Chapter 26
Iwoke to warmth.
Not the gentle, distant warmth of morning light or a blanket left too long in the sun, but something solid and encompassing.
Something that pressed in close from behind and held me there as if I belonged exactly where I was.
For a heartbeat, I didn’t question it. I floated in that half space between sleep and awareness, cocooned, my body heavy and boneless with lingering exhaustion.
Then I became aware of an arm.
Not just any arm. A thick, powerful weight draped over my waist, forearm locked firmly across my stomach, hand splayed possessively at my hip. My back was pressed flush to a broad chest, warm and hard, the steady rhythm of a heartbeat thudding against my spine.
I froze.
Every sense snapped violently awake at once.
Sheets. Bare skin. The unmistakable absence of fabric between me and the mattress.
Oh no.
Very carefully, very slowly, I tested the reality of it, moving just enough to confirm what my brain was already screaming at me. I was naked.
Completely.
No linen twisted around my legs, no shirt bunched beneath my hands. Just smooth sheets, warm skin, and the undeniable fact that I was very much not alone.
Panic flared immediately.
I stiffened, breath catching in my throat, and the reaction was instantaneous.
The arm around me tightened, pulling me closer, fitting me more snugly against him as a low sound left his chest. A half groan, half sigh, the kind made by someone deep in sleep and unwilling to let go of what they were holding.
“Oh my god,” I mouthed silently, my heart hammering so hard I was convinced he had to feel it.
“Mm,” came a groggy voice behind me, thick with sleep and amusement. “I don’t know about the gods, but I have to wonder if that breathy sigh of yours means it was one of the best nights of your life,” he said, and I couldn’t tell whether or not he was teasing me or just being arrogantly smug.
I sucked in a sharp breath and wriggled violently, the sound that left me somewhere between a gasp and a strangled yelp.
The arm loosened at once.
I twisted, clutching the sheet to my chest as I rolled onto my side and then scrambled upright, tangling myself in fabric as I faced him fully for the first time.
Theron lay sprawled against the pillows, utterly at ease, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting lazily at his side.
He was shirtless, broad chest and sculpted abdomen on full display.
His skin caught the early-morning light filtering through the tent.
Every line of him looked carved. Powerful and solid in a way that made my traitorous brain short-circuit for a split second.
Then my gaze dipped lower.
Pants.
I swear I thanked every god that had ever existed.
“Like what you see?” he asked, making me fill with shame.
“Oh gods,” I croaked, panic flooding back in full force as I dragged the sheet higher. “Please tell me we didn’t… That I didn’t…?”
Memories came rushing in like a tidal wave, disjointed and humiliating. His laughter in the forest. My hands… everywhere. Words spilling out of me with no filter, no dignity, no restraint. The way I had felt warm and reckless and far too honest.
He laughed and rolled onto his side to face me properly.
“No,” he said, with far too much amusement. “Nothing happened.”
Relief hit me so hard I nearly sagged forward.
“But,” he continued, his eyes flicking pointedly to the sheet clenched in my fists. “As you are no doubt well aware, you are naked.”
I let out a mortified sound and covered my face with my hands.
“Why,” I groaned. “Why am I naked?”
“Because you insisted,” he said.
I peeked at him through my fingers and saw the grin.
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did,” he replied. “With great enthusiasm.”
“Oh no,” I whispered, horror dawning. “No no no.”
He leaned closer, inspecting my attempt at hiding as if it were fascinating.
“Is that helping?”
I dropped my hands long enough to glare at him.
“No.” That earned me a chuckle, and he leaned back, giving me a little more space.
“I assure you,” he said, “I was the perfect gentleman.”
“If you were the perfect gentleman,” I shot back weakly, “you would have stopped me from taking my clothes off.”
He hummed thoughtfully.
“Possibly. But attempting to wrestle you onto the bed and physically restrain you may have appeared far less gentlemanly than allowing you to undress yourself.” The image that came to mind did absolutely nothing to cool my overheating face.
“You might have a point there,” I muttered, conceding.
“I’m glad you agree,” he said with a slight nod. I swallowed, then glanced at the arm he had wrapped around me only moments earlier.
“And the… waking up like that.”
He sighed, the sound surprisingly gentle.
“You were frightened,” he said.
