by E. B. Black
The whole thing made her feel so vulnerable, too. He had never seen her real body. He'd stroked her scales, but that wasn't the same thing. What if he didn't like what he saw?
More than anything she wished he could look at the real her and fall in love all over again, but doubted it would go that way.
He planted a kiss on her lips, warming her body and sending butterflies into her lower abdomen. She struggled to think straight as she imagined him filling her up again between her thighs.
He picked her up in his arms, exercising his power to make her feel beautiful and dainty where she usually felt repulsive. He carried her with such ease that it was as if she weighed only as much as a feather.
He set her down in front of the full-length silver mirror in the room. He pressed his body against her back and nuzzled her neck with his lips. She ran her hands through his soft hair as the strength of his muscles aroused her.
He nibbled on her ear and bliss forced her to close her eyes and stop gazing at his glorious form. She could see all of him because she was invisible. It looked as if he was kissing the air.
He grabbed the helmet that rested on top of her head and slowly peeled it off. She wanted to fight him, but was paralyzed by her lust.
"Open your eyes." His breath in her ear was warm and made her wet.
The curvy body of the old her greeted her in the mirror, this time not pregnant. He stroked her breasts and between her thighs. Her blue eyes widened as she was overtaken by him. His caresses grew more fervent as their eyes met in the mirror.
"Look at you," he murmured. "No one else can compare."
She blushed, even though his words stung. Her snakes whirled around their heads and she pretended that she had the same silky blonde hair as before and it was just blowing slightly in the breeze. It made her wonder whether he had ever truly made love to the real her.
She covered his eyes and turned around. She forced him to face the wall. She grabbed a pillowcase from the bed and placed it on his head. He laughed, trying to pull it off. She held it down.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Compromising," she whispered. "I won't wear my helmet this time, but you can't watch."
She lifted the pillowcase lightly, so she could take his lips in hers before he could protest. His lips were so soft against hers that she envied them, wishing she could be soft all over as they were. She grabbed his length and he moaned, too enraptured to argue.
"Next time, we'll do it my way," Perseus said.
She whirled him around and pinned him down on the bed. She kissed up and down his chest. She wondered what Perseus thought of when he made love to her. She remembered the look of awe on his face as he met her eyes in the mirror. Suddenly, she wasn't jealous of Andromeda, but of her old self. That girl had captured Perseus' attention and it was who he probably imagined when he made love to her. It wasn't the real her-it was almost as if he was cheating.
She positioned herself on top of him, knowing she should pull away. She closed her eyes as their bodies became one. Maybe she could find some way to reverse the curse, and then she'd be the woman he truly loved.
Their bodies grew sweaty as they thrust against each other. Medusa loved the physical strain; it let her work out her frustrations without having to speak them out loud. Her body convulsed in pleasure, forcing the thoughts out of her head. Perseus cried out, barely able to contain his enjoyment. His sexy moans fueled her desire and soon she was taken over the edge. They both climaxed and she collapsed on top of him.
Perseus reached over where they dropped the invisibility helmet on the bed and helped her place it on her head. He didn't seem tired. His eyes were wide with excitement as he pulled off the pillowcase.
He wandered to the endless wallet. Medusa watched him from the bed. He pulled out a pencil and paper. He sat next to her and started to sketch across the page.
Medusa stroked his thigh. He was still nude. "What are you doing?"
"Putting my heart down on paper, so I'll never forget this moment."
Medusa's heart lurched. "I didn't know you could draw."
Perseus laughed. "We're Greeks. Isn't it my second job to capture the beauty and goodness of the world through art?"
"What are you drawing?" Medusa whispered. For some reason she felt nervous, but she wasn't sure why.
"You'll see."
His brow furrowed and Medusa contented herself with watching him. She had no idea how much time had passed.
His pencil stroked across the page with a flourish and a smile spread across his face. "It's not perfect, but do you want a look?"
"Yes." More than anything she wanted to see into his heart and understand his thoughts better.
He spun the paper around. "It's a picture of you."
It was the head of the beautiful woman in the mirror, the one he thought he made love to. Medusa frowned, but tried to keep the sorrow out of her voice. "It's wonderful."
This was proof. He didn't love the true her and probably never could. She wondered how much time she had left until she lost him.
Chapter 15
The castle filled with guests as people arrived all night. The inns were full. It became so crowded that the lower class were forced to sleep in the ballroom on hay. The rotating sleeping arrangements and loud greetings made too much noise to rest.
Perseus paced. He wasn't helping Medusa get any shut-eye either. His eyebrows scrunched together and he mumbled to himself. She wondered what he was stressing about.
She wrapped her arms around him. "You know that you don't have to compete in the Games if you don't want to, right?"
"It's impolite not to accept an invitation."
