The Titan could show at any moment.
You already left me.
Her words cut right through me, because it was the cold, harsh truth. I had left her, and she had suffered. When she woke earlier, she hadn’t even known where she was, and she had thought she’d been in bed with one of those fuckers? Gods. The rage burned through me like lava, and the helplessness that I felt was like a bitter poison in my blood.
I would not fail her again.
Hours passed as I sat beside her, and I must’ve dozed off, because when I opened my eyes, faint sunlight was seeping underneath the heavy curtains and slowly trekking across the stone floors.
Lifting my head, I looked down at Josie. She was still asleep, but some of the color had returned to the unmarred patches of skin. That was good. I had to keep telling myself that, because every time I looked at her, I wanted to blow shit up.
Like, entire countries.
Her hair had fallen back over her cheek, so I took care of that, tucking it behind her ear. I sat up and glanced at the door. Carefully, I eased away from Josie and fixed the blanket as it started to slip off her.
Walking across the bedroom, I cracked open the door, and as I expected, I found Basil waiting outside. He stood between two statues, hands clasped loosely together. Only the gods knew how long he stood out there.
I needed to get him a cellphone or something to pass the time with.
“How is she, Kýrios?”
“Sleeping again.” I leaned against the doorframe. “Can you bring up some food? Nothing too heavy. She hasn’t . . . she hasn’t eaten recently. When she wakes up, I want her to eat.” I’d be damned if she refused food again. “I’d get it myself, but I don’t want to leave her. I am not hungry, so just food for her.”
“Of course.” He stepped forward, obviously happy to have something to do. “I will bring up some rice and soup. That should work well.”
“Thank you.”
Basil smiled brightly, bowed, and then he was off. I stood there for a moment and then closed the door. I turned around. The air punched out of my lungs like it had earlier when she woke from a nightmare.
Josie was awake.
Not only that, she was sitting up, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her eyes were wide, and there was a faint flush of pink on her unbruised cheek. Her gaze was on my face and then it dropped to my bare chest and stomach. The pink in her cheeks heightened. This time was nothing like the last time she woke up.
Relief almost cut my knees out from underneath me, and I actually stumbled forward a step. “You’re awake,” I said, realizing how stupid that sounded because she was, in fact, awake. And she had been awake earlier.
Her throat worked. “I was dreaming, and I thought . . . I thought that this was a dream.”
Gods.
That killed me all over again. “You’re really here, Josie. You’re really safe now.”
Her eyes shut for a moment and she clutched the blanket tighter. Pain flickered over her face and when she reopened her eyes, there was a glimmer of tears. I moved to her without thinking. Within a heartbeat, I was sitting on the side of the bed, next to her.
Josie jerked, eyes widening. “That . . . that was fast.”
Fast was an understatement. I remembered that she had no idea what I was now. We hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about any of that. “How are you feeling?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know.” Her gaze flickered to the curtained windows. “How long have I’ve been asleep?”
“A couple of hours.”
Her forehead creased. “You . . . you haven’t left, have you?”
“No.” I took a deep breath. “I know you’re mad at me. You want me to—”
“I’m not mad at you,” she said so quietly that I thought it was my imagination at first. “I mean, I . . . I want you to try to find Mitchell. I’m not giving up on that. I just . . .” She slowly shook her head. “I’m just not mad.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “How can you not be mad at me? You should be furious. You should—” She should hate me. I couldn’t bring myself to say that out loud. “I don’t know how you can’t be angry.”
“Maybe I will be again later.” A tremor coursed through her as she lowered her hand to the blanket.
My chest hollowed. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Not too much,” she said, lowering her gaze to the bedspread. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.
“I see the bite marks. I can tell you were fed on a lot. You’re bruised.” I paused. “All over.” Anger beat at me, and I worked at keeping my voice level. “Did he—did they—do anything to you I can’t see?”