His words were filled with a note of anxiety that drew her focus from her roiling anger. She chanced a look his way. His jaw was tight, the muscles flexing beneath his scruffy skin, and his eyes were hard and guarded as he stared straight ahead.
He’d told her his soul mate was bonded to his brother. She’d witnessed the tension between the two males back at the colony even if she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. Her mind drifted over their conversation in the jungle, when he’d been telling her about the soul mate curse, and she remembered vividly the animosity in his words when he’d mentioned the female at the center of their messy little love triangle. Using her gift, Cynna searched for any sense that he was lying, only she found nothing. He was telling the truth. Being near his soul mate gave him no kind of happiness.
“Only those of us with the markings feel the draw.” He’d told her that as well, that the female in the soul mate equation wasn’t affected by the curse. Which meant, being here, being close to her, had to be like a new form of torture for him. And Cynna was making it worse by freaking out.
Her jaw unclenched. The muscles in her arms relaxed. As they moved up the stairs, she sighed and figured she could either continue being a bitch…or she could get through this and then get the hell away from him for good.
“You don’t have to hold me so tightly,” she muttered. “I clearly can’t go anywhere. And I won’t. For at least fifteen minutes.”
Nick’s grip released her elbow, and blood rushed to the spot. She reached over and rubbed her sore elbow but was distracted when his hand closed over hers hanging at her side, his fingers intertwining with hers to keep them close. She glanced up, caught the gratitude in his amber gaze, and suddenly couldn’t breathe again.
“Thank you.”
Thank you…
He needed to stop saying that to her. All it did was make her feel worse. Because he had absolutely no reason to thank her, dammit. Not after the things she’d done.
She focused on slow breaths, in and out, as she walked up the stairs beside him, knowing she needed to pull away from his hand. But a dangerous place inside didn’t want to let go. And just recognizing that fact sent her adrenaline spiking all over again.
“Yo, Nick.” The Argonaut with the long wavy hair tied at his nape with a leather strap caught up with them just as they reached the landing on the next level and pushed a shirt into Nick’s hands. “Might want to put this on before you go in there.”
“Thanks, Titus.” Nick took the shirt, let go of Cynna’s hand, and tugged it on, the light blue button-down covering his bare chest. And though she was still irritated she remained half-naked and that no one had brought her more to wear, a tiny place inside Cynna was glad this soul mate of his who seemed to enjoy tormenting his existence wasn’t going to get to see all the sculpted goodness and strong muscles Cynna had sampled only an hour or so ago.
Her body warmed at the memory of his hands running over her naked flesh, his mouth nipping at her sensitive skin, the wicked things he could do with his tongue, and instantly she wondered if this female had ever experienced any of that. As quickly as the thought hit though, she dismissed it. There was no room for jealousy in her heart. After everything she’d done, it was pretty clear she no longer had a heart, anyway.
He grabbed her hand again as they headed down a long, wide corridor with an intricately carved dome ceiling and ornate pillars lining the hall, and she let him hold her, not because she wanted to touch him, she told herself. But because she was doing exactly what he’d asked—not making a scene.
Archways opened to a library, a sitting area, what looked like offices. With every step, her anxiety shot up, and she searched each room for any sign of the queen, hoping and praying she wouldn’t run into the female before she could escape. Fifteen minutes. She could give Nick fifteen minutes after everything she’d put him through.
They drew to a stop outside another open doorway, but this time Cynna couldn’t see past the Argonauts to get a look in the room. Voices resonated from the open doorway, though. A female’s and a male’s, both clearly in deep conversation.
“No,” the female said, “Lord Tiberius definitely sent spies. We’ve intercepted two couriers taking back detailed reports to the Council, outlining the layout of the settlement, the entrances and exits, even the Argonauts’ arrival and departure times. They’re looking for patterns. Waiting for the perfect time to hit.”
“You really think they’ll do that?” the male asked. “That would be brazen, even for them. Their political campaign hasn’t even kicked into high gear yet. They risk alienating a large section of the population with a preemptive strike against an unarmed group.”
“It’s a calculated risk,” another female said. “Eliminate them before they pose a risk. And don’t forget, the witches are aiding them, which, in the eyes of the Council, gives them justification for any kind of attack.”