Take the deal, take the deal, take the deal…
He didn’t know what the deal really was, but something inside told him it was infinitely better than letting Krónos have his way with them.
Atalanta held her hand out to the Elder God. “I accept.”
Krónos’s lips curled in a malicious grin. He closed his hand around Atalanta’s and dragged her close, trapping her between his legs. As she sucked in a surprised breath, he looked over her shoulder to where Gryphon stood, hoping—praying—to be sent from the room.
“Tell your slave to get his ass over here,” Krónos said in a low voice, his soulless eyes fixed on Gryphon. “We’re going to have a little fun, just the three of us, to seal the deal before I tether you together.”
Chapter 17
Orpheus didn’t dare move.
His heart beat like wildfire against his ribs as Skyla lay draped over him, her face pressed into his shoulder, her warm breath fanning his neck while she worked to slow her pulse.
Somehow they’d made it to the floor. One of them—he wasn’t sure who—had had the good sense to throw cushions down so they weren’t sprawled on the hardwood. But another round of mind-blowing sex and his third—fourth?—screaming orgasm weren’t what kept him still. No, what kept him from moving a single muscle were the images flickering through his mind like some old-time movie set on fast-forward, with Skyla’s face as the constant. The ones that had started just as he’d climaxed the last time and were still flashing for his eyes only in both black-and-white and color like a collage set to silence.
Her, smiling. Dressed in a white gown, her hair piled in braids on the top of her head. Standing on a balcony with a blue-green sea behind her. Wearing her Siren fighting gear. In a courtyard, talking with people he didn’t recognize dressed in what looked like sheets. With the other Sirens in a field of green. Lying naked on a bed of blue silk. Looking sated and sexy and completely worn-out.
Holy skata. He was seriously losing it. Like certifiable, strap-me-in-a-padded-cell, fast-track-to-the-loony-bin losing it. He shut his eyes, gave his head a swift shake, opened them again. The images were still there, though if anything playing faster now.
Skyla drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, relaxed everywhere against him. “I hope that was enough follow-through for you, because I’m officially beat. I think you broke me.”
He’d have laughed if he wasn’t already freaking the hell out. And shit, she was making herself comfortable, which meant she wanted to snuggle. When all he wanted to do was beat feet for the door and get away from her. Panic clawed its way up his chest, but he worked to keep from hyperventilating so she wouldn’t know he was wigging out. “Good to know.”
She chuckled, burrowed in deeper. Gods, she had to feel his racing pulse. She probably thought he was still jacked up from the sex, which he was, but shit…what the hell was with the images? Now she was naked, swimming in the ocean? Okay, this twisted fantasy shit had to end here.
He squeezed his eyes together tight, willed his brain to stop dicking around. “Why wouldn’t Athena answer you?”
“What?” The surprise in her voice wasn’t the least bit sexy, and that’s what he needed. To get the topic away from earth-shattering orgasms so he could get his mind off naked skin browning in the sun.
“Athena. You said the goddess wouldn’t answer you. Why not?”
“Oh.” She shifted off him, just enough so her hip was against the cushion but her arms and legs were still draped across him. He’d never been claustrophobic before, but right now he felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was so much pressure in his chest. Fresh air would be good. A lot of it.
“I suppose it’s because she doesn’t expect me to complete this mission.”
“And why not?”
She pushed up on her elbow. “Are you okay? You seem, I don’t know, tense. I thought sex was supposed to relax a man.”
“I’m not a man, Siren.” But because he caught the slightest bit of hurt in her eyes at his terse voice, he worked to keep the bite from his words when he added, “I don’t ever really relax. Curse of the daemon inside me and all that. Answer the question. Why wouldn’t she think you’d complete this mission?”
She blew out a long breath, played with the thin patch of hair on his chest. “A few weeks ago I was injured in a fight. With a daemon hybrid. He got the jump on me. I was careless. If it hadn’t been for my sisters, I probably wouldn’t have survived.”
The images came to a stop, the last one fading in a poof of smoke. “Where?”
“Where what?”
“Where were you injured?”
“Italy.”
“Not where, idiot. Where?”
“Oh, here.” She smiled as she turned so he could see the long scar that ran from just under her right breast, diagonally across her ribs, and around her hip to the small of her back.
“Holy shit.” He’d felt the puckered skin when he’d been exploring her body, but in the shadows, with her twisting all different ways, it had been hard to see. Carefully, he ran his fingers over the scar and examined it in the moonlight. “This was only a few weeks ago?”
“Yeah. Luckily, we Sirens heal fast too. It’ll be just a thin white line soon.” She eased back down next to him, grazed her fingers over his chest hair again. Sent shards of heat through his torso. “Anyway, I convinced Athena to let me come on this mission. She wanted me to stay behind. Didn’t think I was ready.”
He thought back to that first night. In the trees behind the amphitheater. The quick flash of fear in her eyes when she’d seen those hybrids change. The one she’d masked quickly and probably wouldn’t ever cop to. “And that’s why she won’t answer you? Because she thinks you’re weak?”
“Not just that.” He could sense from her words and what she wasn’t saying that there was more. He waited, though he wanted to shake the answers out of her more than he liked. “I’ve been with the Sirens a long time. And when I took my vows, I thought I was doing something good, you know? Helping Zeus keep balance and order in the universe. Over the years, though…well, let’s just say that recently I’ve seen the world from a different perspective. And I’m realizing that what Zeus and Athena have led me and the other Sirens to believe all these years isn’t the entire truth.”
Orpheus could have told her that. His first reaction was to ask why she hadn’t figured it out sooner, but then he thought about what her life as a Siren must be like. Living on Olympus, surrounded by gods, separated from the living realm, and only going there to do Zeus’s bidding. If you’re taught one thing and are never shown anything different, it would make sense you’d see that as truth, wouldn’t it?
“How long have you been with the Sirens?”
She didn’t answer.
“Skyla?”
“A long time,” she finally answered. “A lot longer than the rest. I, uh, met your forefather.”
“Perseus?” He stared at her for confirmation, barely believed what she’d just said could be true. She continued to play with the hair on his chest and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Are you telling me you’re over two thousand years old?”
She cringed. “Two thousand six hundred and four, actually.”
No way.
Her eyes slowly shifted to his. “Surprised?”
Floored. And he’d thought he was old. Shit, he was a baby compared to her. “Are all the Sirens—?”
“No. Most serve only a few hundred years. That’s the goal, anyway. My mother was a Siren. Zeus tends to recruit from past Sirens he deems worthy. Good genes, you know.” She smiled, but he was still too shocked to smile back. “I was two when I started my home training. At the age of twenty I took my vows, was inducted into the order. I moved to Olympus, spent the next few decades mastering my skills, but didn’t begin formally serving with the Sirens until I was about forty. It’s common for a Siren to give three, four hundred years to the order, then leave to marry and raise a family. From that point they’re usually granted a blessed life, much like the Argoleans, if they so choose.”