Marked

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Imbeciles!”

Atalanta roared out her frustration as she slammed her hands down on the altar of her temple. The solid stone split in two with an earth-shattering crack and fell together at her feet.

Two steps down, in front of the now-demolished altar, Deimus dropped his head in supplication. Behind him, and several feet away, three other daemons did likewise.

They were morons. All of them. And they were fucking up her plans.

She rounded the mess, her bloodred skirt flying behind her. “She lives and the half-breeds survive. You are useless, Deimus!”

He didn’t lift his head or try to defend himself, even as she reached for the sword at his hip, unsheathed the blade and plunged it deep into his chest in one mighty thrust.

Slowly, his head came up, and his green eyes widened until the whites were all she saw. The shock that ran over his face only fueled the venom in her veins as she twisted the sword, exacting as much pain as possible.

He gasped. Fell to his knees at her feet. Blood pumping, she braced one foot against his chest and yanked the blade out, then thrust her arm out to the side so the blade sliced through the air and severed his head. It rolled down the stone steps with a sickening thunk. Gritting her teeth, she pushed with the sole of her foot until his body followed suit and came to rest near the head at the base of the temple steps.

The other three daemons looked down in horror.

“Thanatos,” she barked. “Come forward.”

The daemon in the middle cautiously looked up, and though he hesitated a brief moment, he obeyed, coming to rest where Deimus had once stood.

She liked that he didn’t quiver, though he had to be pulsing with fear. “Pledge your allegiance, here and now.”

He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I vow to serve the goddess until death.”

Oddly calmed by his vow, she lifted her shoulders, straightened her spine. “Who is your master?”

“You are, my queen.”

“What is your quest?”

“To destroy Argolea and all that it represents.”

Atalanta drew a steadying breath. Because of Deimus’s ineptitude, she’d lost the half-breed. That didn’t mean it was over, though. She knew of Hera’s curse. She’d just have to believe the Argonaut wouldn’t go through with the joining of the Chosen. And she still had other means of vengeance.

She pulled Thanatos’s sword from its sheath and placed the flat end of the blade against the top of his head. “You, Thanatos, daemon of death, are hereby knighted the commander of my army.” Electricity flowed from her hand, down the blade and into Thanatos as the extra strength granted to that of her archdaemon seeped into his body. “Do not disappoint me. My patience grows dangerously thin.”

She lifted the sword and held it out to him. “Now rise. And go forth to kill. I want blood.”

“Yes, my queen.” Thanatos bowed, turned and stepped over Deimus without a look.

Alone, Atalanta drew one deep breath, then glanced to the blackened column on the right side of her temple. “Come closer, Maximus.”

Silence met her ears. But she sensed his breathing. And his fear. And it fed her. As it always did.

Slowly, two feet shuffled from behind the massive column, and the child stepped out of the shadows, eyes wide as saucers, face drawn in terror.

His striking resemblance to his father always stopped her. The blond hair, the chiseled features. The power. At ten he was big for his age, already hinting at the warrior he would one day become. Her warrior. Trained, molded, nurtured by her. “Closer.”

He stepped toward her, careful, she noticed, never to look at Deimus’s mutilated remains but to keep his eyes on her. When he inched close enough, she grasped his hand, her fingers sliding over and around the markings that started on his forearms and ran down to entwine his fingers. She jerked him down the stone steps until he was standing over Deimus’s body, his back pressed up tight against her stomach, her hands cemented on his shoulders to hold him in place.

She felt him tremble and smiled as she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Look closely, yios, and tell me what you see.”

“I—I see…in-ineptitude.”

Already, he’d learned so much, but there would always be more. “Ineptitude, what?”

“Ineptitude”—he swallowed, hard—“Matéras.”

Mother. Her smile widened. “And what is your matéras, above all else, Maximus?”

He hesitated. She felt it. Knew the internal war between good and evil that lived inside him was raging hot and fierce. The internal war she would beat out of him until he turned to her fully and without conscience. “M…merciful.”

Her smile faded as she slid her arms down his chest and around to pull him tighter against her. The breath left him on a gasp, and still she tightened like a boa constrictor, knowing…showing that she held the ultimate power over him and always would. “Yes, yios. Your matéras is merciful,” she growled in his ear. “So merciful, I am the only one who can save you. You know that to be true. And you would be wise to remember it. Always.”

She held him long enough to know she’d made her point, until it was all he could do not to scream for a breath. His muscles tightened against her, but he knew better than to fight. Knew if he did, he would wind up in much, much worse shape than he was in now.

