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  Above

  TITANS, Volume 3.5

  Sotia Lazu

  Published by Acelette Press, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  ABOVE

  First edition. March 27, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Sotia Lazu.

  Written by Sotia Lazu.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Above (TITANS, #3.5)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Previous books in the TITANS series:

  Book 0 – Under (FREE)

  Book 1 – A Nereid for the Titan

  Book 2 – A Maid for the Titan

  (Sign up for Sotia’s Newsletter, and get your FREE copy of Breathe – TITANS 2.5)

  Book 3 – A Guard for the Titan

  Chapter One

  Magda barely took her eyes off the road, to crack open the car window. A warm breeze ruffled her hair. She turned off the car’s climate control system and inhaled deeply. Sea air—this was what she needed. The salt in the atmosphere that she could almost taste on her tongue spoke to her blood and welcomed her where she belonged.

  She hadn’t been in Pylos in the three years since her grandma’s passing. She’d have come back sooner, but she dreaded returning to her childhood home. It’d feel cold and empty, when the woman who’d been a constant in her life since Magda remembered herself wouldn’t be there. Now that Magda had finally decided to take the plunge and move back, she couldn’t wait.

  The car coming from the opposite direction swerved toward her, and Magda leaned on her horn, channeling the lingering pain of her loss into frustration at the malaka who thought he owned the curving road leading down to the center of Pylos.

  She loved the scenic drive through the Peloponnese but hated this part of the road. It curled around homes, with no sidewalks in sight, and she always expected a kid to jump in front of her car. Which was why she drove well below the speed limit.

  She finally reached flat ground and bypassed the town square on her left, to head for the municipal parking lot that spread into the harbor. This time of the year, finding a spot near the entrance would take a miracle, but she didn’t mind walking. She crossed the lot and pulled over at the end that overlooked the water. The deepest part of the Mediterranean Sea. Her grandma had told her the story of the ships that went under, never to be found again. Lives and treasures had been lost here forever.

  Anything that sinks here, the sea claims as her own, Grandma said, but this time, the words echoed in Magda’s mind in a male voice, smooth and deep and velvety. Like a caress she ached to lean into.

  She got out of the car and walked around it, to stare up at the sky. Cloudless and bright, it melted seamlessly into the darker blue of the sea, their merging interrupted only by the island of Sphacteria. A pair of eyes that same dark blue as the waters, sparkling with mirth, overtook her thoughts.

  She didn’t know the man the eyes belonged to, but she’d dreamed of him often, in the years since she turned eighteen. With golden curls and pale skin, he looked like an angel—her angel—when he visited her at night. He never spoke, just held her. He’d been with her in all her darkest moments—when she caught Alekos with another woman, when she was let go from her previous job, when she lost Grandma. He made her feel safe. And he didn’t exist.

  Magda wouldn’t admit it aloud, but she instinctively looked for him around every corner, sought him in the shadows when she left her building in the morning, and in the darkened doorways when she exited her office in the evening. She searched for him in the crowds on the odd night Iphigenia convinced her to go out dancing. And part of her instinctively expected to see him now, in the sea, where he couldn’t possibly be.

  She turned back to her car, popped the trunk, and ducked inside to grab her suitcase.

  The screeching of tires made her look up in time to see a large SUV skidding toward her. The driver must have lost control. If she let go of the suitcase, she’d make it, but the bracelet of her watch got snagged on the handle. She tried to yank her hand free, but that only served to make the metal dig into her wrist. She pulled at the suitcase and lifted, but she was too late.

  The SUV clipped the front of her brand new Volkswagen Beetle, that spun, sending her and her suitcase flying backward.

  Magda had a moment to thank her lucky stars for not being smashed by her car. Τhen her back slammed into a cold, hard surface that split to envelop her. And everything was the deep blue of his eyes.

  Chapter Two

  Nerites swam toward the outskirts of Vythos, trying to keep his thoughts private. Underwater communication happened telepathically, and the first thing he’d learned was to control what he kept to himself, what he shared with one person, and what he broadcast to the entire sea world. Unfortunately for him, that control vanished when his emotions ran high, and especially when he was livid with his father.

  Not going there. Nope. Not thinking about how furious it made him when Father treated him like a child, though Nerites’ life span millennia. He’d think about dolphins. Dolphins were safe. They were playful, graceful mammals who lived in the sea. Delphinos’ favorite shape to assume was that of a dolphin. Delphinos was a sea daimon. Sea daimons were the ones supposed to go on patrol, not the only prince of Vythos, and definitely not because the sea hag said so.

  And there went Nerites’ efforts to steer his thoughts clear of how angry he was his father sent him to check the disturbance in the waters above their kingdom. At least he was far enough from the palace that he wouldn’t be overheard by anyone in the royal family.

  His sisters would mock him to no end about letting Father get to him, but how could he not? He’d made his duty a priority. Chosen it over... everything, even if that choice no longer sliced through him. And Father refused to let him have any input on how to handle the current threat. All three Titans who awakened so far said they felt Kronos raging against his magical binds. The sea daimons should be seeking him out, the army of Vythos preparing to take the fight to him. But no, Father insisted they trust the witch’s premonition that all would be sorted out eventually.

