Son of a bitch… He shook the wet hair from his eyes… Couldn’t see shit. Just a little light so they could figure out where the hell they were… Was that too much to ask?
And then, as if a Fate had actually been listening—which he knew wasn’t the case because the Fate’s had abandoned his ass a long time ago—the dark clouds parted. Moonlight shone down, illuminating the cliff, the white-capped waves, and near the point, a rocky ledge and what looked to be a cave beyond.
“Tasa,” he managed, his teeth knocking together. “There. Swim hard.”
He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes. The water grew thicker. More like syrup than surf.
“Just a little farther, Titus. Come on.”
His vision blurred again. The rocks came and went. A hand tugged at his arm. A warm hand. One that felt so damn good. Tremors racked his body. The hand pulled hard, and then he broke the surface and cold stone pressed against his torso.
Natasa’s other hand wrapped around his shoulder, yanking him out of the water. He rolled to his back on the rocky ledge, drawing frigid air into his lungs. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. Gods, he was tired. That had taken a lot more energy than he’d thought.
“Don’t pass out. Come on.”
More tugging. She forced him to sit up. Wind chilled his cheeks and lips, but he didn’t care. He liked that voice. Really liked it. He couldn’t remember why but he only wanted to hear more of it.
“Stand up. It’s not far.”
The room swayed—was he in a room?—he didn’t know. Water—yeah, that was water—squished between his toes. The scents of salt and seaweed filled his nose. Something warm brushed his chest.
Hands grasped his jacket, yanking it from his shoulders. The garment fell to the ground at his feet. “Sit.”
He moved as if on autopilot. This uncontrollable shaking was really irritating. Wrapping his arms around his bare waist, he lowered himself to the ground. Rocks pressed against his ass and spine.
Thoughts came and went. Water. Cold. Night. “We…need…to make…a…fire.”
“No time for that. You’re already hypothermic.”
Hypothermic? Okay, yeah. That wasn’t good. Fabric rasped. A thud echoed. Hands tugged him forward, away from the rocks at his back, and then warmth closed in from every side.
He trembled again, then sighed as heat seeped into his skin, surrounded him, consumed him. His eyes slid closed. His breaths slowed and evened. In a daze, he realized Natasa was at his back, leaning against the rocks, pulling him in to the radiating heat of her body. Her mostly naked body.
Her arms wrapped around his torso, her legs around his waist. And wow, her bare skin felt good. So hot. So right.
She ran her hands up and down his chilled arms, across his chest, stimulating blood flow. Her warm breath spread down his neck, sending another quake through every inch of him. She tightened her arms and squeezed her legs to hold him tighter. And though he still shivered from the cold, he leaned his head back into the hollow between her shoulder and neck and smiled. All he had to do was shake a little and she’d plaster that hot little body against his? He could work with that.
“You’re smiling,” she whispered. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”
“You feel good. Been a long time.”
She was silent for a moment, then said, “How long?”
His smile grew wider. A wicked shot of heat rolled through his groin. “Nine inches. At least. Maybe more. Definitely more.”
She chuckled, and though he knew it couldn’t be, even more warmth seeped into him with the movement. “That’s not what I meant. Though I’m now suddenly glad Aella didn’t get to see that for herself. What I meant was, how long has it been since someone’s been able to touch you?”
His smile faded, and his mind spun out across the years. Reminding him of things he’d done, things he shouldn’t have done, things he wished he could change. “A hundred years.”
“I know Argonauts have long life spans, but…really? Have you always not been able to touch?”
“No. I’m a hundred and sixty-seven. The no-touching thing was a curse.”
“From whom?”
He sighed, snuggling back deeper against her body. She answered by holding him even tighter—which he liked. “A witch.”
“Why?”
“Because I used her.”
“Her powers?”
He shook his head. “When I was younger, right after I joined the Argonauts and learned how to use my gift, I didn’t often think about who I was using it on.”
“What kind of gifts? Do you mean your fighting abilities?”
He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. He’d never told anyone. But he couldn’t seem to stop his lips from moving. And part of him didn’t want to. Maybe it was the hypothermia making his brain soft. “No. I can read others’ thoughts.”
“What?”
Her torso grew warmer against his spine and shoulders but not across the middle of his back. Was she wearing a bra? Damn, he really wished she’d taken that off too. Wanted to feel her nipples pressing into his skin.
“Can you read mine?”
Her voice pulled him from remembering her tongue sliding against his, the way she’d straddled his hips, what he’d wanted to do to her before they’d been interrupted. “Not yours. Not always. Every now and then a word gets through, but it’s not enough to know what you’re thinking. You seem to affect me in many different, unusual ways, ligos Vesuvius.”
She was silent for a minute. Then relaxed against him. “So what happened? With the witch?”
Maybe she did like it. She didn’t seem upset or on edge as he’d expected. He let her warmth cradle and soothe his tired body. “We had a fling. It wasn’t serious on my part. But when she figured out I’d read her mind and used that to get her in bed, she wasn’t happy.”
“I bet not.”
Her hands were still gently rubbing up and down his arms, and he took that as a good sign. If he’d shocked her with that revelation, she wasn’t showing it. “I felt bad, but, honestly, I was young. I didn’t care about anyone but myself.”
“So she cursed you?”
Regret burned like a hot, sharp knife. “To touch others and feel everything they do. Every emotion I’d ignored. And then she killed herself.”
“Oh.”
The regret built and condensed beneath his breastbone, just as it did every time he let himself think of the past. He’d been young and stupid, and he’d deserved what that witch had done to him, but he was tired of dwelling on the past. He’d learned his lesson. Now he only wanted to go on enjoying the relief Natasa could give him—for however long it lasted. “By dying, she pretty much guaranteed that curse would never be broken. Until you.”
Her chest rose and fell with her slow breaths. And in the silence, he wondered what she was thinking. He liked that he couldn’t read her. Liked that she was a mystery, because unraveling that mystery was becoming a challenge he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. But right now, he wanted to know if what he’d told her had changed things between them.
Exhaustion tugged at him. He fought it, waiting for her to say something—anything—but she remained quiet. Water crashed against the rocks, a rhythmic whoosh and slap that lulled him, relaxed him, and made him sink deeper into her heat. Vaguely, he remembered there was something they were running from. Something he should be worried about but couldn’t totally remember. And honestly, right now he didn’t care. All he wanted was to go on enjoying this moment, in case it didn’t last.
He drew in another breath. Felt the sticky fingers of sleep and finally gave over to the darkness. But as he drifted off, he heard her voice. Soft. Sexy. So damn alluring, it conjured fantasies that swirled behind his eyelids and warmed places she wasn’t even touching. Places he wanted her to touch. At least once.