by S. L. Stacy
The hand cupping my chin falls. “You hesitated.”
“I trust you.” I say it with more certainty this time. “It’s just…I feel like that’s the kind of thing you ask someone just before you’re about to do something that’s going to make them question that trust.”
“I just need you to know that you can trust me.” This time, Dolos clasps both sides of my face, the pressure of his long, smooth fingers gentle but insistent. “No matter what happens, Carly. We have to trust each other.”
I laugh nervously. “I get it. Okay. I trust you, you trust me.” Lowering one of his hands, I entwine my fingers through his, squeezing. “If something’s bothering you, you know you can tell me about it too, right?”
Nodding, he opens his mouth, then hesitates. Seeming to think better of whatever he was about to say, he asks playfully, “Do you know what the cure for bad dreams is?”
Although I’m a little disappointed he’s changed the subject, I decide to let it go for now. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. “I think I have a pretty good id—”
Before I can finish the sentence, he leans in for a long, deep kiss that pushes out my concerns and any lingering vestiges of the bad dream. His mouth works its way down my body, over each breast and across my stomach. I writhe in pleasure against its thorough exploration, running my fingertips through his fine, dark hair. He presses a kiss on my inner thigh, lips inching closer to the patch of silky hair between my legs. My hands freeze in his hair, the rest of my body going still. Dolos looks up at me from between my legs, a questioning arch to his eyebrows.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Um…well…” he stammers, looking as awkward as I feel. “You really don’t know?”
“I mean, I know,” I amend quickly, “it’s just I’ve never done…that before.”
“Oh. Well, there’s a first time for everything.” His green eyes flash wickedly. “That is…if you want me to.”
Sprawled naked on the bed, legs spread open before him, I feel a little exposed, although not nearly as vulnerable as I would have thought. At the same time, I feel beautiful and desirable, even rather powerful, knowing what kind of effect I have on him—knowing that he wants to please me.
I let myself sink into the bed, running my tongue along my lower lip in anticipation. Excitement flutters in my lower abdomen, a small fire of pleasure already starting to build. “Yes. I want you to.”
Against his mouth, I find my release—then for a second time when he climbs back on top of me, unifying our bodies once again. Later, we lay wrapped in each other’s arms, catching our breath, so intertwined I don’t know where he ends and I begin.
“Now that you’re here,” I tell him, shifting my head to look up into his face, “we can do something fun. I mean, I know you have to lie low, but we can be discreet. I’m thinking dinner and a movie—you know, like normal couples do.”
Dolos laughs, sounding kind of distant when he says, “You have wings, and I’m from another world. I don’t think there’s anything normal about us.”
“Even so. Dinner and a movie. I want to see Zac Efron’s new movie.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“I know,” I say, smiling with satisfaction. Any other guy would have groaned at the prospect, but I’ll leave Dolos in blissful ignorance, at least for now. I turn my head back into the pillow, eyelids growing heavy. I think about my sister-birds dozing in their cages downstairs—about the antidote, the rift in the woods, Siobhan trapped in Pandora. Tonight was an escape from all of that, but tomorrow it will be back to reality. I have to get Dolos caught up to speed, but it will be good to have the help. With his own set of worries, I’m not sure there’s a lot he’ll be able to do, but there might be something. Maybe he can even convince his sister to help. She owes us, too. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”
I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until Dolos assures me, “It will.”
“Before winter,” I continue drowsily as I start drifting off to sleep. “So we can go to formal together. We’re having it at the Willow this year.” I picture myself ensconced in Dolos’s arms, swaying to soft orchestra music in a darkened ballroom, the train of my dress rippling over the floor as we dance, around and around, never getting tired, never slowing down. In the present, I nestle my cheek against his shoulder. He tightens his embrace around me in response.
“I love you,” I whisper before sleep pulls me under. My answer is the insistent tap of rain against glass, washing away my worries, my insecurities. Maybe if I wasn’t so relaxed, so content, I would have been more concerned by his lack of reply. I said it so quietly, he probably didn’t hear me, anyway.
