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“I don’t want to die.” The goddess struggled against her bonds, drawing his gaze yet again. And yet again, her plight snared him, his chest clenching. “I’ve never gotten to live.”
He knew the feeling.Must save her.
“Give her to me,” a demon demanded.
Others called out the same. A fight broke out around him, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the goddess.
Styx ignored the battle and prepared the whip for its next strike—at the goddess. Sunlight illuminated every bruise and cut she’d already endured, now evident beneath the dirt and—Rathbone’s brow furrowed. He did not spy a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes as she surveyed the chaos around her. Did he? No, of course he didn’t. Terror etched her expression.
She needed protection. Saving.
Rathbone withdrew a blade.Yes, I want this kingdom...and the female.As strongly as he’d reacted to her, shemustbe his fated one.
“Come on, McMuscles. I’m being serious. Wake. Up.” There it was again. The voice. Soft fingers seemed to brush over his face, yet no one stood before him. “We’ve got things to do. Stuff has happened, okay? I’ve learned much while you’ve been snoozing your life away.”
Things to do? Yes. He must save the treasure bound to the pole before she died in anguish. But...he also didn’t want to lose his connection to the speaker. Instinct demanded he claw his way to her, grab her, and claim her as his own, forcing all other males to admit an inescapable truth:She belongs to me.
He blinked and shook his head.Belongs to me?Was the brunette not his fated, after all?
“FYI,” she said, “I’ll give you ten more seconds to wakey, wakey on your own then I’ll take a more direct route. Aka stabbing you until you fight me off. Ten. Nine. Eight. Oh, what the heck. Let’s jump ahead. One.”
He was torn between two desires, wanting to—Rathbone roared as a sharp pain erupted in his shoulder.
He jerked upright and opened his eyes. A dagger protruded from his shoulder. A fact he registered just before new memories flooded him. The ocean. The Astra and the fog. Agony. Falling. Water. Dying a thousand deaths without truly dying. The dream. Lore.
He drew in a ragged breath. So many revelations to unpack, but Neeka currently straddled his thighs. Only one thought mattered.Do not let her escape.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” she said, smiling as if she hadn’t just knifed him in the shoulder.
He scowled at her. “Was that truly necessary?”
“Why else would I do it?” She rested her forearms on his pectorals and toyed with the ends of his hair. “You’ll be happy to learn I’ve got a bead on the next bone, and ticked to hear my mother might get there first.”
“Why did you injure me then?” he demanded, clasping her hips to lift her off but holding her close instead.
“Do you or do you not value speediness? Don’t worry. I’ll kiss your boo-boo and make it better.” She bent her head and licked the pulse racing at the base of his neck, a good distance from his wound. “See? You’re already healing.”
He grew rock-hard in a blink. That soft brush of her lips. The gentleness. The dip in her voice. He only craved more.
As she straightened to meet his gaze, he noticed her eyelids had dipped, too. Better, her pupils expanded, eclipsing the vivid amber he’d come to lo—like.
Uncertainty pricked him, and he released the oracle to scrub a hand over his face.
“Guess playtime is over, huh?” With an exaggerated sigh, Neeka stood.
“Playtime never started,” he grumbled. When he noticed her attire, his jaw went slack. Harpy perfection. Clad in a raven-hued gown, with a metal corset pushing her breasts skyward, she utterly stunned. The waist cinched in and the skirt billowed in free-flowing grace to kiss her ankles, with twin slits riding the length of each leg, parting with every movement she made. Bloodred stilettos hugged her feet, revealing toenails painted to match and igniting a brand-new foot fetish in him.
Had there ever been a creature more exquisite than her?
She’d pinned up her hair, displaying an elegant neck free of jewelry. He was glad. He had an unobstructed view of her racing pulse, every thump sparking a new burst of heat.
As he rose and took a step in her direction, needing...more, she hurried to a nearby coffee table to gather a stack of papers. “You’re probably curious about everything that’s been going on in the sixteen hours you’ve been asleep,” she blurted out, looking anywhere but him, ensuring she couldn’t read his replies.
He inhaled a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. Fisted and unfisted his hands. But take another step in her direction? No. She’d mentioned a bone. Lore, once the mate of his dreams.
His dream.That’s right.He’d dreamed a memory. Meeting Lore. Until replaying their introduction, he’d forgotten the finer details. Hades’s initial warning. Rathbone’s estimation of Lore as a status symbol. The gleam of satisfaction he’d spotted in her eyes. Now that he knew her better, he couldn’t brush it off. He’d viewed that same gleam every time he’d pleased her. But what did any of it mean?
Neeka’s words penetrated his riotous thoughts, and shock pummeled him. The second she glanced his way, he asked, “I slept sixteen hours?” Truly?
