by Lazu, Sotia
Or it was the pain of his casual dismissal that crushed her lungs.
She needed to busy herself with something. Looking at him hurt, but she wouldn’t avert her gaze like a coward. The stack of clothes was where Eros had left it—minus what she wore and Prometheus’ torn shirt and abandoned shorts—but it didn’t look as neat, after Prometheus’ rummaging through it. She selected the shirt that lay on the top, shook it out, refolded it, and placed it next to the initial bundle.
“Why did you have to tell Eros anything?” she asked in as uninflected a tone as she could muster. “What did he mean about getting your shit together?”
“I told you, it was nothing. Come back to bed. I need more sleep. Don’t you?” He lay back and folded an arm behind his head. When she glanced his way, his eyes were closed.
She returned to her task, folding a too-short skirt in two and placing it over the shirt. She’d let the matter lie, if he wasn’t going to be honest with her.
Only it ate her up inside. Garments forgotten, she closed the distance to the bed and glowered down at him. “Tell me the truth.”
Prometheus frowned but didn’t open his eyes. “I can’t.”
The knot in her throat tasted like tears, but she wouldn’t shed them. She’d cried enough over him. “Then you and I are through. You may keep me here until my memory of the sea world is gone, and you can take my body by force, but I’ll no longer willingly share your bed.” Every word scratched her throat and burned her tongue, but she’d caught a glimpse of the heavens and would settle for nothing less.
He snatched her wrist and pulled her on top of him before she registered him moving.
“That’s no longer your call, little Siren. Now you belong to me.”
Chapter Twelve
What was he saying? Making love to Pherusa, sleeping with her tucked snuggly against his body, and waking up next to her had been a revelation. There’d been no speck of resentment in what he gleaned from her thoughts. She’d given herself to him wholly.
But he couldn’t tell her of Eros’ reveal. For the bonding to work, she should be willing to give Prometheus her heart, and knowing what was at stake would take away her choice.
Besides, however much she wanted him, Pherusa didn’t love him any longer. The man I used to love, she’d said.
He wouldn’t burden her with his unraveling. He’d send her home to her family, and blink himself to the other side of earth—to another planet, even—to make sure she wasn’t harmed when he lost control.
Of course he’d have to explain why he gave her her freedom after he’d just declared that he owned her.
He cracked an eyelid and glanced at her face. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes blazed. She looked as fierce as a Titaness—Klymene herself—despite her diminutive stature.
Chaos, he loved her. How did he ever think otherwise?
“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t see you as a conquest, and I’ve told you already I’d never force you. For that, I cannot share why I answered Eros the way I did.” He held out a hand, and her expression softened. Would she drop the subject?
Then she curled her hand in a fist and shook her head. “I cannot trust you anymore. Your words don’t match your actions, and I won’t let you play with my—”
A deafening crash made him jump to his feet. It came from the other end of the cave. He placed his body in front of Pherusa, ready to face any threat, and called out, “Eros? This has gone too far.” It could be no one else. Nobody but Prometheus, Pherusa, and the annoying god knew this cave even existed, let alone where it was located.
The sound came again, rattling the rocks around them.
Pherusa touched his shoulder. “Are you doing this?”
He looked at his hands. No tremors. He shook his head. “Whoever this is, you’d better leave while you still can,” he bellowed.
When the wall in front of them collapsed, he flinched but stood his ground. He’d pummel the little shit to the ground for this.
It wasn’t Eros glaring at him from the other side, though. Nereus hovered there, the long white braids in his hair and beard floating around his head. It took Prometheus a second to realize his cave had somehow opened inside Vythos, an invisible wall keeping the water out. Nereus’ torso was covered by an armor of pure gold that matched the color of his swishing tail. Flanking him were the two sea daimons Prometheus saw before, Pherusa’s friend and the green-haired one, garbed in a similar manner, though their breastplates were silver, not gold. Mermen filled the waters behind them, as far as the eye could see, but Prometheus wasn’t bothered by Nereus’ show of strength.