When she released him, he drew in a gulp of air and fell forward to land on his hands and knees on Deimus’s decapitated body. Blood stained his skin and clothing as he pushed up quickly, stumbled and tripped over the monster. But when he turned, breathing deeply, and his brilliant silver eyes finally lifted to hers, there was no longer fear smoldering in their depths, but determination.

Determination and a hatred forged by her hand.

Pride rushed through her. Oh, yes. It was beyond time he assumed his rightful place at her side and learned the full extent of her power. Especially now, when he may just be the key to her plan after all.

“Tomorrow you join Phobus in the training circle.”

Not a flicker of emotion ran over his features at the news that in a few short hours he would be fighting daemons like the mutilated one at his feet to the death. No fear, no horror, no disgust or railing that he was still a child. There was simply…nothing. Her pride swelled. Already he lacked the humanity bred into the Argonauts that would eventually be their downfall. His training would finish the job to turn him fully her way.

“Leave me now.”

He did. Without a single word. Shoulders held high, head up, back straight with a confidence born of the guardian class. Her eyes followed him as far as the outer wall around her temple before she turned her back and climbed the steps of her altar. And as she did, her gaze swept once again over the River Styx that so often was her only source of pleasure these days.

“He is a beast of burden, Meleager,” she said on a sigh. “But one day soon, he will be the son we should have had.”

Silence. Not that she expected Meleager to answer her. He never did.

She ran her hands over her cold arms. Shivered. Thought of all the day had brought.

It wasn’t over yet. She was the greatest hero to ever walk the earth. Her father had known that. Meleager had known it and died because of it. The rest would know it as well.

“Soon,” she muttered, staring at the water. “Soon I’ll have my revenge.”

Zander knew a dead end when he saw one. Hell, he was a living dead end, wasn’t he? And hadn’t he told Theron a thousand times the same damn thing Theron had just told him—that he was fine, and to leave his ass alone?

Yeah, he had. But this wasn’t about Zander. It wasn’t even about Theron, not really. It was about the Argonauts. And the Chosen Ones. And the future of every person in their race.

“What’s Phineus doing outside Isadora’s room?” Theron asked, glancing toward Isadora’s suite as they passed, trying—unsuccessfully—to change the subject. Again.

“The king ordered she be guarded,” Zander said, judging Theron’s reaction as they moved toward the king’s suite. Theron hadn’t said much since they’d left his house. And his silence and the memory of the way he’d called the Chosen One meli kept swirling in Zander’s head.

He seriously hoped this wasn’t what he thought this was. Theron was all business all the time. He wasn’t prone to human emotions. And he’d never fall for a female he shouldn’t fall for. Not like Zander.

When his kinsman only harrumphed and focused on the stairs ahead as they climbed toward the fourth floor, every step visibly tightening his shoulders and making his jaw tick like a time bomb about to go off, Zander knew his suspicions were correct. He cursed under his breath.

The leader of the Argonauts had fallen for the female. For the Chosen One to boot. Of all the stupid, meaningless moves…Hadn’t he learned a thing from Zander’s mistakes?

Zander’s frustration grew as their boots clunked across the marble landing outside the king’s chambers. But it ground to a halt when Theron opened the outer door and Callia stepped from the king’s bedroom suite. Just that fast, Zander’s chest ignited as if he’d taken a searing blade into the depths of his flesh.

This was why he hated coming to the fucking castle.

A servant jumped from where she’d been sitting behind a desk and bowed. “The king is expecting you, guardians.”

Callia’s gaze darted up, skipped over Theron to Zander, then quickly darted away as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. And why the hell that pissed Zander off was as foreign as the rush of pain he thought he’d let go of long ago.

He was immortal, dammit. A fierce fighter who wasn’t afraid of anything. And yet five minutes in this castle and he wanted to run away screaming like a little gynaíka.

His mood slid to black. Oh, lucky him. He had all of eternity to get over this one.

At Zander’s side, Theron’s eyebrows drew together and he glanced between them, obviously sensing…something. But like Theron earlier, Zander did not want to get into it. No way, no how. He shook his head and muttered, “Don’t ask.”

Theron didn’t. He glanced back at Callia instead. “How is he?”

Callia’s gaze snapped Theron’s way, and she lifted her chin. “He’s resting. Not too long. I don’t want him anymore agitated than he already is.”

Theron nodded once. “We won’t be long.”

Callia cast a quick look Zander’s direction, then headed down the long stone corridor without another word, just as she always did when their paths crossed, her shoes clicking softly in her wake.

