by Lazu, Sotia
“I’ll come with you,” he said. “Just leave her alone.”
Rhea motioned with her head toward the door, and a second human male bypassed the armed guy and entered the room. The silver chain glimmering in his gloved hands made Atlas shiver even before the cold metal snapped shut around his wrists, locking them together. He tried to spread his arms, testing his restraints. No give. Worse, his thoughts felt muddled and his legs heavy.
“Don’t waste your strength. Those were forged by my son’s lightning bolt, to contain his father, if he awoke. You cannot break them.” The pride shining in Rhea’s crazed eyes added to the chill seeping inside him. Could he trust her to keep her word and leave Iphigenia alone?
“I did what you said. Now place her on the bed, and we can go.”
Rhea let Iphigenia crumble to a heap at her feet. “You don’t get to order me around. He does it too. Every day. Always there. In my head. Shut up.” Rhea’s voice rose in pitch, as she gave Iphigenia a soft kick. “You know, I can kill her anyway, and there’s nothing you can do.” She turned her gaze to the man beside Atlas. “I could let Miltiades have his way with her while you watch.”
Wrath spilled through Atlas’ veins, potent and all consuming. It tore through the cobwebs muting his responses and pushed away reason that insisted Rhea’s threat was meant to manipulate him. The floorboards beneath him vibrated, and a gust of wind smashed the door into the gunman’s hand, making him drop his weapon.
“What are you doing?” Rhea shrieked. “You can’t use your powers. The manacles—”
Atlas let his rage suffuse him, as he raised his arms and pulled. The manacles snapped apart, and their glow faded until they melted away.
He was going to end Rhea. Destroy her, for ever threatening Iphigenia.
The man who’d bound his wrists grabbed Atlas’ arm, and Atlas let himself grow until his head touched the ceiling. One shake of his arm, and the man went flying behind him. He crashed on something, but Atlas didn’t look.
His focus was on Rhea.
Bleed her.
Tear her heart out with his own hands, again and again.
Rhea leaned down, and time seemed to slow as reason took over his blood lust. If she touched Iphigenia, she could take her anywhere in the world. She could kill her or merely keep her and Atlas apart long enough for him to unravel.
Rhea’s punishment for meaning his soulmate harm would have to wait.
He blinked between her and Iphigenia, gathered Iphigenia in his arms, and willed the two of them back to Santorini.
Chapter Nine
Mmm... Soft.
Iphigenia rubbed her cheek against the silk and smiled. This pillow was fluffy like a cloud. Heavenly.
Shit. Was she dead? But she was breathing.
She wouldn’t open her eyes. She was having a lovely dream. What was it?
Ah yes. Atlas. Naked, like he’d been when he first awoke. Kissing her.
Rhea, choking her. Not budging when Iphigenia tried to free herself.
No. She wanted the dream back. Titan-y goodness, not Titaness-y terror. Rhea could have killed her.
Had she?
“I know you’re awake. Don’t be afraid. She can’t find you here.” Atlas’ smooth, deep bass glided down her body like a caress.
Iphigenia rolled toward his voice and cracked open an eyelid. He sat in a chair by the bed she lay in, elbows on his knees and fingers steepled. She looked at the room around him. Spacious and bright white, even in the dimming sun filtering in through the gauzy curtains. “We’re in Santorini?”
“Yes.” He studied her face.
His scrutiny made her self-conscious. She pulled the sheet higher, and when it slid up naked skin, raised it to look down her body. She was in her underwear.
Atlas pursed his lips. “I know you wanted a shower, but I didn’t want to shock you with the water spray, so I... air-cleaned you.”
She was surprised by the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Like a car?”
He grinned. “I guess. You can shower now. Bathe, if you’d prefer.”
Would he offer to scrub her back?
His grin turned wicked. Did he read her thoughts? She imagined walls slamming down around her mind, and he sat back hard, as if pushed by an invisible force. Good. That’d teach him not to pry.
