Bound

Chapter Eight

Natasa’s fingers were still smoking when she sneaked out of her tent. She could barely believe that had worked, but the singed ropes proved it hadn’t been a fluke. Power rushed through her, infusing her with confidence. If she could direct it, maybe—just maybe—she could beat this thing before it killed her.

Chants rose up in the air, followed by a voice, singing some kind of garbled song to the beat of multiple drums. The sounds were coming from the amphitheater.

She stayed in the shadows, darting around tents and tree trunks as she crossed the city. When she reached the crowd, she couldn’t see anything besides the golden glow off torches and the backs of spectators gathered for a show.

She spotted a tree with limbs low enough to climb, wrapped her hand around the first branch, and pulled herself up. In seconds, she was above the crowd, with a clear view of the stage.

Her breath caught, and sickness rolled through her belly. Titus was shackled to the altar. He was still wearing his pants, but Aella straddled his lap, a dagger held high above, and her naked body was swaying and grinding against him, moving to the beat of the drums and like she was gearing up to fuck his brains out. But the wide-eyed holy shit look on his face wasn’t one of arousal. And the way he was yanking on those ropes told Natasa he wasn’t enjoying a single second of this.

Mine. Some deep-seated possessiveness bubbled up from inside, rolled through every part of her, and spurred her into action.

Frantic, she glanced around the crowd. She was seriously outnumbered and the measly dagger she had left wasn’t going to save Titus. Aella’s guards blocked the stage, armed to the hilt, preventing anyone from interfering with the ceremony. She looked down and around, but didn’t see anything that would help. Then she noticed a child’s bow and arrow set leaning against the side of a tent. The kind the Amazons used to train their women.

An idea hit. She looked at her fingers. She didn’t know if it would work. But if she didn’t try, he was going to die.

For reasons she didn’t understand, she wasn’t ready to lose him. At least not like this.

Never had Titus been thankful for his curse until this moment.

Not only were the Amazon queen’s eyes freakin’ glowing, she was shaking and rubbing against him like something was trying to claw its way free from her body.

He was never going to look at jiggling breasts the same way. This was not a turn-on. It was a major-ass turn-off. And shit, he did not want those things touching him.

He swallowed hard and jerked against the bindings. He couldn’t move them even a centimeter. The only consolation was that as soon as she did touch him, he’d be in too much pain to pay attention to what she was doing to his body.

And skata, do not even think about what she’s going to do to your body.

Closing his eyes, he imagined Natasa’s fire-red hair and those mesmerizing green eyes to distract him from that first touch of skin against skin. Wondered—again—why she’d pulled away from him back in her tent. She’d wanted him. He’d known it even if he couldn’t feel the emotions from her.

A whir echoed through the air. The queen jerked against his legs. A scream rose in the night.

His eyes shot open. The queen lurched to her feet on the stone slab, standing over him and batting at her head. The feathers in her headdress were smoking and burning. She knocked the heavy metal adornment from her scalp. It cracked against the slab, then dropped to the wood decking with a thud.

Gasps rose up from the audience. Furious, the queen whipped toward the crowd to see where the arrow had come from.

Another whir cut through the silence. The queen flinched. This time the banner just to the right of her head ignited in flames.

“Guards!”

Screams echoed.

Titus lifted his head to see what the hell was going on. Nymphs and Amazons rushed in every direction. The guards scrambled, armor clinking. Another whir echoed through the air, then the queen’s robe, lying where she’d dropped it on the stage, bust into flames.

“Natasa,” the queen growled. She pointed toward the trees on the far side of the crowd. “Find her!”

Excitement flooded Titus. She’d come for him, even after she’d been so freaked out in her tent. He pulled against the bonds and searched for her in the sea of faces.

The queen leapt off the altar and lurched into the crowd.

Another whir. Another banner caught fire. Titus pulled and wrestled with the bindings. If he could just break free… If he could get to her...

“There!” A voice rang out clear.

Before Titus could track where the guard was pointing, an entire tree exploded.

A thud echoed to his right. He strained to look behind him. Natasa pushed to her feet yards away, her eyes as intense as he’d ever seen them, her face illuminated by the flames around her, making her look like a fire-goddess.

Relief and hope and excitement shot through his entire body. Then quickly shifted to bone-chilling fear. At her back, closing in fast, an Amazon raced toward her with sword held high.