That anger hovered on the edge, pushed at Zander from all sides and tempted him to take the bait. He didn’t want to give in to it, but when Theron made a move to open the king’s door, Zander saw himself and every one of his wrong turns. He moved without thinking and stopped Theron with a hand on his arm. “Hold up. Before you go in there.” This isn’t your problem. “What in Hades is going on with the half-breed?”

Theron’s jaw clenched. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Zander dropped his arm but he didn’t back down from Theron’s defensive posture. So much for it not being his problem. Deep inside he’d be damned if he let one of his kin go through even an ounce of what he had. “It didn’t look like nothing from where Cerek and I were standing.”

Theron’s jaw twitched again. “It’s none of your business. It’s between me and the king. Let it go, Argonaut.”

“Not my business?” Zander stepped between Theron and the king’s door before the leader of the Argonauts could dismiss him. The flash in Theron’s eyes warned him he wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with. Well, fuck it. Zander wasn’t in a mood to dick around either. Not after the last few minutes. “The hell it’s not. Theron, this concerns all of us. And our futures.”

Theron pursed his lips and took a step back. At his silence, Zander pressed on. “What the hell are you doing, man? She’s a half-breed.”

“I know.”

“And the Chosen.”

Theron dropped his head and rubbed a hand over his brow. “I know.”

Pity crept into Zander’s chest. Pity for his kinsman, who was obviously totally conflicted right now. But Theron needed to know his superhuman strength wasn’t going to save him this time. He was about to hit rock bottom. Over a female. And Zander knew all too well just how bad that fucking hurt. “You gotta let her go, Theron. This isn’t going to end well and you know it. You’re just prolonging the inevitable and making it worse.”

Theron’s head snapped up, and fire rekindled in his eyes. “Whom am I making it worse for, Guardian? For the king? He’s dying. In a few weeks he won’t give a shit about any of us. For Isadora? No one even knows what’s going to happen to her. For our race?” He scoffed. “Most in our kingdom don’t even understand what the hell we do for them. The Council’s made sure of that. Why should I give a rip about them?”

Theron’s uncharacteristic reactions set off warning bells in Zander’s head. “Because it’s your duty.”

“My duty’s changed.”

“Theron—”

“No,” Theron reached for the door. “I’m sick of sitting back while he plays god. You don’t have a clue what he’s done, Zander. Not a fucking clue.”

Theron pushed by Zander and thrust the king’s door open. Immediately the scent of healing herbs and the odor of sickness permeated the air. Reluctantly, Zander followed, though what he wanted to do more was pound some sense into Theron before the guardian made the biggest mistake of his life.

The heavy velvet curtains were pulled closed, emitting only a line of light around the edges of the fabric that did nothing to lighten the room. Sheets rustled on the bed. “Who’s there?” a weak voice asked.

It took Zander moments to find any familiar features in the frail ándras propped up in a mountain of pillows. The king’s cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken. The skin seemed to hang off his bones and his hair was now snowwhite. He looked as if he’d aged fifty years in the last few days alone.

“Speak up,” the king barked. “Who’s there? I may not be able to see anymore, but I know I’m not alone.”

“You sent for me,” Theron said in a dry voice. “I came.”

The king’s face softened. “Theron. There you are, my boy. I was beginning to worry.”

Theron’s jaw tightened.

“Tell me,” the king said with excitement brewing in his voice. “Did you find her?”

Theron glanced at Zander, and in his eyes Zander didn’t miss the warning: Don’t fucking say a word.

Shit. Zander stiffened, knowing a train wreck when he saw one. This was about to go from bad to worse, and there was virtually nothing he could do to stop it.

“I found her,” Theron said simply, refocusing on the king.

The king breathed out a long sigh of relief. “Thank Hera. You brought her with you? Where is she? We need to unite her with Isadora. My daughter isn’t well.”

“They’re both your daughters,” Theron snapped.

The king went still. Zander took a step farther into the room, adrenaline pumping.

The look Theron sent Zander could have boiled blood, but Zander ignored it. Right now he just wanted to make sure Theron didn’t pummel the king. And holy shit, wasn’t that ironic? He was the Argonaut who normally had to be talked down from a rage, not the other way around.

Theron transferred his glare to the king. “Aren’t you curious about her at all?”

The king stayed silent and unmoving. And his total lack of emotion ignited a fury in Theron that Zander had never seen before.

