“Everyone’s fine,” Theron said. “Or they will be soon. Callia’s figured out what you need to do to help Isadora.”
Of course this was about Isadora. Everything was always about Isadora. Cynna tried to fight back the resentment and jealousy, but couldn’t squash either completely.
Nick glanced between the two again. “So the blood draw worked?”
Theron and Zander exchanged apprehensive looks. “Something like that,” Theron muttered.
Cynna’s pulse kicked up, and a little voice in the back of her head whispered she wasn’t going to like where this was headed.
“Something like that,” Nick muttered, eyeing each of them warily. “What aren’t you both telling me?”
The Argonauts looked at each other once more. Zander lifted his brows as if asking a question. Theron shook his head.
Zander turned to Nick. “It’s probably better if Callia and Natasa tell you.”
“Natasa’s involved now?” Nick asked. “Prometheus’s daughter? Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?”
“Because you’re smart,” Zander muttered under his breath.
Cynna’s stomach pitched. And though she tried not to listen, that little voice grew louder and louder until it was a shrill in her ears.
Theron cut Zander a hard look, then nodded toward Nick. “Come on. The sooner you get this over with, the better. For all our sakes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“I’m just going to wait in your room.” Cynna continued up the steps of the grand staircase in the castle when Theron and Zander turned off at the third landing.
Nick captured her hand before she could get more than a step away and drew her to his side, a whisper of panic rushing down his spine at the thought of her getting too far away. “No, I need you to stay with me.”
His pulse was already ticking up, and that dark energy he’d conquered thanks to her was suddenly rushing back. If she left him now, he wasn’t sure what would happen. Especially since the scars on his back were tingling with an uneasiness that told him whatever the Argonauts and the queen wanted from him couldn’t be good.
She exhaled a long breath but didn’t try to pull away again. And as he tugged her with him and they followed the Argonauts down the long corridor that led to Isadora’s private office, relief and calm filled his soul.
“This doesn’t concern me,” she whispered. “You didn’t need me before when they were poking you with needles.”
“That was different. They hadn’t come up with any theories yet.”
She didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead as they walked. But he knew she was stressing. She didn’t want to see Isadora any more than he did, especially after what had just happened between them. All he wanted was to finish what they’d started and thank her for dragging him back from the edge—again—the right way. But he couldn’t do that until he got the Argonauts off his back and dealt with whatever emergency had popped up this time.
“I know it’s asking a lot.” He glanced sideways at her. Her jaw was clenched, her shoulders tight. Squeezing her hand, he added softly, “I’ll make this up to you as well. A double thanks. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”
“Stop making promises to me.” They reached the threshold to the office, and Theron and Zander moved into the room. As voices conversed inside, Cynna pulled her hand from Nick’s and frowned, but she didn’t meet his eyes. “Especially ones you might not be able to keep.”
She moved into the office, and as he watched her go, a strange sense of foreboding washed over him. One that ignited a rash of ripples all along the scars on his back.
She was pissed, and she had every right to be. Especially because Isadora seemed to keep coming between them. But he wasn’t lying. He would keep that promise. Not just because he owed Cynna for saving him, but because he needed to thank her in the only way he knew how. To show her what she meant to him. To tell her…
His heart lurched.
To tell her that he loved her.
His skin grew hot. The capillaries in his fingertips tingled, and the air caught in his lungs. He’d never been in love before, hadn’t known what to expect, but immediately he knew this was different from the soul mate draw. It was stronger. Deeper. More immediate. And it was a choice. Not some predestined future ordained by the gods. It was…freedom…at the most basic of levels.
An uncontrollable urge to drag her out of that room, to kiss her, to tell her how he felt consumed him.