“He’s not my husband, Guardian.”
Considering what Nick knew of the gods’ unions, he had no idea what she meant, but that one word—guardian—overrode his curiosity as he followed Cynna back into the dimly lit corridor. The female had obviously seen the ancient Greek text on his arms. But he wasn’t a guardian. And just the fact he’d toyed with the idea of taking her regardless of her warnings proved he didn’t deserve to be one either.
They moved back down the corridor in silence. Cell doors on each side were once again closed, hiding the fact their prisoners were now gone. The only open door sat at the far end of the hall. The door that led to freedom.
Cynna released a breath as they drew close. “Finally.”
Yeah, finally. But Nick wasn’t able to share in her relief. Because he was suddenly wondering if there could ever be any kind of freedom for someone like him. Or if he was just trading one kind of prison for another.
Cynna moved for the open door. Just as she reached the threshold, a satyr stepped in her path. One Nick recognized as in charge down here in the dungeons. One holding a blade as long as his arm.
Adrenaline flooded Nick’s body. He reached around for the parazonium strapped to his back.
“Going somewhere, Mistress?” the satyr growled. Behind him, two more satyrs moved into position. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
CHAPTER NINE
Cynna gasped and dropped back a step. Lykos’s eyes glowed red with fury as he moved close, malice twisting his face. She’d seen the satyr pissed but knew this was something altogether different. Hand shaking, she reached back for the weapon strapped to her back.
“Oh, you’re not going to need that, Mistress.” Lykos arced out with his arm before Cynna could grasp her blade. The back of his hand connected with her cheek, knocking her back and down.
A sharp shot of pain rushed across her face. She grunted and fell into Nick. Strong arms closed around her, breaking her fall. But he didn’t pull her up like she expected. Instead, he laid her on the ground, hissed, “Stay down,” then stepped over her.
“You want to play now, human?” Lykos snarled. “Okay, we’ll play.”
Cynna’s ears were ringing. She gave her head a swift shake and looked up. Nick was crouched down in a fighting stance, the blade held loosely in his hand, waiting for the attack. “Play is all I think you know how to do, satyr.”
Nick swung out with the blade, slicing into Lykos’s arm. Blood welled, and the beast jerked back.
The two satyrs behind Lykos growled and charged. But Lykos stopped them by lifting his arm and barking, “He’s mine.”
Fury suffused Lykos’s face as he took a step to his right. “I’m going to enjoy slicing you into bits, human. And when I’m done, I’ll give that bitch everything she deserves.”
Cynna braced her hands on the ground and scooted back, her gaze never leaving Lykos’s face. The satyr focused on Nick, but the two behind him were staring straight at her. Sizing her up. Waiting for her to join in the fight.
She glanced toward the open door and the stairs that led up to the surface. If she made a run for it, they’d follow. She wouldn’t get far. Her gaze darted back to Nick, moving to his right as Lykos began to circle around him. She’d seen him hold his own against two, three, even four satyrs, but none of the ones Zagreus had tossed into the ring with Nick were Lykos. There was a reason he was Zagreus’s number two. Because he was a ruthless son of a bitch and the strongest satyr in this hellhole.
She couldn’t run. No matter how much she wanted to get away. She hadn’t freed Nick so he could die here.
Lykos charged. Nick ducked under the satyr’s arm and slammed his elbow into Lykos’s back. Lykos cried out and whipped around. Blade met blade. Grunts and the sounds of fists slamming bone resonated in the corridor. Cynna pushed to her feet, her hands inching up the cold stone wall. She glanced past Nick and Lykos, toward the two satyrs beyond. They were both still staring at her. And the one on the left was salivating.
“Cynna, watch out!”
Nick’s voice dragged Cynna’s gaze back to the fight.
Nick slammed his fist into Lykos’s jaw, shoving the satyr into the rocks. He gripped the satyr’s wrist and smashed it against the wall, knocking the blade free from his gnarled fingers. “Behind you!”