A Guard for the Titan (TITANS, #3) Read online

  “Leather.” Eros scratched his smooth cheek. “Too hot for this time of the year, though.” He clapped again, and a soft white T-shirt—hey, he was up to date with the current lingo—hugged Atlas’ torso, while Atlas’ legs were wrapped in what his brand new memories said was a pair of jeans. The oddest sensation ever was what was around his feet, though. He looked down, and searched for the image in his mental bank. Sneakers.

  The god saw him looking and smiled. “Boots would give you more oomph, but it’s hot tonight. Plus these are better for running.” He ducked, picked up the envelope and slapped it to Atlas’ chest. “Better hurry. If Circe’s right—and she usually is, though I won’t admit that to her—they’ll be snatching Iphigenia about now.”

  Chapter Five

  The ground beneath Iphigenia transformed from dirt and rock to wide slabs of marble so abruptly, she swayed. She squeezed her eyes shut to ward off dizziness and reached out blindly for purchase. Her fingers tapped a solid, smooth horizontal surface, and she grasped it for all she had, then took three long, calming breaths before opening her eyes again. She knew where she was before looking. The change in the warm air smelled of car exhaust, and the sounds of the city—even as empty as it was this week—rushed in to replace the eerie quiet of the mountaintop.

  She was at the museum. More specifically, outside its main entrance.

  With trembling fingers, she straightened her watch on her wrist and checked the time. A little after one. If she’d indeed passed out, this was half an hour to forty-five minutes unaccounted for. If she hadn’t... she’d met not one, but two mythological creatures, and traveled to a mountain she didn’t know existed and back in the blink of an eye.

  She pinched her arm hard enough to bruise before she had time to reconsider. Ouch. Definitely felt that, but all it proved was that she was awake now.

  Then again, she’d felt Atlas’ lips against hers, and her palm still tingled where it’d touched his chest. Doubt seeped into her core, numbing her senses. Her mind had been the one thing in life she could always depend on. What if she was losing it? What if she couldn’t trust her senses?

  Think. Prioritize.

  Whether Titans were real or not, whether an actual Greek god had sent her from a random mountaintop to right outside the Acropolis museum with a snap of his fingers or she’d dreamed it up, Iphigenia had a job to do.

  She drew on her training, to focus on the task at hand instead of the fear she was losing touch with reality and her own sanity.

  Whatever else might or might not be true, the break-in at the museum was a fact. From where she stood, she saw through the glass the sweeping glare of a flashlight coming from the first-level landing. She should stop the intruders, but if they were armed like Atlas said, she had no chance against them with just the Taser gun that came with the job. Though she’d pick facing humans with guns over ancient deities with grudges. Most days.

  No reason to do this alone. During training week, she’d been instructed to neutralize possible threats during opening hours, but not try to subdue intruders by herself. She reached into her back pocket and let out a relieved sigh when her fingers closed around her phone. It hadn’t been dislodged on her... journey back from Mount Othrys. If she’d ever been there.

  She switched it back on and checked the screen. Three bars. Yes. Though the twin circles of light on the other side of the glass doors were almost at ground level, and she had no time to waste, she opened her video gallery. The preview of the latest video was a still shot of Atlas, naked and tall and droolworthy.

  He was real. Though he might not be a Titan but a crazy naked guy, who somehow—

  No. She couldn’t rationalize away the darkness around him in the image, or the gold in his eyes.

  Would she see him again? Did she want to?

  He wasn’t interested. And neither was she, except to satisfy her curiosity.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” she muttered to herself, as the memory of his hard body pressed to hers made her cheeks burn. God, she’d kissed him. And he hadn’t wanted her to.

  And could she call in the robbery, go home, and sleep tonight off?

  She dialed 100 and waited for the police dispatcher to answer. Then, keeping the waver from her voice, she said, “My name is Iphigenia Konstantinou. I’m the night guard at the Acropolis museum. We’ve had a break—” She couldn’t say more, because something hard dug into her back. A gun?

