SHE LOVED HIM, NIKE THOUGHT. Again. I’m hopeless.

He’d just…he’d been so amazing. He’d whisked her away, given her everything she’d craved: food, water and his body. Gods, had he given her that delectable body. She’d savored every moment. Savored his taste, his touch, the feel of him pounding inside her.

Four days had since passed, but she craved more. Always she craved more. She’d spent the time locked inside her cell, pacing, trying to think of ways for them to be together. If he still wanted her, that is. Atlas had come by at least once a day to make sure she was properly fed and that her basin of water was filled, but he’d never said a word to her. Actually, they hadn’t spoken since leaving the tent.

At the time, she’d felt too raw, too exposed. She’d feared her feelings for him had been shining in her eyes. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a mate. His strength matched hers. She would never have to worry about hurting him. He was witty and charming. He was a protector, a warrior. He was deliciously vengeful, she knew firsthand.

She smiled, wishing she could reach between her shoulder blades and feel his name. She was certain the letters would be as hot as the man himself. But…

Why hadn’t he spoken to her?

Why didn’t you speak to him?

Because she hadn’t known what to say. Did he still want her? Did he feel anything for her? How would she react if he didn’t, which was most likely the case? Part of her wanted to take anything he would give her. The other part of her knew her pride wouldn’t allow her to do such a thing. But there at the end, when they’d returned to Tartarus and he’d closed the bars to her cell, she had thought she’d glimpsed regret. Regret that he had to seal her inside. Regret that they couldn’t spend more time together—in bed and out.

Nike tugged at her collar and screeched. Damn this. She was the epitome of strength, yet was as helpless as a babe. How could she win a man’s heart when she couldn’t even win her own freedom?

ATLAS HEARD A SCREECH of frustration and knew immediately who had uttered it. Nike. His Nike. His beautiful Nike. He’d deliberated about what to do, how they could be together, for four days. Well, the time for thinking was over, it seemed. She was close to her breaking point. She’d tasted freedom; being sequestered now had to be a thousand times worse than before.

He hated that she was locked up, and he knew they could never be together while she was. He also knew they could not be together if he released her. She would most likely run, and he would most definitely be punished.

Maybe she loved him, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she’d stay with him. Or try to. She liked him and was attracted to him, he would go so far as to say. After everything that had transpired between them, she wouldn’t have slept with him otherwise. But love? He wasn’t sure.

And it didn’t matter, really. He loved her. Perhaps he always had. He’d never felt so strongly about a woman. He’d never wanted to spend his every waking minute with someone before, had never wanted to cuddle someone into his side for every sleeping minute. He’d never wanted to eat every meal together. To talk and laugh about their days. To spar, verbally and physically. But he did with her.

And since they couldn’t be together, no matter what way things panned out, there was only one thing to do.

Dread. That’s what he felt as he pounded up the stairs and to her cell. Also…relief. She was banging a fist into the wall, plumes of dust forming around her. The sight of her nearly undid him. He wanted to kiss her, put his fingers all over her, sink inside her. Harden your heart. Do what is needed. His hand was shaking as he lifted the sensor.

She heard the slide of the bars and turned. A gasp parted her beautiful lips. Without a word, he held out his palm.

“What—”

“Just take it.”

She frowned as she accepted.

Still silent, he pulled her along the same path he had just taken. The same path they’d taken those four days ago. No one tried to stop him this time. In fact, as he passed the guard’s station, the two gods on duty rolled their eyes.

Outside, with the clouds all around him, he whirled on Nike. He still wanted to kiss her, but knew that if he did so, he would not be able to let her go. And he had to let her go.

“Atlas,” she said with a seductive grin. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck. “Another outing? I’m glad.”

He shook his head and placed his fingers on the designated indentations in the collar. Cool metal met his touch. Then he leaned down and fit his lips over the center.

Her grin fell away. A tremor moved through her. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Be still.” He drew in a deep breath, held it…held it…and then slowly released it. As that breath slithered through the inside of the collar, the metal loosened…finally splitting down the center and tumbling to the ground. Such a simple thing, the removal. Touch and breath. Yet only an uncollared god could do so, a fact that had to taunt the incarcerated. Perhaps that’s why the bands had been designed as they had.

Eyes wide, she reached up, felt her bare neck. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she said. They were the same words she’d spoken before. He hadn’t had an answer then. He did now. He loved her, but he could never tell her that.

“Go,” he said. “Flash somewhere. Maybe earth. And whatever you do, stay hidden. Do you understand me?”

“Atlas…no.” She shook her head violently, even fisted his shirt. “No, I can’t. When they discover I’m gone for good, and they will, you’ll be charged with a crime. You’ll be locked away, placed with the Greeks who hate you. Or, if you’re lucky, you’ll be killed.”