She should get out of bed, get dressed, and formulate a plan. She wasn’t a wilting flower, staying huddled in a—gorgeous, sunbathed, comfortable—villa in Santorini, while an all-mighty ancient bitch searched for her.
A slew of questions flooded her. Why was Rhea after her? And what was the unraveling she and Eros had mentioned?
Atlas had promised to tell her everything, but in nothing but her briefs and bra, she felt too vulnerable to discuss a life-or-death situation.
Her life or death. Rhea wanted her dead. And could make it happen. The helplessness of being in the Titaness’ mercy wasn’t something Iphigenia cared to experience again. That same feeling was what first led her to martial arts, after a mugging sent her to the hospital with ten stitches in her right side and a mild concussion. She’d been taught self-defense, yet she’d frozen after her initial effort to free herself from Rhea.
Never again.
“Are you feeling well?” Atlas asked. “Eros said you weren’t hurt. That’s why I let you sleep. If you need medical attention, I can—”
“No. I’m fine.” Once more, with feeling. “I’m fine. Really. I was just thinking we didn’t get any of my clothes, after all.” Better to focus on the practical than the terror of being at someone else’s mercy.
He hopped upright and rushed to a sofa at the other end of the room, to gather up a stack of clothes. “Don’t worry. Eros took care of that, too. He brought a few things, so you can choose what works for you.”
“He did? When?” She sat up and scooted back, propping herself against the sun-bleached planks that acted as a headrest for the stone-built bed, the sheet clutched in front of her as a protective barrier. Against what? Atlas? Her lack of compulsion control when he was near?
“Yesterday,” he said.
Huh? Before she and Atlas came to this place? Her brain stalled, and then kicked into gear. “How long was I out?”
“A day. And then some.” He placed the clothes beside her and hurried to add, “But Eros assured me you’d be all right.” His gaze begged her to confirm that she was.
It was tempting to let him worry, after what he’d put her through—Rhea wouldn’t know Iphigenia existed if it weren’t for this guy—but the only thing that hurt was her stomach. “I’m hungry.” Her stomach growled its agreement.
“I can help with that.” But he stayed where he was, watching as she flipped through her garment choices.
Iphigenia tugged at a corner of crisp, white, cotton fabric, and unfolded a short plain dress in her lap. Perfect for the weather and the time of year. Not so suitable for running for her life, though. More rummaging provided a red tank top and a pair of denim cutoffs. Perfect. She pulled the top on and squirmed into the bottoms under the covers.
Done.
And Atlas was still here, instead of bringing her something to eat.
“Um... so are we going out for lunch?” she asked. Was that safe?
“No. Of course not. I doubt Rhea will think of looking for us on the island, but we can’t take any chances.”
She pursed her lips and stared at him.
He stared back. “What?”
“Food. Need. Soon.”
Someone knocked on the bedroom door, and Iphigenia’s heart hammered in her chest. She forgot her hunger as her stomach plummeted to her feet. “Rhea?” she muttered with numb lips. Had she found them?
Atlas closed the distance to the bed and cupped her cheek. “No. You’re safe here, with me. I swear it on my eternity. As long as I breathe, she won’t lay a hand on you again.”
She believed him, God help her. Despite the chaos he’d brought into her life, she felt safe with him. He anchored her.
How was it possible, when she barely knew him?
Wind whistled in through the window, and Iphigenia thought she saw the air around the bedroom door ripple, before the handle twisted and the door swung open. The woman who entered pulling a cart backward into the room bore no resemblance to the Valkyrie-like Titaness. She was short and stout, with curly gray hair, and when she turned to smile at them over her shoulder, her wrinkled face was split by a warm smile. “Finally, you’re up,” she said. “Your man has been driving me crazy. With those large feet of his, his pacing can be heard throughout the villa.”
Iphigenia salivated at the smell of bacon and eggs. Atlas stepped back, as the woman parked the cart by the bed. God, there was so much food, and Iphigenia wanted all of it. And were these tomatokeftedes? Santorini was famous for its cherry tomatoes, and these tomato fritters were a local delicacy.
