Shit. He was fucked. They were fucked. She was going to die. Again. Only this time she wouldn’t die simply because of his neglect. She’d die because of his complete and utter stupidity. Only hours after he’d truly found her.
Slowly, Talisa glanced over her shoulder and whispered, “Skata.”
As the growls grew louder, mixing with the clash of metal as weapons were drawn, that one word echoed in Zagreus’s mind—that Argolean word—bringing a clarity and burst of light in the middle of the darkness that told him exactly what he needed to do.
The only thing he could do.
The very thing he’d never been strong enough to do before.
“Take this. We don’t have much time.” Zagreus quickly pulled a chain over his head and draped it around Talisa’s neck, tucking the amulet she only saw for a brief second inside the front of her dress, drawing her attention away from the satyrs and back to him.
“Wh-what’s that?”
“Something that will help you.” Still holding her with one hand around her upper arm, he held the other in front of her face and muttered ancient words.
She felt the hold on her gifts give and break free, infusing her with strength. The strength she’d been born with.
Gasping at the rush of power surging inside her veins, she sagged back, but Zagreus’s hand shifted to her other arm, and he pulled her close.
“I’ll distract them long enough for you to get away,” he said in a low voice near her ear. “Once you’ve enough clearance, open a portal and get the hell out of here.”
She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but before she could form the words, he pressed his lips to hers.
Shock hit first. Followed by a rush of heat as his tongue slid into her mouth and he kissed her deeply. Completely. The way he’d kissed her in that club. The way she’d wanted him to kiss her in her dream. The way no other male had ever kissed her. With every bit of passion she’d never known had been missing from her life.
He jerked back from her lips and grasped the bloody dagger that had just been in his side from the ground. Shoving the hilt into her hand, he pushed her away. “Go. Now!”
He moved between her and the pack of satyrs closing in fast. “There you are, little fauns. I wondered where you’d run off to.”
Talisa stumbled back, her heart racing, her eyes locked on Zagreus as he stalked toward the satyrs.
“Mock all you want, Zagreus,” one of the satyrs sneered as he advanced, one Talisa was almost sure she’d seen in that club a few days ago. “It won’t do you any good this time. You’re outnumbered.”
Talisa inched backward, her gaze skipping from Zagreus to the satyrs who seemed to be only focused on him.
“I might be,” Zagreus answered, “but you’re just plain ugly.” He sniffed the air. “And you stink. Didn’t that bitch Pandora teach you boys anything about personal hygiene?”
The satyr at the front—the familiar one—growled.
“That’s right, beast,” Zagreus said in a low voice. “Come at me. I dare you.”
The satyr lifted the axe in his meaty hand and charged.
Talisa’s adrenaline surged. This was her chance to escape. She had her powers back. She could open a portal. She just had to get far enough away so none of those beasts tried to go through with her.
She turned and pushed her legs into a run, racing the opposite direction, up another hill and away from the satyrs. But her feet faltered when the growls grew louder.
Not one growl. Not a couple of growls. But all of them. Together. As if the entire pack was closing ranks at once.
She glanced back over her shoulder and gasped.
The satyrs swarmed, charging Zagreus from every side. Only, he wasn’t taking command of the beasts as she expected. He wasn’t attacking them as he’d attacked those daemons. Instead, he stilled as they formed a circle around him. And when all eyes were fixed his way, he dropped to his knees in the dirt.
Talisa jerked to a stop and held her breath.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. No sound echoed through the dark forest. The satyrs stood frozen in shock, just like her. Then all at once, they surged forward.
Bodies slammed into Zagreus from every side, knocking him to the ground, blocking him from sight. Arms and fists flew through the air. Teeth snapped. Weapons whirred. And sound returned to Talisa’s ears in the trees where she stood watching in horror. Not the snap of energy she’d heard when Zagreus had hit those daemons with his powers, but snarls and growls from every beast attacking him. Followed by the horrific crack of bone hitting bone, and the squelch of blood as it splattered and oozed across the ground.
Her heart lurched. He wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t defending himself. He might be immortal, but he could still feel pain, she’d seen it on his face when that dagger had stabbed into his ribs.
She didn’t know what was really going on, but she suddenly believed he’d been telling her the truth when he’d said these weren’t his satyrs. If this was his army, he’d never allow them to injure and maim him like this. Not unless—
The truth hit her hard, making her sway.
Not unless he was protecting someone. And not just someone. A whole bunch of someones.
Her gaze shot to the stone arch, her mind picturing the child who’d run up to him when he’d first brought Talisa to Ehrendia. She thought of Nysa, the healer, telling her Zagreus had been defending Ehrendia the last few years. Thought of all the nymphs lounging in the grand hall or working in the castle today as she’d been wandering around. And she thought of the silens and how Zagreus was training them to protect this kingdom from an invasion if it were to happen.
Her gaze darted back to the mountain of satyrs, each one clawing at Zagreus. If they found a way through Ehrendia’s defenses, every nymph and sileni death would be her fault. The satyrs would take over the castle. They’d throw the nymphs in those dungeon cells and torture them. Everything the nymphs had built, all the people living in this land would be lost because Talisa had trusted Ana. Because she’d been too stubborn to see another viewpoint. Because she’d only been focused on herself.
She glanced down at her arms, her sleeves shredded enough for her to faintly see the ancient Greek letters etched into her skin. Letters she’d always thought meant she was just as heroic as her father, as his forefathers before him. But… was she?
She hadn’t done anything heroic to earn these markings, not like her father. Not like the Argonauts he served with. If she really was a hero, she wouldn’t put innocent lives in danger while she ran to save herself. And she wouldn’t leave someone else to suffer when she could do something to help.
Determination swelled inside her, pushing aside the fear, giving her strength. Giving her purpose.
She ripped off the cloak and the dress’s useless cape then yanked at her shredded skirt, tearing it just above her knees so she wouldn’t trip. Gripping the dagger tightly, she raced back down the hillside.
The pack wasn’t looking at her. They were all too focused on Zagreus. As she approached, the closest satyr didn’t even startle at the sound of her footsteps. She reached around from the back and sliced right through his jugular.
The beast gasped, sputtered, and stumbled forward. But there was so much noise coming from the others, no one even noticed as he fought for life. Blood spurted. Before he fell, Talisa plucked the sword from his hand, turned, and sank the blade deep into the satyr to her right.