Chapter 8
The next morning, I wake up to the orange glow of sunshine pressing on my eyelids. I let out a contented breath, not wanting to leave the comfort of my bed—or my lover’s arms—to go to class. Dolos and I drifted apart at some point during the night, so I inch over, trying to close the gap. Without opening my eyes, I reach for him, yearning for the feel of his silky hair between my fingers, of his smooth skin against mine. When my hands come up empty, I open one eye, then the other. I sit up in bed, clutching the sheet to my chest.
Dolos’s side of the bed is empty.
Heart sinking, I look around the bed, lifting up the pillow, then the sheet—searching for a note that isn’t there. Last night’s storm may have cleared, but this morning there’s a tempest of hurt, fear and rage brewing inside of me. Taking a deep breath, I rearrange the sheet around me, smoothing out the wrinkles with my hands again and again. I let my breath whistle out, slowly. There’s no need to panic, I remind myself. He couldn’t stay here—he had to go. Except for me, he doesn’t know who he can trust right now—even the Elder Council was going to turn on him and his sister. The council our own house mother is on, whose daughter is our president, my roommate…and never came back last night, I realize, looking over at Victoria’s still empty bed. Well, that was probably for the best.
I close my eyes and continue to take deep, even breaths to calm myself down. Maybe he’ll call me later—wait, no, I don’t think he has a cell phone. Well, maybe he’ll try to get in touch with me some other way. He’s keeping a low profile, but he left the rose before. Maybe he left another one. Another scan of the room doesn’t turn up any other roses except the original, sitting in its vase on my desk, but he could have left one downstairs. Or on the doorstep, to be funny.
I jump when someone slides their key card into the lock. “Well, I feel like shit this morning,” Victoria says as she comes in. “I don’t know what I was thinking last night…whoa!” she cries, noticing me sitting in my bed with the sheet wrapped around me. She immediately shields her eyes. “Are you sleeping naked now?”
“No, I…can you just give me a minute?” I ask her, relieved that my voice is only trembling slightly.
“No problem,” she says, disappearing back out of the door, shutting it behind her. I get up and raid my closet, slipping into a short-sleeved, cranberry red dress. I open the door to let Victoria know she can come back inside. A few minutes later, I hear footsteps climbing the stairs, and she returns with a mug of coffee in hand.
“Did you happen to see a rose downstairs or outside?” I ask her casually.
“Nope,” she says, plopping down in her desk chair. She casts me a miserable look over the mug. “Why?”
“It’s nothing. You don’t look so good,” I say quickly to change the subject. “No offense.”
“None taken. My head feels like it’s going to fall off.”
“Olympians get hangovers?” I ask her, busying myself picking up my pajamas from last night and throwing them in the hamper. Then, I take much longer than necessary trying to decide what shoes to wear today.
“We do after three—well, four glasses of Olympian wine and half a bottle of whiskey.” I hear her take a slurp of coffee. “God, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Regretting the one st
and night?” Deciding on a pair of brown ankle boots, I sit down to pull them on.
“Nope. No regrets there. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink, though. I haven’t been this hungover since…I can’t even remember when. But enough about me.” She eyes me suspiciously. “What happened last night? Did you and Alec get back together?”
I shake my head. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”
Another sip of coffee, then, “You slept with Dolos.” It’s not a question.
“You’re doing that little mind-reading thingy right now, aren’t you?” I glare at her. The Olympians can pick up on our thoughts sometimes, although they’re supposed to be able to control it. “You promised you wouldn’t use that on us!”
“I’m not, actually,” she assures me. “You just look really guilty.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed, I look down at my hands, which I’ve apparently been wringing nervously in my lap for the last few minutes. I pull them apart, crossing my arms. “Are you mad?”