“Behind you!”

Natasa dropped the bow in her hand and reached back for her dagger. Panic overwhelming him, Titus strained against the cuffs with every ounce of strength left. She didn’t have time to react. She—

The chain anchoring one wrist gave with a snap. The other burst free. He bolted upright, kicked out at the shackles around his ankles. Couldn’t take his eyes off Natasa.

She whipped around. The Amazon knocked the dagger from her hand, and it went flying. Natasa stumbled and hit the end of the stone slab with a grunt. Titus’s heart lurched into his throat, and he reached for her but she was too far away.

“Natasa!”

The Amazon pulled her blade back, but before it could slice deep into Natasa’s flesh, the warrior jerked. Her blade cracked against the stone slab, hit the wood decking, and slid down the steps of the stage. Then her body slumped to the ground with a thud. A black arrow stuck out of her side. Blood pooled all around her body.

Natasa’s eyes grew side. She scrambled back. More shouts echoed from deeper in the city, and her head whipped that direction just as Titus’s did. Blood-curdling screams reached his ears, followed by hooves pounding the earth and male voices rising in the night sky.

Natasa lurched to the railing and looked down. Shock raced over her features. She stumbled back, turned, grabbed her dagger from the ground, and raced toward Titus.

“What the hell’s happening?” He fumbled with the bindings on his right ankle. That arrow hadn’t come from her. And he was pretty sure it wasn’t an Amazon weapon. Which meant it had to have come from someone or something else.

Natasa sheathed her blade, then unstrapped his other leg. “Zagreus’s army found us.”

“Zagreus…as in Hades’s fucking son?”

Her hand closed over his upper arm, and she pulled him from the altar. “I don’t know how, but be thankful. I wasn’t going to be able to distract Aella’s guards for long with my flaming arrows.”

Heat built in his veins and shot straight to his belly.

She tugged him out of the torchlight and into the shadows of a tent. As soon as they were covered by darkness, he closed his hand over her wrist, yanked her close, and captured her mouth with his own.

She gasped in surprise, but he didn’t let it slow him. He dipped into her mouth, slid his tongue along hers, and reveled in the warm, wet taste of her. That and the fact he couldn’t feel anything other than the heat of her body, the silkiness of her skin, and the pulse in her veins that indicated she was alive.

He pulled back and brushed his finger over her soft cheek. “You did it again. You saved me. You do care.”

“I…” A frown turned her lips. But he saw the desire in her eyes. And the heat. “I haven’t saved you yet. Save your thanks for someone who deserves it.”

He kissed her again. Quick. Safe. Chaste. Not at all like he wanted to kiss her. “I will. When we get out of here and are finally alone, I’ll thank you properly. That’s a promise.”

Something in her eyes warned that wasn’t a good idea, but he ignored it. She’d come back for him. That meant something.

He grasped her hand and led her around the other side of the tent. A sound that was oddly similar to a horse whinnying or a goat baying rose up from below. The clank of steel against steel echoed through the trees. He peeked over the railing and watched an Amazon lunge at a man dressed all in black with a thick beard, his head shaved and painted white with a black stripe down the middle.

“Zagreus, you said?” Titus asked in a whisper.

“His satyrs,” Natasa answered, her voice thick. “Evil satyrs who thrive in his pain palace. That’s why the nymphs are here. The Amazons protect any otherworldly females being hunted.”

Titus looked closer and realized the man—no, satyr—wasn’t wearing shoes. Where feet should be, hooves peeked out beneath his pants.

He turned to look at Natasa. Her gaze was fixed on the battle below, but when she lifted stormy eyes to his, he saw fear.

He squeezed her warm hand. “Zagreus isn’t going to catch you.”

“He’s not the one I’m afraid of.”

Emotions brewed in her eyes. Emotions he couldn’t feel in her skin or read with his mind. He wanted to ask what had spooked her. Wanted to know who and what she was hiding from. But this wasn’t the time or place. And when she glanced away and blinked several times like she was holding back tears, he told himself whatever happened, he had to keep her safe.

“Come on.”

He tugged her with him. Crouched low so they wouldn’t be spotted and moved behind another tent. The battle echoed from decking to their right. Zagreus’s army had reached the city.

Skata, he needed a weapon. He scanned the area as they ducked from one shadow to another. Any kind of sword would suit him just fine right about now.

