“You’re a Titan. You have powers others don’t. Find me and I can help you make Zeus pay for everything he’s done.”
He glanced over her from head to toe, a careful sweep of his green-brown eyes that was filled with both skepticism and interest. “Who are you?”
She could tell him she was a witch, but instinct made her hold her tongue. Prometheus was wary of all otherworldly beings. Many had known about his torture over the years, but none had dared rescue him from Zeus’s clutches. None but the Argonauts.
“I’m no one of importance. Just a maiden who helped another and is now trapped because of it. Much as you were trapped for helping mankind.”
Prometheus had given fire to humans. That was the big sin Zeus had punished him for. On a grand scale, she could see how his punishment made sense. Fire had led to the industrialization of man and the advancement of society. Zeus would have preferred man continue to worship and rely on the gods. Circe, on the other hand, had only helped free another of Zeus’s prisoners, one who’d already fulfilled his required destiny for the king of the gods. But Zeus was determined to torment her forever for that crime.
She’d learned one very valuable lesson then. If you crossed Zeus you were fucked whether your offense was a major or minor violation.
She had to get out of here. She’d go mad if she had to spend eternity in this prison. Urgency pushed her forward. “Please help me.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how.” He looked over her again. “You’re nothing but air.”
“I—” Footsteps echoed close. Her pulse shot up. Zeus was back. Waving her hand, she broke the feed as she swiveled toward the sound. Prometheus’s frantic “Wait,” faded in the air as she faced the king of the gods.
Zeus strolled into her cave high on Mount Olympus and stared up the three stone steps where she stood next to the copper cauldron she used to conjure her magic. The flames in the bowl slowly shrank and eventually died out.
His black as night eyes narrowed. He was taller than most gods, over seven feet, and nothing but muscle. And though she supposed some probably found his dark looks attractive, Circe realized he paled in comparison to Prometheus.
“Well?” Zeus asked, hands on his hips and a perturbed expression across his angular face.
“These things take time, my king.” She lowered her head in a reverent bow but gritted her teeth because just doing so made her want to scream.
“I grow tired of your lack of progress. I want the water element, and I want it now.”
Of course he did. Ever since he’d stolen the Orb of Kronós—the magical disk that housed the four basic elements and had the power to unleash the Titans from Tartarus—from the Argonauts, he’d been pressuring her to figure out where Prometheus had hidden the last element. The god who possessed the Orb with all four elements intact could lord ultimate power over every living being. Forget controlling simply the heavens. With the water element, Zeus would finally control every realm and each being in them.
Circe was determined not to let that happen. Though Zeus was allowing her to contact Prometheus with her powers so she could find the element for him, she was really planning to convince Prometheus to break her free from this hell. Because it was hell. Being trapped in this mountain, even though she was allowed to use her magic, was as much a prison as any other. She was tired of doing what Zeus wanted. Tired of being his yes-witch. Tired of living half a life tucked away from the world.
“My magic cannot be rushed,” she said, careful not to give her plans away. “We’ve discussed this before. You must be patient.”
Zeus’s jaw clenched down hard. “Do whatever you have to do to get me that element. But you’d better get it quickly because I’m a god of only so much patience. If I don’t see results soon, witch, things are going to change.”
Circe lifted her chin as he turned to leave. He couldn’t threaten her. Because of him, she was the strongest witch who’d ever lived, and he knew that. Oh, she’d get results, but they’d be for her, not him.
When his footsteps faded in the tunnel that led out of her cave, she turned back to her cauldron and bit her lip. She couldn’t go on visiting Prometheus as an apparition. He was already fascinated by her. She needed to step up her game.
A wry smile pulled at her lips as an idea formulated. One that would take him from fascination to obsession and set the wheels of change in full motion.
CHAPTER TWO
Prometheus sat on the top of a knoll in the summer sun, his elbows resting on his updrawn knees, a stalk of wheat between his teeth as he looked across the valley. Sunlight beat down, filtering through the leaves of the oak above. With his enhanced eyesight he could see his daughter Natasa in the field far below, summoning her gift of fire as she entertained the handful of young around her.
Knowing she was healthy and happy warmed a place inside his heart. Because of him she’d endured a very hard life, but the last twenty years had been good to her, and he was thankful for that. She was mated with the Argonaut Titus, and their bond only seemed to be strengthening. They didn’t have young of their own yet, but Prometheus knew it was only a matter of time. Natasa loved children, and even though Titus had always been resistant to forging a family, the Argonaut was slowly coming around.
Prometheus watched Natasa form a fireball in the palm of her hand and send it swirling toward the sky. Excitement and glee shown in the eyes of the youthful faces around her. At Natasa’s side, Titus smiled and slipped an arm around her shoulder while the young laughed and pointed. No, she might not have young yet, but she would be an incredible mother one day, and Prometheus was bound to be here when that happened.
He sighed as he watched the happy scene. She was the real reason he stayed in this realm. So he could make sure she was safe. So he could watch over her the way he should have watched over her long ago. A paternal urge to join her in that field pulled at him, but he ignored it. His daughter had long ago forgiven him for being the world’s shittiest father, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be part of her life.
