Bound

BOUND

ELISABETH NAUGHTON

Copyright 2013 by Elisabeth Naughton

Cover art and design by Patricia Schmitt/Pickyme

Copy editing by Linda Ingmanson

This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For Dan,

Without whom none of this would be possible.

Thank you for making all my dreams come true, babe
.

“I must wrestle through time told by thousands of years,

For the new king of gods hath contrived for me

Bondage thus shameful.”

—Aeschylus,
Prometheus Bound

Chapter One

Anxiety was a bitch he did not have the patience to deal with.

Nerves danced in Titus’s stomach as he scanned the satellite image illuminated by the virtual screen in his suite of rooms at the castle in Argolea. The forest outside the Misos Colony in Montana was as quiet as ever. No movement. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sign of
her
. But just thinking about finding her, about
touching
her again, made his whole body vibrate as if on the edge of a precipice.

He curled his fingers into his palm, pulled his shaking arm back and covered his fist with his free hand before he could switch screens.

Think logically, dammit
…

His heart raced. His adrenaline surged. If there was one skill he’d mastered over the years, it was control. Control over his body, his gift, even those around him. When he reacted impulsively, when he leapt without thinking, when he allowed his emotions to rule his actions…those were the times he got into trouble. Those were the moments that had led to his curse.

Common sense told him the Argonauts were growing suspicious as to why he’d been hold up in his room for days. His
I still feel like crap after getting my ass handed to me by Gryphon
excuse wasn’t going to fly much longer. If he didn’t pull his shit together soon, he was only going to create more worry. And yet…

He looked back at the image, reached out, and switched screens. To his disappointment, Maelea’s beach house on Vancouver Island sat as empty as it had when he and the others had left it days ago.

“
Skata
.” He leaned back in his chair. Scowled. Called himself a hundred different kinds of stupid. He was starting to think she was a figment of his imagination. Except every time he remembered the heat that had rolled off her when she’d been close, and the feel of her skin against his when they’d touched, his entire body grew hard with an intensely deep craving he couldn’t explain, even to himself.

She was real. And she was out there somewhere. The first person he’d been able to touch in over a hundred years.

A knock sounded at the door. Titus jerked forward, barely able to kill the virtual screen before the heavy wood door to his room pushed in.

“Hey, T-man.” Phineus, his Argonaut brother, regarded him with speculation. “They’re gathering downstairs already. What’s taking you so long?”

“
Theron’s wondering what the fuck is up with you
.”

Phineus’s unspoken words hit Titus hard. Even though the others knew he could read minds, they didn’t always filter their thoughts around him or contain them in time.

Dammit
…
the trouble was already starting. Theron, the leader of their brotherhood, had made it crystal clear to Titus back at the half-breed colony that this “mystery woman” was of no use to their cause. If he found out Titus had spent the last three days searching for her, he’d be more than pissed. He’d be downright livid. And since Theron had the strength of Heracles on his side, a livid Theron was never a good thing.

Titus grasped his leather gloves from the desk where he’d been working and forcibly slowed his breathing. Just the thought of her—
Natasa
—burned a line of wicked heat straight to his groin. “Finishing up some work. They all set?”

Phineus leaned his broad shoulder against the doorframe and waited while Titus pushed out of his chair and reached for his leather breastplate, the one stamped with the seal of his forefather Odysseus, from the couch at his side. “Yeah, the Council’s assembled and the rest of the Argonauts are there. All except Gryphon. He’s waiting with Maelea. Tense as shit down there in that room, I gotta tell you. Especially with Nick hanging in the shadows.”

Titus hated getting dressed up, but this was one of those rare occasions where he and the others just had to deal. Tonight was the official celebration marking the death of the goddess Atalanta, the female who’d made it her life mission to destroy Argolea and everything it stood for. They’d been hunting her for years. Only it hadn’t been an Argonaut who’d finally killed her. It had been the female who’d brought his brother Gryphon back from the brink of insanity.

“Nick, Demetrius, and the Council all in the same place?” Titus snapped the straps in place and fixed the blue cloak so it draped over his left shoulder. “This oughta be fun.”

Nick was the leader of the half-breeds, or Misos, and though he’d sided with the Argonauts in their quest to destroy Atalanta, he had a real attitude problem when it came to the Council of Elders, the body that advised the queen. One Titus knew stemmed from his childhood, when he’d been cast out of Argolea and his twin, Demetrius, had been spared and raised with the Argonauts.

“Fun?” Phineus tossed back with a frown. “Try borderline explosive. I’m just hoping we don’t have to physically restrain anyone. I could do without fireworks for a few days.”

Titus didn’t want to have to restrain anyone either. Just the thought of touching someone else, even with the steps he took to keep himself protected, made him sick to his stomach.

He grabbed the leather tie from the desk, pulled his shoulder-length hair back from his face, and tied the mass at the nape of his neck. When he turned, Phineus was studying him with amused gray eyes. “Done primping?”

“Takes me ten seconds, pretty boy. I’m sure it took you at least thirty minutes to get gussied up.”

A wide smile broke across Phineus’s face. He ran a hand down his own leather breastplate—this one marked with the symbol of Bellerophon—then shrugged so the orange cloak over his shoulder swayed. “I make this look good. Admit it. You’re jealous.”

