That pressure returned to her chest all over again, and she forced herself to breathe through the pain. She wasn’t going to think about Nick and the queen. Wasn’t going to think about anything.
Her stomach rumbled again, and she tugged off her jacket and laid it over a chair, then pushed her legs forward to follow Delia. “Yeah. I am. I—”
“Cynna.”
Shock rippled through her once more, and she whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice. Nick stood in the middle of the living room, staring at her with those hard, determined amber eyes.
Hunger was washed away on a wave of heartbreak that had no place inside her and was followed by a quick burst of anger. “Godsdammit!”
“We’re not done, female.”
“Oh, we’re way past done.” He’d obviously used his newfound powers not only to track her and flash through solid walls, but to seriously piss her off. She pointed toward the door at his back. “Just go back to your soul mate and leave me the hell alone.”
“Cynna?” Delia called. “For gods’ sake, who are you yelling at? I can hear you a—”
Delia drew to a stop in the hallway, her gaze resting on Nick. Cynna had no idea if the witch could tell who—or what—he really was, but her guess was yes. As one of the eldest in the coven, Delia had the ability to see more than others.
A little of Cynna’s anger ebbed. No way Delia would allow Krónos’s son anywhere in her home. She had powers. Strong ones. Stronger than Nick’s right now. She could banish him from the settlement and cast a spell to keep him out.
Cynna crossed her arms over her chest, feeling smug and, dammit, oddly depressed. Which was an asinine thing to feel for a man she’d tortured, abused, and who had no reason to want to be anywhere near her. Why the hell did she even care? His soul mate was—
“I suddenly remembered a meeting I’m due to attend,” Delia announced. She turned toward Cynna and pulled her in for a quick hug. In Cynna’s ear, she whispered, “You need to deal with this, child.”
Cynna’s mouth fell open. No. She had to have heard Delia wrong. She wasn’t just going to leave her with this. “But—”
“I’ll find you later.” The witch released her, and in a flash she was gone, her powers strong enough for her to flash through walls, just like Nick.
“Cynna.” Nick shot her a hard look. “We need to talk.”
All that anger, humiliation, and betrayal Cynna had felt in the castle when she’d faced Isadora came raging back. She had to get out. Had to get away before she said or did something she’d regret. She moved around Nick and marched for the door. “The hell we do.”
The lock flipped shut just as her hand closed around the door handle. Startled, she looked down, tried to unlock it, but the mechanism wouldn’t budge. Temper flaring, she turned for the window. The shutters snapped closed with a deafening clack, darkening the room.
She whirled on Nick, that anger flaring to full-on fury. “Stop using your damn god powers and let me out.”
“Not until you tell me what Isadora did to your family.”
His calm, even tone was so infuriating, it was all she could take. “You want to know what she did?” she snapped. “Nothing. She did nothing.”
“Then why—”
“She knew her father approved the Council’s attack on this settlement. She sat back while hundreds—no, thousands—of people were slaughtered because they were different. There weren’t just witches living here. There were all races, all types of people from all over the land who’d congregated here to avoid the Council’s persecution. And she watched while the Council’s soldiers not only murdered and raped, but razed this city to the ground. It might look different now. It might be rebuilt, but I remember. I remember my parents lying dead in the street. I remember the fires and the screams. I remember Delia grabbing me and making me run. I remember everything that your soul mate didn’t do to stop the massacre.”
His features softened, and he stepped toward her. “Cynna…”
She swatted his hand away before he could touch her and moved back. “No, don’t.”
Her skin was vibrating, her emotions raw and unguarded. And now that she’d spoken, she couldn’t get the images out of her head. Images that were a thousand times worse than those she’d seen at his colony, because they’d been of her people. Her family. But though she hurt, she relished the pain because it fed the rage inside her. The rage that kept her focused and reminded her…revenge was the only thing that mattered.
“Cynna.” His voice was calm—too calm—as he moved another step closer. “You don’t know what it was like for her. The hold her father had on her. She couldn’t have stopped it if she wanted to.”
“Oh, that’s bullshit.” Cynna moved back another step. “She could have stopped it. She could have stepped in. She chose to sit back and do nothing while people suffered.”
The way you sat back and watched Nick suffer?