“Find me. I’m waiting. I’m waiting only for you...”
The throaty feminine voice caused Prometheus to turn his head. All other sound drifted to the background as he focused on one thought:
She was back. The mystery apparition from his dreams. The one he’d desperately wanted to touch and taste and devour yesterday in his castle.
“Find me...”
He pulled the stalk of wheat from his mouth, dropped it on the ground, and pushed to his feet. A flitter of white disappeared in the trees.
His heart rate shot up. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he followed, his blood warming with every step. He’d lain awake long into the night rationalizing she was a hallucination. At best, he figured she was a ghost. Either way, he wanted to know why she was haunting him, and there was no better time to find out than right now.
The light faded as he entered the copse of trees. Leaves rustled in the warm breeze. Grass and rocks gave way to a carpet of moss. The rippling edge of white chiffon disappeared behind a tree, the fabric’s movement like a lighthouse beacon drawing him home in the dark of night.
He stepped around the trunk of the tree and drew to a stop when he spotted her, standing barefoot in the distance, the straps of the white gown hanging from her delicate shoulders, following the curves at her waist and hips. Ribbons of sunlight filtering through the canopy caught in the fire-red hair spilling down her spine in gentle curls, the color of heat, of flames, of desire and passion.
Slowly, she turned and smiled at him with candy-red lips and eyes that gleamed like emeralds. Her nose was straight with a tiny flare at the tip, her cheekbones high, her skin so pale it looked like newly fallen snow. And even before she spoke he felt himself falling under her wicked spell all over again. The same way he had in his dreams. The same way he did every time he closed his eyes. The exact same way he had yesterday when she’d begged for his help then poofed out of his library with no explanation.
&nbs
p; “Who are you?” he whispered, stepping forward.
Her smile faded. “Yours. I’m yours. Find me...”
Her words lingered in the air as she turned and ran.
His adrenaline shot into the stratosphere. “Wait!”
She didn’t stop, didn’t slow, and without even thinking he pushed his legs forward to follow.
She was fast for a hallucination. His muscles burned as he hustled to keep sight of her through the forest. She weaved her way around brush and trees. A small river rippled somewhere to the right. She darted in that direction, following the meandering water along its bank. He rounded a corner and slowed when he spotted the end of the path. A waterfall loomed ahead, the ground rising on both sides. Past the waterfall, a stone bridge spanned the river, and in the distance, a stately gazebo with marble columns and a domed ceiling overlooked the pristine sight.
Prometheus’s breathing slowed as he searched for the female, but he couldn’t see her. Long seconds passed with the only sound the water tumbling over rocks. Panic pushed in; panic that he’d lost her, that he’d never see her again, that—
A blur of white rushed across the bridge, moved into the trees, and zigzagged up the hillside toward the gazebo.
His heart kick-started all over again, and he looked toward the cliff ahead. The forest was dark here, but the rocks seemed to form...
Yes, they formed steps leading up the cliff face.
He moved toward the steps, climbing steadily until he reached the top. His legs moved as if they had a will of their own, driving him over the bridge and up the hill until he stood at the base of the gazebo.
It towered above, all ancient stone and marble, with ornate carvings and scrollwork, more temple than garden structure. Energy vibrated from inside, an energy he didn’t recognize. Pausing to catch his breath, he stilled and listened to the forest around him, tuning in to his god-sense for any indication of a threat.
“Find me, Titos...”
Her voice slithered over his skin like a sensual caress. Common sense told him to be careful, that he didn’t know who or what she really was, but desire pushed his feet up the steps and brought him to a stop at the doorway.
His fantasy stood in the middle of the octagonal room, flame-red hair curling down around her shoulders, gemlike eyes pinned on him, candy apple red lips curved in a wicked, for-his-eyes-only smile.
Forbidden images swept through his mind—the flimsy white gown slipping free of her delectable body, her hands coming up to caress her plump, perfect breasts, a catch of her breath as she slid one hand down her toned belly and into the thatch of red curls at the apex of her thighs.
Blood rushed into his groin, making him instantly hard. A moan echoed in his head...hers, his, he couldn’t tell which.
“Come, Titos.”
The words were a command he couldn’t ignore. He stepped one foot into the gazebo, and another. Her smile grew wider. Heat and the sweet scent of heliotrope surrounded him as he drew close.
“Touch me and make me real.”
Yesterday she’d wanted him to find her. Now she was telling him to touch her and make her real. Confusion pulled at his brows. “I don’t know how.”
She moved closer, until she was mere inches away, and lifted her chest so his attention dropped to her breasts heaving with her breath in the low-cut white dress. “Just touch me. Your Titan powers in this place will do the rest.”
His hand lifted as if guided by some unseen force, and as his fingers drew close, he thought he heard her whisper. His gaze darted toward her face, and he watched in a trance as her ruby-red lips moved quickly, the words barely audible.
Ancient Greek. He recognized the tongue, not what she was saying. His hand stilled. Her chanting grew louder. Just as he was about to pull back, she stepped into him, and his fingers passed through what should be her shoulder.