The Argonaut’s coal black eyes grew so wide they seemed to consume his face. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and every muscle in his body bunched for battle. “Well, let me tell you. Her hair is dark, her eyes are violet, just like yours. She’s tall and slim. Athletic. The opposite of Isadora. Built more like you. She runs her own business. Has traveled all over the world. She’s kind and gentle and smart enough to put me in my place. And there’s not much that scares her. When she was surrounded by daemons she kept her cool. Even had the strength to save my ass. More than once.”

“Enough,” the king said.

“She cares little about herself. Would give the shirt on her back to someone in need if she could. And she’s full of more humor and goodness and life than you or I will ever know.”

“That’s enough,” the king said between clenched teeth.

Shit. Shit. Had Zander thought Theron had fallen for the half-breed? The Argonaut hadn’t fallen. He’d dived in headfirst. Without—obviously—fucking thinking.

“Theron,” Zander cut in, trying to defuse the situation, even though he knew he was the last person in the universe who should. Cerek was the peacemaker, not him. “That’s it.”

Theron shot Zander a blistering look. “Fuck you, Zander.”

Whoa. The rage Zander struggled against every day bubbled up to explosive levels. Curling his fingers into his palms, he breathed deep and reminded himself Theron was his kin. And that he was hurting. Zander could identify with that, even if all it did was remind him what an idiotic fool he’d been once.

“I said, enough,” the king repeated firmly.

“Yeah, you know what?” Theron mocked, swinging his gaze back to the king. “I don’t think so.” He took a step closer to the foot of the bed. “Do you have any idea how she reacted when she found out she was half Argolean? She pitched in and helped the Misos—a race she knew nothing about. A race you told me didn’t exist. An offshoot of ours that’s been on the front lines battling the daemons, while we sat back and did nothing. Nothing! Do you know how many there are out there? How many have died? Been maimed? What they’ve gone through because of you?”

The king didn’t answer, and Zander found himself staring at his kinsman, unable to believe that what he was hearing was true.

“Hundreds,” Theron said, eyes blazing. “In that colony alone. Thousands the world over.”

“Holy Hades,” Zander whispered.

“That is enough!” the king screamed.

The king was visibly shaken, and sweating from his old and wrinkled brow, but Theron didn’t back down. “If she knew why I brought her here, she’d probably sacrifice herself for you and your noble cause. Because that’s the selfless kind of person she is. But I won’t let her.”

For the first time, the king’s eyes lifted, and he squinted hard to see. “What did you say?”

“I said I won’t bring her within a mile of Isadora,” Theron said calmly. “Consider your prophecy null and void.”

Zander sucked in a breath.

The king’s face went ashen. “You do not know what you are saying. Isadora will die.”

Theron tipped his head. “And why does that concern you, Leo? Is it because you lose an heir to the throne in the deal or because she’s your daughter? Because as long as I’ve known you, you’ve cared for Isadora about as much as you care for the Misos. And we all know how much anyone outside these sacred walls matters to you.”

The king’s white face went beet red, and he struggled forward in bed. “You do not know of what you speak!”

“I speak the truth!”

In the silence that followed, Zander wasn’t sure what to do. Theron’s rage was so close to the surface, he was vibrating. And Zander didn’t put it past the Argonaut to cross the floor and hurl the old man against the wall. He understood that rage and need to annihilate. Hell, he lived with it daily. And he felt it now. From his friend. From himself. From the flickering image still lingering in his head of Callia brushing him off outside this very door and the unwanted emotions that action stirred inside.

“I’ve seen them,” Theron said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen what they’ve been through. And yet you did nothing. We did nothing! And now you want to set Atalanta free from Tartarus so you can truly start your precious war? Unleash the daemons? I won’t let you do that. I won’t let you kill one more person to make your twisted prophecy come true. Not even for Isadora. You can call on all the gods on Olympus to come to your aid, but know this now. I’ll never let you get near Acacia. I’ll die first.”

The king gasped. Theron turned for the door.

“Your father understood,” the king called at his back. “He had more honor in his right hand than you’ve got in your entire body.”

Theron’s fist hit the wall near the door so hard, it created a crater the size of a window. He pulled his arm from the rubble and glanced over his shoulder toward the king. “My father’s dead, you son of a bitch. And you can join him, for all I care.”

Theron stormed out of the room, leaving a seething tension in his wake. One that washed over Zander like a wave, pushing and pulling him in the current left behind. The bond he had with his forefather Achilles, with Theron, urged him to follow and say “Fuck you” to the world. But that part of him that struggled with what was right and what was expected of him rooted his feet in place.