  “Hand me the phone,” a man whispered in her ear. She always thought bad guys would exude evil, but his breath smelled of mint. He pressed the gun harder against her back and held out his free hand around her side, where she could see his gloved palm.

  She did as he ordered, and he ended the call, dropped the phone to the ground, and stomped on it. Iphigenia grimaced at the sound of her screen giving way under the heavy sole of the man’s boot. The phone had cost almost a month’s salary. This guy would regret ruining what was hers.

  The man grabbed her by the arm and spun her to face him. He wore a sleek black hood. How movie cliché.

  Iphigenia pretended to stumble, and when he reached for her, grabbed his forearms and brought up her knee between his legs. It would have landed too, if the earth hadn’t rippled under her feet to fling her backward, into the waiting arms of someone else. Another man, judging by the hard chest she slammed into. This one smelled less pleasant—like old sweat and stale cigarette smoke.

  His hands gripped her arms like vices. She tried to stomp on his foot, but he lifted her in the air and shook her like a rag doll. “Quit it, or I will hurt you.” The gravelly warning was given in Greek, but with an accent she couldn’t place. She stopped fighting, to buy herself time.

  A woman to Iphigenia’s right said, “Is this her?"

  “Yeah,” the chest-owner half-said, half-growled. “He turned into flesh and disappeared with her.”

  “Then don’t hurt the girl yet. We’ll need the needle.”

  Panic clawed at Iphigenia’s throat. Would they give her more of the hallucinogen that had her seeing statues come to life, or—

  No. If they meant to kill her, they could easily snap her neck. They planned to take her with them, and she had to buy time. Get them to talk. Keep them here till the police arrived. She let her body go slack, as if the fight was sapped out of her. “Please, don’t. I’m afraid of needles. Please. I’ll cooperate,” she said hurriedly, as a cold point pricked the skin on the side of her neck. “I haven’t even seen your faces. I can’t tell on you.” But her gut insisted they didn’t worry about getting caught. They knew about her Titan.

  The woman stepped within her line of sight, but Iphigenia couldn’t make out her features beyond the long, blond hair, because everything was going blurry. The woman placed a gentle hand on Iphigenia’s cheek. “Sleep, child.”

  A sudden wave of exhaustion weighed down Iphigenia’s limbs, and her eyelids drifted shut. The world tilted sideways, as she lost feeling in her legs. Her brain was barely conscious enough to form a single word, which she screamed with all her remaining strength, though it never made it past her lips.

  Atlas.

  Chapter Six

  Atlas didn’t ask who or why. Grabbing meant she was taken against her will. He’d stop that.

  Without a word, he blinked from the mountain and materialized in the room that had been his cell the past few months. Iphigenia wasn’t here, and neither were the robbers. Had they taken her already?

  His name echoed in his head in an agonized scream. Iphigenia. He’d end whoever terrified her this way.

  Eros’ words came back to him, and he wanted to smack himself. She was outside the museum.

  Calling to mind the way he was carried in, he blinked to the entrance. She wasn’t here either, but the sign read For Personnel Only, so it couldn’t be the main entrance. Should he circle the building?

  No time for that.

  He tried to reach her mind and see what she saw, but though he sensed her presence, it was weak, and he had no visual
.

  Chaos, he wouldn’t have time to unravel, if someone hurt her. He’d rip this world apart on purpose.

  Desperation threatening to cloud his logic, he clung on a possibility so small, he’d never consider it in a less dire situation.

  He concentrated on the spark of her soul he could feel, and tugged on it with all he was. The ground beneath him trembled, and the mental image of Kronos raging against the dark pressure surrounding him threatened to snuff out his connection to Iphigenia. Atlas ground his teeth and held on, while at the same time ordering his body to find her. This should be impossible—he’d never been in this city before, nor was he seeing it through her eyes—but his soul answered the call of its other half.

  His surroundings wavered, and then disappeared, for the lights outside the museum to be replaced by a flickering street lamp. The majestic building gave way to tall, gray apartment buildings that framed a narrow street, and the air thickened further, infused with car exhaust, dirt, and old trash.