A flash of light illuminated the inside of the gazebo and quickly faded. Prometheus blinked several times and looked down only to realize the warm flesh and solid bones beneath his hand were real.
His gaze darted right back to her face. “Who are you?”
“I told you yesterday. My name is Keia.”
She stepped back, away from him, and in a daze he realized the gazebo was no longer dark and empty but illuminated by dozens of candles around the periphery that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere when he touched her. A thick rug made of red and gold swirls lay beneath his feet, a gold chaise with plump red pillows sat ahead. He turned to find two more plush chairs and dozens of soft, luxurious pillows scattered across the floor.
“What just happened?” he asked. “What is this place?”
“You’re a Titan.” She moved to a small table, uncapped a decanter and poured red liquid into two goblets. Handing him one, she stepped close once more and said, “Don’t tell me magic is new to you.”
He looked into his goblet as she sipped from her own. Wine, he guessed from the fruity scent, but it might just as well be poison. His gaze narrowed on her flawless features once more. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“Neither am I. You’ve made me real. In this place, at least. For that I’m thankful.” She moved to the chaise and gestured to one of the chairs. “Sit and talk with me for a bit before it’s time for me to go. It’s been ages since I’ve had the chance to converse with anyone.”
He was having trouble keeping up. And that sweet scent of heliotrope combined with the rich scent of the wine was making him lightheaded. Or maybe she was making him lightheaded. He wasn’t sure which. “What do you mean before it’s time to go? And how are you real here when you weren’t at my castle?”
She sighed and lifted her wine to her lips once more. “I suppose an explanation is in order, but there are rules I must abide by. Not all things are allowed to be revealed.” She sipped her wine and lowered the goblet to her lap. “I have certain powers.”
His eyes narrowed with understanding. “You’re a witch.”
“Some may call me that. Others call me an enchantress. Regardless of the label, I created this gazebo with my magic. When you touched me within these walls, your Titan powers altered my apparition into flesh. Here I am real.”
He wasn’t exactly fond of witches. They’d never done anything for him. But magic was a very real thing in their world, and he was in no position to judge. “And when you leave this place?”
“I exist only in this realm in solid form within this gazebo.”
He stepped toward her. “I don’t understand. You said you were trapped. Who’s trapped you? And why—”
“That I cannot tell you, per the rules. What I can tell you is that I’ve long been fascinated by you, Prometheus. You were watching the Argoleans in the field earlier. Do you have the same affection for them as you do humans?”
She was switching topics way too fast. “Watching me, how?”
“With my magic, of course. It gives me the ability to look through windows. I do a lot of looking because of my confinement. What do they call it in the human realm? Oh yes. People watching.” A faraway, almost sad look filled her eyes. She shook her head and blinked several times, a weak smile curling the edges of her plump lips. “I much prefer being real with you here than watching you through that window.”
He sat beside her on the chaise, close enough to feel her heat surround him, but not quite close enough to touch. Though he wanted to touch her. He was itching to run his hand over her bare shoulder again. To slide his fingers through her luxurious hair. To pull her in and find out for himself if her lips were as soft and tempting as they looked. “Why me?”
Her smile widened as she turned to face him, and this close...gods, she was more beautiful than he’d expected. Her flawless features took his breath away.
“My, but you are full of questions,” she said.
Realizing he probably sounded like a ten-year old, he frowned. “I guess you could say it’s been a while since I’ve had anyone to talk to as well.”
“That’s why I?
??ve been watching you. Because we are so similar.” She sipped her wine again. “You didn’t answer my question about the Argoleans. In the field.”
All he wanted to do was go on peppering her with questions about why she was here, why she’d come to him, and how he could make her stay. But there was something about her... Something that made his pulse tick up and his body feel alive in a way it hadn’t in thousands of years. And if she had to leave soon—for whatever reason, he didn’t want to waste what little time they had left frustrating her, or him.
“The male in the field was an Argonaut. The female with him was my daughter.”
Keia’s eyes narrowed in question, then slowly relaxed as if she’d suddenly made connections in her mind. “Ah yes, your daughter. I almost forgot you had a daughter. And her mother? Are you—”
He shook his head. “A one time thing. She died thousands of years ago. She was a nymph who came across me during my imprisonment and eventually went on to marry an Egyptian prince.”
“Io?” A knowing light filled Keia’s eyes. “Your daughter’s mother was Io? I didn’t realize that.”
He nodded. This witch knew more about him than he’d thought. A voice in the back of his head warned him to be wary but he ignored it. “I didn’t even know Natasa existed until several years ago. Because of me, she suffered greatly. I’m in this realm because she’s here. Watching out for her is my way of...I don’t know, making up for a little of the pain I caused her.”
“That’s a very fatherly thing to do.”
He frowned. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not a good father. Not even close.”
“I’m sure you’re a better father than you think.”
He huffed, lifted his wine. Paused when it was an inch from his lips and stared down into the goblet.
The sweet sound of feminine laughter floated around him. “Worried that cup is poisoned?”
His gaze slid her direction, and he caught the playful gleam in her eyes and the soft spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose he hadn’t noticed earlier. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t cross my mind.”