Page 164 of Crown of Olympus
“You died, and somehow, she brought you back.” His tone shifted to awe, and Caelus tightened his grip around me.
I felt the threads rebind to my sternum — or maybe my heart — like a blow to the chest. Caelus grunted, and I knew he felt it too. Terrified, I broke free of his grasp, tearing his shirt open.
The stab wound had healed, leaving nothing more than a faint scar. But his veins flashed beneath his skin. Lightning traversed through his whole body, lighting him up from within. He was ethereal — more beautiful andalivethan I’d ever seen him.
Still bordering on disbelief, I pulled his face to mine. I needed to feel his lips again, his hands reclaiming my body. I needed every facet of the god before me more than I needed crowns, or prophecies, or air.
Caelus groaned. But I needed more. I needed something else.
I pulled back, just enough to meet his two-toned gaze.
“I love you.”
I tossed the words at him so unexpectedly that his brows jumped in surprise.
“I love you so much, Golden.” My lip trembled. “If you ever dare to leave me like that again, know that I will follow you into every afterlife, and every endless void. I will not stop until I find you, because you aremine, just as I am yours.”
His face crumpled and he kissed me again — fiercely, furiously — conveying every word he need not say. Every word I felt.
Velira growled, sending a blast of hot, fiery anger down the bond.
That’s not the reaction I was expecting, Vel.
She did not reply. Instead, she launched to her feet, roaring at me.
I stared, bewildered by my dragon’s narrowed golden eyes, until an icy finger traced its way up my spine.
Goddesses screamed or stood bravely. Gods shouted, some cowering, some drawing weapons. Whatever was behind me had stirred something ancient and primal in them.
Caelus, Charon, and I shot to our feet, fighting stances deeply ingrained.
A black wisp of darkness flitted through the air. It was no power I recognised — it was something else, somethingother.
Something wrong.
The wisp pulsed and grew ominously, not dissimilar to the tear.
A figure formed. A gargantuan beast with a humanoid form and two bull-like horns sprouting from its head. It had glowing red eyes, and it snarled with breath so icy frost formed in the air before it.
Athena paled. “It can’t be.”
Poseidon and Ares froze, eyes wide and disbelieving.
Even Hera cowered in her corner.
The beast growled as its shape morphed once again. When it settled again, it had taken the shape of an eight-foot god. He had a meticulously crafted beard and short locks of haircombed back from his face — white and black mixed to a steely grey. His proud nose and chiselled jawline felt vaguely familiar.
Had I met him before?
He wore a pristine black, knee-length chiton with gold embellishments, and matching black sandals laced up his calf.
But his eyes remained the same glaring red as he grinned maliciously at me.
“My, my,” he drawled, voice deep and jagged, sharp enough to pierce skin. “What a delightful reunion. And welcome home.”
“Kronos,” Athena spat.
Icy fear trickled through my veins, stuttering my heart. Caelus moved to shield me with his body. The Titan King was here, whole and alive?
