Moonlight seeped from the window, illuminating his furnishings. A platform bed with a brown-and-white comforter. Two nightstands, both marred by the knives he constantly tossed at them. One balanced a red lamp that had a chink on its left side. One held a bowl of candy bars.
There was his dresser, his scuffed leather chair. His closet stuffed with more weapons than clothing. The doorway to his bathroom.
Home. He was home. But it didn't feel like home without Scarlet. Where was she? Had Cronus left her there, in that field? Alone with her grief? He roared as Lies had done earlier, enraged, helpless, desperate. He would—
Calm.
Scarlet appeared in the center of his room, and Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. Except...
Her tears were gone. Her horror and hurt, vanished. Her face was a blank canvas, completely devoid of emotion.
"Scar," he began, rushing toward her.
Her gaze met his, and she held up one hand to ward him off. "I wish you a safe and happy life, Gideon. Nothing more needs to be said." She tried to pass him, but he latched onto her arm, stopping her.
"Where aren't you going?"
"Away."
No way in hell. He knew her, knew she planned to hunt and torture her mother and aunt for what they'd done to her. "We'll kiss them together." Kill them together. "No?"
"No." Something in her eyes hardened. Like liquid cooling and solidifying into steel. Steel was the perfect name for any child of hers. She was stubborn to her very core. "I'll take care of my mother and aunt."
His grip tightened, and he jerked her into the inflexible line of his body. She slammed into him with a huff, but refused to look up at him. Her gaze remained on the wild pulse at the base of his neck.
He was panting, he realized. In fear that he wouldn't be able to reach her. In arousal. She smelled of the ambrosia fields and radiated warmth. "You must have heard me correctly. We'll kiss them together."
Finally, her gaze lifted. Pinpricks of red flashed every few seconds, as if her demon was ready to break free. "After I kill my aunt, I'm going to find a way to remove my memories. All of them. I want a fresh start, a clean slate. Because right now I have no idea what's real and what's fake. I don't know, and it's killing me. Do you understand? It's killing me."
His own anger draining, he kissed her forehead. "I'm not sorry. So not sorry, devil. You can't let me help you kiss her, okay?" The other thing, well, he'd die before he allowed Scarlet's memories of him to be taken.
A tremor rocked her; she gulped. "How can you want to help me after everything I've done to you?"
"I don't...like you. I don't miss him, too."
He didn't have to elaborate. She knew who "him" was. Once again, tears pooled in her eyes. He'd never thought to be glad to see a woman cry, but her sadness was much easier to take than her emotional barrenness.
"He wasn't real," she whispered, hands clutching Gideon's shirt and twisting.
"You're right. He wasn't."
"I know— Wait. What?" She blinked in surprise. He could only speak in lies, so what he'd said should have felled him. But he was still standing, still strong.
"Steel wasn't real. To the two of us, in our hearts, he wasn't real."
The tears spilled down her cheeks.
"We won't make them pay for this, devil. I just need you to...not trust me." Trust me, please.
"They manipulated me," she said, the melted metal he'd seen in her face bleeding into her voice. "Laughed at me all these years. Why? What did I ever do to them?"
"They aren't monsters." They were. Far greater than any demon he had encountered. "It had everything to do with you." Nothing to do with his darling Scarlet. With his free hand, he threaded his fingers through her hair, once again offering what comfort he could. He didn't dare release her at any point or she'd bolt. "They didn't get one thing right, though. As far as I'm concerned, we aren't really married."
Her brow furrowed, but the rest of her sagged. "You're saying you consider us married?"
Rather than try and explain in Gideon Speak, he nodded.
"Hell, no," she said vehemently. She pounded a fist into his chest. "No."
Not the reaction he'd expected. Or wanted. The words had flowed of their own accord. Natural, meant to be. He'd considered it before, but now he knew. He would have her, in every way. Whatever it took.
"The two of us?" she continued. "We're done. We're over. Not that we ever got started."
Hardly. "You're right."
Her eyes narrowed, wet lashes nearly fusing together. "Now you listen to me. We're lucky we escaped an eternal pairing. We're terrible for each other. All wrong." She laughed and the sound reminded him of a harbinger's bell. A sound some immortals heard just before they died. "No wonder you didn't notice me the night I first sought you out."
He arched a brow. What night?
"You were at a club," she answered, though he hadn't spoken the question aloud. "And you nailed a human female in a shadowed corner, where anyone could have seen you. Where I saw you."
Once, public sex had been a usual occurrence in his life. So, he shouldn't have been able to isolate a single night in his memory and know, know Scarlet had been there. But suddenly he could.
An evening like any other, ambrosia-laced alcohol and sex his focus. Yet there'd been a thick cloud of darkness next to his table, one his eyes hadn't been able to pierce. He'd thought his excess had addled his mind. Especially when the scent of orchids had wafted to his nose. When Lies had tried to jump out of his skull. When his cock had throbbed unbearably.
"I didn't sense you," he said. "Didn't take someone else, thinking she was responsible for the lust I was feeling when in truth, she was—" not "—and you weren't." Were.
"I—I— Still." Color bloomed in her cheeks, twin pink circles of embarrassment. "We're still wrong for each other."
"Right again." And suddenly, all he could think about was her earlier words about how he couldn't possibly want her because he'd never tried to penetrate her.
That's what he got for being considerate. For giving her time.
Well, bye-bye consideration. He was taking what he wanted. All of what he wanted. He was going to have this woman, and she was going to accept him. She was going to admit that they belonged together. That they were perfect for each other. Everything else could be figured out later.
Was there anything to figure out, though? She amused him, delighted him, set his blood on fire. She never backed down, didn't fear any part of him. Even his demon. She met him challenge for challenge. Was probably stronger than he was.
More than that, they both needed comforting right now, and there was only one way to achieve it. In bed.
Without a word, Gideon anchored both of his hands on Scarlet's waist and tossed her atop the bed in question. She bounced on the mattress, but when she finally stilled, she didn't scramble off; she just peered over at him, confused.
"What are you doing?" she asked in a husky voice.
"Finishing this," he said, advancing on her. Finally, he was beginning it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WIN, WIN, WIN. Have to win.
"I know." Sweat poured down Strider's face and chest as he rounded a corner, slowed his sprint to a frantic walk and pressed into the shadows cast by a looming column. Thankfully, he'd realized he had tails—four of them, to be exact—before reaching the Temple of the Unspoken Ones. So he'd changed directions and now found himself in the historic district of Rome, miles from the island, a gawking crowd around him, eyeing the towering white remains of the Temple of Vesta and taking pictures so they'd always remember the moment. Blending in was kind of a problem. He was taller than everyone around him and thicker with muscle.