“Argonaut,” the king rasped. “Are you still here?”

Yeah, he was still here. Just like always. Spending eternity fighting the same damn things he’d been fighting the last eight hundred years of his never-ending life. “I’m here.”

“You’ve just been appointed leader of the Argonauts. Gather the rest of the guardians. I want the Chosen brought to Isadora now. And if Theron stands in your way, you have my permission to use whatever force necessary to remove him.”

Holy…fuck. Zander’s brow lifted in utter shock. That was not what he wanted. Not by a long shot. He was a fighter. Not a leader. Not ever.

“I think—”

“Go. Now,” the king snapped. “If you can’t follow orders, I’ll find someone else who can.”

He was being dismissed? Like that? Not likely. It didn’t matter that the order came from the king. At that moment, Zander had a memory flash. Of another ándras. Dismissing him in much the same way. As if he were nothing.

That time it had been because of a female too.

That rage pushed up against the barrier of his control. And Zander narrowed his eyes. “Theron’s stronger than all the Argonauts put together. And if what he just said is true, he’s got every reason to stand against you, Your Highness.”

At the king’s gasp, he turned for the door. “I won’t be your patsy. Not yours. Not anyone’s. Get yourself another guardian.”

Casey threw back the covers on a long sigh and climbed out of Theron’s big bed. She couldn’t sleep. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was racing. The catnap she’d taken had only made her insomnia worse.

And that blasted tingling on her lower back just wouldn’t go away.

After a hot shower that did nothing to relax her, she dug through Theron’s dresser and found a white T-shirt that hit at her knees. The thing was huge, but she smiled as she pulled it over her head. It smelled like him and was soft against her skin, and that, at least, was comforting.

Barefoot, she headed down the long hallway, intent on investigating a little, if she was going to be stuck in his house alone. At the entry to the massive living room she paused, and when she didn’t see Cerek, she crept into the room and looked around.

The scent of thyme was strong here, and one look told her it was coming from an incense burner across the room. She moved closer to look. Yep, that’s what it was. Weird.

She turned away, studied the decor. It pleased her beyond belief that there were no feminine touches. The colors, furnishings, even art on the walls were all very masculine with sleek lines and bold patterns. No girlfriend had decorated this place for him. He’d done it himself.

She ran her hand over the top of a sofa table as she passed and remembered what he’d said to her in the woods. In my world, an ándras can tell if a gynaíka is his soul mate by sharing a bed. She chuckled at the ludicrous thought. Then sobered as her cheeks heated and warmth slid down her abdomen.

It didn’t make sense. As sick as she knew she was, she shouldn’t be contemplating sex with a guardian as strong as Theron. But she was. In fact, she’d shored up her courage and decided that was exactly what she wanted. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed her before Zander and Cerek had arrived. About the way he’d touched her. About what would have happened had they not been interrupted.

In serious need of a distraction, Casey headed for the kitchen and told herself she’d find something to eat. Theron was right. She needed to keep up her strength for whatever was ahead. And especially for the night she wanted to have with him when he returned. She’d worry about everything else later.

She pulled the giant refrigerator open and peered inside. Sandwich fixings, what looked like leftover pasta, some kind of meat she didn’t even want to look at, bottled water, beer and juice. No soda. A smile played across her mouth as she reached for the container of juice and remembered the meal she and Theron had shared back at her house. For the most part, things in this world seemed pretty normal to her. Everything except the no-soda thing.

She was just pouring herself a glass when she heard muffled voices outside the kitchen window. Cerek was on the porch talking to someone just out of her view. Her adrenaline pulsed as she tried to peer around Cerek’s massive body. Who else would come out here?

A moment later she got her answer when the kitchen door swung open and Theron stomped into the house.

Her heart kicked up as she lowered her toes and smiled at him. “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

One look from his sullen eyes and her smile faded. Okay, not such a good day after all.

He crossed to the refrigerator and closed the door she’d left open with a snap. “What are you doing out of bed? I told you to lie down.”

“I didn’t realize it was an order.”

“It wasn’t. It was a suggestion. A very strong one. Now go back to bed.”

Casey stared at him. That tingling came back stronger than ever. He was in a mood for some reason. She could either fight with him or try to soothe him. The latter sounded a thousand times better.

“Stop worrying, Theron. I’m fine.” She tried a smile. “I missed you.”

His eyes softened, just a touch, so she pushed up that courage again and crossed to him. She lifted his hand with the intention of kissing it, but the swollen red cuts across his knuckles stopped her. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He quickly drew back and walked to the sink, where he turned on the water and washed his hands, cringing slightly as the soap touched his open wounds.

