He stared at the nymph, hating that she was wiser than she looked. Hating even more that his mouth was as dry as a desert.
“That’s not…” He swallowed, trying to make his words work, but they seemed lodged in his throat. “I can’t—”
“It is possible. And you can. And the sooner you accept that you can, the sooner you’ll know how to deal with it.”
She pushed off the desk. “It would be smart to have her transferred to your bedchamber. No matter what happened between the two of you today, I think it wise if she woke in your bed, not in the tower where you had her imprisoned when she first arrived. That might put her in a bad mood.”
“She’s already going to be in a bad mood when she wakes,” he muttered.
Nysa smirked. “So I can have her moved?”
Dazed, he realized he’d said that aloud, too. “Fine. Whatever. But I still want guards stationed outside the door. I don’t want her leaving yet.”
“Yes, My Prince.”
She crossed the room but paused at the threshold and looked back. “For the record, Zagreus, loving someone doesn’t make you weak. It actually makes you strong. And contrary to what you or the gods think, love—true love—is not a myth. It is the very reason there is light in this world. Without it, we would all live in darkness.”
She left, leaving silence in her wake, interrupted only by the pulse in his ears and the crackle of flames in the torches on the walls.
He’d known nothing but darkness his whole life, even during the brief times his mono mia had been with him. Now things were different, though. Nysa was right. He felt different, and he couldn’t go on ignoring that fact.
He placed a hand against his chest, where Talisa had touched him earlier. Heat permeated his palm. Heat and the strong, steady beat of a heart he’d forgotten he still had.
Was Nysa right? Was this… thing… growing in his chest… love?
He didn’t know. He had no experience with that emotion. Lust? Yes. Obsession? Absolutely. But love was a foreign concept. His parents certainly didn’t love each other. He’d definitely never witnessed any kind of love in the Underworld where he’d been raised and periodically tortured. And if love made one selfless, then no god or goddess on Olympus could claim to know its nuances because they were the most egotistical beings in the cosmos.
His palms grew sweaty, his skin hot. He lifted both hands and looked down, unsure if this reaction was normal or a sign whatever had almost killed him the other night was about to claim him again.
Then out of nowhere, he thought of the only person he knew who’d ever been in love—the selfless kind of love Nysa spoke of. And before he realized what he was doing, he pushed out of his seat and focused on her, knowing instantly how to find her.
Cynna kicked off the covers and stared at the moonlit ceiling fan turning a slow circle above.
She couldn’t sleep. The alien taking up space inside her had recently decided the dead of night was the perfect time to practice kickboxing. Or acrobatics. Or whatever the hell the kid was doing in there.
“All right, all right,” she whispered, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. “I’m going. Sheesh. You’re already as demanding as your father.”
She glanced once at her mate, asleep on his stomach beside her, his bare arms wrapped around his pillow, his handsome face tipped her way, the sheet riding low across his back to showcase his muscles in the low light.
Part of her wanted to wake him so he could suffer through this insomnia with her—after all it was his fault she was in this situation. But another part knew he was exhausted and needed rest. Ever since Talisa’s abduction, he’d been out helping the Argonauts search for her. This was the first time he’d been home in days.
Careful so as not to wake him, she rose, then bent awkwardly for the shirt she’d ripped off Nick only hours ago. After tugging the oversized garment on, she pushed up the long sleeves and carefully stretched her sore back.
Gods, she was already losing her center of gravity. She could not imagine how much worse it was going to get in the next few months.
The kid roundhouse kicked her again. Placing a hand on her side, she winced and muttered, “Skata, I’m going, I’m going,” and headed for the hall.
The house where they lived on the outskirts of the Kyrenia settlement in Argolea was quiet and dark as she made her way down the stairs. She had no idea what time Nick was heading out again in the morning, but she knew he wasn’t staying long. Though his relationship with Theron and the Argonauts was often tenuous, he and Talisa’s mother Casey were close friends. But she knew it was Nick’s connection to Zagreus—and Cynna’s part in that connection—that he felt most guilty about. That connection was the real reason he wouldn’t give up searching.
Thoughts of Zagreus, of the year she’d spend with the Prince of Darkness and all that had happened between her and Zagreus and Nick, spun in her mind as she moved into the dark kitchen, opened a cupboard, and retrieved a glass.
Did Zagreus really believe Talisa was his reincarnated mate? She moved to the sink and filled the glass. Or was it possible he was using Talisa to get to her and Nick?
Gazing out across the moonlit yard toward the dark forest and mountains beyond, she sipped her water, remembering Delia’s words from the other day. “You and your mate would be wise to remember that he is more powerful than the Argonauts believe him to be. And that he does not forget. Ever.”
No, he didn’t forget, did he? The Prince of Darkness never forgot anything. A shiver rushed down her spine as she lowered the glass. He would never forget how she’d betrayed him. How she’d freed Nick from that prison. How she’d helped him and the others esca—
Her heart rate shot up when she realized she wasn’t alone. Water sloshed over the side of the glass as she whipped around and stared toward the dark corner of the kitchen.
Someone was sitting on the far side of the table in the shadows. Someone big. Someone—her pulse turned to a whir in her ears as she froze—familiar.
Oh gods… It was him. She could just make out the shape of him in the dark—a shape she would never forget.
He didn’t speak. Just continued to watch her from the shadows.
Slowly, she set the glass on the counter, then gripped the granite edge for support, praying for—willing—Nick to wake upstairs before it was too late.
“H-how did you find me?” she managed, trying for calm.
“I’ve always been able to find you,” he answered in a low voice.
She swallowed hard. Her gaze strayed to the doorway and the hall that led to the stairs.
“My uncle is still soundly sleeping,” Zagreus said. “He has no idea I’m here.”
Cynna’s gaze shot back to Zagreus, and her stomach tightened even more. His hand rested on the table, his long fingers slowly drumming against the worn surface as he stared at her across the room. She had a sudden urge to tug on the hem of the long shirt to ensure he couldn’t tell she was pregnant. But she was afraid to do anything to draw attention to her belly.
“Relax,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not here to harm you. Or him.”
Cynna didn’t believe that for a second. “Then why are you here?”