And even though Skyla was free, that rush of emptiness washed through her again as she watched. She’d sacrificed that—love, companionship, a family—for the Sirens. To stay on Olympus doing what Zeus commanded because it was safer to remain numb inside than to feel anything again.
Through hazy vision, Skyla watched Katie’s parents lift the girl into their arms and carry her away. And as she swiped at her frozen cheeks she told herself it was melting snow, not tears. Sirens didn’t cry.
Her chest pinched with the weight of the emptiness around her until it was hard to draw a single breath. Then the image of Katie and her parents was blocked by a body rushing toward her. A body with wide shoulders, a broad chest, and a pair of intense gray eyes that drew her in like a lifeline.
“You stupid Siren.” Orpheus’s arms were around her before she realized it was him. In a whir of movement he jerked her tight against his warm body, slid his hands into her wet hair and lowered his mouth to hers.
Her mind was still a blur of sensations, but the heat of his lips, the roughness of his whisker-covered jaw, the way he kissed her like a man starved, overwhelmed every one. She was alive, she’d been found. And she wasn’t alone.
She reached for him, dug her numb fingers into the fabric of his shirt, opened her mouth and drew him in. Then she kissed him back as she’d promised herself she would never kiss anyone ever again.
Someone moaned. She wasn’t sure if it was her or him. All she knew was this kiss. This moment. This man, daemon, Argonaut, whatever, who tasted of promises and regrets and a thousand other emotions she couldn’t define in the moment.
He kissed all thought out of her head, and when she was sure he’d demolished a few thousand brain cells in the process, he drew away and stared down at her with those achingly familiar eyes. The ones she couldn’t get away from. The ones she’d never been able to forget.
Someone threw a blanket over her shoulders. He tugged it tight at her chest, pulled her close to his warmth again, and whispered in her ear, “If you’re trying to impersonate a Popsicle, you’re doing a damn good job.”
Skyla had obviously hit her head harder than she’d thought, because she couldn’t seem to process anything yet. And when he scooped her up in his arms like a damsel in distress, it took several seconds before she realized what he was doing. She pushed a hand against his chest, a hand that was shaking and did nothing to stop him. “I…I can walk.”
Was that her voice? It didn’t sound like her. It sounded as if it came from someone else. She was strong, confident, a warrior. Not someone who needed tending. She should tell him to stop and put her down. Wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wanted him to.
He didn’t look at her, just kept walking with her cradled in his arms like some fragile woman. “I’m sure you can. Humor me for the time being, would you? You go acting all Rambo Girl on me and the humans around here won’t know what the hell to think. And I’m pretty sure they’ve had enough surprises for one night.”
He stopped at a grouping of humans near the end of the train, which hadn’t been swallowed by the avalanche. The cars were dislodged from the tracks but somehow appeared to still be in one piece. Gentler than she expected, he set her on a boulder near a fire someone had built, tugged the blanket around her shoulders again, and mumbled something to the woman next to her. Then he turned and headed back to the buried cars.
She was aware someone was checking her head, knew bandages were being applied, and that another voice was asking her questions to see if she had a concussion, but all she could focus on was Orpheus thirty yards away, searching for more survivors, digging with the humans, all while wearing nothing more substantial than jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved henley.
Her chest tightened. Her mind spun. She ran her fingers over her lips, lips that were still tingling from his kiss and alive with heat.
She was too rattled to do anything but sit by the fire and watch Orpheus work from a safe distance. Someone offered a jacket. Around her, people recounted the earthquake and the avalanche.
Earthquake. Yeah, earthquakes happened, but here? In the Rockies? Stopping the train she and Maelea and Orpheus were traveling on? This was not a coincidence. Her mind drifted to the hellhounds back at Maelea’s house. There was only one person who could be linked to both. Too late she remembered she’d left her armor in their stateroom on the train, which was now probably covered in snow.
The ground shook. Skyla gripped the rock she was sitting on, pushed down the panic. When the shaking stopped, shouts echoed in the distance, and men ran toward a buried railcar that had somehow rumbled to the surface.
Her mind flashed to another rumble, another moment when the earth had opened before her. That shaking hadn’t been god-induced, just as this aftershock seemed too gentle to be generated by Hades.
She searched for Orpheus. Couldn’t find him. Pushed to her feet and dropped the blanket on the rock.