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Once more, Elpida—the word meant hope in his language—was weakened before him. The first time around, he’d gathered her in his arms, his instinct to protect a woman in that state, not take the opportunity to end her. He chanced a glance at the beast beside them. It hadn’t gotten in his way before, when he caught her. Would it interfere now? Epimetheus neither saw nor heard signs of life coming from it, other than the bright beams of light spilling from its eyes.
He could take care of the beast, if he had to. Once he assumed his true form, he could step on it and take it out of its misery, if it were still alive. He wrapped an arm around Elpida’s waist and used the other to prop her head up. She didn’t lose consciousness now, but dug her nails into his arms, holding on as if to life itself.
He should kill her, take that life, snuff out the light in her warm brown eyes, but something about the way she gazed at him mesmerized him. There was fear and pain etched in her expression, but something akin to desire lurked beneath them. Possibly more than that. Besides, she was a mystery. He still couldn’t read her mind, and he wanted to know her purpose. Why did Rhea believe Elpida would keep him from being free? Had the gods fashioned him another perfect mate, to keep him doing their bidding?
And was Rhea even telling the truth?
Ugh, Epimetheus missed having Prometheus by his side, but his brother and Klymene were never apart these days. Wouldn’t hurt to ask for his help, though.
“Brother, where are you? Tartarus hasn’t claimed me, despite Kronos’ best efforts, but I need your help,” Epimetheus thought at his twin with all his might.
Something odd happened. It was like he sensed Prometheus getting his message, but then their link went dead. Was his brother in peril? Epimetheus tried to feel him again, but his focus kept returning to the female in his embrace. She leaned her forehead against his chest and whimpered something he didn’t understand. He should leave her here and go find his brother—start at Mount Othrys—but he couldn’t abandon her. Something inside her called to him. Or it was the shackles closing around him.
She said something else, more loudly, but he still didn’t catch it. Maybe she needed water? It was always good for the spirit. Without letting go, he splayed his hand parallel to the ground and called forth water, from the depths of the earth. A spring erupted within a meter from them, and he gently turned Elpida toward it. “Ύδωρ,” he said.
“Neroh?” she asked.
That had to mean the same thing—water. He nodded and took her hand to lead her to the jet coming straight up as high as his hip. Elpida followed him gingerly. Her hair had come loose and framed her beautiful face in honey-colored waves. He itched to dig his fingers in it, but she needed to drink and have her strength restored. And then maybe he could see more of what she hid under all that fabric. He cupped his free palm, and she held her hair back from her face with both her hands and leaned closer. Her lips touched his skin as she gulped greedily at the water he gathered for her, and the contact sent a bolt of desire to his penis, that stood proudly a few centimeters from her face.
Elpida straightened and jumped back, her gaze on his erection. Did she realize she was licking her lips? Her eyes were glazed over.
Epimetheus heard the speeding of her pulse and knew without a doubt he could make her his right here and now if he closed the distance between them, but his need to do so scared him. He’d sworn to never love another mortal female after losing Pandora. Could he remain sentimentally detached from Elpida if he claimed her body, when he felt so drawn to her after having barely touched her?
Besides, he might still have to kill her.
But not yet. When he tore his gaze from how her chiton clung to her breasts, heavy with water she spilled down her front, he saw a smattering of stars he didn’t recognize in the distance. This wasn’t his world, and Elpida could help him navigate his surroundings until he knew where he was and how to get to his brother.
She said something else he didn’t understand, but when she pointed at the beast and moved toward it, he turned and followed. She grabbed its side and pulled, and a flap opened. It seemed hard and unyielding.
The beast shone. No, light spilled out of its belly as well as through what he’d thought of as dark stone until now. What was this material that looked clear as water but remained upright? Or was it water and she somehow manipulated it?
Epimetheus stood frozen in place as Elpida climbed inside and made herself comfortable. Not a beast. A contraption? Had she harnessed the sun, or was this fire? But she wasn’t burning. Might she be a goddess or a witch? But she felt human. Smelled human. Smelled incredible.
For the first time in his very long life, Epimetheus’ footing was unsteady, as he approached her. With sickening certainty, he knew it wasn’t the where he was that should trouble him, but the when.
Elpida pulled the flap shut between them and motioned for him to round the thing, before the light vanished again and the beast roared to life. He should save his woman.
Not his woman. His woman was long dead.
Now that he’d seen the inside of the thing, he knew to look for her, as Elpida leaned across its width and pushed open the flap at his side. “Bess mesa,” she said.
The words meant nothing to him, but they must be an invitation to join her. He carefully slipped inside the opening and rested his weight in the most comfortable seat he had ever sat in.
She barked a word and drew a strap over her chest, to secure it at her hip.
Epimetheus might not be the smart one in the family, but he wasn’t slow, either. He looked to his side and found an identical strap, which he used the way she had, then took in the gleaming surfaces around him.
Was this a building of this time? Kind of cramped. He liked his open spaces more, but after where he’d just been, he wasn’t about to protest.
Elpida spoke again, gesturing at the flap, and he pulled it shut so hard, the entire building shook.
“Opa,” she said.
He hated not understanding her. Especially when she started rambling. He caught the occasional word, which cemented his theory that he had magically woken up in the future. She was worried someone would kill her? Could she read his mind? Did she see he was considering it?
Was he still, though? Because a moment ago he was about to save her from what he’d thought was a beast.
Pfft. He feared no beast. He was keeping her alive because he needed her. If she was sent by Kronos, like Rhea said, Epimetheus had to find out more about his plans.
If she wasn’t...
The thing they were in moved backward and swerved, and he snapped his head her way. What was happening?
She moved a stick that stood upright between them, and they lurched forward and kept going, gaining speed by the plethron.
This was... This was incredible.