And they went amazingly with feta, Iphigenia mused as she stuffed an entire fritter and a piece of cheese in her mouth. “These are delicious.” She moaned in appreciation.
“I’m glad you like them, dear. Let me know if you need anything else.” The woman glanced at Atlas. “Perhaps use the intercom next time?”
Iphigenia mumbled a thanks as the woman left, and then added a slice of bacon and some egg white to the perfect bite. She felt like a chipmunk, with both cheeks bulging, but if she didn’t look at Atlas, she could pretend he wasn’t seeing this.
Her stomach’s protests quieted, but there was still a mountain of food left. She wiped her mouth and met his gaze. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He shook his head. “I don’t need food, though Marigo insisted I have a big breakfast this morning.”
She gave him a blank look, and he elaborated. “The cook. The woman who brought this up?” He pointed at the cart. “Apparently she comes with the lodgings.”
Right. “What was that about the intercom?”
“I reached to her mentally, to tell her you were up and required sustenance.” He might as well have said he texted the woman, as impassively as he spoke.
Iphigenia washed down her last bite with a gulp of cooling coffee, before she spoke. “You reached out to her in another room? How long is your reach?”
He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “Thought I’d given you some idea of its size. Before Eros interrupted us.”
Her face burned, but she wouldn’t be distracted. “You know what I mean.”
He came to sit next to her, one leg folded at the knee on the mattress between them. “I haven’t tested its extent, but the kitchen is two floors down.”
Two freaking floors down? She gulped but kept her expression flat. “Okay. I’m fed, dressed, and mostly clean. I’m ready to hear why Rhea wants me dead.”
He took a deep, slow breath, and let it out in a tortured sigh. Whatever he had to say was practically guaranteed to shock her, but unless she took it in stride, she’d drive herself nuts.
“Because of your connection to me. Because you’re... Because you awakened me.” He fell silent, drumming his fingers on his knee.
“But that’s done now. You’re up and running.” He avoided her gaze. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s not...” He scowled. “I’m trying to order my thoughts, so what comes out makes sense to you.”
Huh. So they had this in common, other than intense chemistry. “Say it anyway, and we’ll make sense of it after it’s out.”
With a snort, he said, “All right. Rhea wants to get rid of you because she knows you’re my soulmate.”
Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. “She knows what?”
“That you are my soulmate.”
Iphigenia had heard the word the first time, but it made no sense. And some things couldn’t be taken in stride. “We just met. I don’t even know if I like you. I mean I like you, but we’ve barely spent any time together with both of us being flesh and bone and nobody trying to kill me.”
He tilted his head back and scratched his wide chest with those long, thick fingers of his.
Yup. She definitely liked him.
But he was speaking. “—your reservations, yet it was fated.” He seemed to wait for her response, but what could she say? She didn’t believe in fate.
Then again, she didn’t believe in Titans, either.
“You and I are meant to be together, and we are supposed to bond soon, or this planet and possibly the universe are doomed,” he said.
Bond?
She didn’t ask it aloud, but he explained anyway. “Claim each other’s heart, while I make you mine.” He shrugged and met her gaze. His eyes—gold now—pleaded with her to understand, and part of her wanted nothing more than to accept what he offered and lose herself into him.
Iphigenia slowly pushed aside the food cart and stood. She needed to move, to keep herself busy. She started making the bed, her back to him. If she met those eyes again, she’d give in to anything at all. “This is the lamest pickup line I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard more than my fair share.”
He appeared at her side before she realized he’d moved. He folded an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him.
Were they being attacked again? She held on to his bicep, to steady herself, and not because it bulged through the smooth cotton of his T-shirt. “Hey. What—”
Atlas crushed his mouth to hers, and when she tried to protest, slipped his wicked tongue between her lips. It mapped every centimeter of her mouth, sending tingles spreading down her spine and making her toes curl. When she leaned into him, her body yielding to the intensity of his pull, his skin thrummed with power.
