Callia's stomach pitched. And a thousand different I-told-you-so's hit her from all sides.

She braced her hands against his shoulder and shoved. Hard. "Zander, stop. Wait. There's something you need to know."

Chapter Twelve.

Callia pushed hard against Zander's shoulder, but it was like trying to move a building. "I'm not protected. I've been in a cleansing period for the last ten years."

He stilled against her while she went cold all over. Her heartbeat hammered so loud in her ears she was sure he had to hear it. He stared down into her eyes, and she waited for him to say something, to acknowledge the fact she'd just told him she hadn't been with anyone since him or take some kind of ownership over the fact he was the reason she'd had to be cleansed in the first place. But he didn't do either. He just studied her with those cold, intense eyes as if he didn't believe her.

Silence settled between them. An eternity seemed to pass. The water suddenly felt cold and tainted.

Finally, he shrugged. And her heartbeat kicked up when he dipped his head and nipped her earlobe. This time hard enough to hurt. "I still want to fuck you." His hands found her hips and he pulled her close to rub against her swollen tissue all over again. "If you get pregnant you can always get rid of it again like you did last time."

Her eyes flew wide. "What did you say to me?"

"You heard me. And we both know you, of all people, know how that's done." His voice hardened. He reached down to maneuver his cock into position. "No more talking now, Callia. Let's fuck like we both want."

Callia could barely see straight, but with his hand beneath the water she didn't even hesitate. She lifted her leg, braced her bare foot against his rock-hard stomach and pushed as hard as she could. "You son of a bitch! How dare you!"

He stumbled backward in the water, his face full of shock and irritation when it lifted to hers. "What the hell?"

She was shaking as she jerked her camisole back up and shoved her arms through the straps, then hauled her naked ass out of the water. Only this time her tremors had nothing to do with arousal. They were spurred on by contempt. And bone-jarring anger, the kind she'd never given herself over to. Not even after he'd left her.

"Fucking A," he muttered in the water behind her as she searched for her underwear. "You're gonna get all pissy now? Can't you wait ten fucking minutes until we're done?"

"Go to hell!" A red haze covered her vision, but she finally spotted her panties three feet across the damp rocks. She crossed to them and pulled them on, then moved back to the bedroll Titus had set up for Zander before he left, and yanked on her pants.

She should have let him die. She never should have let Titus talk her into coming here...

He was out of the water and at her back before she ever heard him move. One strong hand closed around her upper arm and jerked her around to face him. "You selfish little bitch. Don't go getting all high-and-mighty on me."

"Let go of me." She braced both hands against his chest and pushed hard. Only it did little good. He was like a granite statue. Immovable. "How dare you say something like that to me!"

"How dare I what?" he mocked. "Tell the truth?" He dropped her arm as if she'd burned him, shook his head. Whatever arousal had darkened his features before was long gone. Disgust now etched its way clearly across his chiseled features. "I could have called a spade a spade and told you what you really are, but I didn't."

"Because you wanted to fuck me," she tossed back. "Not because you care about me."

"I stopped caring a long time ago. You made sure of that." His gaze took a heated stroll across her body, as if he had the right. As if he owned her. The need to cover herself swept over her, but she resisted the urge. "But I've wised up. You're the last female I'd ever want to fuck. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

Her jaw clenched at the disdain in his eyes and the way it made her skin crawl as if she'd done something wrong. "And what am I?" she asked, lifting her chin in a clear shot of challenge.

His eyes narrowed to menacing slits. "A murderer."

Her mouth dropped open. She was too shocked to whisper more than "What did you call me?"

"I asked you for one thing," he growled as if he hadn't heard her. "One fucking thing. Just to wait a few days so I could work things out with Theron. But you couldn't do even that much for me, could you? You ran right off to your father and did exactly what he wanted. You got rid of my child like it meant nothing!"

Something clicked in her brain as she glanced around the dark cave, tried to reconcile what he was saying with what had happened nearly eleven years before. "Are you saying you think that I...you think I had an abortion?"

"I know you did!"

Her anger ebbed as ten years of confusion and hurt finally made sense. "Zander, I didn't...couldn't..." She shook her head. "I never-"

"Don't try to lie to me," he ground out. "I went to that human clinic."

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his. Only the Argonaut standing in front of her was not the hot and bothered almost-lover she'd shared that pool with. He wasn't even the injured and battered one she'd saved from paralysis. This one was a warrior tensed for attack. A threat. A killer. One who could rip her to pieces with his bare hands if he wanted.

She swallowed hard, took one step toward him and tried to defuse his rage. He'd warned her once it was in him, that as he hailed from Achilles's line, it was his curse to bear, and that he always fought against it so it didn't control him. But she'd never seen it full force. At least not until now.

"You were there?" she whispered.

"Oh, yeah, I was there."

"Then you know-"

"I saw the chart. Talked to a nurse. By then you and your father were long gone, hiding somewhere because of what you'd done. Did you think I wouldn't find out? It was all right there. In black and white." His voice lowered. "You didn't even have the decency to tell me. You just ran off in the night like the murderer you are."

