“But you’re not a god. Neither is Eryx.” Carver shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll be the shard reigniting magic at all. It’ll beyou. The shard will just amplify your natural ability enough to…ignite something huge.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing in thought. “So in the hands of any Magoi, it could do the trick?”
“Any?” He arched dubious brows. “I doubt it. I’m not fully convinced Eryx would be able to bring back magic, even with his murder ceremony.” Carver’s jaw stiffened. “I guess it depends on how powerful he would’ve been without Punishment.”
“And that, we don’t know…” Bellanca murmured, thinking. “He might not be powerful enough, but what if I’mtoopowerful? What if I set Atlantis on fire? I have no idea how muchoomphto give, and it hasn’t rained in weeks.”
“‘Fire in the sky.’ That’s what Cleito said.” Carver swung a storm-gray gaze on her. “Go slowly, I guess?”
“Oh, that helps.” She rolled her eyes. “Losing my newfound sister is bad enough. Possibly burning down an entire civilization is even worse.” She reached down and patted Arete’s sweat-dampened neck, looking for comfort more than giving it to her horse. Poor Cleito. Was she alone? Afraid?
Her throat thickened. Of course she was. And Bellanca had no idea how to rescue her sister without damningworldsto Hera’s spite and wrath.
“Hera must be watching. We’re practically on her doorstep.” Carver nodded ahead as the distinctive cave formation above the water finally came into view around a bend. “There it is. The owl cavern.”
Her stomach dropped, everything in it souring like goat milk on a hot day. Soon, Hera would know the choice she’d made—and kill Cleito to punish her.
Her heart like lead, she peered into the woods, then glanced behind them. “Nothing’s attacked us—yet.”
Carver huffed, the cynical sound the least reassuring thing she’d heard all day. “Herawantsus to free the shard. Maybe she called off the creatures.”
“Good point…” They neared their destination, and Bellanca couldn’t help feeling less confident by the second. Unease roiled inside her as they guided their mounts down a steep incline to a small, sandy cove. The cavern entrance hung over the water at the north end of the beach, part of a cliffy outcropping rounding out the inlet. The rock formation looked just like Athena’s symbol, the owl.
Dismounting, they left the horses to wander the beach and eatsparse, tough seagrass near the edge of the sand. Between Mount Olympus looming to the north and the Shard of Olympus somewhere nearby, power buzzed in the air like cicadas in the morning. Even Carver felt it and rubbed his arms, frowning, while Bellanca’s skin prickled with magic, biting from inside and out.
She made a conscious effort to keep her fire in check as they moved on foot toward a narrow spit of rock that ran almost parallel to the cavern entrance and would bring them closer to the opening. A slight breeze offset the midday heat as they clambered onto the granite ledge and picked their way toward the tip. At the end of the ledge, they stopped and looked at the opening across from them. Gentle waves slapped the rocks and reflected sunlight onto the roof of the cavern, painting it in bright ripples before darkness conquered the inside.
“Low tide. Calm sea.” Carver nodded toward the owl formation. “That’ll help us.”
Bellanca glanced out over the great ocean basin. Maybe the favorable conditions were Poseidon’s doing. Turning back, she eyed the distance to the roughly rounded entrance. “This part’s yours. You’re the better swimmer.” They’d already agreed that Carver would dive to find the shard while she kept watch from the shore.
“You don’t sink, which is all that matters. You should try swimming more often.” Carver unbuckled his belt and dropped it by his feet. He pulled his tunic over his head and dropped that, too, his muscled back rippling.
She watched him, her lips parting and her breath quickening as a different kind of heat stole through her. “All that water makes my magic fizzle.”
“You’re more than just your magic.” He glanced over his shoulder and caught her ogling him. “Like what you see?” He winked.
She snapped her mouth shut. “You could use a rinse. You stink.”
Chuckling, Carver finished undressing, his back still to her. Bellanca couldn’t take her eyes off him, an ember heating in her belly. She’d never seen him fully naked and stared with open curiosity and frank appreciation as the rest of his clothing joined his belt and tunic on the rocks. His wide shoulders tapered to a lean waist and strong buttocks several shades lighter than the rest of him. She bit her lip, her eyes dipping and taking in his long, powerful legs. The slightest movement sent muscles shifting under his skin, and the dusting of dark hair covering his limbs made her want to reach out and run her hands over them. She curled her fingers in, sliding them over her own palms to ease the ache for sensation. She swallowed. Even his feet were attractive. Long and almost elegant.
He turned and her eyes snapped up, skating over his front too fast to fully appreciate the details. She still glimpsed a significant manhood nestled in a thatch of black hair and the chiseled muscles framing his hips and lower abdomen. She already knew the ridges of his torso and his broad chest by heart, the protective pendant she’d given him a permanent fixture just below his collarbone. Her pulse thrummed, desire and magic humming in her veins and swirling through her body. She kept her eyes on his face, a flush burning over her.
A knowing smile curved Carver’s mouth. “Do I live up to expectations?” Somehow, his teasing rang like an all-too-real question, and his expression sobered.
She nodded. “Mine.” Hot and thick, the word poured from her like lava down a long, ragged hill. Flames briefly licked over her as she gave in and looked her fill, her eyes slowly dipping over him. Her mouth went dry. She didn’t touch, but oh, how she wanted to.
Carver stepped toward her, and she lifted her gaze again. He reached out, his eyes heating. A little tug brought her flush against him. “Yours.”
Her breath caught. One word, but it meant everything.
He dipped his head and kissed her. Their lips fused, and relief sang through her. He growled softly, deepening the kiss and tightening his hold on her. She pressed into him just as hard, wanting to mark herself with the imprint of his warm skin and strong body. She craved the heat they generated. It was better than any fire. A fierce, urgent need swept through her, unfurling from the depths of her soul. Not just desire, but the utter necessity to keep them whole, intact,together. Without him, she could’ve been fearless. With him, she might be stronger, but she was so vulnerable.
“Carver.” His name came out edged with sudden desperation. This was a turning point. For them. For their mission. What if it all unraveled?
He slid his kiss toward her ear. “Mine,” he rasped. “Now. Always.”
Her breath shuddered. “Yours,” she whispered.