What bothered him—what cut him to the core and made breathing a chore—was that Pherusa had told her blasted father where Prometheus’ inner sanctum could be found.
The withered crone who had the king’s ear pushed by the green-haired daimon and hovered to the front, swathed in dark-gray robes. Her eyes were milky white, and her thin, lined lips formed words that never reached Prometheus’ ears. He didn’t have to know what she was saying, though. She was maintaining the spell that had brought the sea to his front door. If he killed her, would the magic die?
Pherusa wrapped both her arms around one of his. “Please don’t attack. Hear father out, and then you can blink us anywhere you’d like.”
It was that tiny word—us—that kept Prometheus from lunging at those who dared invade his home. “King Nereus, what brings you and your pitiful army to my doorstep?” Hey, he was calm. He didn’t have to be polite too.
“I’ve come for my daughter,” Nereus thought at him.
The laws of the sea world apparently applied in their situation, though Prometheus and Pherusa weren’t underwater. Was this why Prometheus had heard her thoughts last night? Had the sea witch already started on her magic without them realizing?
“Father, no,” Pherusa said loud and clear. She pushed in front of Prometheus, her voice pleading. “He’s not holding me against my wishes. I want to be here. With him.”
Nereus’ narrow-eyed gaze slid from her to Prometheus and back again. “You may still have feelings for who he used to be”—he didn’t keep his thought private, but broadcast it for all of them to hear—“but he no longer returns those feelings. Your place is in Vythos, with us.”
Palaemon motioned for her to approach, and Prometheus’ decision to send her away before he unraveled shattered under the primal urge to protect what was his. “Pherusa stays with me,” he roared. He willed his body to grow until his head was a couple centimeters shy from the cave’s ceiling. It wasn’t his full size, but he was twice as big as any other male in the vicinity, and those tails of theirs were long.
“I wish to stay.” Pherusa planted her fists on her hips. She could have said she loved him, but this would have to do.
Prometheus folded his arms over his chest, giving Nereus a triumphant look. “You heard the lady. Go.”
Palaemon squared his shoulders and looked at Pherusa. “If he’s threatening you somehow, you don’t have to fear him.” Like Nereus, he projected his thought. Why not talk to her privately? Why did they want Prometheus to hear this? Or did the magic not allow their thoughts to reach only a single recipient?
When Pherusa didn’t speak, the daimon continued. “He caught us unawares last time, but Delphinos and I can shift into monsters the world hasn’t seen in millennia. We can overpower him if need be.”
Pfft. The world hadn’t seen a full-sized Titan in millennia either.
“Stand down, boy. You know nothing of my power. I was here for the creation of the world. I’ve fought Chaos. I’ve had”—Prometheus rifled through the knowledge of history Eros bestowed on him, till he found a name for the enormous scaly beasts—“Tyrannosauri Rex as pets. I’ve survived Zeus. Nothing scares me.” Except the possibility of losing Pherusa again, forever.
The sea witch tilted her head, and Prometheus swore her blind eyes saw right through him. A terrible smile stretched her lips, baring rotting teeth
, as she pointed at Pherusa.
When the witch opened her mouth to speak, there was no doubt in his mind she’d do something to Pherusa. Unbidden images of his Siren writhing in pain filled his head, even though the crone was supposed to be on Nereus’ side and shouldn’t wish to endanger a Nereid.
The witch formed a word, and Prometheus’ instinct took over.
“No.” He shoved Pherusa out of the way.
The witch’s cackle came at him from every direction, as Pherusa slammed against the wall and fell.
“Pherusa.” He dropped to his knees by her side.
She rolled on her back and blinked slowly at him. “Ouch.” One sleeve of her dress was torn, revealing bloody welts on her shoulder, and blood oozed from a wound on her head.
Chaos. Nereids didn’t age beyond maturity and couldn’t perish by mortal means, but Titans preceded them. He had the power to harm her, and he hadn’t reined it in. He’d hurt the woman he loved. Her eyes held no blame, but he couldn’t forgive himself. What if he’d done worse than a bump to her head? What if he’d unraveled and ended her?