"Zander." She took a deep breath, tried to calm herself because one of them sure needed to be rational here. "I didn't run off. After you left me to take care of whatever it was you needed to do, there were complications. I was bleeding. I thought I was having a miscarriage. I couldn't go to an Argolean healer because then they'd have known about...us."

"Liar," he whispered.

"I'm not lying. I was scared. My father found me. He took me to the human realm so I could get help. I didn't abort our baby, Zander. I tried to save him."

"Liar!"

"You have to believe me." Panic closed in as she stepped closer. The menace in his eyes was something she'd never believed possible in anyone-especially him. "I would never have hurt our child. I loved our baby. When he was born...you don't know what I went through for him."

"Liar!" he screamed again. "I've heard enough lies from your mouth to last an eternity."

"I wouldn't lie. Not about this-"

His hands closed over both her arms and squeezed hard. "I said enough!"

All her life she'd been a healer. Even as a child she'd known she was special, that while other Argoleans had powers that benefited themselves, hers benefited others. But when Zander grabbed her, forcing her palms to push against his chest to keep him away, the only thing she could think of was defending herself against someone who so obviously hated her with every fiber of his being.

Power rushed into her hands as if she was pulling it from some unseen force, and without thinking, she directed it right back at the threat in front of her. It flowed out of her body and she pushed it with her mind as hard as she could, without even realizing she was doing it.

Zander's eyes grew wide. He barely made a sound as he crumpled to the ground at her feet, then gasped in several breaths as if his lungs suddenly weren't working.

Her hands vibrated from the raw power that had just rushed through her, and Callia stumbled back, shocked and repulsed by what she'd done. Remnants of a rage she'd never experienced trickled through her body, leaving her nauseated and unstable. Her vision blurred, darkened, but she shook her head to clear it. Not once had she purposely hurt someone until now. Never had she known she had it in her.

Her adrenaline surged and her airway constricted. She backed up until she hit the rock wall of the cave.

"Callia..." Zander tried to push up on shaky hands and knees but couldn't make his limbs work. He hit the ground with a thwack.

Holy Hera. What have I done?

Terror closed in around her. She had to leave. She had to get out. She couldn't stay here. Couldn't breathe...

She whipped around and frantically searched for her coat. Spotting it ten feet away, she scrambled for it and the boots Titus had convinced her to wear when he brought her here in the first place.

"Callia," Zander rasped again. "Wait. I didn't..."

She took off running, heavy coat flapping behind her as she sprinted for the mouth of the cave and the exit toward fresh air.

Tears burned her eyes as she ran. She choked on emotions long buried but kept going, the need to get as far away as possible the only thing she could focus on. Her lungs burned, and her leg muscles screamed in protest, but she ran on.

Finally, when the pain was too much to bear, she skidded to a stop and sucked in a deep breath. Silence met her ears as she tried to slow her racing heart. Adrenaline still surged through her body, but the panic had thankfully subsided. Slowly, as her pulse came down, she became aware of her surroundings and turned a slow circle.

She was in a forest, how far from the cave she didn't know. It was dark, but enough moonlight filtered through the tall pine trees above to illuminate the frosted boughs, the snow-covered ground and the dense underbrush. Wind whistled past her face, and a shiver ran down her back. Suddenly aware of the sweat from her sprint now chilling her skin, she pulled the thick coat closed at her front and cursed her stupidity.

An owl cried somewhere above. Dried leaves and branches crackled off to her right. Callia whipped around as her heart rate rocketed, and the reality of her situation sank in deep.

She didn't know where she was. Pulse pounding, she tried to figure out which direction she'd come, but everything looked the same.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Dread bubbled up in her chest. The wind howling through the trees was an ominous reminder she was alone. She shivered again and pulled her coat tighter around her. Every crackle of twigs and brush, every shadow moving over the forest floor from trees swaying above, sent her anxiety spiking.

Relax. Think. It's just your imagination.

The logical side of her brain took over-the side that had saved her numerous times before. Okay, so she couldn't stand out here in the open like this for long. She'd have to wait until morning, when it was light, so she could see which way to go. Titus had mentioned a ravine and a bridge. If she could find those tomorrow, she could find the trail that would lead her back to the half-breed settlement he'd told her about. In the meantime, she'd have to find a place to hunker down out of the elements and out of sight from any predators.

She cringed, knowing she never should have let her emotions get the better of her. She should have stayed in that cave. Even if it meant staying with Zander. Damn, who was the idiot now?

Feeling marginally better, at least with a plan, she squinted through the trees and tried to figure out which way to go. The darkness was so thick, it was virtually impossible to see anything but tree trunks that all looked like gray mirror images of each other. She turned a slow circle as she searched, then swung her gaze back to the left and froze.

Could it be...? Was that...? She thought she'd seen something flash orange. Like a flame or a...campfire.

A campfire? Out here?

There it was again! She looked harder. Or could it possibly be the glow of lights through a cabin window?

Her adrenaline pulsed at either prospect. Both meant humans or half-breeds, but definitely not daemons, as they didn't need heat or creature comforts to survive. And that was enough to bring a breath of relief into her chest. Because either way it meant she wasn't alone after all. And, thank Zeus, she'd take her chances with humans over daemons any day of the week, day or night.

