The Return (Titan 1)

I stumbled back, gaping at him. How did he get in front of me when he was on the other side of me?

“I believe you are making a habit of running away from me.” He was grinning, but the action didn’t reach his eyes. Not only were they an extraordinarily weird color, they were now as cold as the first snowfall.

Fear trickled over my skin, which caused a different kind of emotion to punch loose—anger. I latched onto it as my hand tightened around my bag. “Are you a stalker or something?”

“I’ve been called that a time or two, oddly enough.”

My jaw unhinged.

“And it’s funny, considering who the last person was to ask me that.” His arresting features tensed. “A relative of yours. A cousin, I guess.” His lips pursed thoughtfully. “Or maybe a sister? Honestly, I have no idea how that works out, but it’s about a thousand different kinds of disturbing.”

“I don’t have a sister. I don’t even have any cousins.” Mom was an only child. “You don’t—” My words ended as a sharp squeak. One moment he was standing several feet away from me, and then he was right in front of me. I hadn’t even seen him move. I jerked, pressing my back against the wall of the library. My bag slid off my shoulder, landing next to my feet. “Holy crap, you can move.”

“I can do a lot of things.” Angling his body, he pressed one palm against the wall beside my head. Good God, he was tall. “Some of them fast. Some of them real slow.”

My mouth opened. “Was that a s-sexual innuendo?”

His lips twitched. “Something along those lines.”

The heat was back in my face and throat, despite the chill bleeding from the wall through my lightweight sweater. “Well, it was a crappy one.”

“I can do better,” he offered, and those golden eyes finally lightened.

I inhaled sharply, which was a mistake, because his scent invaded my senses. It was wild—a mix of the outdoors and something heavy, sultry. “That won’t be necessary. Thanks.”

He chuckled and the sound was deep, masculine, and would’ve been nice if he hadn’t been a stalker. “Okay. We are getting off to another bad start. I have that effect on people.”

“I can imagine.” I twisted to slide out through the opening, but as soon as my body twisted, his other hand landed on the wall, caging me in. My gaze swung back to him. “This isn’t cool,” I said, my voice scratchy, barely above a whisper.

“I know.” His tawny gaze latched onto mine. “I also have a problem with personal space. I don’t really believe in it.”

“Knowing is half the battle, I guess.” My heart rate had picked up. “Step back.”

He shook his head slowly.

I drew in a deep breath as I raised my hand to push him back, but his shot out and his fingers curled around my forearm again. I gasped at how quick his reflexes were and how warm his hand was.

“Please, gods, tell me you don’t have a hitting problem, too,” he said. I snapped my mouth shut. Gods? As in plural? His gaze dropped to the arm he held between us. His lips parted. “You’re bruised.”

What? My gaze followed his and I really couldn’t see anything, but I realized he was holding onto the same arm he’d gripped yesterday. There were marks there, his fingerprints, but I could barely see them in the dim light. “How do you see them?”

“I did that.” Emotion churned in his eyes as his gaze flicked back to mine. “I’m sorry.”

Before I could respond, he lifted my arm and pressed his lips against the skin of my inner wrist. A soft exhale crashed out of me. My entire arm tingled, buzzed even after he lifted his mouth from my skin. He slid his hand up my arm, stopping just shy of closing around my wrist. He smoothed his thumb over the area where his lips had just been.

The breath in my chest quickened. “What…what are you doing?”

An eyebrow rose as he spoke. “I’m going to handle this like a Band-Aid being pulled off, try to make it as quick and painless as possible.”

I tensed. That didn’t sound good.

“Do you know anything about the Greek gods?”

Okay. That wasn’t a question I was planning to have to answer today. And I really shouldn’t have needed to answer it. I needed to be plotting ways to get myself out of this situation, but he was still gliding his thumb in a slow circle.

“Josie?”

“Yes. I know what the Greek gods are.” I wet my lips, and the hue of his eyes seemed to have brightened when his gaze dropped to my mouth. Oh holy smokes, everything about this guy was potent and dangerous and absolutely crazy. “Can you let me go and back off now?”

“Not yet,” he said. “I’m sure you know some of the more famous legends then? About the gods? But what you probably don’t know is that, a long time ago, the gods got it on with mortals.”

“Uh…”

“And when they produced happy, bouncing babies, those kids were called demigods. When they got together with each other, their kids were called pure-bloods. Then some of those pure-bloods got a little frisky with mortals, and they created half-bloods,” he went on. “And sometimes, not always, and who knows how or why, when a pure and a half got together, they created an Apollyon.”

“Okaaaay.” I drew the word out.

That playful but edgy half-grin appeared on his lips again. “I’m an Apollyon.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, and then reopened it again. “You’re…a polly-yon?”

“Apollyon.” Seth, or whatever he was calling himself, corrected. “And you, Josie, are something that hasn’t been seen for a long time.”

“I am?” I squeaked.

“Yep.” He leaned in and there was only a hairsbreadth between us. The entire front of my body warmed with acute awareness. “You’re a demigod.”

I stared at him, thinking I surely heard him wrong, but as he continued to stare right back at me, waiting for a response, I realized I’d heard him clearly enough. “I’m a demigod?”

He nodded.

The laugh burst out of me, and he drew back maybe an inch, cocking his head to the side as he dropped my arm. A tautness crept across his face. “Okay. Did someone put you up to this? I mean, someone had to have—”

“Someone did put me up to this, but not the way you think,” he cut in, his expression relaxing. “It was your father.”