Entwined (25 page)

“Thank you.”

Lena hesitated. “I’ve harbored resentment against your
world for a long time. I’m not entirely ready to let go of that. But I may be ready to see another side. Maybe.” She opened the door. “Good luck to you, Callia.”

The door clicked shut softly in Lena’s wake. Out in the hall, muffled voices drifted to Callia’s ears. Lena’s, Zander’s. She wasn’t sure what was said, but the conversation was over quickly; then soft footsteps faded away.

Questions swirled in Callia’s mind as she sat on the edge of the bed again and tried to make sense of this crazy day. Lena had said he hadn’t left her for more than ten minutes since he’d brought her here. Was he gone now too? A small part of her hoped so. An even bigger part hoped not.

Gods, she was a mess.

She gripped the edge of the bed and drew in a deep breath that did little to calm her racing pulse. A soft knock sounded at the door, bringing her head up. She waited. When it happened again, she managed a weak “Come in.”

Callia’s stomach pitched as Zander stepped into the room. The always-confident guardian looked like death warmed over. Not physically—physically he was as strong and healthy as ever, his wounds from that cave nothing but a memory—but emotionally. His eyes were flat, his step heavy, his blond hair disheveled as if he’d run his fingers through it numerous times. An unseen weight seemed to press down on his shoulders and permeate the room around him, one Callia felt all the way to her bones.

She’d never thought of him as old. To the average human he looked like a sexy, rugged thirty-five-year-old in the prime of his life. But he wasn’t. He was 829 years old. And today—right now—all those years seemed to flicker in his stormy gray-blue eyes, reminding her of everything he’d done and seen and been.

“Lena said you checked out fine.”

Callia’s pulse pounded as she studied him. He was wearing the traditional black fighting pants—the same ones Titus had brought for him in that cave. The long-sleeved white Henley showcased his muscular arms and pecs and shielded all but the tips of his Argonaut markings down his fingers. Light stubble covered his square jaw, as if he hadn’t shaved in days, and the faint scars on his knuckles, his throat, the little bits of skin exposed here and there only added to his mystery and intrigue.

Gods, he really was beautiful. Even scarred from all those years of fighting. She remembered the first time she’d seen him. Nearly eleven years ago. She’d been thirty—adulthood for a human, a mere child for an Argolean. The king had
specifically asked her to take over as royal healer, a position her mother had held years before, until her death. She’d been at the castle, overwhelmed yet trying to look like she had a clue, when she’d passed Theron and Zander in the hall on their way up to see the king.

Her heart had stuttered then—much as it did now—and she’d felt like she couldn’t breathe. He’d always had that effect on her. And it had only intensified, building until the night he’d pulled her into the king’s study and she’d thrown aside everything she’d ever learned about balance and order and given in to desire.

He stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his pants but didn’t move. It was clear he didn’t know what to say or do, and in the silence, Callia’s pulse picked up to the beat of a marching band. She wasn’t sure why he was still here, but one thing was clear: he felt guilty. And that was something she couldn’t deal with.

“Zander, you don’t need to stay. I’m fine. You don’t owe me—”

“Did I ever tell you about my mother?”

The strange comment cut off Callia’s words. The intensity of his gaze told her whatever was on his mind was important, and maybe she should listen. “No,” she said slowly. “I don’t think so.”

“She worked at the castle.” He crossed to sit next to her on the bed, though he was careful not to touch her. “This was the twelfth century, so things were quite a bit different. Archidmus was king and the Council had way more sway over the monarchy then—over the population in general.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and kept his eyes downcast. “Her name was Khloe and she was a teacher. She taught the king’s children and some whose parents worked in the castle. She was bound to a scholar named Alastor. His older brother served as the family’s representative to the Twelve.

“They had no young, and had only been bound for a
handful of years when my father, Nikator, came across her in the castle one day.”