  Atlas spun on his heel but couldn’t see Iphigenia. A car turned the corner, speeding toward him, and he hopped on the sidewalk at the last possible moment before he rendered it a pile of junk metal and possibly killed the people in it.

  But wait. His connection to Iphigenia felt almost palpable while the car was into view. She was in there, with her captors.

  He could grow to his full size and chase down the vehicle, but the risk would be great. People might see him, and he doubted they’d appreciate meeting a Titan.

  His only other option was to keep following Iphigenia’s signal, until the car reached its destination.

  Taking care to stick to the shadows, he ran after the car until he lost it, and then blinked near it again when it stopped at a traffic light. The face of the woman on the passenger seat was illuminated for a split second by a beam of light. She leaned her forehead against the glass, looking out, but her gaze was unfocused. She wasn’t Iphigenia, but Atlas knew her.

  Rhea—Kronos’ wife. Zeus’ mother.

  How could it be?

  Her hair was a lighter shade of blond, but her green eyes and the stubborn line of her mouth were unmistakable. This wasn’t a passing resemblance; it was her. Another reincarnation?

  The car started again, and he made to run after it, but a cacophony of horns stopped him. He couldn’t dematerialize in front of so many witnesses, so he waited for his light to change, and jogged to the nearest building entrance, where, hidden from view, he blinked to Iphigenia again.

  He almost ran head first into a mountain of garbage, and barely had time to duck beneath it as the car came into view. Hidden, he ignored the stench and watched as the driver pulled up to the corner building and Rhea exited and opened the back door. A large male scooted out and leaned back into the cabin. When he straightened again, Iphigenia’s limp body was in his arms. Even from across the street, Atlas saw her chest rise and fall with her breath, and the spark of her life connected to him hadn’t faded, but seeing her unresponsive boosted his wrath.

  Atlas’ first instinct was to barrel into them and grab her, but he might injure her inadvertently. Should he make his presence known? Demand they hand her over?

  The night darkened further, and two street lights flickered off at the same time. Atlas looked at his hands. He’d fisted them, but the left one was shaking visibly. This was disconcerting. Before he was put into stasis, he always had full control of his movements. Was this what Eros warned him of?

  He stretched and curled his fingers. He still controlled them, despite the shaking. He could grab Iphigenia and blink back to Othrys, where he’d explain about the bonding and make her his.

  It was for the greater good.

  But when he looked up again, the male carrying Iphigenia wasn’t in sight.

  Rhea stood at the entrance to a gray building, holding the door open. She looked Atlas straight in the eye and said, “Well? Are you coming?”

  Then she disappeared inside.

  Atlas blinked where she’d been, barely making it into the building before the door swung close. His rational mind screamed this was a trap—why else would Rhea have made it so easy for him to follow?—but he would fight his way out of any situation, as long as he had Iphigenia.

  He looked at the two sets of stairs ahead of him. One led up, the other down. Focusing on Iphigenia’s spark, he took the latter, to the basement. The door he came upon, spotless, shiny, and reinforced, was in stark contrast to the peeling paint on the walls around it.

  It couldn’t stop a Titan, though.

  Atlas splayed one palm on its center and pushed, and the door caved in. A second shove ripped it from its hinges, and he found himself looking down a short corridor, framed by doors on both sides.

  “Rhea?” he called out. No reason to keep things low key. She knew he was here.

  “Come right in, big guy.” Her voice came from the first door to his right.

  Senses on alert, since he didn’t know how many others were down here, he followed her voice and found her sitting behind a large desk. Her expression was placid, even friendly, but her yellow eyes sparked with something he couldn’t place.

  They’d never been friends before, or even allies since she was on the Olympians’ side, but they shared a history, and for that, he’d be civil. For now.

  “Where have you taken the human?” he asked.

  Rhea motioned for him to take the empty chair across the desk from her. “Sit. Would you like something to drink?”

