TWISTED (Eternal Guardians Book 7) (25 page)

They moved up another level. By the time they reached the empty hallway she’d found earlier, his head was down, his free hand was covering his eyes, and he was massaging his temples. Stress and regret and misery radiated off him. So much she knew she had to do something fast to take his mind off it all.

She pushed the door to the salon open, pulled him inside, closed it at his back, and led him to one of the many swivel chairs lining both sides of the room. Letting go of his hand, she turned, pressed her palms against his bare chest, and pushed him down. “Sit.”

“Cynna.” His voice was tight, his head still tipped down so she couldn’t see his face. “You need to leave. Get the hell away from here. Hades and Zagreus know where this place is.”

A shiver of panic snaked through her ribs, but she shook it away. Even if Zagreus knew where the colony was located, he didn’t know she and Nick were here. And by the time he figured it out, they’d be long gone.

Grabbing a comb and scissors from the table, she moved around behind him and tugged the comb through his hair. “We’ll leave later.”

His head lifted, and he shot her a
what the fuck are you doing?
look in the mirror.

She ignored it and continued combing. “Trust me. This will make you feel better.” She pointed toward her own head, then leaned forward and used the scissors to gently cut the hair at his nape. “Just getting rid of that blonde mess did wonders for me.”

His gaze bored into her through the mirror. She knew she’d just confused the hell out of him, but she didn’t care. She combed, snipped, ran her fingers through the back of his hair, cutting it short. For a moment, she considered using the clippers and shaving his head like he’d had it styled the first time she’d seen him, but then thought better of it. He had great hair. Thick. Soft. She didn’t want to cut it all off. Warmth slid through her belly and slinked between her legs when she remembered wrapping her fingers in all this silky goodness while he’d had her pinned to that wall and was thrusting inside her.
 

Oh man. That had been so very wrong. But it had felt incredibly right. And at the moment, all she could possibly think about was doing it all over again.

Sexual energy hummed through her body, amping her awareness of him as she worked her way around to his front, shaping the sides of his hair, running her fingers through the top and dropping cut strands on the floor. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But his eyes watched her every movement. And though she couldn’t quite be sure because she’d yet to look directly at him, from the corner of her vision he didn’t seem as bewildered anymore. Yes, there was still confusion there, but she also saw heat in his amber gaze. And…whoa. S
eriously?
…awe.
 

She faltered. No one was awed by her. Horrified. Disgusted. Afraid, sure. But awed? Never.

She cleared her throat. Tried to think of something—anything—to say. “What happened to Ari?”

“He left.”

She waited for more, but he didn’t go on. And one glance at the mirror told her he was still staring at her with those intense eyes, following her every movement.
 

She swallowed back the sudden nerves, set the comb and scissors on the work counter behind her, then ran her fingers all through his hair, testing the length. Satisfied with the result, she stepped to the side so he could see his reflection. “What do you think?”

He stared at the image in the mirror, and she looked at what he was seeing. A bare-chested, sexy-as-all-get-out man who’d been through hell and survived, sitting on the small swivel seat, making it look tiny in comparison. But after several heartbeats, she discovered he wasn’t looking at himself. He was staring at her. And as her eyes met his in the mirror, and she caught the look of awe again in his, her pulse jumped, and heat spread all through her limbs, knocking that sexual energy up a blistering notch.
 

“I like it.” His voice was still gravelly, but this time it was laced with just enough arousal to make her inner thighs ache.

She dragged her gaze from his and cleared her throat. Running her fingers through his hair once more, she worked for nonchalant when she said, “It should feel lighter. No more wisps falling in your eyes. It’s—”
 

“Not mine. Yours. I like the brown. It’s real. It brightens your face. It’s stunning.”

Her fingers froze in his hair. No one had ever called her stunning. Not Zagreus. Not even her parents.

She stood still next to him, his warmth radiating around her until her skin prickled, his gaze watching her carefully in the mirror until her pulse was a roar in her ears. And in a rush, she realized what she was doing for him here wasn’t about making up for any wrong she’d committed. It wasn’t even about pulling him back from his father’s hold like she’d told herself in the tunnels. It was done purely to give him a piece of normalcy in a sea of unending misery. To show him that all wasn’t lost. To comfort him in a way no one had before.

She could count only two people in her life she’d ever wanted to comfort like that. Her mother and father. The only two people she’d ever truly cared for.
 

Her hands trembled, and she quickly released his hair and stepped back. A lump formed in her throat, one that made it hard to swallow. Swiping her hands along the edge of the oversize T-shirt he’d given her, she turned quickly for the back of the salon and forced her tongue to work. “There’s a shower through here. You’ve got hair all over you. Go get cleaned up while I find you a towel.”

Leather creaked as he pushed his big body out of the swivel chair. She found a closet and pulled the door open, busily searching for that towel, telling herself the entire time that she was walking a dangerous line.

Falling for Nick? Krónos’s son? No. That wasn’t possible. That wasn’t even
sane
. She’d helped him because it was the right thing to do. Cut his hair because he hadn’t had it cut once in the months he’d been trapped in Zagreus’s lair. And she’d fucked him because…well, he was hot. She was still a female with needs. And sex was a natural, physical reaction to the adrenaline rush they’d both been through. She hadn’t
done that
because she felt anything for him. Because, dammit, she
wasn’t
falling for him. No way in hell.