The way he said the Argonaut’s name sent a shiver down Callia’s spine. She knew he thought little of the
ándras
who had given him life, but he’d never talked much about him, and she’d never asked. The rumors about Nikator were well-known throughout the kingdom, though, and those rumors were part of the reason her father had objected to her relationship with Zander in the first place. Nikator had lived up to his name—the conqueror—in every aspect imaginable. He’d been a brutal fighter in and out of battle, an
ándras
who lived outside the law and took what he wanted without remorse. Often by force.

Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear the rest of this story.

Zander clasped his hands, and though he looked down at the floor, Callia was sure he was seeing hundreds of years into the past, not the thick cotton threads of the rug beneath his feet. “I like to think that it was consensual. That they met and had a connection.”
Like us,
she knew he wanted to say, but didn’t. “But I know that wasn’t the truth. She wound up pregnant, and knowing how the Council would view”—he swallowed, visibly sickened—“her rape…as adultery and not the crime it was, she did the only thing she thought she could do.

“She found a witch in the mountains who helped her get rid of it. Get rid of me.” He held his hands out in front of him, palms down so the ancient Argolean text that ran down his fingers was visible. “Only it didn’t work. Even back then, in the womb, I couldn’t be killed.”

Callia’s breath caught. And she remembered his words that day she’d told him she was pregnant.
Do not hurt my child. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. But whatever you do, promise me you will not do something drastic.

He’d seemed so angry. So untrusting. And his words had stung, because yeah, she’d been freaked by the news
herself, but she’d been so over the moon in love with him then, she hadn’t understood how he could jump to conclusions she hadn’t even yet contemplated.

“Three times,” he said, still staring at his hands. “Three times she tried to get rid of me, but it never worked.” He reached up and ran a finger down his neck where the long jagged scar puckered his skin. “I was born with this.”

Callia’s stomach rolled. She closed her eyes as their conversation in the cave came back like a slap in the face.

And what am I?

A murderer.

“She ended up having me in secret,” he went on. “The witch who delivered me saw the markings on my arms and hands and alerted the Argonauts. And though none of it was her fault, my mother knew the Council was going to punish her, badly, because of her link to them.” He hesitated, stared down at the carpet, then quietly added, “She killed herself a week after I was born.”

“Oh, Zander—”

The bed moved, and the brush of his fingers against her cheek brought her eyes open. He was kneeling in front of her, his handsome face marred with lines of worry and regret, and the sheen of tears she saw in his eyes nearly broke her. “I didn’t know. I thought…”

He paused, swallowed hard, seemed to gather his thoughts. His hand slid down to cover hers in her lap and his eyes followed. “I never wanted to be an Argonaut. These damn markings, they’ve dictated my life from the start. And I’ve served with so many. Some who were complete asses like my father and made me wonder what the hell I was even fighting for. And then Theron’s father came along—Solon—and things started to change. The guys I serve with now are decent. They’re not like the Argonauts of the past. Even Demetrius isn’t half as bad as some. When you told me you were pregnant, I couldn’t just leave Theron in the lurch. I owed him too much. I left you to make arrangements so another could be chosen in my place. But it never got that far.”

She dreaded what he would say next but needed to hear it.

“Your father found me at the castle and told me you’d changed your mind and that you’d gone to the human realm to end your pregnancy.”

Callia’s eyes shot up to his, and she watched slowly as he shook his head. “I didn’t believe him. So I tracked you down. I found the clinic. A nurse told me it was already done and that you were gone. Your records confirmed it.”

“I never—”

“I know,” he said. “I know now. I should have known then that you wouldn’t do something like that without talking to me, but I was filled with so much”—he looked around the room—“rage.” He ran his free hand over his scalp. “Sometimes it controls me. And when you didn’t come back, when weeks stretched to months and then to years, I let that belief sink in. I figured you really had wanted something else after all.”

All these years he thought she’d been the one to walk away. When that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Tears burned her eyes. Tears she thought she was done crying. “I went to the human realm to try to save our baby, Zander. I didn’t…I wouldn’t…”

He squeezed her hand. “I know.”