“We need to get to the ground,” he told her.

Natasa pulled back on his arm when he would have rounded another tree. “This way.”

He followed, thankful she hadn’t let go. She tugged him around another tent, then drew up short and gasped.

Titus hit her from the back, looked up, and realized why she’d stopped.

A satyr sniffed the air once, muttered, “Not a nymph,” then lifted the sword in his arm and swung.

“Get back!” Titus knocked Natasa out of the way and lunged for the beast.

Natasa screamed. Titus hit the goat man in the waist, and the two toppled to the decking.

Titus’s head swam. The satyr’s emotions pummeled him, but he fought against the emotional transfer. Pain ricocheted through his body, and in a rush he realized most of what the beast was conjuring was hate. He could funnel that. Like Atalanta’s daemons. He let the hate feed him.

His arm felt like dead weight, but Titus hauled back then plowed his fist into the satyr’s jaw. The beast’s head cracked against the decking. Titus did it again and again, until blood pooled from the creature’s mouth and his hairy arms went limp against the wood.

“Titus!

Natasa’s hand tugged at his shoulder. Warmth flowed into his bare skin, slid beneath his ribs, and condensed. He stumbled off the beast and swayed. Natasa turned him, wrapped both arms around his waist, and pulled his weight against her, keeping him from landing on his ass.

“Breathe. Gods, just breathe.”

The emotions receded, and slowly the haze cleared. Probably not any faster than they would have if he’d been alone, but man, he liked that worry in her eyes. Liked the panic in her voice. Liked the way she was holding him tight.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I—” He gave his head a shake. He needed to let go of her. They didn’t have time to screw around.

He didn’t want to let go, though. Man, when she got close, he swore he lost brain cells.

He looked down at the satyr at his feet and noticed the blade. Reluctantly, he eased out of her arms and knelt to pick it up. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” She turned, took a step, winced, and reached out for the trunk of a tree.

His gaze shot to her leg and the ripped black fabric against her thigh. “Skata, you’re hurt.”

“I’m okay.” She pursed her lips, steadying herself against the tree. “It’s…not deep.”

Blood stained her pants. Titus pressed a hand against the cut, realizing the satyr’s blade must have gotten her before he took the beast down. She hissed in a painful breath. He pulled his hand back. Fresh blood stained his palm.

The wound was shallow but long. She’d be okay, but the sight of her blood tossed his stomach on a sea of nausea and helplessness. “Hold still.”

The battle echoed below while she leaned back against the tree hidden in the shadows and rested her weight on her good leg. Titus recoiled at the stench but yanked open the satyr’s coat and tore the shirt from the beast’s hairy chest. When he came back, he knelt in front of Natasa and tied the garment tight around her thigh. “This is going to stink. I’d give you my shirt if I had one.” He looked up. Tried to smile. “Kinda lost mine.”

“I’m glad you didn’t lose your pants too.”

His fingers stilled against her warm thigh. “You are?”

She nodded. Torchlight from somewhere close reflected off her face. Made her skin look darker, her hair redder, her eyes flicker with dancing flames. And even though there was a war raging around them, he felt frozen in time. Like she was the only person for miles.

“About what happened before,” she said, “in my tent. I’m…not exactly stable. In a lot of ways. You should know that before anything else happens.”

His heart beat faster. “Neither am I. In a lot of ways.”

Her gaze locked on his. Slowly, he pushed to his feet. Watched her watching him with the same intensity. The same need.

“You should go without me,” she whispered. “I’ll just slow you down. I don’t want anything else to happen to you…because of me.”

She was trying to save him again. Being the hero when that was his job. Her heat surrounded him. Warmed him. Gave him a strength he’d been lacking, not just today but every day. Gave him purpose… Something he’d lost during the long course of his life. “I’m not leaving you, ligos Vesuvius. I told you back in the woods you were stuck with me. I meant it.”

The tiniest smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Those darkened with secrets and…pain. A pain he was desperate to ease. “You can’t save me, Titus.”

She’d said something similar before. At the portal, when he’d offered her help. No matter what Theron and the others said about her, they were wrong. He knew deep in his soul that she wasn’t evil.

Now, more than ever, he was determined to prove them, and her, wrong. “But I will. That’s a promise.”

“Any news?”

