A Guard for the Titan (TITANS, #3) Page 2

  “Did you drug me? How did we get here? What are you planning to do to me?”

  Atlas sighed at the note of fear in her voice. “Nothing. I mean you no harm. I was trying to save you.” He saw she was about to flee, a second before she spun on her heel and took off. He didn’t have to follow her. He blinked in front of her, and she landed on him with an oof.

  Steadying her, he said, “I apologize for upsetting you. I will get you somewhere safe, and you can forget ever meeting me.” No reason to mention he’d make sure of that or how. And why did the thought of never seeing her again make his chest hurt?

  Iphigenia raised her chin defiantly. “Take me back to the museum.”

  Stubborn female. “You’ll be in danger there. I can take you to”—what was that authority called?—“the police.”

  “The museum, or I scream.”

  Idle threat. There was nobody nearby, and Atlas could blink her out of here in a split second. “You’re sleepy. Need to go to bed. Think of your home.” He poured suggestion into his voice. Other Titans could only blink to places they’d visited, but he was able to pick up a destination from someone’s mind. He’d get her to her home, and she could sleep till morning. She might lose her job, but she’d be away from men with guns.

  She visibly wavered, her expression going slack far too briefly, before turning suspicious again. “No.”

  Chaos. Wasn’t his power of compulsion back? The wind howled in his ears as he tried again. “Focus on your bedroom. I will take you there.”

  Iphigenia crossed her arms over her full breasts. “Nah uh.”

  Chapter Three

  “Why are you so stubborn?” He scowled, his body radiating raw power.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re asking me to let you take me to my bed, and I don’t even know you? Because you brought me to a mountain in the middle of the night, without my consent?” She should be more frightened. They seemed to be miles from civilization, and it was dark. Plus the guy might be half the size he was a moment ago, but he was still huge and incredibly fast.

  And muscular all over and tall and dark and—woah—extremely well hu—

  She snapped her gaze back up to his gorgeous face, her cheeks heating. The corners of his wide mouth twitched, and his eyes were the same gold she’d first seen in the museum. Was this their actual color?

  “I’m Atlas,” he said. “Now you know me.”

  So she’d been right about who he was. Made sense, if she was conjuring up this whole situation in a dream, whether asleep or drugged.

  If she was awake though, and he was telling the truth, he was an ancient god. Older than ancient.

  When did the Titanomachy happen?

  Never. It was a myth.

  But if Titans were real... Man appeared on earth a couple hundred thousand years ago, according to that documentary she watched last week. Could Atlas have been around that long? How much of that was as a statue?

  And was he really able to beam her to her bedroom if she brought it to mind? How? Could he read her thoughts?

  “I only mean to help you,” he said with a coaxing smile that made her heart beat faster.

  “By taking me away from work, when there was a break-in, and not letting me go back to fix things? Gee, thanks. Who needs a job, anyway?” She could at least call in the robbery. Holding a finger out, for him to be quiet, she fished her phone from her back pocket. No signal. Fucking marvelous.

  She could record him, though. She turned on the phone’s camera, aimed it at him, and pressed the red circle. “You say you’re a Titan. Prove it. Do something... Titanly.” Titanish?

  The deep line between his thick, golden brows reappeared. “I know what this is. I’ve seen people use them.”

  So he could see things when he was a statue? Had he heard her, when she talked about her life? Before she could ask, he grabbed the phone from her hand and turned it off.

  Her analytical skills kicked in. “How did you know how to do that, if you’re not a dream? Someone came to stand in your line of sight, to switch their phones off?”

  Atlas rolled his shoulders.

  Mesmerized by the flexing of his muscles, Iphigenia forgot what she’d asked him.

  “Don’t turn it back on,” he said, holding the cell phone out to her.

  Iphigenia heard the or else in his tone and had no doubt he could crush it in his fist. She took it and put back in her pocket. They were only a meter apart, and she could see him now. All of him—from the top of his blond head, to his chiseled abs, to his muscular thighs and large, sexy feet. And yup, she’d glossed over something impressive and half-erect in between.