He buried his free hand in her hair and bunched it away from her throat, to nuzzle the spot under her ear. “Do I seem like I need pickup lines?”
“Nah uh.” She sought his lips again, but his grip on her curls kept his face just out of her reach.
“You really are my soulmate, and we really need to bond.”
The word Eros used clicked into place, and she reined in her desire. “To stabilize you?”
“Yes.” The gold in his irises faded, his expression turning solemn.
“Or you’ll... unravel?”
He touched his forehead to hers. “Correct.”
“And the world will go boom.”
He nodded. “Consider it Zeus’ gift from beyond the grave.”
Well, saving the world was as compelling a reason as any, to sleep with a guy who made her quiver with desire just by looking at her, but the claim each other’s heart part stumped her. She’d spend years safeguarding her heart, and he expected her to hand it to him? “Can I think about it?”
Chapter Ten
He couldn’t blame her for needing to process things. He’d just ladened her with life-changing information that must have shaken her belief system to the core. In addition to coming to life in front of her when she thought he was a statue.
Anyone would need to think about it before being bound to another being for eternity. That didn’t mean Atlas wasn’t hurt by her reaction. Deep down, he’d expected her to jump at the chance to be with him.
And that expectation was irrational and sentimental. He wouldn’t allow insecurity to take over. This wasn’t a rejection.
The hollow feeling in his chest mocked his reasoning.
Waiting for her to shower felt like it took an eternity, but he’d hoped she’d be more amicable to seeing things his way now that she’d freshened up. Instead, she seemed set on rebuffing him.
“I understand.” He tried to sound sincere. His hand shook, and he hid it in his jeans’ pocket.
Iphigenia paced the length of the room, her arms folded over her chest. “I mean, we don’t have anything in common. There is an undeniable pull between us, but you haven’t been with anyone in way too long, and only last night, you expected to be rejoined with your wife. You must see why I have my reservations.” Her voice was low, as if she was talking to herself.
The fingers of Atlas’ other hand twitched. Was his unraveling draw
ing near? He should tell her. Pressure her to make a choice now.
No. She had to realize bonding with him was the best thing for both of them, as well as the only way to save creation as she knew it.
But he’d rather she offered him her heart because she ached for him like he ached for her. Because she couldn’t draw breath without him.
He glided his gaze up her long legs, as she took step after step, and lingered on the curve of her buttocks, stretching the seat of her denim. The sliver of bare flesh that peeked between her waistband and her top invited him to touch it. Lick it. Make her shiver.
Iphigenia reached the door, spun on her heel, and started walking in the opposite direction. “And to be honest, I couldn’t commit to a human fiancé, and he had decent odds of dying before I did. How can I commit to you?” She paused, hands on her hips. “Do you even age? Or will you stick around, looking like that, while I grow old and withered? What will stop you from having affairs?”
She looked incensed and ready to turn him down. His gut told him no words could change her mind. He’d have to show her why no other woman would ever measure up.
Instead of blinking to her, he took slow, deliberate strides to where she stood, close enough that she had to crane her neck to see his face. He heard her breath hitch. Heard her heart race. Saw the widening of her pupils. Her body reacted to his proximity, and he wasn’t even touching her.
Then again, his body never ceased reacting to her.
He curled his fingers around her wrist and led her hand to cup his hard length. “You’re arguing against our bonding, yet I can think of nothing else but burying myself inside you. The world is hanging at the precipice of doom, and I care more about tasting your divine pussy. You may not recognize this... pull”—he used the word she’d chosen—“between us for what it truly is, but it’s a cord tethering our hearts together.” If he could resist that when he thought he was still bound to Pleione, he could obviously refuse any other female’s wiles because of it.
He had the sense to know that saying so, reminding her of Pleione, wouldn’t help his case when she didn’t realize she had Pleione’s soul in her. And it definitely wasn’t the time for him to disclose that.