Cerek turned from the virtual computer in Titus’s suite and frowned as Demetrius stepped in the room. “Nothing. His Argos medallion hasn’t gone off, and for whatever reason, I can’t find it. He of all people knows to keep that damn thing on.”

More good news. Just what Demetrius needed.

Evening pressed in from the arched windows that looked out over the sparkling city lights. The party was winding down, and Isadora and the others were downstairs saying their good-byes. Demetrius knew he should be by Isadora’s side, but he couldn’t go to her. Not yet.

He looked to Orpheus. “What do you think?”

Orpheus crossed his arms over his broad chest and scowled. “I think the Argonauts’ little gizmos are crap if one measly female can so easily screw with not only the portal but your silly tracking devices.”

“Hey,” Skyla said, shooting her mate a look from the seat next to Cerek where she’d been helping the guardian try to crack Titus’s computer. “They’re your silly tracking devices now too.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“And she wasn’t just a measly female,” Skyla added. “She’s something more.”

Orpheus scowled but stepped forward and squeezed Skyla’s shoulder. “If she was a Siren, maybe then I could buy her super-warrior skills. But we know she wasn’t.”

Skyla faced the computer, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she moved, and flipped screens. “From what happened at the portal, no, she definitely isn’t a Siren. She’s stronger. Any ideas?”

“She’s not a nymph,” Cerek said. “Too tough.”

“A fury?” Orpheus asked.

Cerek cut him a look. “No way. Too hot.”

Orpheus exhaled a sound that was part shock, part amusement. “Since when do you notice hot or not?”

Cerek turned back to the computer, feigning disgust. “I might not act on my base desires like you, daemon. Doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”

Orpheus looked to Skyla and raised his brow. Skyla shook her head in a Well, what do you know? way and grinned, then refocused on the computer screen. She bit her lip. “Great power… She could have been a muse, I suppose.”

“Nah. Not submissive enough.”

Skyla’s green eyes sparked when she glanced at her mate.

“What?” he asked.

“Get to know a few muses in your day, did you, big guy?”

Orpheus’s grin widened. He leaned close and kissed her temple. “Not as well as I know you, Siren. And they never wanted to play. Not like you.”

Demetrius fought from rolling his eyes at the direction of the conversation. Honestly, he really didn’t give a rip who or what the female was. He was too busy stressing. And wishing like hell he hadn’t seen what he’d just seen.

Pain tightened his chest, making it hard to breathe. The memory of Nick kissing Isadora sent every inch of his skin throbbing with a mixture of rage and helplessness. He should have plowed his fist into Nick’s jaw. He should have stayed and talked to Isadora instead of turning and walking away. But he hadn’t been able to do either. Because seeing them together like that… It was like looking at a scene from the future. Of what could be if he did the right thing. If he just stepped aside and finally let her go.

His brother was right. He couldn’t protect her here. Not her and the baby. The Council would move on her soon. If not before she delivered, then right after, when she was at her weakest.

He couldn’t keep her here, not if it meant her life. But the thought of handing her over to Nick...

“Demetrius? Are you listening or what?”

He cut his gaze toward Orpheus. The guardian’s gray eyes were fixed on him as if he’d grown a third eyeball. Which he felt like he had. Words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t make sense of them. Isadora… She was the only thing that made sense. She was the only thing that ever had. “What?”

“I said,” Orpheus went on, exasperation in his features, “do you think she’s a witch?”

Thought slowly came back. Demetrius’s brow lowered. He and Orpheus—though they were no blood relation—were both part witch, and if this female had fried the portal the way Phin and O said she had, it was a possibility she was part witch too. But something about that simple explanation didn’t add up.

Wondering, though, gave Demetrius something to obsess over besides his mate. And what the hell he was going to say to her when the last of the partygoers downstairs were finally gone.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I think it’s time we spoke with Delia.”

“The coven leader?” Cerek turned back to the screen, but there was a look in his wide brown eyes. A look Demetrius couldn’t quite read. “If it’s all the same, I’ll let you two handle that one without me.”

Interesting. Cerek, afraid of a witch? He’d never shown any fear around Demetrius or Orpheus. And, come to think of it, the last time the Argonauts had visited the coven—when they’d been looking for information about the sorcerer who’d kidnapped Isadora—Cerek hadn’t seemed afraid then. Of course, then Demetrius certainly wouldn’t have noticed what the hell Cerek was up to. Then he hadn’t been paying attention to anything but what was happening to Isadora and what he was going to do.