  “You know, you’re still very naked.” She licked her lips, her mental capacity exhausted by her effort to keep her gaze from dipping below his navel.

  “Ah. Forgive me. I forgot your culture doesn’t approve of that.” He raised his hand, twisted it, and made a pulling motion, and a cloud swept down from the sky, to wrap itself around his waist and down to mid-thigh.

  What. The. Fuck?

  No. It was too dark. What she thought was a cloud was... What? What else could the white, puffy something clinging to Atlas like a loincloth be?

  “Is that a cloud?" Her voice trembled, and her hand wasn’t much steadier when she pointed at him.

  “Yes.”

  She bit her lip. “Can I touch it?” Part of her wanted to ensure it wasn’t an illusion, but mostly, she wanted to have touched a cloud.

  He nodded, his gaze on her face.

  Holding her breath, Iphigenia took a step closer. Mere centimeters separated them. She reached for his hip, and gasped when her fingers passed through what felt like nothing more than thick air, to brush his bare skin.

  Atlas hissed like she’d burned him, but when she tried to withdraw her hand, he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and held it in place on his hipbone. “This is the first touch I’ve felt in an eternity. I was dumped in the sea, surrounded by cold for longer than I care to remember. Men found me, took me out, and moved me to the museum, but the cold was unyielding. Other than pressure where their hands grasped me, I felt nothing.” His voice dropped to a gruff whisper, as he took her other hand and placed it splayed on his chest. “Nothing like this. You drive the cold away.”

  His heart thudded under her palm. She curved her fingers, trailing them through the sprinkle of golden hairs on his chest. He was warm. He was real.

  She leaned closer. The weirdest urge to sniff his neck made her rise to her tiptoes. His grip on her hand tightened the tiniest bit, and he met her gaze. His eyes looked even more beautiful, the gold almost swirling in the irises, as he lowered his thick lashes and tilted his head closer. His breath was a warm caress on her face.

  Iphigenia inhaled the dark male scent of his skin. He smelled of the night and the sky and the sea that had held him captive.

  If she believed him.

  But if he was a dream, this wouldn’t be wrong. She closed the last of the distance between them and brushed her lips over his. They felt warm and smooth, and she wanted to taste them. Lick the salt off them. Nibble on the soft flesh. He had the perfect lips for kissing.

  But he wasn’t moving them. He wasn’t moving anything at all. He might as well still be made of marble.

  She stepped back and brought her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She was thinking she wanted him, which was so not her. She wasn’t impulsive, except for when she canceled her wedding at the last minute last year, but that was because logic insisted she and Pavlos weren’t a good match.

  Atlas shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” His expression was closed, but she saw the pain in his eyes. They were a warm-honey color now. “I am attracted to you, but I am bonded to another, and I will not betray her.”

  He didn’t have time to meet someone. Was there a woman waiting for him all this—immeasurably long—time? At least he was honest, when he could have taken advantage of the situation.

&nb
sp; Or he was lying, there was nobody else, and he thought Iphigenia was beneath him. He was a Titan, after all.

  Whatever his reason, he’d rejected her, and she could let it get to her or brush it off. It shouldn’t sting as much as it did, anyway. He was either a figment of her imagination or something unfathomably scary, and neither case scenario spelled relationship material.

  She’d ignore the masochistic implications of her subconscious making him turn her down, if he was a dream.

  She nodded. “Let’s pretend the last couple minutes never happened. Take me back to the museum, please. Now.”

  Chapter Four

  “You heard the lady.” The voice came from Atlas’ right.

  Ηe twirled, to put himself between Iphigenia and the speaker, but there was nobody there. It wasn’t that the male who spoke was hidden; he wasn’t there.

  “I thought the Olympians were gone,” Atlas muttered. None of the people who touched his statue form believed in their existence, but the disembodied voice had to belong to a god.

  Zeus wasn’t done with him, then? The vindictive little lightning-wielder granted Atlas this reprieve, only to exacerbate his torture when he encased him in marble once more?