“You kept waking, searching for something. Someone. In the end, I held you. After that, you slept well.” The tightness in my chest eased, replaced by something else. I was grateful for him and the way he had been so caring, so gentle with me.
“Oh,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And for last night…” I added hesitantly. “…When saving me. I don’t know if I thanked you.”
His mouth curved. “You were… difficult to settle.”
I winced at the embarrassing thought.
“I am almost afraid to ask, but here it goes… what did I do?”
“You insisted on returning the favor,” he said,
I blinked. “I did?”
“Yes. Eventually, we agreed on a foot rub, braiding my hair should I ever require it, breakfast, specifically bacon, and a promise to teach me a dance.”
I stared at him in horror.
“A dance?” I repeated faintly.
“One called the Macarena, if I recall.”
I burst out laughing, mortification momentarily overridden by sheer disbelief.
“And you agreed to that?”
“Trust me,” he replied dryly, “if I had not, you would still be awake and under the influence.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Fair enough.” Then a new horror hit me. “Aster.”
His expression changed to a hint of annoyance.
“You will find the Minotaur has had very little sleep. He spent the night just outside my tent, in fact.”
Of course he did.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “We really didn’t mean to cause this much trouble.”
“You didn’t,” Theron said calmly. “Though you did attempt to explain the Macarena at length.”
I groaned.
“I’m shutting up now.”
He smirked, clearly enjoying my suffering, but before I could sink fully into the mattress and disappear forever, his gaze caught on something else.
My wrists.
He reached out, fingers closing gently but firmly around one, drawing my hand closer as his thumb traced the pale scars there with quiet curiosity.
“What is this?” he asked.
I tensed but didn’t pull away.
“The Rift,” I said quietly. “The day it opened in my world. I was close to it.”
“And you were affected how?”
I swallowed. “Atlas believes I’m the key.”
He pushed himself up to sitting, eyes focused solely on me.
“The key to what exactly?” I swallowed hard and wondered if I was saying too much. But in the end, Theron had given us more reasons to trust him than not, and besides, we may need his help again someday. And it was clear the guy valued honesty above all else.
“The Rift itself.”
Disbelief flickered across his face.
“Go on.”
I told him everything then. The scars. Atlas. The lie. The vision. My voice shook, but I didn’t stop.
When I finished, he was silent for a long moment.
Then he turned my hand palm up, holding it between both of his, thumbs brushing over my knuckles with unexpected tenderness.
“You cannot blame yourself,” he said, barely a whisper. “You were used. A pawn, nothing more.” Emotion welled hot and sudden in my throat.
“Thank you, I appreciate that. More than you know,” I whispered.
For a heartbeat, we just looked at each other. The sheet slipped slightly, baring my shoulders, and his breath hitched almost imperceptibly. He cleared his throat and stood abruptly, reaching for his tunic.
“I will grant you your privacy,” he said, turning away. “We leave soon. Food will be brought to you.”
“Thank you,” I said again, and he paused on his way out of the tent. His back was to me, and his muscles seemed to tense before relaxing as he looked at me over his shoulder.
Then he told me, in a soft, gentle tone, “You’re very welcome, Alexandra.”
The way he said my name lingered long after he left, heavy with something that made my heart ache.
After that, I was left alone, naked, embarrassed, and very aware that nothing about this journey was going to be simple again.
By the time Aster’s voice drifted through the canvas of the tent, I was mostly dressed. Which was to say I had managed underwear, pants, socks, boots, and a shirt without falling over or setting anything on fire, which, from the sounds of it, I would have done last night.
The sheets had been hastily abandoned, the mortification from earlier still lingering like a bruise that refused to heal. But the worst of the fog from the night before had lifted enough that I could think clearly again, which was both a blessing and a curse.
“Alex?” Aster called, careful, like he wasn’t entirely sure what state he was about to find me in.
“You can come in,” I replied, mouth already full as I reached for another strip of bacon from the plate balanced on the small table nearby.
Breakfast had arrived quietly while I was dressing, the smell alone enough to anchor me fully back in my body, and I had eaten like someone who hadn’t realized just how hungry they were until the food was in front of them.
The tent flap lifted, and Aster ducked inside. His eyes found me immediately, scanning me from head to toe with obvious relief before softening into something more familiar.
“You look… alive,” he said.
“Barely,” I replied around a bite, then swallowed and gestured to the space beside me on the bed. “Sit.”