  He didn’t need drink or food to survive, but he’d never said no to nectar. Still, this wasn’t the time to drop his guard. “No, thank you. You have a sordid history with potions.” Afraid he’d share his own father’s fate, Kronos had swallowed his offspring whole, as Rhea gave birth to them. She’d managed to hide Zeus from him and instead given Kronos a rock to swallow. Once Zeus was old enough to fight, Rhea had drugged her mate, for her son to free his siblings from their father’s belly.

  Rhea seemed undisturbed by Atlas’ jibe. “I was trying to save my children. You would have done the same.” She shrugged. “I must say, I’m glad it’s you.”

  Atlas arched an eyebrow, squelching his impatience. Rhea wanted him here for a reason, and he couldn’t deal with her properly until he knew what that was.

  She kept talking, as if to herself. “I’d rather it were Kronos, of course. Would have made things easier.” She trailed off, the sparkle in her eyes gone.

  “What things? Why am I here, Rhea? And how are you alive?” This close, he sensed her power and had no doubt she was truly the Titaness.

  She tilted her head to the side and gave him a wistful smile. “You didn’t think my son would let me wither and die, like he did my sisters? No. I supported him for millennia, while he ruled over humans and gods alike. And once he faded...” The glint was back, and Atlas recognized it for what it was—insanity. “You have to help me find Kronos,” she hissed. “When he awakens, I can have my golden boy again.”

  Atlas recoiled. She wanted Kronos and Zeus back? “I will not help you free Kronos. Last time he and Zeus had it out, the world suffered the consequences. Now, I’m going to find Iphigenia and get out of here, and you’ll stay out of my way if you know what’s best for you.”

  Her gaze turned shrewd. “You fought on your brother’s side. Why turn against him?”

  He got to his feet slowly and shook his head. “I stood with him because he told me Zeus meant to destroy us all, and he was correct. But this is a new world. The only threat to the few of us who’ve awakened would come from our power-crazed brother, and I have no intention of allowing that to happen.”

  Rhea blinked between him and the door. “You’re not the only one.” The terrifying smile stretching her lips said he shouldn’t have mentioned the other Titans out of stasis, but she didn’t know who or where they were. She couldn’t harm them.

  “I’ve been dreaming of him,” she said conversationally. “He says he’ll awaken if there’s a strong enough earthquake. A Titan
’s unraveling could make that happen, if I harness it.”

  Of course she knew about the unraveling, but she was delusional if she thought she could harness the power it would unleash. “That would end the world,” he said. He needed to keep her talking while he sought Iphigenia’s signal again.

  Rhea rocked on the balls of her feet. “Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe the voices will stop, and I’ll rest. We’ll see what happens, once your time is up.”

  He’d heard enough. He dematerialized from the room and out into the corridor. “Iphigenia,” he bellowed in his head. “Can you hear me?” She might not be awake yet, but if he reached her, he could mentally nudge her into consciousness.

  Rhea came out to the corridor behind him. “Get him,” she yelled.

  A dozen men rushed him. They were large and built like brick walls, but they were mortal. They had no chance of besting him, as he tossed them aside like rag dolls on his way to the only other closed door within view.

  “Look, child. See what he’s capable of.” Rhea’s whisper reached him despite the distance between them and the shouted threats by the humans.

  He spun on his heel, to see her holding Iphigenia upright, one arm around his woman’s waist.

  “What have you done to her?” he growled.

  Rhea stared him down. “It’s not me she should fear, but you. Destruction follows in your wake.”

  He took a step toward them, and one of the men punched him in the solar plexus. Atlas barely broke his stride, as he threw the man into the wall. “Your men can’t stop me,” he told Rhea, as he blinked a hair’s breadth from her.

  The grin she gave him bordered between playful and maniacal. “All I need to do is stall, Titan.” She disappeared, and he barely had time to drape his arm over Iphigenia’s shoulders before her knees gave way.

  “Hold on, my Iphigenia. I’ll take you home,” he whispered, and back to Mount Othrys, they went.