Emotions flooded her, overwhelmed her, pinched her chest so hard it was tough to get air. She let go of his hand and pushed up to stand, needing to do something physical before the pain and disbelief pulled her under. She crossed to the window, reached out and rested her hand on the cool rock wall. “My father told me about that meeting between you two. But he said you were the one who changed your mind. That you decided you didn’t want to leave the Argonauts after all.”

Dear gods, she’d believed her father.
Believed
what he’d said. Even begged the
ándras
to tell Zander where she was in Greece in case he realized he’d made a mistake and wanted her or their child after all. No wonder he’d never come for her.

“He never wanted us to be together,” he said quietly behind her.

No, he hadn’t. Simon hated the Argonauts with a vengeance. So much so, Callia often wondered where the vehemence came from. It wasn’t just Zander as a person her father disapproved of. It was his link to the Argonauts and what they stood for.

“He…” Anger burned hot behind her eyes, as hot as the deception she felt in her heart over what her father had done.

She felt Zander at her back, even before his hands settled on her arms and he turned her to face him. But she didn’t look up. Couldn’t face what she knew was in his eyes. When he pulled her close, she rested her head against his chest. Didn’t even try to fight the gentle embrace.

“If I had known,” he said in a voice thick with emotion, “I would have been there with you. Every second. Nothing would have kept me away. And no one…” His muscles tensed against her. “No one would have ever hurt you.”

She didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure she could have this conversation now. Didn’t know if she ever could.

“Callia.” His fingers slid into her hair and he tipped her face up to his gently. But it wasn’t anger that plagued his features. It was regret. And sorrow. And a grief only she could understand.
“Thea.”

The use of the nickname he’d given her all those years before touched a place deep inside she’d closed off from the world.
Goddess.
He’d told her once he considered her his own personal goddess. She’d believed him. Then hated him. And now…didn’t know what to think.

When he eased down to brush his lips over hers she froze. Didn’t pull back. Wasn’t sure if she even could. This—as crazy as it was—this felt right. They’d both lost so much, and she’d been grieving for years, never knowing until now that part of the reason she continued to hurt was because she’d never shared that grief with him.

His hands slipped down her hair to her shoulders, around
to pull her closer. The brush of skin against cloth vibrated through her body. She sighed against his mouth, tipped her head and opened for him on reflex.

The kiss was slow and gentle. He slid his tongue into her mouth, stroked hers leisurely, like he had all the time in the world, as if tasting her for the first time and savoring every moment. And she found herself responding, bringing her arms up to his chest, giving him whatever he asked for, telling herself in the back of her mind this wasn’t rekindling something that never should have happened in the first place. This was closure. Consoling each other. Finally letting go of the past once and for all.

His lips moved languidly over her jaw, to her ear, and she shuddered at the warm breath blowing across her skin and down her throat. “You’re so strong,
thea
,” he whispered in her ear. “Such a fighter. When I think about what could have happened to you…”

His words pinged around in her brain as she breathed in his scent. And then, as if they found their mark, a memory lit off in her mind. A memory from that hunting cabin with the daemon who had nearly killed her.

A fighter, I see.

Followed by Atalanta’s voice.

She’s the boy’s mother
.
Bring her. If the boy doesn’t cooperate, she might become useful after all.

Her chest squeezed tight all over again. Only this time it wasn’t with grief and pain, it was with shock and a really bad feeling. It couldn’t be…

“What?” Zander asked. He pushed her back, his eyebrows drawn together to form a crease between his stormy eyes.

The explanation her father had given her after the birth joined in the chaos. An earthquake in the Peloponnese. The doctor unable to make it to her cottage due to the destruction. Complications with the delivery. Her, unconscious. A stillborn child. Aftershocks so strong they crumpled the house.

Her father had told her he’d only had enough time to get her and himself to safety. He hadn’t been able to save her son’s body from the rubble. She’d never even seen his face.

“No.” She whispered the word, covered her mouth with her hand. Stared at Zander as links fell into place.