

She’d said the very same to him. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Nor was the warmth growing in her belly over the fact he was taking care of her.

No one took care of her. Not since her parents had died. She’d been on her own so long, she’d forgotten what it was like. And she both loved and hated it now, because she found herself wanting to lean on him. Wanting to let someone else carry the load for a while. Even if it was the one person who should hate her more than any other.