He should leave, but then she’d think he abandoned her.
The background sounds he’d blocked out when he saw her crumble to the ground rushed back in. Nereus was yelling at the witch to let him get his daughter now. Someone growled. Probably the daimons, assuming beastly forms, but Prometheus wouldn’t stick around to see what those were.
He gathered Pherusa to his chest, and his heart skipped a beat when she looped her arms around his neck. “Hold on, little Siren.” He nuzzled her cheek and blinked them to the last place anyone would think to look for a Titan.
Mount Olympus.
The Pantheon—meaning All Gods—at the very top held no remnants of the gods who once convened here. The rocky terrain, high altitude, and steep drops made it virtually uninhabitable, so he and Pherusa ran little danger of being seen as they appeared out of thin air. If a hiker happened to notice, Prometheus could make them forget.
He gently placed Pherusa on the ground and resumed his human size. “Wait here. Your father and his army won’t find us for a while. I sense running water nearby. I’ll get some to clean your cuts.” He could use his powers to bring the water to them, but he needed some time to clear his head. If he’d shoved her aside with more force, he could have lost her for good.
“Don’t leave,” she muttered. “I’ll heal within minutes, anyway. Siren constitution, you know?” Her smile was weak, but it made his heart soar. She didn’t begrudge him his mistake. She wanted him close.
Could she still love him?
He lay down facing her and tucked a golden lock behind her ear. Her hair was matted with blood, but the wound was already closing.
“In that case, I’m not going anywhere,” he said. He didn’t mean now. He would claim her, pledge his heart to her, and make the bond work.
“Where are we?” Pherusa asked.
Prometheus indicated the area around them with a sweeping gesture. “This used to be where Zeus held court.”
“Really?” She sat up and looked from one side to the other. “His throne room? Right here?”
“Uh huh.” He pulled her on top of him, careful not to touch her shoulder, though the skin he glimpsed through the ripped fabric wasn’t scratched anymore.
“What would he think of us desecrating it?” She touched her lips to his, and sucked on his tongue when he slid it between them.
Not mad at him anymore, then. Good. He couldn’t imagine not having her again, like she’d threatened before her father barged in on them, without unraveling ahead of schedule.
And he shouldn’t be thinking of that when she was rubbing against his body.
He poured himself into the kiss, gliding his palms up Pherusa’s belly to cup her breasts.
Naturally, that was when Eros dropped in on them. Again.
Chapter Thirteen
“You know, your foreplay is a little too bloody for my tastes, but to each their own.” Eros looked down on them reproachfully.
“What is the matter with you, sneaking up on us all the time?” Pherusa glared at him.
Prometheus dropped his hands and growled. “You have the worst sense of timing.”
Crossing his arms, Eros tapped his foot on the dirt. The crunching of rocks was disproportionally loud in the quiet. “I have the worst sense of timing? You have Nereus’ army after you, and you come here of all places, for nookie time? Did you at least decide to bond?”
Bond? Like with a soulmate? Pherusa’s heart fluttered in her chest. She looked to Prometheus for an explanation, but he let out a disgruntled huff and gripped her by the waist, to lower her to the ground beside him.
“We might, if you left us alone long enough,” he said. “Besides, I don’t know if she wants to.”
Would someone ask her, or was her value ornamental? She opened her mouth to speak up, but Prometheus stood and dusted dirt from his immaculate behind, and her attention diverted to his buttocks.
Eros cleared his throat, and Pherusa snapped her gaze to his face in time to catch him rolling his eyes. “Yeah, she obviously can’t stand the sight of you,” he said. “You can tell by how the two of you are all over each other whenever I happen by.”
Prometheus harrumphed. “Happen by? You’re constantly nagging at me.”
“Why is that?” Pherusa asked.
The males ignored her, staring each other down.
“Well, excuse me, for wanting to protect creation,” Eros said.