  How was that reassuring? Or helpful at all?

  Nerites was a couple meters from breaking the surface, when he saw a vaguely human shape sinking rapidly up ahead. What kind of idiot dove into the Pylos’ harbor?

  It wasn’t Nerites’ problem. Humans died every day, and the world kept turning. He couldn’t risk revealing his kind’s existence just to save a hapless simpleton.

  The shape turned and twisted. It was a woman, in skin-tight shorts and a loose blouse that was lifted to her armpits. The sight of her breasts made his mouth water. The merpeople swam around Vythos topless all the time, so the woman’s bare breasts shouldn’t have this impact on him, but he was grateful for his tail at this moment. In his human form, he’d be painfully hard.

  And while he was oggling, the human was drowning, dragged down by a heavy object attached to her arm. She was fighting it but obviously losing. Nerites should swim away, but something about the desperation of her jerky movements—and yes, possibly her breasts—made him swim toward her faster.

  He closed one hand around her trapped wrist, and cupped her face with the other, turning her to face him. Even in her panicked state, she was striking. Her hair was much shorter than he usually liked it, and the color of the sun when it was high up in the sky. There was something haughty and sexy abo
ut her cute, upturned nose, and she had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. Were they blue, or was the sea changing their hue?

  They were blue. And he’d seen them before—not eyes like them, these eyes.

  His heart constricted in his chest, and agony erupted in his head. The woman’s looks weren’t important; saving her was. For some unfathomable reason, it was the most important thing in the world. Nerites pursed his lips and blew an air bubble around her head, then used his tail to propel them upward. “Relax,” he thought at her. “You’ll be all right.” She wouldn’t hear him through the bubble, but he wanted to soothe her.

  The woman’s eyes widened. She clutched at him but kicked her legs. Was she trying to free herself? Did she think he meant her harm?

  No she was trying to help. As if the prince of the seas needed help swimming.

  They were close enough to the surface, for him to see people staring down into the water. They shouldn’t spot him. Pawing at the thing around her wrist, he triggered a clasp that loosened it. When he tugged, the weight slipped from her hand and disappeared beneath them. He snapped his tail harder and pushed her upward. The woman took the hint and let go, but her gaze remained locked to his until her face cleared the surface. Hands reached for her, and Nerites waited until she was out of the water before turning and heading back down.

  Instead of going straight to the palace, though, he dove after the thing he’d freed from the woman’s wrist. He caught it long before it hit the bottom—the depth here was the reason King Nerites had chosen this place to move his kingdom—and saw it was one of those packing boxes humans used. A suitcase. From its handle dangled something he’d seen before, when Hyperion visited Vythos with Olivia. Humans measured time with these things.

  On an impulse, Nerites detached it from the handle and slid it on his left wrist. Its bracelet was too tight to fold and clasp in place, but undone, it wouldn’t slip off if he was careful.

  He should let the suitcase go, but he dragged it along as he swam back to the palace, the memory of the female’s eyes haunting him.

  Chapter Three

  “Are you sure you’re okay, dear?” Grandma’s neighbor, Mrs. Dimitra, asked for the millionth time. “You look pale. You should eat something.”

  “I’m fine. I swear.” Magda felt like an idiot in her grandmother’s old dress, but her clothes weren’t dry yet, and all her stuff other than the suitcase she just lost would be arriving tomorrow. “I’ll run to the supermarket and get some eggs. Make an omelet. You can go now.”

  “Pfft.” The woman waved off the suggestion. “I’m not going anywhere. If your grandma knew I left her baby girl alone the day she almost died, she’d kill me.”

  But Grandma would never know, and Mrs. Dimitra would never go away, the way things were going.

  “Please. I’m fine. Go get some rest.” Magda gestured at the door, but the woman wasn’t budging.

  “Nonsense. I’ve made gigantes. I’ll bring a plate over and stay with you till Anastasis comes home from work. You’ve met my son, right? He’s a good boy. The two of you would get along well. Maybe we should all go out tonight for dinner.”

  Gigantes—giant baked beans—weren’t appetizing in the least, and Anastasis hadn’t been a boy in a few decades. He was in his late forties, and Magda had had enough of this. She strode to the door and opened it. “Really, you should go. Thank you so much for your interest, but I need some alone time. To clear my head.” She patted Mrs. Dimitra’s back and kept patting till the woman was half outside the door.

  Mrs. Dimitra looked at her reproachfully. “But what if you need something? The house hasn’t been lived in in a while. Maybe you should—”

  “I can change a bulb if need be, and I’m capable of calling a plumber. Goodbye.” Magda closed the door, despite the woman’s protests.

  Finally alone, she locked up, forced her feet to the couch, sank into the well-worn cushions, and started trembling.

  She was no longer cold, thanks to three hot showers, but she was in shock. There was no doubt in her mind she’d had a brush with death this morning. She would still be in the sea if it weren’t for him.

