Demetrius felt like his brain was thick pea soup. His mate’s health was failing because of his brother?
His heart pounded hard in his chest, and his skin grew damp and tingly. From the first moment, her life had been cursed. By him. By Nick. The Fates couldn’t be this cruel to them. They couldn’t keep threatening to take away the one thing that mattered most in his life.
In a haze, Demetrius pushed away from the table, intent on following Zander, but Titus’s big body filling the doorway to the library drew him to a stop.
“There you guys are.” Titus’s voice was breathy, as if he’d been running. Wisps of his long wavy hair fell over his temple. “We’ve been looking all over for you. There’s movement at the colony.”
“What kind of movement?” Maelea asked, stepping out from behind the table.
“Not sure,” Titus said. “But someone’s fired up the generators, and there are at least two people moving around inside.”
Zander glanced toward Demetrius. “Where would Nick go if he somehow escaped from Zagreus’s lair?”
“To the colony.”
“That’s exactly what Theron thought,” Titus said. “We’re leaving in five.”
Zander kissed Callia’s cheek. And with a new sense of purpose rushing through him, Demetrius headed out into the corridor. But at his back, he heard Zander say, “See? I told you everything would work out.”
“It hasn’t yet,” Callia whispered.
“Have faith, thea. It will.”
Faith… Demetrius had never been able to summon up much of that, but for his mate, he’d find a way. No matter what he had to do, he’d find a way to save Isadora’s life.
He was so silent, Cynna was sure Nick could hear her heart pounding against her ribs in the cell. And since she couldn’t see him in the darkness, she had no way to judge what he was thinking.
He doesn’t believe you. Now that his temper’s eased and his desire’s been slaked, he doesn’t want to be near you. Why would you possibly think he’d want your help anyway?
Doubts rushed in. Every doubt she’d ever had where he was concerned. But she pushed them away, just like she did every doubt that had ever threatened to drag her down. Reaching for his hand and finding it in the dark, she wrapped her fingers around his and pulled him toward the open cell door. “Come on.”
He didn’t tug back on her hand. Didn’t fight her. Didn’t say anything, for that matter. She led him out into the tunnel, walking carefully on the uneven rocks with her bare feet as she headed toward the dim orange light, the corridor growing brighter with every step.
They rounded a corner, and she spotted the open doorway and the splintered door lying on the ground. Just before she reached it, Nick pulled back on her hand, stopping her. “Wait.”
His face was cast in shadows as he let go of her hand, grasped the hem of his T-shirt, and tugged it off, then dropped it over her head so the soft cotton fell against her bare skin.
Until that moment, she hadn’t even realized she was still naked. She’d been too focused on him. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, Cynna. Not after that. Your back is all scratched from the rocks. You have bruises over—”
“I’m fine.” She knew she had bruises. But they were the good kind of bruises, not that bad. And she, more than anyone, knew the difference.
He scowled and looked away, and she realized then that this was about more than what had just happened between them. He was good and truly wrecked. She could see it in his flat eyes and the way they wouldn’t meet hers, could hear it in his gravelly voice. The hours, the days, the months were catching up with him, and suddenly she knew exactly what he needed.
“Come on.” She gripped his hand again and picked her way around the broken door at her feet, then moved into the anteroom that opened to the colony.
He didn’t pull back from her again, didn’t fight her, didn’t do anything but sigh and let her lead him. And as she pulled him up the stairs and the devastation around them grew visible, she felt his pulse pick up against hers. Felt his muscles tense in her hand. And knew he was blaming himself all over again.
She couldn’t let him focus on that. Not if he was going to hold it together. They made it to the main level, and he groaned at her back. Tightening her fingers around his, she pulled him toward the charred staircase. “Don’t look around. Just stay with me.”
They moved up another level. By the time they reached the empty hallway she’d found earlier, his head was down, his free hand was covering his eyes, and he was massaging his temples. Stress and regret and misery radiated off him. So much she knew she had to do something fast to take his mind off it all.