TWISTED (Eternal Guardians Book 7) (28 page)

“Good,” the female said. “I’m Skyla. Come with me.”

Cynna took a step toward the door to follow the blonde, but Nick grasped her arm at the wrist before she could get too far away and drew her back. His amber gaze locked on hers, hard, steady, resolute. “Don’t go far. I’ll come find you in a few minutes. “

Just the fact he was finally looking at her sent that temper right back to bubbling. Two minutes ago, he’d forgotten she even existed.

She wrenched her arm from his grip. “Your fifteen minutes are up.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

C
ynna tried to settle her raging temper as she turned to follow Skyla, only to realize there were more people in the room than she’d thought. Another woman had stepped in after her, one with fire-red hair who’d sidled up next to the guy in the back wearing gloves—the one she was pretty sure had been laughing. And two other males had also joined the fray, both clearly Argonauts and both as crazy handsome as the rest. Where the hell did they find these guys? Studs “R” Us?

Voices faded behind her as she followed Skyla back down the long corridor. When they reached the massive curved staircase, Skyla said, “We’re going up one level.”

Cynna took in every detail as they walked. The guards below in the foyer, the servants they passed, the posh surroundings and expensive furnishings. And every second she spent in this castle, surrounded by luxuries and more wealth than she could imagine, she remembered the small house she’d lived in with her parents before they’d died. The wood floor, the tiny bedrooms—one for them, and one for her—and the closet-size kitchen where she and her mother had prepared the meals. They hadn’t had much, but they’d been happy. Or so she’d thought. But how could anyone ever be content with that after being surrounded by all this?
 

“Here we are.” Skyla stopped in front of a large, arched door, turned the handle, and pushed with her hip.
 

Cynna followed her into the room, and once again, her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Racks and racks of clothing lined the walls. All different sizes, for all different genders and ages. Huge bins were lined up in rows in the middle, holding socks and shoes and undergarments.

Skyla moved toward a rack on the left and pawed through until she found a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved red T-shirt, then turned and handed them to Cynna. “These should fit. You’re about my size. Go ahead and grab some undergarments from the bins, and I’ll find you some boots. Don’t worry. Everything’s new.” She pointed toward a tall screen set up in front of the windows. “There’s a dressing area over there.”

Cynna grabbed what she needed from the bins and moved behind the screen. She tugged on the underwear, thankful that they fit, then reached for the jeans. “Must be nice to have a shopping mall in your own freakin’ house.”

“Yeah, it would be,” Skyla said from beyond the screen. “But these aren’t for the castle. They’re for a refugee camp outside the city.”

The queen actually cared about refugees? Cynna nearly scoffed as she buttoned the jeans and reached for the shirt.

“You know,” Skyla said, “I’ve heard of a female named Cynna who lives with Zagreus. She’s also known as the Mistress of Torture.”
 

Cynna’s arms froze, shirt over her head, and her pulse picked up speed. Swallowing hard, she pulled the garment on and tugged it down her hips. “What’s your point?”

“My point is simple. The others may assume you were just a prisoner, but I think we both know differently. I want to know what Zagreus’s right-hand female is doing with Nick.”

Cynna smoothed her hair back from her face, reminded herself to play it cool, and stepped out from behind the screen. “What are you, the queen’s personal spy?”

Skyla tipped her head. “Until recently, I spent a lot of time in the human realm dealing with Zagreus’s satyrs and the messes they created. The rest of the time I spent on Olympus, with Athena.”

Cynna’s gaze skipped over the blonde, and she realized what she’d missed earlier. The warrior stance, the calculating look in the female’s green eyes, and the coiled strength hidden beneath that attractive facade.

Skata
. This changed things…quite a bit. While Cynna had no reservations about dueling with an Argonaut, she did not want to piss off Zeus. “You’re a Siren.”

“Was,” Skyla answered. “I recently left the order.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now answer my question. What the hell are you doing with Nick?”

She could lie, but at this point all Cynna wanted was out. And the fastest way to get out was to finish this conversation so she could split. “I helped him escape.”

“Why?”

“Because Zagreus was going to turn him over to Hades.”

“And you, what? Developed a conscience about that?”

Cynna’s temper inched up. “I didn’t want to see him in the hands of a god who could use his powers for evil against the whole world. So, yeah, I guess you could say I developed a conscience. I don’t think anyone wants that.”

“And Zagreus? He was just okay with you leaving?”

“No,” Cynna said, glancing over the racks of clothing, “I’m sure he was pretty pissed.” She looked back at the Siren. “I didn’t wait around to find out.”

Skyla studied her a long moment, and Cynna couldn’t tell if the female believed her or not, but she didn’t care anymore. For once she’d done the right thing and still she was being labeled a traitor.

“Look,” she said, working hard not to lose her cool with the Siren. “Not everything is as it seems. There are all kinds of prisons, and whether you want to believe it or not, I’m not the villain here.”
Not anymore, at least.

Skyla’s jaw clenched. “What’s your relationship with Nick?”