Medusa shook her head. "They have plenty of people competing already. No one will notice or care if you don't participate."
"I have given my word; I can't back out now, but I have a bad feeling about it."
Medusa stroked Perseus' cheek lovingly. "Well, then don't do it."
Perseus sighed. "If it were only that easy. I can't fail them."
Medusa frowned, realizing that Perseus spent too much time trying to prove himself. When he needed help rescuing his mother, he hadn't asked the gods-they had offered it. When he saw Andromeda in danger, he rescued her and took care of her when others might have abandoned her. He volunteered to compete in the Olympic Games just because someone suggested it. Most of all, when he found a lonely cursed woman-Medusa-he fell in love with her and offered to fight the gods in order to save her.
He hadn't been frightened by Phineas' threats or the monsters of the underworld like a normal person-he was afraid of not living up to his own high expectations.
Medusa stroked his soft brown curls. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." His voice was short and sharp. He wasn't fine. "I just need to win tomorrow."
"You've already proved yourself to a lot of people," Medusa said. "Both Andromeda and I think of you as a hero."
"It's not enough."
She grasped Perseus by the shoulder to comfort him, but he whirled around, the muscles in his face tightened as if he was prepared to fight. He relaxed. "I'm sorry. I'm on edge."
Perseus dropped to the ground and did a few push-ups.
"Why are you doing that?" Medusa asked.
"I'm training."
Medusa crossed her arms. "I doubt it will make much difference. Sleep will do you more good."
He paused and sat up, glaring at her. "You do realize that I will be up against younger men who have been training for years in hopes of winning this event."
"No one expects you to do anything but give your best effort."
Perseus' eyes flashed. "You don't get it, do you? All the things I've accomplished thus far are lies. People think I killed you, but the truth is, you're living with me and invisible. You're the one who saved Andromeda, not me. You'll probably be the one to rescue my mother because I can't fight all King Polydectes' guards by myself.
"I've spent my whole life being told that the one th
ing the gods predicted about me was that I would betray and murder someone in my family." His voice broke. "I want to be an honorable man and for everyone to see that I could never harm someone for selfish reasons. This is one of the few opportunities I have to prove on my own that I am strong."
"They're just games." Medusa knew her words were falling on deaf ears.
"Maybe to you." Perseus returned to his push-ups. "To me, they're proof of whether or not I have what it takes to be a man that would make my grandfather proud."
He paced the room and did sit-ups the whole night while Medusa watched silently from the corner.
*** *** ***
The stadium was filled the next day. Andromeda had been disappointed she couldn't come along, but Carius' sisters seemed like the type of young women she'd have a lot in common with. Medusa was happy that she could fly and didn't need a seat or she may not have been able to watch at all.
A few kings and princes who had traveled far sat in a box seat with the king of Larissa. She memorized their faces, so Perseus could introduce Andromeda to some of them later. Andromeda had all the advantage in the world to marry a handsome, rich man and get out of Medusa's life. She just needed a push.
Medusa hated to admit it, but she actually had quite a bit in common with Andromeda. They both refused to settle for anything less than love and their hearts were not easily won over–in addition to the whole being punished by the gods because of what their mother's had done thing. Medusa would help her find someone that was satisfactory. She had no reason to resent Andromeda when she was about to get rid of her.
Wrestlers lined up and practiced in the ring, while the crowd cheered. They were naked, but Medusa had eyes only for Perseus. His muscles glistened from the olive oil they had rubbed over him. His dark eyes were narrowed in determination and his skin was tan from all the traveling they'd done. He was the most beautiful one there.
Medusa was starving. In fact, she had felt more hungry than usual lately, while at the same time nauseous. The slaves had served breakfast in the dining hall, but vegetables weren't part of the morning spread.
A man and his son were munching from a satchel of vegetables. She waited until they turned and then stole a few from inside. Most of them were carrots, which were too sweet for her taste.
Medusa watched the people more than she watched the wrestling. The fathers and sons reminded her of the family she left behind. She had been so young with a lot of potential in front of her and now it was gone.
She didn't pay close attention to what happened in front until the long jump, javelin throw, and discus throw came up. Perseus was competing in those. She winced as she saw a discus sail. His competitors were strong! She could still throw farther than them, but was pretty sure after Perseus' speech last night that he would resent her for doing so.
When Perseus' turn came, storm clouds formed in the distance. The sky had been so bright, but now the sun was dimming. The sound of thunder cracked across the arena. Medusa expected some of the children to squeal in terror, but no one reacted. They didn't seem at all concerned about the wind blowing so hard it was carrying the storm clouds towards them at a faster rate than what seemed possible. The Olympics went on no matter what.