Titus snorted and moved forward, his boots clomping on the hardwood floor, the formal black trousers tighter than he preferred and cutting him off in places he didn’t want to think about. “You give me a fucking headache. Let’s go already.”

He stepped past Phin in the doorway, careful not to touch the guardian. Even though the boundary of cloth would prevent any kind of transfer, he’d learned over the years it was just safer that way. The simple luxury of another’s touch was something he’d come to detest.

Until Natasa.

Her fire-red hair, those plump lips, her high cheekbones, and gemlike eyes flashed in his mind all over again. And a sharp burst of heat rolled through his groin as he moved out into the hallway. He needed to find her. He didn’t care what Theron had to say about it or who she was. He just wanted to touch her one more time. To remember what it felt like to be touched himself. For just a few minutes, he wanted to be like everyone else and
feel
again.

Dammit, he deserved that after all this time.

“
There is definitely something seriously up with you, man
.”

Phineus’s thought plowed into him from behind, but Titus ignored it. He didn’t care what his kin thought right now. He was too busy plotting how he was going to get through the next few hours without losing his frickin’ mind then get back to figuring out where to look for her next.

They hit the grand staircase. Outside the castle walls, thousands of Argoleans had gathered in the streets of Tiyrns to hear the queen’s speech from the royal veranda that looked out over the city and to be introduced to their savior. But below, the voices of Council members, Argonauts, and the “elite” who’d been invited into the castle for the post-announcement festivities echoed off marble columns and drifted up to Titus’s ears. That and their thoughts. Too many to focus on, each unique and as irritating as fingernails scraping down a chalkboard, causing Titus’s skull to throb.

Get through the next hour; then you can get back to what you really want to be doing
.

Clenching his jaw, he moved down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, a tingle rushed across his spine, and his feet halted their forward momentum. Awareness flowed like water over his skin, and a strange, familiar energy tickled the fine hairs all along his flesh. From the corner of his vision, something to his right moved.

Phin plowed into his back. “
Skata
, T, what the hell?”

Titus barely felt the blow. He was too focused on the dark-haired female who’d caught his attention. The one standing at the end of the corridor that led to the kitchen, wearing a server’s uniform and holding an empty tray at her side. The one with pale features, a soft spray of freckles, and whose captivating, emerald eyes were locked solidly on his.

Eyes exactly like the ones he’d been dreaming—
fantasizing
—about for days.

His pulse picked up speed. He waited for her thoughts to pierce his mind, to prove it wasn’t really her. But only one word got through. The same damn word that had lit him up like a Christmas tree back at the Misos Colony the first time he’d met her.

The same word that now held so many meanings, his entire body vibrated with an erotic blend of excitement and heat.

Fuck
.

* * *

Sweat broke out along Natasa’s nape as she stared down the corridor toward the one man…Argonaut…shit,
hero
…she’d hoped not to run into.

Just her luck…

She was already warm, and her body’s irrational reaction to him wasn’t helping matters. Pulling her gaze from his, she shoved the kitchen door open and stepped inside the crowded room.

Activity buzzed around her, preparations for the party in full swing. She wove through servers and cursed herself for taking a peek into the gathering room to see if Maelea had shown up yet. She hadn’t missed the warning the leader of the Argonauts had issued when he’d ordered her to leave the colony days ago and never return. If he found out she was in Argolea, she’d be in a shitload of trouble. And if he found out what she really—

Her hand shook as she pushed strands of the dark wig back from her face.
Don’t panic.
Think, dammit!

A server swept past her, jostling her on her feet. She reached out to steady herself, and her hand sank into something thick, soft, and cool. Natasa jerked back and stared at the creamy, white éclair filling coating her fingers. She’d smashed one of the confections sitting on the dessert table to her right.

Anxiety pushed up her throat. She swiped the goo against her pants, barely noticing the mess she was leaving behind. He’d
seen
her. Even with the wig, she couldn’t go out there now. Any second he would plow through that door and come after her. And though the thought of him—
Titus
—being close again sent a thrill through her veins,
he
wasn’t what she’d come here for. He wasn’t the key to solving every one of her life’s problems.

She turned before fate could change her mind and nearly knocked another server over. The male righted his tray filled with champagne flutes, but not before one toppled over the side and crashed to the floor. The shatter of crystal echoed through the entire kitchen.

Silence descended. Heads turned their way. The server’s eyes widened; then he muttered a string of words Natasa didn’t understand but suspected were filled with expletives. She held up her hands, tried to apologize, but his face grew redder with every second.

Natasa stepped back. “I… It’s—”

The door across the room burst open. Natasa’s head jerked that way. The Argonaut she’d tried unsuccessfully to banish from her mind filled her vision.

He wore tight black trousers that showcased his muscular legs, knee-high leather boots polished to a gleaming shine, a white tunic cinched in at the waist, and a leather breastplate stamped with the seal of Odysseus. Over his left shoulder, a brilliant blue cloak hung to his waist, anchored with a gold leaf, and his wavy brown hair was tied back with a leather strap. But it was his eyes—his knowing, hazel eyes—that she focused on. Eyes that bore into her own and told her she was in deep shit.