“Why would I be mad? It’s your life. But next time you and your new boyfriend decide to get frisky, at least put a sock on the door or something. I don’t want to walk in and see…things.” She cringes at the thought of whatever “things” she’s imagining.
I shrug, not in a playful mood. “I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend considering he left before I woke up this morning.”
“He…he what?” Victoria exclaims, shooting out of the chair. The abrupt motion makes her coffee roll dangerously close to the rim of the cup. “That jackass!”
“I mean…maybe he just wanted to leave before you got back, or maybe he had something he had to do,” I say, remembering his vague story about the favor for his friend. “Maybe there was something urgent—maybe something happened to Apate.”
“That’s a lot of maybes,” Victoria says quietly.
“He might come back later. Or get in touch with me…in some way.”
“He could have left you a note.”
“I know.” I sniffle, swiping at a tear running down my cheek. “I don’t know what happened. He told me he was sorry—that he wanted to try. I believed him. Never for a second did I believe he would do this to me. God, I’m such an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. And maybe you’re right. Maybe he’ll be in touch later.” Victoria sits back down, studying me with worried eyes.
“Or maybe I should just call this what it was—a hook up. I basically told him that I was okay if last night was a one-time only thing.”
“I’m really sorry, Carly.”
“He even tried to slow things down,” I continue, running through the events of last night in my head again—every touch, every look, every word. “But I told him I wanted to. He probably just figured I was an easy lay—”
“Carly—”
“Or maybe it was something I said. I was going on and on about going on dates and dinner and sorority formals. He probably got freaked out. Why did I have to say all of that? I should have just kept my stupid, fudging mouth shut.” The waterworks have started, the storm inside of me expanding uncontrollably, spilling out through my eyes, showering my face with tears.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Victoria tries to console me.
“I even told him I loved him,” I sob. I grab a tissue to dry my face, but I can’t dab fast enough. “And you know what he said? Nothing. I thought maybe he didn’t hear me, but I’m sure he did. He just—ow!” I cry out. Absorbed in my misery, I hadn’t noticed Victoria get out of her chair and walk over until I felt the sting of her hand across my cheek.
“Get ahold of yourself!” she shouts at me.
I bring a stunned hand to my still burning cheek. “You…you slapped me! What the heck, Victoria?”
“I…I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” she admits, backing away. “But you really need to pull yourself together. There might be more going on here than you realize. His leaving might not have had anything to do with you or what you said. We just don’t know right now. But even if it did…so what, Carly? Then he’s a jerk, and he doesn’t deserve another second of your tears.”
I nod, grabbing another tissue. The tears have stopped, at least for now, Victoria’s slap having scared them back into my tear ducts. I’m grateful for that, despite the residual sting.
“I know how we can get your mind off of it,” Victoria says, perching on the edge of her desk. “I want to scope out the rift in the woods again this morning. Maybe we can even try to close it. What do you say?”
“Sorry. I can’t. I have to finish my homework, then go to class,” I tell her, checking my phone for the time. “I’d skip, but I really can’t afford to miss any more.”
“It can wait until this afternoon, then.”
“I have to go tutor Dion’s brothers, remember?”
Victoria groans. “Fine. I guess I’ll just go by myself. I’m meeting up with Rae later today, but I figure afterward we can see Dionysus’s friend about the antidote. Unless you’re busy then, too,” she add in a mocking tone.
I just gape at her. “You’re seeing her again?”
“Hey, don’t judge me. I didn’t judge you about your hook up last night.”
“I don’t know about that. I definitely sensed a judge-y vibe coming from you. But okay,” I sigh, giving in. “We can meet up after your date.”
“‘Date’ is a rather strong term, but sounds like a plan. Okay. I just need the ritual book,” she mutters to herself, scooping it up from the desk, “and the stones…and then I’ll be off.” She whisks out into the hall and goes downstairs, presumably to the guest bedroom—Farrah’s room—where we keep the Guardian Stones hidden. Assuming Farrah didn’t change their hiding place after a few of us snooped through her stuff. I gather everything I’ll need for the day and follow Victoria down a few minutes later.
