Bound by Elisabeth Naughton Page B

The same word he’d used in Argolea just before she’d jumped through the portal. But he didn’t really want to help her. He just wanted what she had.
    “I don’t want your help. I told you before I don’t need your help. I—”
    The tent flap jerked open, and they both looked toward the burst of light spilling into the room. Two guards stepped into the space and glanced between them—the same two who had tied Titus to the tree.
    Relief immediately rushed through Natasa—relief that she and Titus had been interrupted—but then she caught the gleam in the guards’ eyes.
    “What’s going on?” Natasa asked. “I told you—”
    “Ladies.” Titus turned toward the guards and held up both hands in a defensive move. “Let’s not act hastily now—”
    The guards moved up on both sides of him. Malice and heat and triumph swelled in their eyes. The taller of the two said, “The queen is ready for you.”
    Titus stiffened, tried to shift out of their grasp, but their hands landed on his arms before he could get a foot away. And the moment they made contact with his skin, his eyes rolled back, his features twisted and his knees gave out.
    Natasa tensed. Yeah, she’d wanted him to back off so she could think, but not like this. They were hurting him. If anyone was going to hurt him, it was going to be her.
    “Stop,” she ordered. “What are you doing? He’s my prisoner, not yours.”
    “Not anymore,” the other guard said. A malevolent grin spread across her thin lips. “He’s the queen’s now. And the altar is prepared.”
    Oh shit .
    They dragged Titus toward the door. Natasa closed her hand over the shoulder of the closest guard. “I said stop—”
    The guard moved so fast, Natasa barely tracked her. One second she was holding Titus up by the arm; the next she had Natasa pinned to the base of the tree, a sword at her throat.
    “Aella said you might be a problem,” the guard sneered. “Therefore, you are to remain here, where you can’t get in the way.”
    Natasa’s breath caught at the contempt in the guard’s eyes. The guard shoved Natasa’s hands together, cinched a rope around her wrists, and jerked them high over her head. Natasa gasped. The guard looped the rope through the D-ring screwed into the wood and pulled hard.
    Pain sliced into Natasa’s skin. She winced. The guard laughed and stepped back.
    Lysa—Natasa remembered her name now—tipped her head and grinned. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, female, you are not invited to this ceremony.” She leaned close, so close Natasa could smell the earthy scents of dirt and moss on her unclean skin. “The queen thanks you for your most generous…donation.”
    Natasa pulled on the ropes again. “Titus!”
    Lysa chuckled, a menacing sound, and moved out of the room. The door flapped closed in her wake.
    Alone, Natasa struggled against the ropes, but all her flailing did was cause the twines to dig deeper into her skin. Pain spiraled through her arms, slowing her fight.
    Her chest rose and fell. Perspiration slid down her spine. She swallowed hard and tried to think clearly. She’d never witnessed one of Aella’s so called “ceremonies” but she’d heard enough about them—and the males who were the sacrifices—to know what was about to happen.
    Sickness rolled through her stomach and was followed by the memory of the way Titus had reacted when those guards had touched him. And how different it was from the way he reacted when she touched him.
    She might still be rattled from that kiss, she might be afraid of her reaction to him and what he was really after, but regardless of anything he had or hadn’t done, he didn’t deserve what was about to happen. She’d brought him here. She’d led him to this. If she didn’t do something to stop it, she was no better than the gods who’d cursed her.
    She looked up at the rope and pulled hard. Fire ignited along her flesh. But the knots didn’t give. She ground her teeth and pulled