“That’s not nothing.”

“Let it go, Acacia,” he said, not bothering to look at her. “It’s none of your business.”

None of her business? Whoa. Wait. She loved him and wanted to help ease whatever was wrong, and it was none of her business? He’d gone to see her father and come back not only in a surly mood but with cuts across his skin, and that was none of her business?

“You’re a rotten liar, Theron.”

“Argonauts can’t lie. It’s a curse.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then they omit extremely well. You’re the king of omissions.”

He ignored that barb and instead grabbed a towel from the drawer. “I have some things I need to do. You really should lie down and get some sleep.”

That was it. Breaking point.

“Argh!” She crossed the kitchen, grasped his arm and pulled as hard as she could until he faced her, then shoved him in the chest until his back hit the counter. “Your little secrets are really starting to piss me off. And I swear to God, if you tell me to go lie down one more time I’m going to slit my wrists! Or yours.”

His eyes widened at what she knew had to be her crazed features, but she didn’t care. She’d had enough.

“Acacia.”

She mimicked his confused expression and punched him hard in the shoulder. “Theron!” Pain zinged up her arm, but she gritted her teeth and stared back at him.

Slowly, his eyebrows drew together. “Are you…teasing me again?”

Teasing him? Oh, holy hell. He might be one of the greatest guardians ever, but the man was clueless.

She glared hard. “If I were teasing you, Theron, I’d come up with a much better way to do it. Like this.”

On impulse, she pulled the T-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor until she was standing stark naked in front of him. Those befuddled yet sinfully sexy eyes of his widened until she was sure they might just pop out of his head. And considering how fired up she was right now, that wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“I know I’m just a job for you, but you might want to work on your hospitality skills. They basically suck. Oh, and for the record, I’m not tired at all. But thanks for the suggestion.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

She might have made it all the way back to the bedroom if she hadn’t been hit by a train from behind halfway down the hall. At least, that’s how it felt. One second she was walking, the next she was being swept off the floor and slammed up against the wall.

Her breath left her on a gasp. She hadn’t even heard him move. Somehow he caught her head so her face wasn’t smashed into the plaster. And though he was gentle so she wasn’t seriously hurt, the wind was knocked out of her just the same.

“You’re not just a job to me,” he growled in her ear as he split her legs and wedged himself tight against her backside. His hot breath fanned over her neck, sending even more tingles down her back. “And I don’t tell you things, because I want to keep you safe. Not because I enjoy hiding them from you.”

Her heart rate shot up into the triple digits. Too late she realized her little outburst had been childish and that she’d pissed off a two-hundred-fifty-pound Argonaut warrior with the strength of a bulldozer. “I—”

“And stripping off your shirt was a bad idea, meli, because now I know what every inch of you looks like.” His mouth closed over her earlobe and sucked hard.

She shivered. Caught her breath. Froze when his hand streaked down her abdomen into her folds and found her wetness. Then nearly drove her to the edge.

Oh, God. This is what she’d thought it would be like with him. Fast and frantic, hard and violent. Completely and utterly bone melting.

“Theron—”

She didn’t get to finish her statement because he pulled back, flipped her to face him and claimed her mouth, taking her tongue and lips and devouring them until she was his.

Air brushed over her spine, and only when she hit the mattress did she realize he’d carried her all the way back to his bedroom.

“Feet on the bed,” he ordered.

Her brain was a muddled mess. She planted her heels on the mattress without question. Muffled a cry when he lowered himself to kiss her again, pushing her thighs wide in the process. His tongue snaked over hers, drew her deep and released with the erotic promise of what she knew he’d soon be doing to her body. A little voice in the back of her mind warned rough, angry, forceful sex wasn’t a good idea, but as his mouth moved south to nip and suck and lick, she had a hard time listening.

His hand found her right breast, his lips, her left. He drew her deep into his mouth and sucked hard until electricity flooded her system, raced to her core, and she arched her back, seeking release. As if he could read her thoughts, his lips blazed a trail down her abdomen, lower still. Until she felt his hand on her ankles, holding her tight in place so she couldn’t move as his head dipped low and his tongue made a long, possessive sweep down her cleft.

She shuddered. Had to bite her lip to keep from screaming when he did it again. Her hands clenched the comforter at her hips as his tongue licked and laved. But when he suckled her, it was too much. Stars exploded behind her eyes and the world shook.