A lot like now.

“Groovy.” Orpheus kissed Skyla’s temple once more and pushed away from the desk. “Let’s do this. The sooner we figure out where the hell Titus went, the sooner we can get back to more important things. Like playing.”

Skyla grinned as they headed for the door and called out, “In that case I’ll dig out my whip.”

“Oh, Siren.” A wide smile spread across Orpheus’s face. And danger and heat brewed in his eyes. “I can’t wait.”

In the hall, he winked Demetrius’s way. “Admit it. You’re so freakin’ jealous you can barely see straight.”

Demetrius’s jaw tightened, but he kept his focus directed ahead. Yeah, he was jealous. But not of Skyla. He was jealous of the relaxed relationship the Siren had with the Argonaut. The type of relationship he wished he had with Isadora.

Pain sliced deep again. Because he feared, relaxed or not, soon they wouldn’t have any kind of relationship.

They found coats in an empty tent. A flashlight and a fresh canteen, the strap of which Titus hooked over his shoulder. When he tried to grab a blanket, Natasa tugged it from his hands and threw it on the floor. They didn’t have time to pack, for gods’ sake.

“Which way?” Titus asked as they crouched in the shadows, scanning the trees and decking. Blades striking blades echoed from below. Screams from nymphs who had to be scared out of their minds. Grunts and gasps as Aella’s warriors battled Zagreus’s hired thugs.

“Natasa?” Titus asked, squeezing her hand. “Which way?”

Her head snapped his direction. She blinked twice. Hadn’t realized she’d been zoning out. The sounds of battle were growing closer, as if they were overrunning the city. And—shit—were those flames rising from the canopy behind him? She hadn’t started that, had she?

She swallowed hard and rose to her feet, winding at the pain spiraling up her leg. “Toward the west end of the city. There’s an exit. And I’m thinking we need to hustle and get out of here before that reaches us.”

He twisted to look over his shoulder, muttered, “Fuck me,” then pushed to his feet. “Come on.”

They wove around tents and tree trunks, staying as far from the battle as they could. Warmth spread down Natasa’s leg. She knew without even looking that the cut was bleeding more than she’d thought.

They reached the far end of the city, deserted and quiet. Natasa rested her weight on her good leg and grasped the railing while Titus searched for the rope ladders she’d told him were rolled up and stored against the trees. This was the exit she used to come and go from the city, and it was usually guarded by at least one Amazon. But not tonight. And that didn’t settle Natasa’s nerves any.

Anxiety spread beneath her ribs. In her attempt to do the right thing, she’d caused more damage than if she’d left well enough alone. The cyclical pattern of her life kept repeating itself, and she seemed helpless to stop it.

“Found it,” he called. He latched the end of the ladder on the hooks drilled into the decking and flung the ladder over the side. Then he stopped to look at her. Concern tightened his features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She shook his hand off her arm—the one that felt way too damn good—and climbed over the side. Darkness beckoned from below. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Pain radiated up her leg, making her weak. She grasped the rungs of the rope ladder and moved slower than normal, trying to compensate for her injury.

She reached the bottom, breath heavy, legs tired. Grasping the trunk of a nearby tree, she stepped off and swiped at the sweat running down her forehead.

Titus moved off the ladder at her side and looked through the trees back toward the battle. They were at least a hundred and fifty yards from the action, but the screams still echoed through the night and the red glow of flames high above was growing stronger.

“Man, either Zagreus has a serious axe to grind with your queen, or he’s got a hard-on for those nymphs.”

“It’s the nymphs.” Her stomach rolled. She couldn’t think about what was happening back there. “And she’s not my queen.”

He looked at her. Seemed on the verge of asking something. She held her breath and waited. She knew he had a thousand questions, and he deserved answers to them all, but they didn’t have time to get into any now. And she didn’t know what she was going to tell him when he finally asked.

“Which way gets us out of here the fastest?”

Relief pulsed through her veins. Relief that he hadn’t posed the tough questions. Relief that he wasn’t blaming her for what had happened back there. She was carrying enough guilt over that already. “That way.”

“Come on.”

He grasped her hand and pulled her into the darkness of the forest. Shadows and mist surrounded them. The air was cool, slapping at her face, but it didn’t stop the sweat from slicking her skin or the heat that seemed to consume her from the inside out.

