the trunk, popping the release as I go. Nick is already waking when I pull the trunk lid up and out of the way.
“I thought we were past the locking-me-in-the-trunk phase,” he grumbles as he pushes himself into a sitting position.
“We are.” I grab him by the forearms and pull him out of the trunk—again I find it’s really useful to have super strength. “We are not, apparently, past the saving-your-butt-from-the-monster-horde phase.”
“Oh yeah.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “That.”
“Yeah, that,” I repeat.
He straightens to his full height—a few inches taller than me—and I have to resist the urge to wrap my arms around his waist and rest my cheek against his chest. I don’t think my pulse has slowed to anything near normal since Grace first told me he’d been taken.
Now, finally, I can relax.
“Hey, Nick,” Grace says as she finally forces herself out of the car. She walks up and punches him. Hard.
“Ow.” He rubs the spot on his arm. “What was that for?”
“For throwing me in that elevator and getting yourself taken prisoner,” she says without any venom. “Next time ask first if you’re planning on sacrificing yourself. I would have said no.”
His mouth curves up into an amused grin. “Note taken.”
“Good.” She flashes him a cheery smile. “Now, I’ll be in the car with the monkey so you two can make out.”
I pretend to kick her as she dances out of range.
When she closes the car door behind her, I give in to my urge. Wrapping both arms around Nick’s waist, I lean into him and hug him tight.
“You weren’t worried about me, were you, Sharpe?” he teases.
I can’t answer. If I tell him the truth, he’ll know how I feel about him. If I lie, he’ll know I’m lying, which will tell him how I feel about him. Either way, I’m revealing more of those feelings that I try to keep locked up tight.
“You don’t have to say it,” he says, his voice soft and serious for once. “I was worried about you.”
“Me?” I ask, pulling back to look at him. “I wasn’t taken prisoner.”
“But I was.” His mouth quirks up to one side. “Who would protect you if I was dead?”
I narrow a scowl at him. “Who usually protects who in this relationship?”
“It’s a relationship, then?” he counters.
Darn it. He is too good at these verbal games. I’m better at the physical. So rather than try to beat him with words, I use my mouth another way.
Our lips are just about to touch when the horn on my car blares. The sound echoes off the concrete of the parking structure, amplifying it to eardrum-damaging levels.
“Sorry,” Grace shouts out her open window. “Sillus got a little handsy with the steering wheel.”
I laugh and relax into Nick’s chest.
“Can’t we just stay here?” I ask.
“Forever?”
“Maybe,” I reply. “Or even for a little while.”
He rests his chin on my head. “Maybe a little while.”
For a second, I close my eyes and pretend the rest of my life doesn’t exist. I don’t resent my legacy. I love my sisters, and I take pride in our destiny. But sometimes, in moments like this, with my arms around Nick and his heart beating against my ear, I want to be a normal girl with normal girl problems.
I know these moments never last long, but I’m going to hold on to it for as long as I can, because after this one is over, I have a feeling that “normal” won’t even be in my vocabulary anymore.
I sigh and listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Normal. Just . . . normal.
CHAPTER 27
GREER
For the longest time, I just watch him.
He’s sitting on a wrought iron bench in front of a small pond. There are ducks in the pond and blossoms on the tulip trees. Just like my vision. The setting is so peaceful, and so at odds with the emotions battling in him.
I almost don’t want to add myself into the equation. I might tip the balance either way. But, in the end, I have to. We need him.
I move silently, my footsteps light on the path as I walk down to his bench. I half expect him to sense my presence, so I’m surprised when I make it all the way into his peripheral vision before he notices me.
“You lost the connection with Apollo.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“I wouldn’t call it a
He glances up, his eyes dark with pain. “Didn’t they tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I ask. “That you’re secretly an assassin sent to kill Grace and the rest of us so we can’t open the door?”
His brow scrunches up in confusion. Clearly, he thought I would be a little more upset about his confession. He doesn’t know me very well yet.
“What does that have to do with you reading my mind?”
He rests his elbows on his knees, clenching his hands together. “Artemis and Apollo are twins.”
“I know that.” I am well versed in classical mythology. “They are the children of Zeus and Leto, the goddess of motherhood.”
“As twins,” he explains, “they have a supernatural connection that links their thoughts. As a soldier of Artemis, I was branded with her mark.”
He releases his hands and pulls up the right sleeve of his T-shirt. There, inked into the flesh where his arm meets his shoulder, is a dark green tattoo in the shape of a bow and arrow—the symbol of the goddess of the hunt.
“This connects me to her in the same way the pendant connected you to Apollo.” He tugs his sleeve back down. “It connected me to you, until your death severed the bond.”
“So you really could read my mind?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “Not exactly. It was more like some of your thoughts—mostly your visions—ended up in my mind too. I didn’t go looking for them.”
Well, that is a lot to process. Not only did I form a magical connection to a god, but that connection also tied me to his twin sister and those who bear her mark.
The world of Greek mythology is exceptionally complicated.
Maybe things will begin to make more sense the longer I’m involved.
“We’re not connected anymore,” I say, trying to weave the various threads together in my mind. “Does that worry you? I had already touched the pendant when we first met. Do you think it will change things? That I won’t care for you anymore?”
He looks up at me, his eyes full of emotion: fear, hope, uncertainty.
“Trust me when I say that a magical connection has nothing to do with what I feel for you.” I reach down and cup his cheek with my hand. He closes his eyes and leans into my palm. “Is that why you left?”
He shakes his head. Pulling back, out of my touch, he says, “I’m a coward. I had to reveal my secrets, but I couldn’t face your reaction. Or Grace’s.”
That’s the heart of it. He was afraid we would reject him. He was afraid to see anything other than attraction in my eyes or admiration in Grace’s. He should have trusted us more.
Gretchen has learned to trust, and, I am confident, so will Thane. And I’m just the girl to start his