He didn’t let up. He took her to the edge again and again with that talented tongue, with those teasing lips, until she was quivering beneath him.

When he finally released her and she came back to herself, that incredible mouth of his was kissing her hip, her belly button, her ribs just beneath her breasts. Softer this time. Less frantic. Like he had a thousand years to do only this and was memorizing every second.

Nearly too limp to move, she muttered, “Wh-What was that?”

He turned his cheek against her stomach. Drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The change she sensed in him was so dramatic, she didn’t know what to make of it. One minute he’d been out of control, crazy for her. The next, utterly still.

That tingling returned. “Theron?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

Silence enveloped them. Then finally, he said, “Nothing. Everything’s good. Just the way it should be.” But he didn’t sound good. If anything, he sounded…sad.

He eased up on an elbow to look down at her. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

How could she tell him his secrets hurt her more than anything? “No. I liked the way you touched me. It felt good. Like you wanted me.”

His eyes darkened. “I do want you.”

“Then show me.”

He hesitated just long enough to make her think he’d changed his mind, but then he leaned down and kissed her, and all her doubt slipped away.

She tasted herself. And him. And a lust she’d never known, as his mouth met hers. As he nibbled on her lower lip, sucked the tender flesh between his teeth, she remembered what his lips felt like on her nipples, licking, circling, drawing them deep in his mouth. Shivers of anticipation raced down her spine, and goose bumps jumped out on her skin all over again.

Her fingers found the snap on his jeans as he slanted his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss. He was hard and hot when she dipped her hand inside, and so much bigger than she remembered.

“Take these off, Theron.”

“I don’t need to,” he said against her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her skin. His hand returned to her breast. “I get more than enough pleasure just watching you come.”

That tingling kicked up a notch. And in the silence between them, she realized what was going on. “Is this about that whole soul mate thing?”

He kissed the inside of her right breast. “No. I already know the answer.”

He did? She waited to hear the rest, but he only kept on kissing her. And when it was clear he wasn’t going to fill her in, a little of her temper returned. Fine. He could keep all of his secrets. That wasn’t what she wanted from him right now anyway.

She grasped his face and lifted so he was forced to look at her. “I want you inside me. Right now. So either lose the pants, or I’ll have to remind you about that whole slitting-your-wrists thing.”

He searched her face. “Are you sure? I don’t—”

“Theron. Either get naked now or I’ll go find Cerek to finish the job.”

His eyes flashed. “Don’t tease about that, meli. Not unless you want to see the guardian dead.”

His kiss was hard and possessive, but so good. Knowing she’d won, she grasped his shirt and broke free long enough to pull it over his head. He pushed up on his hands, never leaving her mouth, and wriggled out of his jeans.

Miles of roped muscles filled her hands. When he pulled back and moved as if he were getting off the bed, she sat up and grabbed on tight. “You’re not going anywhere now.”

He wrapped one arm around her waist and tugged her with him as he leaned toward the nightstand. “Condoms.”

“You have condoms here?”

“Of course. Our biology’s the same, remember?”

Right. She should know that. Underneath, he was mortal just like her. There were so many similarities between them. So many differences as well.

She gave her head a quick shake. “You don’t need them.”

“Yes—”

“It’s the wrong time of the month for me, Theron. And considering how fast I’m withering away, we both know I won’t get pregnant.” He stopped. Looked at her. In his eyes she saw he agreed, and that fact didn’t upset her. Oddly enough, it reinforced her decision.

She softened her voice, on this wanting to be completely honest. “I’ve had three lovers in my life. None of them was special, and I was careful with each one. With you, I don’t want to worry about any of that.”

“Meli.” His finger ran down her cheek in a move that was so tender, her heart pinched. “You honor me.”

She shrugged, fighting back the feelings he stirred in her. “I just want to be with you without any barriers. Even if it’s just for tonight. I know tomorrow things are going to change and you’re going to take me wherever it is we’re going. And from there, well, who knows? But tonight I don’t want to think about it. I just want to be selfish.”

“You’re the most unselfish person I’ve ever met.”

“No, I’m not.” A ghost of a smile curled her mouth. “I’m difficult and headstrong and a wanderer with no focus. You just don’t know me that well.”

“I know everything I need to know,” he whispered. “I know you’re perfect.”

She stared at him. And the emotions she’d been trying to hold back came raring forward. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he went and changed on her. Here she’d expected angry-warrior sex and he was switching things around, making her feel all over again, pushing her that much more over the edge in love with him.

Dammit. He really was a hero. Her very own.