  Atlas wouldn’t allow him the chance. “Stand down, nephew. I’ve learned my lesson, and the world has moved on. I will not fight you, unless you provoke me.”

  The unseen man chuckled, and the stars dimmed as a ball of light materialized between Atlas and Iphigenia. The light stretched and ebbed, until a semi-naked blond male stepped out of it. “Good to know, but I’m not my grandpa,” he said. “I am Eros. Son of Aphrodite. God of love. And I’m here to save your immortal ass. But first—” He snapped his fingers, and Iphigenia disappeared.

  “What did you do?” Atlas’ roar seeped into the earth beneath their feet and made it rumble. An invisible fist squeezed his lungs, as an emotion he hadn’t experienced before threatened to choke him. Was it... panic? No. He was above panic. He’d faced the strongest of the gods and survived. He feared nothing.

  But the possibility of something happening to Iphigenia made his stomach churn and his head throb. “Where is she?” he growled.

  “I returned her to the Acropolis museum.”

  The fist squeezed harder. “She could be hurt. There are armed—”

  “I promise you she’ll be okay, and I swear I’m on your side.”

  That calmed Atlas down. Gods might be a lot of things, but they weren’t oath breakers. “Explain, and then take me to her.”

  Eros drew a rectangular shape in the air with one finger, and a thick... envelope was the word, dropped into his free hand. He held it out to Atlas, who didn’t reach for it. “Take it,” Eros said. “After Prometheus and Hyperion awoke, we decided to hand out a starter pack to new arrivals. Everything you need to build a new life is in here.”

  Starter pack? New life? “Hyperion and Prometheus?”

  Eros nodded. “Your brothers are awake and well. They planned on taking you to Vythos before you awakened, but you beat them to the punch. I’ll take you to them once you’re stable.”

  They might not want to see him after he’d taken Kronos’ side, but it had been the logical thing to do at the time. They’d understand. Besides, he missed them. “I’m stable now.” But his hand trembled as he rubbed his chest, where he still felt the heat of Iphigenia’s palm.

  “No, you’re not.” He studied Atlas’ face. “But I admit I expected you to be in a much less coherent state after being essentially locked in your head for this long. Longer than either of the other two, by far.”

  Atlas harrumphed. His head was the safest place to be, when Zeus was after you. “I’m of as sound a mind as ever. When I felt my reason tested, I’d force my thoughts to shut down.” Though that often happened without him realizing it. The curse that took away his ability to move or speak kept him drifting in and out of consciousness.

  Eros nodded. “That’s fortunate. Bad news is you’re still an unbonded Titan, and you’ll spin out of control within days if not hours, unless you fix that. Being near your brothers will make matters worse.”

  “I have no patience for your cryptic talk.” Though he didn’t exactly have someplace to be until Eros told him where to find his mate.

  Eros winced. “Okay, so the way dear Grandpa Zeus set this up, unless you bond with your soulmate shortly after you awaken, your powers take over. They cause major catastrophes, and you and the world explode. Being near your brothers before you’re bonded will make things worse. It’s really all explained in the handbook.”

  “Handbook?”

  Eros shook the envelope at him, and Atlas finally took it, as realization sank in. “What about Pleione?” he asked. “I was bonded to her when Zeus put me in stasis.” The dreadful thought that she might have perished while he was away had crossed his mind a lot during the conscious moments of the long, dark night that had become his life, but that didn’t diminish his pain at what he knew he was about to hear.

  Real sympathy glimmered in Eros’ pale-blue eyes, and his teasing tone turned somber. “Zeus made the Titanesses mortal after you lost to him. They were allowed to spend their lives unharmed, but this was thirty-five thousand years ago. She’s gone. I’m sorry.”

  Gone. Forever. No Olympians meant no Hades, which in turn meant no Elysian Fields. Atlas couldn’t demand the god of death release her.

  His chest felt hollow, his shoulders too heavy for him to stand upright—him, the Titan who’d once supported the sky on his own. “Part of me knew this all along. I just hoped...” He shouldn’t have allowed himself the folly.