  People at the harbor said she’d imagined him, that she’d saved herself, but it couldn’t have been her imagination. She still felt his touch on her chin, and when she closed her eyes, she could see him purse his lips as if he was about to kiss her. Only he hadn’t. He’d blown air around her, and she’d breathed, and he’d saved her.

  And she had to see him again. But how? Not like she could jump in the sea again. He had no reason to be swimming in those waters in the first place. Odds that she’d find him there again were beyond slim.

  Which didn’t matter, because she wasn’t going to risk drowning again, just to get herself a date.

  But it was him, the man from her dreams. He was real, and he’d saved her life.

  Or her mind had conjured him in her panicked state, like it always did when she was sad. It would explain why she’d heard him under the water.

  Believe in destiny. Grandma’s voice reached Magda’s ears as clear as if the woman stood behind her.

  Grandma always had believed in fate, in something above them, guiding their actions. She’d said that fate had led her to the orphanage on the day infant Magda was left at the doorstep, and it had been their destiny to help each other through their losses. Grandma had lost her pregnant daughter and her son in law in a car crash, and Magda had been abandoned by her parents. They’d found each other, and though Magda never figured out how her grandmother cut through bureaucracy to make her adoption legal, they became a real family.

  And now Grandma had been gone for three years, and Magda was losing her mind.

  Some fresh air might help. And this was not a lie she told herself to go back to the harbor, though she might pass by there, to check on her car. Miraculously, it had only sustained a few scrapes and a broken light at the crash, and the other driver’s insurance would cover that. Poor thing wasn’t even paid in full yet, and it had already survived its first battle.

  Magda chuckled as she slipped her feet in a pair of Grandma’s sensible shoes—church shoes she used to call them. They were a little loose, but they’d do till her sneakers dried. She slung her bag over her shoulder and palmed the keys, then took a look at herself in the full-length mirror in the hallway and grimaced. She’d skip the harbor. The mini market was just around the corner. With any luck, she’d make it there and back without running into anyone she knew.

  Chapter Four

  Nerites left the council room in a marginally better mood than he’d been in this morning. He’d briefed his father about the fact that he’d noticed no threat whatsoever to their kingdom, and then sat by while Father held court with an endless parade of their subjects. He’d had enough of the royal life for today.

  He hurried to his room, grateful for a little peace and quiet before dinner, and hefted the mortal’s suitcase out from under his coral bed. Her watch was still in place, snug around his forearm. If Father noticed, he didn’t say anything. Circe would have for sure, but for once, she hadn’t hovered around while they talked.

  Nerites tried the tab at the suitcase’s zipper—he knew how to work zippers now, thanks to Palaemon’s mate—but a tiny black padlock secured it closed. The thing was so fragile, he crushed it in his fist and opened the case, swatting away his guilt over invading the woman’s privacy. He was doing this for her. Would only skim through the contents of her suitcase to see if he could find anything to help him identify her. So he could return her belongings.

  He dug through the contents, steering clear from the flimsy, lacy underwear that lay atop the rest of her clothes. His people had no use for such things, but they were private for humans, and rummaging through them would be like violating her inner sanctum. He touched nothing but soft, soaked fabric, two pairs of shoes, and finally a cardboard tube.

  He took much longer than the prince of Vythos should, to pop open the cylinder and slide a rolled-up
piece of glossy paper out of it. It was remarkably dry and unrolled easily, to reveal the depiction of a naked woman, standing in an open seashell atop the waves, where they licked at the shore. She used her long hair to cover the apex of her thighs with one hand, her other arm folded at her chest but leaving one pale breast uncovered.

  A water nymph? She might be, with how at ease she appeared. Her eyes were wrong, though. It was stupid, when he didn’t recognize the woman’s face, but he knew without a doubt—as surely as he’d known the drowning human’s true eye color—that they should be the pale blue of the sky, not the color of dark amber.

  There were other figures in the picture, but Nerites couldn’t take his eyes off the woman’s soft curves and the tilt of her head. She didn’t look like he remembered, but he knew her. Had known her. Before...

  The thought slipped from his mind and dissolved into the face of the mortal he’d rescued from drowning. She looked nothing like the nymph in the picture, but there was a connection between them that eluded him. Maybe he should ask the sea hag? Circe was around since before he was born, and was said to have infinite knowledge. They’d been friends once. He’d confided in her and sought her council. He didn’t remember why he grew cold toward her, but she irked him these days, and he avoided her as much as possible.

  His heart skittered, a pain long forgotten radiating in his chest. He was missing something. Someone. Not Circe.

  This was stupid. There was nobody to miss. He was once in love with Aphrodite—everyone knew that—but it was over before it ever began, and he didn’t pine for her.

  Come to think of it, his only memories of the goddess of beauty seemed to be second hand. He recalled telling stories about their love to Delphinos, but not how it felt to experience that love. To kiss her. To break her heart when he chose Vythos over her. He saw pity in his sisters’ eyes when they looked at him, and part of him knew it was because of Aphrodite, but he didn’t feel her loss. Only a hole in his heart, where she used to be. It was like someone had carved her out of his life, leaving little behind.