This time Cynna couldn’t stop her stomach from pitching. Relationship? Did they even have a relationship? Captor-captive came to mind when she remembered their time together in Zagreus’s lair. Followed by lovers when her memories skipped to their hot, sweaty sex in the tunnels beneath the colony. But she dismissed both because neither were accurate pictures of what they were. The only thing that even remotely made sense was…

“Really fucked up,” Cynna finally answered.

Skyla stared at her, and as the seconds ticked by, Cynna’s anxiety inched up all over again.

Would the Siren try to imprison her? Was she going to take her to the queen and tell her everything Cynna had just admitted? If that happened, she might never get out of this nightmare. Her gaze darted toward the windows that looked out over a courtyard, and that fight-or-flight response kicked in, only this time flight won out, big-time.

Skyla dropped her arms and pointed toward a pair of boots and a light jacket sitting on the ground near the screen. “Those are for you. Weather’s calling for snow, and I’m sure you don’t want to be caught in the cold. Let’s head back and see if they’re done gossiping.”

Relief pulsed through Cynna’s body. She reached for the boots and the jacket. “Um, is there a restroom somewhere I could use?”

That assessing look crossed Skyla’s features again, making Cynna think the Siren was on to her. But instead of calling her on it, the blonde pointed toward a door on the far side of the room. “Through there. Don’t be long.”

Cynna nodded. “I won’t.”
 

She closed the bathroom door and glanced around. It was mostly marble, as big as her whole house had been as a kid, and disgustingly fancy. But—thank the Fates—there was a window that looked out to the courtyard several stories below.

She quickly pulled on the boots and jacket, then flipped on the fan to drown out any noise. A silent prayer of thanks whipped through her when she found the window unlocked.

Pushing it up, she peered outside. There was no balcony. Nothing but a small ledge that ran the length of this wing. But that was all she needed. She climbed out, gripped the stone ledge above, and made her way down the side of the building.

And told herself she wasn’t ever looking back.

“T
his is freakin’ nuts.” Nick ran both hands through his hair and dropped them to his side, leveling a hard look at his brother.

Demetrius, leaning back against the desk in Isadora’s palatial office with a scowl on his hard face and his arms crossed over his massive chest, didn’t respond. In fact, since they’d arrived in Argolea, the guardian hadn’t said shit. Just stared at Nick like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hug him or slam his fist into his face. Which only pissed Nick off even more. His brother wasn’t one for words, but the fact he wasn’t arguing against this asinine theory where
his
soul mate was concerned only kicked Nick’s anxiety up about the whole situation.

He looked back at Isadora, who also had her slim arms crossed over her chest but now refused to meet his gaze, then glanced toward Theron, standing at her side, looking frustrated and guilty all at the same time. “That’s not how the soul mate curse works, and you all know it. Only the one with the markings is cursed. They’re the only ones who feel it.”

Nick was glad Theron had ushered most of the guardians and their mates out of the room so they didn’t have to listen to this crap. If he had the choice, he’d be out of here too. That darkness was bubbling inside him with every passing minute, and being near his soul mate—the one he couldn’t have—wasn’t helping matters. He chanced a look toward the doorway, searching for Cynna, but she still had yet to return with Skyla.

“Everything about this situation is different,” Theron said, “because you’re different.”

Nick scoffed, rested his hands on his hips, and turned toward the window. “I’m fine.”

“Maelea can sense the energy in you is growing,” Theron said. “And if that’s the case, then it corresponds to what happened to those three mortals who—”

“Those were three dead mortals.” Okay, yeah, Maelea, a product of the Underworld herself, might be able to sense Krónos’s dark energy growing inside him, but that didn’t mean she knew what the hell she was talking about. Nick pressed his fingers against his chest. “Last time I checked, I was alive. And this isn’t the fucking Underworld.”

Theron sighed. “Yeah. But we all know you’re a hell of a lot stronger than you were. Who’s to say your getting stronger isn’t somehow messing with the soul mate curse and making Isadora weaker.”

“It’s possible,” Orpheus said from his spot near the windows. “I didn’t really feel the soul mate pull with Skyla until my daemon started to fade. That pull definitely strengthened the weaker my daemon became.”

Nick rolled his eyes and rested his hands against his hips. They were all certifiable. That was the only explanation. He scowled at Isadora, then turned his glare on his brother. “Don’t tell me you’re buying in to this too. This is your fucking soul mate we’re talking about. The one you told me to stay the hell away from.”

Demetrius’s jaw ticked, but the bastard still didn’t answer. Just stared at Nick with those hard, cold eyes.

“Look.” Callia stepped forward, clearly sensing the tension in the room. “We don’t know anything yet. It’s all just speculation. But I can tell you her vitals are much improved since you got here. Isa”—she turned toward her sister—“how do you feel?”

Isadora let out a breath. She bit her lip as she looked toward Nick, then glanced at her mate near the desk. She turned back toward her sister. “Better. A little stronger. But maybe that’s just a coincidence.”

“See?” Nick said, holding his arms out wide. “Finally, someone with a little sense.”