The Return (Titan 1)

Was this…actual apprehension I was sensing from Apollo? Holy shit, I hadn’t suspected he was capable of such a thing.

“I fought Hyperion and was the one to seal him into his tomb. It was a bloody battle and…well, let’s just say that Hyperion has every reason to strike back at me. The moment he realizes that we have demigods on Earth, he’ll be looking for my child.” Apollo turned to me. “He wouldn’t just feed from her. He would destroy her to get back at me. She is my daughter, Seth. Take care of her, and I won’t forget that.”

Whoa. All I could do was stare at him. That had to be one of the most compassionate things I’d ever heard come out of Apollo’s mouth—or from any god, for that matter.

And then he vanished in the way all gods did when they were done with a conversation.

Tipping my head back, I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. “This is so messed up.”

Chapter 5

DUSK WAS already chasing the sun out of the sky, and I couldn’t even stifle my yawn as I hurried across the lawn, running late for my Thursday study-date-that-wasn’t-a-real-date with Jesse. I’d stayed up way too late last night with Erin and my bottle of José, and I’d been paying for it with a mushy brain all day. I had no idea how this study-session was going to have any bennies. Well, I’d probably spend the whole session staring at Jesse’s face, and well, that was a benefit, and it was better than thinking about the Crazy Hot Guy from yesterday.

Cutting around a cluster of funky-smelling bushes, I hopped up on the veranda along the side of the library. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw that someone was leaning against the exterior wall, someone tall, and as both my feet hit the stone walkway, the person pushed off the wall.

“Josephine.”

My breath caught at the sound of the voice I couldn’t easily forget and I spun around.

It was him—the Crazy Hot Guy who lurked in stairwells. Even in the dim overhead lighting and the rapidly increasing darkness, there was no way I wouldn’t recognize him. Dumbly, all I could think was he knew how to make a pair of distressed denim jeans look like a work of art on long legs, because you know, that was an important observation. He also was wearing a henley again, the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, but it was black this time. Yet another helpful, essential observation.

My gaze trekked up his body, and I felt a little dizzy. My memory had not done that face justice. Every angle and plane, every square inch of his face, was something an artist would crave to sketch or paint. His beauty…the longer I stared at him, the only word that came to mind was “unearthly.”

“We didn’t get off to a good start yesterday.” Crazy Hot Guy shoved his hand out, extending long fingers. “My name is Seth.”

I stared at his hand, and then I stared at his face some more.

One golden eyebrow arched. “This is the part where you shake my hand and say, ‘Hi, Seth, it’s so nice to meet you outside of a stairwell.’” There was a teasing, cajoling tone to his voice that left me unsettled as he lowered his hand to his side. “Or not.”

My heart jumped a little as I started backing away. “I’m sorry, but I’m running late and I…I really don’t know you.”

“We’ve actually met. In the stairwell. Yesterday.”

“That doesn’t count.” I took another step back.

“It does to me.” He tilted his head to the side. A strand of blond hair slipped free, kissing the curve of his high cheekbone. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t even know who you are, other than being the crazy hot guy from the stairwell. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Seth’s one-sided grin went up another notch. “You think I’m hot.”

My cheeks heated. I had said that, because I was an idiot and tended to babble when I was nervous. “I also said you were crazy.”

“I have subjective hearing, but you and I do need to talk, Josephine.”

“Josie,” I corrected absently.

“How about I call you Joe?”

My brows knitted. “What? Don’t call me Joe.” I shook my head. “Why am I even standing here, talking to you? I have to—”

“Hey, Josie, I’ve been looking for you. What are you…?”

I turned toward the sound of Jesse’s voice. He was standing behind me, his textbook dangling from his fingertips. He wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t talking.

Confused, I glanced over at Seth. His profile was to me and he was staring at Jesse. My gaze darted back to him, and he was just standing there, arms hanging limply at his sides.

“Go away,” Seth said, his voice low.

Jesse blinked slowly, his lips forming a word that never came out, and then he pivoted around, stiffly walking off. What in the holy hell?

My mouth dropped open as my heart kicked in my chest. Jesse seriously had just turned and walked away, leaving me with Crazy Hot Guy! I spun back to Seth, and he was closer now, maybe a foot away.

He winked at me.

Whoa. Most guys looked like total douche-wads when they winked, or a caricature of a guy who belonged on a cheesy sitcom. Basically, guys winking was just something awkward that shouldn’t be done, like ever. He, however, looked damn sexy and confident. But, more importantly, hot winking aside, something wasn’t right. Tiny goosebumps formed on my skin.

“I hate interruptions.” He dipped his chin in a way that made him come off ridiculously angelic. “So, Josie…?” His gaze slowly traveled over my face, his stare so intense it felt like a caress. He reached out, lifting a strand of my hair.

I locked up. Every muscle. Every cell. I didn’t even breathe. This was weird, really freaking weird.

He twisted the strand around three of his fingers. “You have interesting hair. Blonde. Brown. A gold color. Some strands so pale, they could be white. All mixed together. Never seen anything like that, and I’ve seen a lot of things.”

My eyes widened. Was he…feeling up my hair? Was that what he wanted to talk about? My gaze darted from where he held my hair to his face. Our eyes locked, and my heart dropped somewhere into my belly. His eyes…that tawny color was unreal, but I suddenly doubted my assumption from yesterday that they were contacts.

Instinct roared through me, demanding that I remove myself from this situation, pronto. The feeling I got sometimes for no reason, the sensation of being watched, had nothing on what I was feeling now. Pressure clamped down on my chest. A series of shivers slithered down my spine like icy eels. I snatched my hair free and turned, not even bothering to say anything to— Holy Christ, he was in front of me.