“Love me, Theron,” she whispered. “Just…love me. Tonight. Right now.”

“Meli.”

Thank the heavens above, he did just what she asked. He lowered her to the mattress, kissed her gently as he eased between her thighs. Used his fingers and lips to excite her all over again. His mouth found her ear, her throat, her breast; his fingers, her slick and ready wetness. He circled and swirled her nipple with his tongue, stroked her sleek knot with his thumb. And when he slid a finger deep inside, she groaned and lifted her hips to meet him.

He worked her over, up, close to the edge and back again, searching deep for the spot that nearly made her come out of her skin. She gasped when she felt him retreat, but then was rewarded by the tip of his cock sliding along her slit, up higher to circle her clitoris until she shuddered.

“Theron…” She lifted her head, glanced down her body to where he touched her, and went white-hot at the erotic sight before her: his strong hand gripping his massive shaft as he teased them both to new levels of sexual need, his eyes locked on the spot where their bodies were nearly joined, the veins in his neck and shoulders bulging with his restraint and his features darkening in pure lust.

All because of her.

“Theron, oh, God.” She’d never been this turned on before, and it was good, so good—the tip of his cock slipping through her folds, circling her clit over and over, sliding down and back up to torment her all over again. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Frustrated when he only continued to drive them both to the edge, she arched her back, trying to draw him where she needed him most. Then groaned long and deep when he finally nudged her entrance and plunged inside.

“Ah, gods, meli. You’re so tight, so wet. So…” His hips pulled back, then thrust again, this time harder. “Perfect.”

She should have been tense—she’d seen how huge he was that night at her house when he’d been injured and naked, lying on her grandmother’s comforter, had felt him grow in her hand when she’d stroked her fingers up and down his rigid length. And it had been a long time for her. But as she felt him press inside, one slow inch at a time, and they both groaned at the tight, slick contact, she breathed out a sigh at the rightness of the moment.

Oh, yes.

His kiss was hot. Wet. Sinful. He pushed in slowly, each move a snug glide and retreat, until finally, finally he was seated deep and they both paused to catch their breath.

This was what she wanted. Him. With her like this. Locked tight together, the outside world nothing but a memory.

His eyes found hers, and the tenderness she saw there cut all the way to her soul. She lifted a hand and ran it over his stubbled jaw. “Theron.”

He withdrew, thrust, kept his eyes fixed on hers as his strokes grew harder, deeper, longer. His jaw clenched. A vein pulsed in his neck. Sweat dripped from his temple to splash across her breasts. She kicked her head back and moaned in sheer pleasure at his thickness plowing into her again and again. And just as she felt the peak building, he rolled to his back, pulled her on top and grasped her hips, teaching her a rhythm that nearly had her seeing double.

Her climax built, fast and urgent. And with him guiding her, she had no choice but to let go and ride the wave. It crashed over her, once, twice, three times, until she was sure she couldn’t take any more. And even then it went on. Rippling through every cell in her body until all thought blew right out of her brain.

The adrenaline that had fueled her temper earlier shifted, lagged, broke. She heard him call her name, registered his length pulsing deep inside just before she collapsed onto his chest. Drawing air into her suddenly-too-small lungs, she felt his fingers digging into her hips, holding her tight to him as his body shuddered beneath her.

He was breathing hard himself and growing soft inside her. She tightened her muscles to hold him in, not ready to have him go just yet.

He groaned. “Meli, if you keep doing that, you won’t get any sleep at all tonight.”

She smiled. Released. Contracted again. His answering moan had an electrifying effect on her.

“Sleep’s overrated.”

He ran a hand down her back. “I think you did mention that. Briefly.”

God, she loved the way he touched her. She let out a contented sigh. “If that’s the way Argoleans have sex, I can see why I was your first human.”

His hand slid down her spine to cup her ass before gently rolling her over. One thrust of his hips and she knew all her tightening had done its work.

He kissed her neck. Her jaw. Her lips. “Trust me when I say that wasn’t normal, even for an Argonaut.” He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him, then dipped in and took his fill. “I hope you were serious about not being tired, because where you’re concerned, I can’t seem to stop myself.”

She held on tight as he thrust, retreated, thrust again with those gorgeous hips and that growing erection. And tried not to read too much into his words. “Ah, Theron. I love how fast you heal.”

He chuckled against her neck. “Like that, do you?”

“Yes.”

His smile widened. “So do I.”

She gave herself up to his kiss. And ignored the tingling around her birthmark, now growing to explosive levels.