  He’d never again see her smile or arch an eyebrow at his antics. He’d never sleep with her supple form pressed against him. Never breathe in her scent.

  But when he tried to bring her face to mind, Iphigenia’s eyes hazel overtook the image, her lips quirked in a wicked grin.

  Guilt sliced through him, maybe more deeply than pain. He couldn’t even remember his soulmate’s visage. The envelope slipping from his fingers, he leaned over and grasped his knees, dragging air inside his lungs as if he needed to breathe. He ought to be rational about this. He knew the possibility was there, and memories were doomed to fade after this long.

  Thinking things through did nothing to lessen the ache gnawing at his very soul. The stars flickered over his head, and a tremor went through the ground.

  Eros approached him slowly and placed a hand on his arm. “I am so sorry for your loss.” A heartbeat later, he added, “But—”

  “But?” The single tiny word snapped Atlas’ self-control, and his bark made Eros hop back. “There is no but. Pleione is gone, and my soul will never be complete again,” Atlas bellowed, uncaring that his voice no doubt rolled down the hill to echo around the scattered houses. “But nothing, God of Love. My powers will take me over, and this world will soon see its last morning.” As if to make his point for him, the tremor in the earth intensified, dislodging stones around them. The moon dipped lower, its light dimmed.

  “Stop this.” The god’s voice had a hard quality it lacked till now. “Your soulmate had a good life. She mourned you, but she found the way to go on. She fell in love again and grew old with a mortal. Had children with him, and passed a few weeks after he did. But the part that interests you is that she has been reborn.”

  Atlas couldn’t begrudge Pleione’s eventually building a new life without him. He wanted her to be happy. But that she’d been reborn was... Could it be true? He suppressed the sense of loss digging a hole in his chest, and straightened to glare Eros down. “Pleione is back?”

  For a heartbeat, he wondered if Eros would reply. The god chewed his bottom lip, lines furrowing his smooth brow.

  “Circe will kill me for telling you this—she didn’t want any of you to know till the time was right—but Pleione’s soul is in Iphigenia. When my mother, along with Hephaestus and Hestia, asked Zeus not to make your punishment eternal, he agreed to allow your soulmates to awaken you after the Olym
pians had faded. He couldn’t break his promise, so he made sure none of the Titanesses would be left alive when time was ripe. Fate had different plans, though.

  “At least three of the Titanesses’ souls have been reincarnated, including hers. Iphigenia may have no memory of her time as Pleione, but they’re the same soul—the one that completes yours. And you need to bond with her in the next couple days, or you’ll lose her again for good, and it will be the end for life on Earth.”

  This wasn’t... He couldn’t... “Iphigenia is the reincarnation of my Pleione? She freed me from the marble?” It explained why he felt drawn to her from the start.

  Eros rolled his eyes. “Didn’t I just say that?”

  “Then I have to claim her.” Atlas would blink back to the museum, explain the situation to her, and demand that they bond. Surely she’d see it was for the greater good.

  “Woah. Hold your horses there, guy. She has to fall for you, for the bonding to work. Plus, there are two things we need to do first.”

  “What?” Atlas ground out. Now that he had a plan, he wanted to act on it.

  “Find you some clothes. And second, this.” Faster than his grandfather’s lightning, Eros wrapped his fingers around Atlas’ wrist, and an onslaught of images and sounds filled Atlas’ head.

  Within a few short seconds, Eros had him view—no, experience—the history of the world he’d missed out on. And it was bloody. Humans were worse than gods, when it came to pettiness, ego, and greed.

  “Are you sure destroying the planet and starting over wouldn’t be the right thing to do?” he asked when Eros let go and the last of the images faded. Not that Atlas would, knowing he had a second chance to the life stolen from him.

  “Positive. It may not look it, but humans are learning to be better. The bad is just louder, but they’ll fix things. And their little ones...” A wistful smile curved Eros’ lips. “They hold the future in their chubby hands.” He clapped his hands. “Now, clothes.”

  Atlas was suddenly encased in something marginally less constricting than the rock he’d been locked in. “What is this?”