Wicked (Eternal Guardians #9) - Elisabeth Naughton Page 0,58

what kind of threat you are to the prince.”

Her gaze skipped over Rhen’s flawless features, and that tightness she’d felt before, when she’d been trying to keep Zagreus conscious, reformed in her chest. “He’s immortal. What kind of threat could I possibly be to him?”

“Oh, I think you know what kind of threat I mean.”

Talisa swallowed hard.

“You were leaving, weren’t you?” he asked quietly.

Her pulse kicked up. She looked down at his leather breastplate, stained with satyr blood and other things she didn’t want to imagine, unsure how to answer.

“I was there the night you found him in the club.”

Her gaze darted back to his. “The night I found him?”

“Weren’t you there looking for someone?”

She had been. She’d been at that club numerous times looking for… someone. And she’d always left feeling as if she hadn’t found him. Even when she’d found lots of other males. It was the real reason she kept going back.

“He’s been searching for you for a long time,” Rhen said. “Since well before he came to Ehrendia. I think—no, I know part of him thought he wouldn’t find you again. That too much time had passed. Then, out of nowhere, you walked up to him in that club. That was a sign. As was the fact, this time, you aren’t a nymph. All day today, while we were out tracking those satyrs, he was anxious to get back to you. To make sure you were still there. That you were safe. The only threat to his existence, princess, is losing you. If that were to happen, in his mind, there’d be no reason to go on. Not anymore.”

None of what he was saying made sense. Yet at the same time, Talisa’s heart pounded hard.

Her mind was a blur, her skin damp from perspiration, her stomach in a knot. She had a million questions. Didn’t know where to start. Could only grasp one thought, even if it was trivial at the moment. “Wh—why do you call me princess?”

“Because you are the prince’s mate.”

“His”—her pulse beat even faster—“what?”

An amused expression crossed Rhen’s face. “Nysa told me you have the marking on your hip. The same one he has, inverted. The alpha and the omega. The beginning and the end. He said your mind wouldn’t remember your souls being bound but your body would. It’s why you found him, isn’t it?”

The cave closed in around Talisa. Her legs grew weak, and she reached out to steady herself against the rocks. As she struggled to breathe, the marking on her hip warmed.

“Princess?” Rhen reached for her arm to steady her. “Are you all right?”

She wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure she’d ever been all right. All she could focus on was his blunt declaration. On the fact she and Zagreus were…

Bound.

That one word echoed in her head. The marking on her hip grew warmer. Her memories skipped back over all the times her father had told her the reason her Alpha marking was different was because she was the only female ever to be born with the Argonaut markings. That made her special. Unique. She’d always known that excuse was bullshit, but this…

Her memories shifted to seeing Zagreus in that club. To the pull she’d felt toward him from across the room. To sliding her hand over his hard chest. To dancing with him in that flickering light. Then, finally, to pressing her mouth to his and kissing him.

Her lips tingled. The marking grew even hotter.

Was it possible? Her fingers slowly drifted to her lips, and she touched the sensitive flesh, remembering that kiss, remembering how complete she’d felt, how everything—for one shining moment—had seemed… right.

She hadn’t pulled away from his lips that night because she’d seen through his glamour or realized who he was. She’d pulled away because she’d known as soon as she’d tasted him that he was hers.

Her soul mate. The one person in the cosmos she was destined to crave but who was the worst possible match for her. Her curse, all because she’d been born with those miserable Argonaut markings.

Only…

The marking on her hip grew white-hot, to the point it was all she could feel—not the tightness in her chest, not the rush of blood in her veins, not even the pounding in her head. All she could focus on was that burn in her hip, spreading heat and life through her whole body, in a way it never had before. Telling her this—he—was something more than a curse. More even than the evil god she’d