She felt, he realized, both amazed and saddened. She cared for him, which meant she would suffer without him. If anything, that only increased his determination to save her. She did not deserve a life behind bars.

He forced his expression to harden. Forced himself to jerk away from her. “I can’t stand to look at you anymore. I’ve had you, and now I’m bored with you.”

Her arms dropped to her sides as if weighed down by rocks, but she quickly pulled them around her middle. “Then keep me locked up and stay away from me. You don’t want to do this.”

Still willing to give up her freedom to be near him? Damn her. He fell a little more in love with her. “Go! Did you not hear me? I can’t stand the sight of you anymore. Don’t you get it? You make me sick, Nike.”

“Shut up.” Tears filled her eyes. Real godsdamned tears. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that.” The last was whispered brokenly.

His heart constricted painfully. Do it. Finish it. “I’d rather be killed or locked away than look at you another moment. Because every time I look at you, I’m reminded of what we did and I—I want to vomit. I was using you, wanting to punish you, but I took things too far. Even for me.” Hating himself, he turned away from her. “So do us both a favor and go.”

For a long while, she didn’t speak. He knew she didn’t flash away, either, for he heard no rustle of clothing. But then, he did hear a whimper. A sob. More of those tears must be falling.

Gods, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t send her away like this. He spun, meaning to grab on to her and tell her the truth, to force her to listen. To make her leave another way. But she was gone before their eyes could meet and his hands encountered only air.

“YOU INSOLENT FOOL!”

Atlas peered up at the fuming Cronus. Not like he could do anything else. His wrists were chained to poles, forcing him to remain on his knees. The very collar he’d removed from Nike was now wrapped around his own neck.

He’d known this would happen, but he hadn’t cared. He still didn’t. Nike was free, and that was all that mattered.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

“No.”

“One Greek can raise an army. That army can attack us. Ruin us. I told you that, and still you defied me.”

“Nike won’t do that,” he said confidently. He trusted her to disappear. Even as angry as she had to be with him, she would not endanger herself to save people she had never truly liked.

Cronus slammed his fist against the arm of his throne, ever the petulant child. “You can’t know that! You aren’t my All-Seeing Eye.”

Atlas arched a brow, refusing to be cowed. “Would you risk being imprisoned again to help your fellow Titans? I may not be able to see all the secrets of the heavens and Hell, yet I know you would not. She will not, either.”

The king had no response to that, but that didn’t stop him from growling. “You disobeyed a direct order, and for that you will be punished.”

“I understand.” He offered the statement without hesitation. It was the truth. He understood that the god king had to make an example out of him. Otherwise, others would see Cronus as weak. They would disobey him as Atlas had.

“I think you actually do.” Some of Cronus’s fury abated. “Only this morning I saw a portrait of you. A portrait painted by my Eye. With it, she showed me exactly how to punish you.” The king smiled evilly and looked to the ghostlike girl still standing at his side. “You know what to do, sweet Sienna.”

Sienna strode forward, a knife appearing in her hand. She stopped in front of Atlas and dropped to her knees, placing them eye to eye. So this was it, he thought. The end. As an immortal, he’d never thought to reach this point. Still. He found he only regretted that he hadn’t had more time with Nike, that he hadn’t gotten the chance to apologize for his harsh words the last time they were together and that he would never have the chance to confess his love.

With absolutely no emotion on her face, the girl dug the tip of the blade into his wrist and cut out his sensor, rather than chop off his head. That’s when he realized Cronus meant to lock him away rather than kill him. Good. More time to think about Nike and what could have been.

But then Sienna moved the blade to his chest and pressed, slicing. It stung, but that was not what made him struggle against her ministrations. No, it was the fact that she began carving away Nike’s name. He roared loud and long, fighting for all he was worth. Guards were called over and hard hands settled over him, pressing him down, holding him steady. Still he fought, but in the end, they managed to remove all four letters.

As each person walked away from him, he glanced down at himself through burning, watery eyes. Blood poured down his chest and four open wounds stared up at him, the muscles torn, the skin completely gone. He might have hated that brand at one point in his life, but he’d grown to love it as much as the woman who’d given it to him. More than that, it had been the last remaining evidence of her presence.

His hands fisted, and his back straightened. Blood and sweat mingled, stinging further. Another roar burst from his lips, and he tossed it to the domed ceiling. He didn’t stop until his throat was shredded from the strain.

“Are you quite finished?” Cronus asked him.

His gaze fell to the dais, narrowing. “I will destroy you for this,” his vowed brokenly. “One day you will die by my hand.”

“Not likely. Take him to Tartarus,” the king told his guards, unconcerned. “Where he will rot for all eternity.”