Don’t let it be happening now. She breathed deep and ground her teeth in the silence. She needed more time. Needed to figure out how to get info out of Epimetheus.

Tingles radiated from Titus’s palm into hers, then up her arm, cooling at least part of her as she limped along next to him. That moment in the shadows, when he’d been tending her wound, slammed back into her. The worry in his eyes. The heady need in his voice. The draw to him that seemed to overpower even her common sense.

A lump formed in her throat. She didn’t want him dead. Didn’t want him hurt because of her. But the longer they were together, the more volatile she’d become. As soon as they got to safety, she had to figure out a way to lose him once and for all.

Her thoughts were so messed up, she didn’t hear the roar until Titus tugged on her arm, pulling her to a stop. Her bad leg gave, and pain stabbed through her all over again. He wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her close, keeping her from going down.

Gods, he felt good. So cool where she was hot. Even through the thick fabric of the military-style coat they’d picked up, he was like a breath of fresh air, easing the fever growing inside her.

“That doesn’t sound like a stream,” he muttered.

She strained to listen. And caught the faint roar reverberating through the misty trees.

“It’s not.” Panic closed in. They’d been heading toward the coast, not into the hills away from danger, like she’d thought. She always got turned around in these damn trees. “I—”

Hooves pounded the earth. Shouts echoed at their backs. Natasa whipped around. Six, seven…no, more like ten satyrs were bearing down on them.

“Skata.” Titus stepped in front of her and lifted the blade in his hand. “Go!”

She reached back for her dagger. “I can fight.”

“You’re pale as shit, and you can barely stand. Get the hell out of here before it’s too late!”

He was protecting her again. Even after everything she’d gotten him into. Something in her chest cinched down tight. Something she didn’t understand and wasn’t prepared for. Something that told her losing him was no longer an option.

“Go!”

Her temper flared. The heat inside her grew stronger. “Not without you.” She grasped the sleeve of his open coat and pulled hard. “I didn’t just betray the people who were protecting me so you could get yourself killed by some freakin’ satyrs.”

“Natasa—”

A crash echoed through the underbrush. Natasa twisted that direction. Instinct ruled before thought. She lifted her hand toward the satyr now only yards away. Heat and energy erupted in her palm. A fireball shot through the air, hit the beast in the chest, and ignited his coat in flames.

A scream tore through the trees. Hooves skidded against the earth. Shouts reverberated. Natasa’s eyes widened at what she’d just done.

“Holy Hades,” Titus gasped. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t…” She looked at her palm, then glanced back at the flaming beast rolling across the ground. Shock and sickness pooled in her stomach. “I don’t know.”

“Do it again.”

Openmouthed, she glanced past the satyr she’d hit, toward what Titus was staring at. More beasts. Dozens of them, racing their way. And through the mist and trees and red glow of flames, a man astride a giant black horse. Only he wasn’t just a man. Even from this distance, Natasa could feel the power and darkness radiating from his body.

“Do it again, right now,” Titus said more urgently. “That’s Zagreus.”

Fear shot through every inch of Natasa. Hades was hunting her—all the gods were. If he’d had any suspicion she’d been hiding out with the Amazons, of course he’d send his son, the greatest tracker on the planet, to chase her down. She’d been stupid to think she was safe here. Especially after those nymphs arrived.

She wasn’t going to be caught. Not by any god, and not by the Prince of Darkness. Her body took over. Thought fled. She turned and ran.

“Natasa!”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t think about her wound. She tore through the trees. Then skidded to a halt when she reached the edge of a cliff overlooking the churning Pacific.

Titus drew up short at her side, breath heavy. Waves crashed against rocks fifty feet below, and the sound of hooves closing in at their backs grew louder.

“Shit,” Titus muttered. “If you have any idea how you hurled that fireball, you better do it again. Fast.”

Natasa jerked around, realizing too late that instead of sprinting away, she’d run right into a trap. In her panic, she’d lead them out onto some kind of point. There were no more trees, only rocks beneath their feet and a drop-off to darkness and swirling danger in every direction.

She lifted her hand and tried to conjure the same energy she’d created before. Nothing happened.

“It’s not working.” Fear tightened her throat and caused her voice to rise. “It’s not working! What do we do?”

“Skata.” Titus grasped her arm tight at the biceps and jerked her back toward the ledge. “We jump.”