Page 16 of The Demigod Complex
Those intense blue eyes—offended on her behalf, which only made her like him more—shifted to her face. “Yes.”
He placed his hand at the small of her back, that one gesture lending her the strength she needed to walk back to the car with her head held high. She wasn’t afraid, just sad. After all this time, she’d hoped…
She got in the back. Tala and Marrok, who wouldn’t have had a full view of what had gone on but couldn’t have failed to notice the strange water and wind activity, stared at her, a hundred questions in their eyes.
“They won’t help.”
Tala and Marrok visibly drooped. Then Tala offered her a small smile. “It was worth a try. Before you showed up, we didn’t have a plan at all beyond mating, so now we’re back to that.”
“Maybe. I think I have a plan.” Of sorts. Leia hadn’t expected to win the other nymphs to her side, but their fear was irrational and wrong. What if what happened to her happened to another of her kind, someone not strong enough to survive it? Maybe it was beyond time for her to make a statement of her own to her so-called family…and help Tala and Marrok in the process.
The drive back to the hotel was a quiet one, and they said their goodbyes in the foyer. As soon as they got to their room, Leia snagged a chilled water from the fridge and collapsed on the couch. A long gulp had her feeling marginally improved. A bath would be even better. Not as good as a fresh spring, but that would never be an option.
She closed her eyes, struggling with the weight of her failure and her loneliness. Usually she could put it to the back of her mind. Focus on work.
“Are you going to explain what happened back there?”
Damn. She’d almost forgotten the glowering demigod in the room who had been dead silent all the way back. She didn’t bother to open her eyes. “I’m not particularly in the mood for a postmortem right now.”
Her eyes popped open when he scooped her up in his arms, then proceeded to sit back down, cradling her in his lap. Where she shouldn’t be, except he felt so good against her. Comforting even as that damn chemical reaction kicked in and heat swamped her senses.
“Why would the other nymphs be mad at you?” he asked, quietly now, though she could tell he was holding back for her sake. His arms were rigid around her.
She sighed, tempted to lay her head and all her problems on his shoulders. Instead she traced the fine material of his shirt collar, careful not to touch skin, no matter how tempting. “Did you know the term nymphomaniac—”
“Lyleia.” The soft word had a growly edge to it, cutting off her attempt at distraction.
She sighed. “Not mad. Afraid.”
“Why?”
“I’m not entirely sure. I used to think that they simply feared what happened to me. Gods aren’t always good news for us. We’re also a superstitious lot and fear another’s misfortune will be visited on us. But the way Calli worded it…” As though someone had directly threatened the nymphs. She shook her head. It had been bothering her all the way back to the hotel.
“That’s family for you,” he muttered.
“Yeah.” She huffed a laugh, surprised she could.
“Which god?”
“Poseidon.”
Though he’d been tricked into it by a werewolf. More ancient than wolf shifters who descended from them, werewolves were not only older but larger and more powerful. And this one had been a full-on asshole megalomaniac.
Granted, publicly humiliating him had been a damn idiotic idea on her part. But he hadn’t given her much choice.
She’d believed he was dead until those two break-ins at her apartment. If he wasn’t, did she dare risk his wrath again with what she was planning to do?
Castor’s arms relaxed against her. Realizing she still clutched the water bottle in one hand, she took another swig, feeling infinitely better, though whether the water or Castor was the cause she couldn’t say for sure.
“At least it wasn’t Zeus,” he said finally.
What would he do if she pressed a kiss to the column of his throat? Probably dump her on her ass. “I would’ve refused to work for you had it been Zeus.”
“I’m actually surprised Poseidon would punish you by demolishing your spring. He loves water nymphs.”
“He loves oceanids, not naiads.” She lifted one shoulder. “A god scorned, and all that. He had Hephaestus do the dirty work.”
His thumb moved against her hip, tracing lazy circles that were beyond distracting, especially when she found herself relaxing into the touch. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
