Shewasn’t a beautiful woman. Could barely be called pretty. Hernose was a little too long, and her cheeks a little too sharp. Shehad ordinary brown hair cut to hit her too – wide shoulders,and the body of a warrior. But there was something about her that hadalways drawn him. He rolled his eyes.

“Drythe fake tears, Nike.” And he knew they were fake. She wasn’tprone to displays of emotion. “They don’t affect me andthey certainly don’t become you.” Instantly her eyelidsnarrowed, the tears miraculously gone.

“Fine.But I will make you regret this. I vow it.”

“I’mlooking forward to your attempts.” Truth. Sparring with her hadalways excited him. Without a single beat of hesitation, he pressedthe ink gun just below her shoulder blade. His grip was steady as heetched the outline of the first letter. A. Not once did she flinch.Not once did she act as if she felt a single ounce of pain. He knewit hurt, though. Oh, did he know. To permanently mark an immortal,ambrosia had to be mixed into the colored liquid and that ambrosiaburned like acid. She remained silent as he finished each of theoutlines. Silent, still, as he filled in the letters. When hefinished, he sat back on his haunches and surveyed his work:A.T.L.A.S. He expected satisfaction to overtake him, so long had hewaited for this moment. It didn’t. He expected relief tooverwhelm him; vengeance had been achieved. It didn’t. What hedidn’t expect was a white-hot sweep of possessiveness, butthat’s exactly what he experienced. Nike now belonged to him.Forever. And all the world would know it.

CHAPTER2

Nikepaced the confines of her cell. A cell she shared with severalothers. Knowing her temper as intimately as they did, they werecareful to stay out of her way. Still. Roommates sucked. She couldfeel their eyes boring into her robe-clad back, as if they could see