Nick’s hands were sweating.
Standing outside the bedroom door in the empty hall on the fifth floor of the castle, he swiped his damp palms against the thighs of his jeans, lifted his hand to knock, then lowered it quickly and stepped back.
Holy fuck. What the hell was he doing? His chest grew so tight he couldn’t breathe. Bracing his hands on his hips, he paced away, focusing on the push and pull of air in his lungs until he could think again.
He’d been putting this off for fifteen minutes, pacing back and forth in this corridor, trying to convince himself to just go in there and get it over with. But every time he tried, he pictured Cynna as she’d looked just before she walked away from him, her eyes no longer dead and flat as they’d been in Zagreus’s lair, but filled with so much pain and heartbreak, he hadn’t known what to say or do to make this better for her.
He stopped. Raked a hand through his short hair. Fisted the locks and pulled so hard, pain spiraled all through his skull. He loved her. Loved her. Not with candy and flowers, but with his whole heart and mind. And he was about to step into this room and screw another woman, all because the gods enjoyed fucking with his life.
He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t care if his soul was linked to someone else. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t—
“Come into the room, Nick.” Surprised, Nick looked up to see Isadora, dressed in loose jeans and a thick cream-colored sweater, standing in the open doorway to the suite. “I can’t stand listening to you pace out here anymore.”
The soul mate draw he’d always felt with her tugged at something deep inside him, and before he even realized it, his feet were moving, carrying him from the hall into the entry of the suite, then into a living room with walls steeped all in red.
His pulse raced. He glanced around the room, expecting to see nothing but a bed, but to his relief, he discovered he was standing in a living area. White plush furnishings were set out in front of a whitewashed fireplace, flames already flickering in the hearth, and black-and-white framed photographs of flowers and hillsides decorated the walls.
Wrong. So fucking wrong. This whole thing is just—
Isadora sat on the couch and tucked one bare foot up under her, looking petite against the enormous piece of furniture, and swiped her blonde hair away from her face. “Why don’t we just…sit for a little bit.”
Before the fucking began? Nick’s legs felt suddenly wobbly. He rubbed his damp hands on his thighs once more and sat in a side chair across from her. “Okay.”
Silence settled over the room. Somewhere close, a clock ticked, but Nick’s mind was drifting. To his brother, wondering where Demetrius was right this moment and what the hell he was thinking. To Cynna, and whether or not she’d ever talk to him again after this night.
“I heard you went out to the settlement,” Isadora said softly.
Small talk. Shit. Part of him was thankful for it. Part of him just wanted to get this damn thing over with so he could get the hell out of here.
He cleared his throat, shifted in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“I bet that was difficult.”
A lump formed in his throat. Seeing his people, what had happened to them, learning about his friends who had died… It was more difficult than anything he’d ever done. His memory slid to the alley and the moment he’d nearly lost it for good. And the way Cynna had pulled him back, comforted him, cared nothing about what might happen to her, and given everything to him.
He closed his eyes. And a warm wetness burned the backs of his eyelids. One he’d never felt before.
“You don’t want to do this, do you?” Isadora asked in a quiet voice.
Nick didn’t answer. Didn’t know what to say. He felt torn between his heart and his soul. Two things he’d always thought were connected.
He opened his eyes and looked over at his soul mate. At the female he would always be drawn to. And though that pull to her was still there, pushing him toward her, to help her, to save her, what he felt in his heart was stronger. “If you’d asked me six months ago if I wanted this, I would have said yes. Absolutely. But now… Everything’s different now. I’m different. And I don’t…”
Shit. How did he say this?
“I don’t want it either,” Isadora blurted.
“You don’t?”
She shook her head and blinked back the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Demetrius and I argued about it. I know it’s the right thing to do, but I just…”