Prometheus’ eyes strayed her way for a split second, before he looked back to the god. “That will not be an issue. I’ll leave if it doesn’t work.”
The bottom of Pherusa’s stomach plummeted to her feet. “Go where?” And if what didn’t work?
The crease between Eros’ brows deepened. “No place on Earth is far enough.”
“A different planet, then,” Prometheus said defiantly. “Another solar system. A random rock in space. I’ll unravel there, and this world will have nothing to fear.”
Eros studied the ground around his feet. Lightning fast, he picked up a small stone and hurled it at Prometheus’s chest.
“What are you doing?” The befuddlement in Prometheus’ expression would be funny if his promise to leave the planet hadn’t broken Pherusa’s sense of humor.
“Trying to snap you out of your self-doubt,” Eros said.
Prometheus’ eyes widened further. “By annoying me?”
Eros shrugged. “How else?”
“Maybe by leaving us alone? I’d have known by now, if you’d given us half an hour.” Prometheus pursed his lips and arched a dark brow. “Make that a couple hours.”
Even if Pherusa didn’t hate being unable to follow the conversation, she’d be fed up with this posturing. She stepped between the two infuriating males and placed one palm on each man’s chest. “Stop, right this minute.” She turned to Eros. “You. Explain.”
The muscles on Prometheus’ chest stretched under her fingers, as if he drew breath to speak.
She snapped her head his way. “And you, don’t say a word till he’s done.” Her skull throbbed at the abrupt movement. It’d be great if they could have this discussion in the sea, where she’d heal faster, but she didn’t trust them to remain civil long enough to get there. Plus, Father’s forces would be on alert, and she’d rather not have to watch those she loved fight among themselves if she could avoid it.
Eros stepped back and sat, as if on a chair, though there was nothing but thin air supporting him. He crossed his legs and blew a blond curl off his forehead. “Better make yourselves comfortable, kiddies. This is a long story.”
“Condense it.” Prometheus’ dry tone brooked no argument, but with a wiggle of his fingers, he fashioned himself and Pherusa a seat out of the earth and covered it in fresh grass.
“As you wish.” Eros steepled his fingers. “When Zeus put the Titans in stasis, he meant for it to be eternal. Mother, Hephaestus, and Hestia insisted that was too
cruel, and eventually convinced him to add a clause, so you could be awakened after all the Olympians were gone, but only by your soulmate.”
“Awakened, how?” Could her pining for Prometheus have brought him back? Was she his soulmate?
“Technically, their soulmates would have to be within touching distance.” Eros’ words snuffed Pherusa’s hope, but he went on. “I wasn’t around at the time, but from what Mother had heard from Zeus—who also didn’t witness this for himself—Titans and Titanesses were created in twos, each pair supposed to share a soul.”
“That’s why Zeus turned the Titanesses human,” Prometheus muttered.
So his true mate had died long before Pherusa was born? Sadness spilled in her veins like poison, making every nerve in her body feel raw. It hurt that she and Prometheus weren’t two parts of a whole, but what cut her to the core was that he’d lost the one he was destined for. If Pherusa’s life had no meaning without him, how did he feel with half his soul torn away?
She reached for his hand and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”
His gaze was startled, rather than pained, when he met hers. “Klymene has been but a memory since—”
Eros snapped his fingers. “Children. You’re missing the point.”
“Stop calling me a child, you infant,” Prometheus growled. “I’m eternal. You are but a speck in history.”
Eros buffed his fingernails on his very short loincloth, blew on them, and studied them, an infuriating smirk in place. “Yet I’m much more relevant than you, old man.”
The tension in Prometheus’ body warned of violence.
Pherusa cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Let him finish.”
“I know what he’ll say.”
“I don’t, and I want to hear it.”
The feather-light touch of her thumb on his lips seemed to placate him. His shoulders relaxed, and he clasped her hand so he could lay a kiss on the inside of her palm. “It’s your choice,” he said against her skin.