She took steps-slowly, because she was still unsteady-toward the light that continued to flicker far off through the trees. And told herself though the last hour had been pure hell, one good thing had come from it. She was done with Zander forever. He'd made it perfectly clear how he felt about her: he didn't. And that was all she needed to know. There wasn't a single thing in the world that could ever draw her back to him.

The lodge was silent as Max pushed out of the gigantic featherbed he'd been given in the west wing of the mansion and landed soundlessly on the hardwood floor.

He half expected someone to come running with a club and beat him, but nothing happened. He was careful as he crept across the floor and pulled the heavy door open. A chill slid down his back from the cool night air, but nothing creaked. For a moment, he imagined some faceless god was on his side for once, then dismissed the thought. No one had ever been on his side. The only person who cared what happened to him was him.

He inched his way out of the room. The hallway was dark, only a smattering of moonlight from a window at the end of the corridor lighting his way. Since he'd been given pajamas for the first time-blue flannel checked pj's that felt like heaven against his sweat-damp skin-he was warm enough. And he knew he could get used to this kind of life. A warm bed, clean clothes and enough food to fill his belly so nothing hurt. But he was smart enough to realize this wouldn't last. Atalanta was baiting him. For what, he didn't know, but there was no way this would end well. At least for him.

Nothing moved around him. No sound met his ears as he rounded the corner and headed up the grand stairs toward Atalanta's chamber. His heart pounded hard and steady in his chest, but it wasn't fear shooting adrenaline through his body. It was excitement. And the knowledge the tide was about to shift.

He reached the top level and moved like a ghost across the hardwood. A balcony overlooked the grand staircase and the four floors below. Two massive double doors straight ahead opened to Atalanta's suite of rooms, which occupied the entire floor.

She never locked the doors. Why would she? No one dared come up here. Pulse pounding with anticipation, Max laid his hand over the doorknob and slowly turned.

No squeak, no groan, not even a whoosh of air as he pushed the door inward. Could luck really, finally, be on his side?

He moved quickly toward the bedroom. As his attic was above this level, he knew the layout of her suite better than anyone. He'd gotten used to her life drifting up to him the last few weeks. To the muffled sounds of her voice, to the rush of water from the bathroom, to the measly heat radiating upward from lamps and the furnace system that ran throughout the lodge.

He stood in the open doorway staring into the room, breathing slowly through his nose so she couldn't hear him. As a god in the Underworld, she'd never truly slept. Sure, she'd needed rest now and then, but it was nothing compared to what she needed now. Ever since they'd been in the human realm, she'd slept more and more, reinforcing what he'd already figured out: she was like him. Mortal, though somehow she still retained powers like those of the gods.

He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. Focused in on the chain around her neck. Held his breath and waited to see if she sensed him. When she didn't move a muscle, he took a step forward.

"Think carefully before you act, young Maximus."

Max's head whipped to the side, toward the ethereal woman standing silently in the shadows beside him. His mouth dropped open at her sudden presence, and panic filled his chest.

The old woman who'd given him the glass. He'd recognize her anywhere. Tonight she seemed ghostly, almost as if she were an image and not real, her diaphanous robes as sheer as her iridescent skin. But her face was the same. Her flesh still wrinkled from time, her hair as white as snow, and her eyes...just as focused and intense as they'd been the first time he saw her.

"Yes," she said softly, "I am the same. And this does not concern you."

He knew no one could hear or see her but him, but it was still weird to hear her voice so clear in this silent room. He chanced a look at Atalanta, afraid maybe her godlike powers would make her aware of the woman, but she slept on silently.

Excitement pulsed all over again at that realization. Didn't concern him? No, it didn't concern her. Or her useless glass.

He ignored the old woman as he moved to the edge of Atalanta's bed. The pendant lay exposed above Atalanta's cleavage. Her head was tipped to the side, one arm up by her face. Her other arm was draped across her belly. The closer he got, the stronger his confidence grew.

"Maximus..."

He reached out a hand.

"Maximus, don't!"

His fingers grazed the pendant. Heat rushed into his limb at the first contact, and he sucked in a breath, not expecting the metal to be anything other than cold. Atalanta startled, and his gaze rushed to her face, his fingers frozen to the disk. For the first time, fear and the repercussions for being caught became very real in his mind.

An eternity seemed to pass. Sweat broke out on his skin, but he dared not move. Atalanta's eyelids fluttered but stayed closed. With a soft grunt she shifted her head in the other direction and fell back into rhythmic breaths.

And Max felt like his heart started in that moment.

Wasting no more time, he leaned over and examined the clasp of the chain.

"You do not know that with which you tamper," the old woman said, now at his side. Her voice vibrated, as if she were restraining her emotions. He continued to ignore her and used his other hand to help push in the heavy clasp. It opened with a soft click. When Atalanta still didn't move, he slid one side free from her neck and gently tugged.

Atalanta grunted, shifted her head; then the chain was free and he was holding the disk in his hand.

"Maximus, this is not a mere trinket. It never should have been in Atalanta's care, but it most definitely should not be in yours."