“Cynna.”

She drew up sharply at the sound of his voice directly at her back and smacked her head against the shelf above. Pain spiraled across her scalp, and she reached up, rubbing the suddenly sore spot. “
Skata.
”

His large hand closed over hers, and before she realized what he was doing, he turned her around and pulled her into all his warm, muscular perfection.

Heat infused her skin, and the natural scent of him—earthy scents of sandalwood and pine—filled her senses. As did the musky remnants of the sex they’d shared only minutes ago.

His hand opened, splayed against her lower spine, then fisted the soft cotton of his shirt against her back. “Thank you,” he mumbled into her hair as he held her immobile against him. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.” Then softer, “Thank you.”

That lump in her throat grew even larger, and though she tried to fight it, her eyes slid closed, and she drew his scent deep into her soul, every inch of him, as much as she could get, until she felt giddy and lightheaded from just his simple touch.

Oh gods. She was falling for him, dammit. For someone she had no right to even look twice at. For someone who shouldn’t want to be anywhere near her. Their being anything other than enemies made absolutely no sense. And she had zero hope for any kind of future with him beyond tonight. None. The smartest play for her was to leave—no, to
run
, as he’d told her to do before—right this very second.

He lifted his palm from her scalp, slid his fingers down her bare arm, leaving tingles in his wake, then grasped her hand. “Come shower with me.”

Yes.
Oh gods. Her entire body tightened with the need to feel him deep inside again.
Yes…

 
No!

Her pulse raced in her ears. Conflicting thoughts swirled in what was left of her gray matter. If she went with him, and he showed her even a fraction of the kindness he was showering on her now, she’d be totally lost. Give in. Step right off that cliff and not care where she landed. And if that happened, that wall she’d erected to hold herself together since her parents’ death would ignite like kindling consumed by flame.

It had taken her a long time to come out of that depression-induced spiral. If she let herself fall all the way for Nick, she knew she’d end up right back in that murky abyss. And considering the last time she’d been there she’d made a deal with the Prince of Darkness, there was no telling what awful thing she’d do when this fucked-up relationship imploded.

She swallowed hard and pressed her hand against his chest. “Go start the water. I’ll grab towels.”

“Okay.” He released his grip on her shirt. Stepped back. And shot her a wicked-hot look laced with…oh
skata
…more of that fucking awe that was chipping away at her very last bit of resolve. “Don’t be long.”

He walked away, his bootsteps pounding against the tile floor in time with the pulse throbbing in her arteries. And as she watched the muscles in his back ripple beneath his scarred skin as he left, she knew he was every bit the warrior she’d pegged him to be from the start. Every time she thought about the constant struggle he was waging inside, every time she remembered the misery on his face in that courtyard, she wanted to go to him, to comfort him, to be for him what no one else had ever been. But she couldn’t. Not if she had any hope of surviving herself. And right now, self-preservation needed to be foremost in her mind. Because if it wasn’t…

If it wasn’t, she knew exactly where she’d end up.

As soon as he turned the corner, she dropped the towel in her hand and sprinted for the door.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

N
ick tipped his head back and rinsed the shampoo and soap from his body as the hot water cascaded down his skin and soothed his sore and tired muscles. Steam rose around him, warming every inch of his skin, but he didn’t need it to ease that ever-present chill inside. Cynna had done that when she’d so gently cut his hair. When she’d sunk into him moments before and let him hold her. When she’d kissed him in that cell in the tunnels, then rocked his world right out from under his feet.

Blood rushed to his groin at the memory, and he grew hard and achy under the spray. He’d been fascinated by her for months. Had wanted her long before they’d taken this journey together. And now that he’d had a taste of her, he knew once wasn’t going to be enough.
 

His body urged him to find out why the hell she wasn’t naked in this shower with him already, but before he could turn and call for her, understanding slammed everything to a screeching halt.

He’d been as close to the edge as he’d ever been in those tunnels. Krónos’s power had been rippling through his veins, just begging to be released with a wicked unrivaled fierceness. And yet, he hadn’t let it go. Not because he’d possessed some superhuman self-control, but because Cynna had pulled him back from that edge. She’d given him something else to focus on, something better to want. And it had been enough to keep him from giving in to all that wretched darkness that would undoubtedly be the end of him and possibly the world if he let it free.

His heart picked up speed, pounding a staccato rhythm against his ribs, and he lowered his head and opened his eyes as water ran in rivulets down his face.

He needed her. Not because she was some kind of insurance against an attack from Zagreus, but because she kept him grounded, kept him sane when he felt like he was losing his slight grasp on reality. And though the rational side of his brain warned he still didn’t know her well enough to make any kind of steadfast decision about her motives, his heart told him loud and clear that she wasn’t here to betray him. If betrayal had been her goal, she wouldn’t have comforted him like she’d just done. She wouldn’t have bothered to cut his hair and make him feel human again. And she certainly wouldn’t have kissed him crazy when he’d given her the chance to run.

He turned toward the shower door, desperate to feel her against him again, to taste her sinful perfection, to thank her in the only way he could. But before he could reach for the handle, the scars on his back tingled, and a new sort of awareness rushed over him.

Six people were in the castle. Not humans. Not Misos. Not satyrs or daemons. He tuned in to his senses and let the tentacle-like receptors of his mind fan out.