“Carly.” Victoria’s panicked voice issues from Farrah’s bedroom just as I’m coming down the stairs. “Please tell me you have the stones.”
“What?” I ask, walking up to the doorway. Victoria is madly going through Farrah’s closet, tossing its contents onto the bed and floor. “Why would I have them?”
“I don’t know. I was just hoping you did because they’re not here.”
“They’re not? How could they not be there? Maybe Farrah and Athena took the stones with them.”
“I don’t think so. They wouldn’t take a risk like that.” Giving up her search, she flops down on Farrah’s bed, putting her head in her hands. “Carly, do you think…” She trails off, biting her lip to avoid finishing the thought.
“You think Dolos took them,” I realize. This time, there’s no hurricane of emotions—no panic or tears. Just a numbness spreading from my core outward until I can’t feel my fingers or toes—until I can’t feel anything anymore.
“No. No, I didn’t say that. It could have been—”
“It was him.” Of this, I’m certain. He betrayed us. He betrayed me. “He mentioned this friend he had to do a favor for. Said he needed to get something for this person. He didn’t say what or who, but it had to be the stones.”
“Eric,” Victoria says with certainty. “We’re low on numbers right now, compromised, and he’s taking advantage of it. Dammit”—she shakes her head, auburn hair flaring out around her like a wave of fire—“we have to get those stones back. And get the antidote. Tonight. Before Eric does…whatever else he’s planning to do.”
***
Maybe it’s not what it looks like, I tell myself as I walk up to the Delta Iota Kappa house. Maybe Dolos didn’t give Eric the stones. Maybe he needed them for something else. Or maybe he didn’t take them at all. Maybe someone else broke into the house last night and took them while we were otherwise engaged. Or Farrah could have hidden them somewhere else without telling Victoria. I still think she and Athena could have taken them on their trip to Headquarters.
Or maybe I’m the world’s biggest chump, I think as I ring the doorbell. This time, Dionysus himself opens the d
oor, wearing Hawaiian print shorts and a tank top that reads: “I love my DIK.”
“Hey nerd,” he says, stepping out of the way to let me in. “Welcome back.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, coming inside. He shuts the door behind me. “Nice shirt, by the way. Very classy.”
“What?” he asks innocently. “I love my Delta Iota Kappa. Your mind’s in the gutter.”
“Whatever. So, where’s my first victim?” I wonder, rubbing my hands together deviously.
Dionysus motions me forward. “Kitchen.”
In the kitchen, a young man sits at the table, laptop open, clicking his pen as he stares at a page of hastily written notes. His long brown hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and he has a smattering of freckles on his nose and cheeks.
“Five,” Dionysus calls over, prompting the boy to look up at me, “you remember Carly.” It’s only after he says it that I recognize him as the guard from the party last night “She’s our new house tutor. Carly, meet Pledge Number Five.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Smiling sheepishly, he lays down the pen so that he can shake my hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“You, too. I almost didn’t recognize you without your toga on.” I thought a joke might reassure him, but he turns back to his notes, blushing. I give Dionysus what I hope is a reprimanding look. “You couldn’t give your pledges better nicknames?”
He shakes his head as if I’m totally missing the point. “They have to earn their house nicknames. Anyway, Five here is studying some…computer thing. I’ll leave you to it.” He claps us both on the shoulders before going back out into the hall.
I sit down beside Five. “He’s gone. You can tell me your real name now.”
“Five is fine,” he says rather robotically. “Within these walls, I am only Pledge Number Five.”
“Okay, then,” I sigh, feeling a little uncomfortable. Wanting desperately to move on, I peer over at his notes. “What are you working on?”
“I have to write this program for my Java class,” he says. “We’re moving at a really fast pace. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start.” He shifts his notebook toward me so that I can read the prompt:
