Rogue Soul (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 3)
Mytheans and keeping them under the radar of mortals.  
    The university also provided services that Mytheans couldn’t get elsewhere, lest mortals figured out that their clients never died. Things like education, a hospital, banking. Everyday stuff, but for supernatural creatures that she’d never dreamed existed when she’d been mortal. The idea that mortal beliefs had willed Mytheans into existence had been a hell of a shock.
    “Yeah, some,” Cam said, but he seemed unwilling to elucidate.
    “You fought that guy in the ring at the Caipora’s Den for the identity of some cures?”
    “I fought that guy because I like to fight.”
    “But you got the location of an important rose from him, right?”
    “Yeah. That was a benefit.”
    She had a feeling he was playing up the side of himself that was less admirable, though she had no idea why. “And it’s why you’re so anxious to get to Druantia and get your cloaking spell reactivated, isn’t it?”
    “Nailed it. I’ve been working toward this for decades. Can’t let it slip through my fingers now.”
    “Thought so.”
    “What do you plan to do about finding someone to take your place?”
    “What?”
    “The potion isn’t going to do you much good without someone to take your place in Otherworld. You knew that.”
    “What?” Her mind scrambled. “What do you mean, someone to take my place?”
    “What it sounds like. Gods can’t kill other gods because we’re all needed to maintain the balance of power and keep Otherworld running. The only way to leave godhood is the way I did it—with a replacement.”
    She swallowed hard, fairly certain that her stomach had just dropped to her feet. “But where am I going to find someone to take my place? Can it be anyone?”  
    Damn it. She’d been so close. She should have realized, but of course she hadn’t. She’d jumped headfirst into this like she did with everything, consequences be damned—and she’d learned long ago that the consequences could be very damning. She should know better by now.
    “It can’t be just anyone.” His voice was grim. Like he cared about this. “It’s got to be someone of equal skill.”  
    Her heart stopped. She had only one equal in skill.  
    Him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

    Southeast Celtic Britain, 13 AD
    Territory between the Iceni and Trinovante Kingdoms

    Andrasta raced through the forest toward her home, her mind still alight with memories of Camulos. Her brothers were always worried if she wasn’t home by sunset, but she couldn’t bring herself to care right now.  
    It had been hard to make it home before dark this past week. This was the seventh day she’d seen and spoken with Camulos. As ever, he’d waited for her in the shadow of the trees, a scowl on his face that smoothed out when she approached him.  
    After their kiss a week ago, which had been interrupted by her brother, she hadn’t known if Camulos would return. After what he’d threatened, she hadn’t been sure if she wanted him to. But he wouldn’t actually kill her brother or her, right?  
    She couldn’t believe he would, so she’d returned to the clearing to see him, albeit with her hand on her bow and wariness in her step. Camulos drew her like a fly to honey, and she had a feeling that she did the same to him.  
    He was hot and cold with her, as if he wanted to be with her but knew he shouldn’t. Something dangerous that she didn’t understand was at play, but at least she was smart enough to know it hovered over them. He had an agenda she couldn’t quite figure out, and he wouldn’t speak of it, but it didn’t stop her from meeting him every day for long walks through the forest.
    Continuing to see him was probably the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but the hope that he’d continue to smile at her and maybe even kiss her again kept her coming back for more.  
    But he hadn’t kissed her again. His desire was so strong it was palpable, but he resisted. As much as she wanted his kisses,

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