“Why are you so damn stubborn?” he whispered.
“Why are you so hell-bent on pushing me away?”
“Because I’m no good.”
His blunt words drew her back, forced her eyes up. The dim light cast a warm glow over his face, made his skin look darker, the week’s worth of beard thicker, his eyes blacker. But there was an odd sort of truth in his words. A truth she didn’t understand but wanted to know.
What had happened to him? What had he done or seen in his two hundred years that made him honestly believe that he wasn’t good enough for her?
“Good is a matter of opinion, Demetrius. And as far as I’m concerned, nothing about you isn’t good enough.”
“Isadora—”
She didn’t want to argue. She knew she wasn’t going to change his mind with words. What she wanted was the chance to make him believe.
She eased up on her tiptoes, slid her hand around his neck, and tugged. He was so tall she couldn’t reach his mouth on her own, but he took the cue easily. And then his lips were on hers and all the hurt and anger from this morning seemed like a distant memory.
Gods, he tasted good, felt even better. Days ago she’d sat on that beach, watching him strap those boards together, scared to death about the prospect of being stuck here alone with him for any length of time. And now…now a part of her ached at the thought of their time ending before their bond had a chance to solidify.
His hands slid up to frame her face and he tipped her head, kissed her slowly and deeply and so thoroughly she felt it all the way to her toes. And when he eased back to look down at her with those stormy, emotion-filled eyes, she knew she was right.
“This,” he said softly, “is a bad idea. You know that, don’t you?”
She smiled because this—what was happening between them—was really the least of their problems on this island. “Why are you so convinced doom is lurking around every corner?”
“Because it usually is.” A frown turned his lips. “Once you go home, this—I—will just be one giant regret you’ll look back on and wish you could change.”
And he was trying to prevent that. Suddenly, his words and actions last night and this morning made a whole lot more sense. “I doubt that.”
“I don’t.”
She rubbed her fingers down the back of his hand and leaned into his touch. “Sometimes the most important things in this world are the ones we have to fight for. I don’t believe you’re not worth fighting for, Demetrius. Even if you do.”
“Kardia—”
Her heart swelled at the term of endearment he used without even realizing it. And as she pressed her lips into his palm and kissed him gently, she had the strangest sense he’d called her that last night. After she’d fallen asleep. After he’d come back and lain down next to her.
Whatever doubt she’d carried slithered away. He wasn’t the stone-cold bastard she’d always believed him to be. He was so much more. Now she just had to make him believe it too.
Easing back, she smiled again, then bent down and picked up the sword he’d dropped. “I’m hungry. And I was thinking after breakfast maybe you could give me a few pointers on my hand-to-hand combat.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “Planning on battling a few monsters today?”
“You never know. Considering my luck, it might not be a bad idea to be prepared just in case.”
A sound that was half snort, half laugh came out of him. “Yeah, I’ve seen your luck. Up close and personal. Several times.”
“My gods.”
The humor fled from his face. “What?”
“You are gorgeous when you smile.”
His eyes darkened. “I think—”
Too deep. Keep things light. When things got deep he reverted to his old ways.
“That’s your problem, Demetrius.” She reached up to pat his stubbly cheek. “You think too much. Let’s go find that breakfast.”
Her smile lingered as she headed for the stairs. She knew he was watching her with that perplexed expression, just as she knew he didn’t have a clue what to do about her next. He thought he could push her around, treat her as he had before, and she’d react the same as she always had. Like a coward. Like a weakling. Like the shy little princess who didn’t have a backbone. Well, things were different now, and he was partly to blame for the change sweeping over her. If the last week had taught her anything, it was that she was in control of her own destiny.
And he’d better watch out, because she had her sights set on him.
He watched her carefully all day. And two things were clear to Demetrius as he followed Isadora on the narrow path down to the beach on the north side of the island. One, she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. And two, she was growing weaker by the day.
Both of those realizations set off a tremor of unease deep in his gut. The first, because it meant he’d have to be more vigilant about keeping his distance from her, which, shit, he was obviously doing a bang-up job of already, wasn’t he? And second, because enough time had passed since her kidnapping that she should be recovered from whatever had happened to her in Thrace Castle and later with Atalanta.
Early afternoon sunlight bathed her in ribbons of gold. Her pale skin had taken on a warm glow from days in the sun, brought a rosiness to her cheeks that hadn’t been there before, but she grew tired more easily now, needed to take breaks to catch her breath when they hiked, wasn’t eating nearly as much as she should.
Granted, they hadn’t had a real meal in days. Fruits and the measly snack foods he’d gathered from that wreckage weren’t cutting it for him either. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. Which was why they were down here, on this beach this afternoon, with its reef-protected bay. So hopefully they could catch some dinner before heading back to the ruins.
But still…
What if those witches had cast some kind of deterioration spell over her? What if Atalanta had? Either way he needed to get her back to Argolea and to a healer who knew how the hell to help her.
Isadora stepped out of the waist-high grasses and onto the white sand beach, stopped, and took a deep breath.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he stepped around her, careful not to touch her. He’d purposely avoided touching her all day. Because whenever he did…yeah, this morning was a prime example of him losing his ever-loving mind. Whenever he did, he forgot all about his vow to keep his distance and sank right into her.
“Nothing,” she said on a sigh. “I’m just enjoying. If you forget about everything asleep in there”—she nodded back toward the trees—“this place is really beautiful.”
Not as far as he was concerned. It was like one giant Venus flytrap waiting to snap.
The contented smile on her face tugged at him, warmed his blood, reminded him what those lips felt like against his. To distract himself, he rolled up his pant legs and said, “Just pick a place to relax while I see what I can find.”
She chose a rock near the edge of the small bay, sat, and pulled her knees up to her chest while he waded out and climbed onto a series of flat rocks twenty feet away. Waves crashed against the reef farther out, but the water in the inlet only rose and fell gently, making it easy to see the sandy bottom and the sea life within.
Roughly ten minutes passed before he heard her sigh. “We searched all morning. How sure are you there’s actually holy ground on this island?”
“Pretty damn.” He zeroed in on a nice-sized fish, lifted his sword, and timed its movements.
“We searched half the island—”
“A third of the island.”
“—and didn’t find a single temple or even any sign of burial grounds.”