My guts twist, my stomach churns, but I can’t give up. How can I when the one thing that brought the color into my life is gone? Darkness closes in on me, the water tugs me down, and I try to push back, knowing I can’t give in to the tiredness, cannot let myself fall.
Everything I’ve faced to come this far seems to hit me. Images of my father, my mother…my followers, the need to destroy the city…all of it is chased away, and all there is, is her.
The sugary scent of her slick, the softness of her skin, the brilliant green of her eyes when she is aroused, the fear that rippled through her, the first time I’d seen her, her fighting me…submitting to me… The mating cord twinges, once, so faint I should have missed it except I’ve been waiting, waiting for that.
My eyelids fly open, and I aim for the faint light that filters through the waves, sinking through the green depths, the color so like her eyes. I am going to see again. I will see her safe, I will find her, rescue her, bring her back, and when I do, I am never letting her go. Never again. I push back strongly and rise to the surface. When I break through, my lungs expand, and I draw in huge gulps of air.
“Zeus.”
I look to the other side to see Ethan waiting for me.
It was him who’d tried to hold me back from jumping; no one else would have dared. Only he has the guts to face me, and I want to rage at him for trying to hold me back. Yet, when he wades out to grab my arm and hauls me to the shore, I don’t shake him off.
I am too tired, too overwrought, too anguished to think of anything else but her.
Reaching land, I keep walking, Ethan at my heels.
He touches my shoulder. “We’ll find her, Z.”
I stiffen, then jerk my chin.
Notice I don't admonish him for reassuring me. Me? The alpha who's never needed reassurances, who'd never have accepted comfort from another, hell, who'd never have revealed his vulnerabilities to himself let alone the world—that alpha; he's the man I used to be. I set my jaw and stalk forward. I am changing and there's not a damned thing I can do about it. It's her fault. The damned omega is softening me up. I'd almost flung myself into the river without caring for my life. I’ve never put myself on the line for anyone else, for no one except my mother. “Alert the troops, send out search parties, alert the guards along the river.”
“Now you insult me.”
I turn and narrow my eyes at him. “Fucking Second,” I snarl without heat. “Always one step ahead of me.”
He meets my gaze. “Of course, you’ll want to be part of the search party and head out yourself?”
I angle my head, not bothering to reply.
When I reach the bridge leading away from the palace, Solomon is already there with my armor.
I shrug into my suit. “Put out a reward.”
“Already done—”
“A million quid.”
There's silence. I shoot him a sideways glance, “Stop trying to second-guess me…Second.” I peel my lips back at Ethan.
His lips firm. “Of course, your omega is worth that and more.”
“Another million if she is found unwounded. I want her unhurt, if so much as a hair on her head is touched I'll set waste to this city, you understand?”
His features are frozen, all the expression wiped off his face.
He's going to protest that we are stretching our already lean financial resources to find a woman, I wait for him to say it, just so I can pick a fight with him, put him in his place. One excuse that's all I am gonna need to lay into this motherfucker. My fists clench.
Ethan's gaze narrows, then he angles his head, “Of course, General."
Bloody fucking hell! It seems I don’t need to explain to him exactly how much she’s come to mean to me.
Reaching the bridge, I slide into the armored car which Sol has brought around for me.
“She could be dead…” Ethan gets in the front next to me.
Sol takes the back seat.
I snarl, “She isn’t.” I start the armored vehicle and roar up the bridge.
“How do you know?” Ethan scratches his chin. “Ah, the mating bond.”
“You can sense her?” Solomon leans forward.
I shoot him a glance in the rearview mirror and he pales, then folds his arms over his chest.
Ethan turns to me, “You know what this means, right?” His voice is quiet.
“I am sure you are going to tell me,” I grit my teeth.
I shouldn’t allow this degree of familiarity from him, but whatever.
We are going to search for her, and yet the fact that we are under so much pressure has brought down any walls there may have been between us.
There’s silence in the car.
When it has continued long enough, I curl my lips. “Say it fucking already.”
“It means”—he pauses for effect and turns to Sol—”he is aware of her through the bond. He can track her through the connection. It also means if one of them dies—”
I set my jaw. “The other dies, too.”
33
Lucy
I wake up with a gasp, sitting up so fast that the world spins around me. I am not sure where I am. The bed is rough under me, not as rough as some of the places I’ve slept, but different to the silks of the bed that I’d become accustomed to over the last few days…or is it weeks?
In Zeus’ stronghold, I’d lost track of time, and suddenly I can’t wait to see the outside world. One look…one glance to see where I am, enough to get my bearings. I swing my legs over, and when my feet touch the floor a pain shoots up my legs. My guts churn, and bending over, I try to retch, managing only to dry heave.
Footsteps thud toward me, and before I can straighten, hands grasp my shoulders, holding me as I cough.
The acidic taste of bile is in my nose, crowding in on my throat, and I rest my forehead against my knees.
I feel lifeless, like everything in me has been brushed out, like every part of me has been broken and then put back together again, only whatever has been formed now is something different, a body with which I am not quite familiar. I feel…discombobulated. Where did that word come from? My English tutor who had taught me in Russia, was from London, but her accent had been different to his.
“Zeus.” I breathe out his name, and the sound of my voice echoes hollowly in my ears.
The person holding me urges me to sit up. Soft hands pull back the hair from my face. A pair of warm brown eyes peer into mine. “You need to lie back, you are hurt, and your feet are not in great shape,” the woman says.
I glance down and wince. My feet are dirty, toenails dark around the corners. I don’t need to look at the underside to know they are scratched and bruised.
There’s blood smeared on the floor.
The scent of copper is suddenly too intense for me. My stomach twists; my chest heaves. “I am going to be sick again.”
The woman nods and springs up, dragging me up with her. She pulls me along to the bathroom. Every step I take hurts, but I’d rather bear the pain than be sick all over the floor.
The bathroom tiles are cool under my feet, and then I am doubled over the ceramic bowl in the corner.
I hold on to the rim and puke until it feels as if I’ve coughed up every single thing I’ve eaten in the last week. By the time I collapse back onto the floor, sweat beads my forehead. My chest heaves, and I can’t feel my legs or my hands for that matter.