The Power (Titan #2) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,1
. . They were the most stunning ocher color, framed by dark, thick lashes. His arched brows were slightly darker than his blond hair—hair that he’d cut recently. I was still getting used to the shorter locks. The soft strands were buzzed close to the skull on the sides and longer on the top, sometimes straight, sometimes a mess of waves. I liked running my palms against the sides, feeling the shorter hair tickle my palms.
I just liked touching Seth in general.
Sometimes I had no idea how he had ended up in my bed. I mean, of course, he was there because I invited him in and wanted him there, but I don’t think I was the type of girl anyone pictured with someone like him. I wasn’t knocking myself. I was just being realistic. I was five feet and nine inches of uncoordinated mess most of the time. My hips would’ve been popular back in the fifteen-hundreds or something, when “child-bearing hips” were all the rage, and I’m pretty sure my thighs were never in style or going to be. Apparently no amount of training—kickboxing, grappling, running, defensive or offensive training—was going to tighten my stomach or trim my waistline. I wasn’t thin or willowy, or graceful and demure. I was loud, could be fairly obnoxious, and I rambled.
But Seth liked me. He’d said I was his salvation.
And I liked him.
I was also a demigod, Apollo’s daughter, so there was that.
And Seth was the Apollyon, the product of a half-blood and pure-blood, created by the recently deceased Ares, and I was already as powerful as I could be, once I got the knack of controlling my newly discovered abilities.
His amber-colored eyes, shining like precious stones, narrowed. “Are you awake? Or is this some kind of creepy sleepwalking thing?”
My lips twitched into a small grin. “I’m awake.”
“So . . .” He rolled onto his back, sliding an arm behind his head, and I sort of got hung up on watching the way his biceps flexed and rolled. “You’re just sitting up and staring at me while I sleep?”
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
“That’s not what it looks like.”
“I was actually sitting up and staring at the wall until you interrupted me.”
He lowered his other hand, resting it low on his flat stomach. From my vantage point, he almost looked nude under the blanket, but unfortunately he wasn’t. “That’s not weird or anything.”
“Whatever,” I said, fixing the strap on the tank top I was wearing. “You’re weird.”
Those lips tipped further up on the corner. “You’re hot.”
I rolled my eyes again, but I was totally flattered.
His head tilted to the side. “A dream?”
The warm and fuzzy feeling of flattery faded away, and I nodded.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I cleared my throat as I pushed my hair back over my shoulder. “Just a weird dream.”
His stare was intent as he studied me quietly. This wasn’t the first nightmare I’d had after the showdown with the Titan. And not just any Titan. Hyperion. The godly being my father had entombed thousands of years ago, and who was now loose, hell-bent on revenge. I’d somehow sent him packing when my demigod abilities had been unlocked, but he’d be back.
I knew that.
He and the other Titans that had escaped would keep coming back until we located the other five demigods, unlocked their abilities, and managed to join our abilities in order to entomb the Titans back in Tartarus.
Of course, we had no idea where the other demigods were or how we could find them. Or how we were seriously going to entomb them again. Apollo hadn’t let us in on that information yet.
Though I wanted it to be the last nightmare, so badly, I knew better. Those hours with the Titan had felt like an eternity, and I tried, really tried not to dwell on them. I probably could use some therapy.
Wait. Could demigods get therapy? Like was there a specialist around these parts focusing on the mental health of mystical beings?
Seth’s fingers brushed over my arm, drawing my attention. Our eyes met. His hand wrapped around my wrist and he dragged me down so that I was half on top of him.
Oh, I liked where this was heading.
His chest was warm under my arms and his hand was steady as he reached up, catching a few strands of my hair. He tucked it back behind my ear and his hand lingered, cradling my cheek. I lowered my mouth to his and kissed him softly. When