“Yes,” she affirmed.
“And then at the holding chamber the other day, I overheard you and the others talking about an infiltration and some suspicious activities in the organization.”
She raised her body more uprightly, the sheet slipping from her waist. Her voice trembled not with fear, but with certainty.
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence, Marcus. None of this is random. Think about it. You’ve been led to capture the wrong witch—twice. That doesn’t happen unless someone inside is pulling strings.”
Marcus flexed his jaw as he thought deeply before snapping his head sharply at her.
“You’re not suggesting what I think you are suggesting.”
“I am,” she said, not bothering to coat things.
“No,” he growled. “Absolutely not.”
She expected that. But she wasn’t the type to give up easily.
“You said it yourself, there’s been an infiltration,” Athena shot back.
“You need a witch who can get close. Who can sniff out the danger. If I get inside, I can help identify the source before things get worse.”
Marcus stood up sharply, pacing across the room. His hand raked through his auburn hair. And Athena knew that wasn’t a good sign.
“You just nearly died!” he snapped.
“You saw the vision. You know what’s coming. You know how dangerous things are getting, and you are asking me to send you into danger?”
His voice cracked. And Athena could hear the fear in it.
“This is too risky, Athena. You know that, right? You are notexpendable—not to me.”
“This isn’t about that!” she shot back at him, rising to her feet.
“It’s about being the only one who can do this now. And for every second we delay…” She stopped in between her words.
Her voice softened as she tried to convince him. “Let me help. Marcus, please.”
He turned his back to her, raking his hands through his hair again.
God, he was adamant. Her breaths heaved against her chest.
She stepped closer to him as he turned to face her in the same breath, his amber eyes locking onto hers. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and Athena’s gaze dropped to his lips.
Focus, Athena.
“I can—”
“Fuck, why are you so damn stubborn?” Marcus growled against her face as he crashed his lips against hers, swallowing whatever protest she was brewing.
The kiss wasn’t gentle.
It was needy. Raw. Breathless. Desperate.
Like they had been starved of themselves despite kissing some minutes ago.
Athena’s fingers gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, closer until there was no space left between their bodies.
His hands found her jaw, tilting her face as his lips devoured hers, with a soft gasp that made her knees weak.