Having lived in an arid desert for far too long, Medusa had missed the rain. She remembered lush Athens and how everything smelled mustier right after a storm. The smell signaled the beginning of new life, but something about this storm was ominous. Medusa's heart pounded.
Perseus' biceps flexed as he stretched his arm back to launch the discus. It fell a foot short of the person with the top score. Sweat and perspiration was heavy on Perseus' brow, but everyone cheered. He had two more chances to win.
She floated over the box where the kings sat. They had the best view. A man with a wrinkled face and white hair shifted the golden crown on his head. A servant dusted his silk robes.
"Is that better, Acrisus?" the servant asked.
The name was familiar-so was something about his dark brown eyes and the way his hair curled.
That's when it hit her. This man was Perseus' grandfather.
Medusa wasn't sure whether she felt overjoyed or worried. On one hand, this gave Perseus the opportunity to reconcile with his family. Maybe he could work through some of the issues he had been struggling with earlier. Acrisus didn't have anyone who looked as though they were related to him around. He was probably lonely.
On the other hand, his grandfather might view Perseus as a threat still, especially now that he was a man and could slit the old man's throat easily. Perseus could wind up heartbroken again.
Medusa would have to decide after the Games whether she should tell him that his grandfather was there or protect him from being hurt again. She chewed her lip. It was a tough decision.
The wind started to pick up causing Medusa to struggle not to fly crookedly. Droplets from the sky landed on her, but no one seemed wet except her. Their hair wasn't blowing, yet the wind was strong enough to signal the start of a hurricane.
She wished she could talk to Perseus about what was going on. Maybe this was the wrath of the gods or something else supernatural chasing them. Had the gods figured out the truth and it was time for their punishment? Was it a big enough deal for her to ruin his concentration and try to whisper to him in the middle of the game? She decided it was probably better that she wait and see what would happen and only alarm him if it turned out to be an emergency. Besides, she couldn't fly well enough to keep from knocking him over while she floated next to him.
Perseus swung his arm and the second discus flew. This one was an inch behind the record holder. The crowd gasped, on the edge of their seats as he prepared to throw the third one. He had a chance at winning!
Medusa coughed, wondering why no one else was having difficulty breathing. The wind had kicked excess dust into the air.
Perseus took a few practice swings. Some children stood from their seats to get a better view.
Whatever was happening seemed to only be coming for Medusa. Maybe it was better that the gods got their wrath over with. They'd likely whisk her away into the skies and Perseus would never know. She'd stop being a nuisance in his life; she'd tell the gods she'd kidnapped him, so Perseus wouldn't get into trouble.
The dust clouds thickened and took shape. Black horses galloped around the arena, whinnying as if they were chased. They kicked their legs as they ran through the crowds. Their manes flew behind them and their hoofs beat as loudly as the thunder cracked.
They looked as if they were going to run over and kill everyone in the stadium. Their piercing white eyes screamed death, but no one ran for cover and they avoided trampling even the smallest children.
Their purpose wasn't to massacre a bunch of people. Something else, written in the stars long ago, was happening.
As soon as these thoughts entered Medusa's mind, she saw the Fates. She had never seen them in Hades, even though she knew they dwelled in a secret passage there like the Grey Sisters. They only showed their faces when something important was about to happen.
One of them was old and hunched over. She carefully measured yarn and arranged where each bit of it would lie on a loom.
A young woman sat next to her, not knowing what she was going to make, but weaving each strand together until they formed pictures of the great events of humanity. Medusa saw the games depicted on it. Wrestlers from earlier and discus throwers looked real enough to leap off the cloth. Medusa swore she could taste the food being drawn upon it and smell the battles that occurred over it. Amazed, she watched the woman weave the fabric of life.
The last Fate was a young girl who shook as her big eyes widened. She approached the two women, stroking one of the threads lovingly. She held a pair of scissors in her hands.
As sickly and pale as the little girl looked, she was the most terrifying Fate of all. The other two created and wrote life. She was the one who ended it. She destroyed young men and old. She toppled whole kingdoms if she wanted to.
It took only one snip.
Someone's life was about to end. The horses marched around Perseus, until he was covered in a tornado of dust. Medusa's heart dropped. The life that was about to end could be his. She wouldn't allow that to happen. She'd throw herself in front of him if she needed to. Her lover couldn't die!
Perseus swung his arm back, ready to throw the last discus. How could the gods be so cruel? Was it because they had figured out their plan all along to destroy them? Were they killing Perseus because he had disobeyed them?
Medusa flew towards Perseus as he released the discus. Everyone cheered so wildly that no one heard her scream.
The young Fate licked her lips as she opened the scissors, positioning their blades over the taut string. Medusa wasn't going to make it in time.
The discus was carried in the air by the supernatural wind. It flew across the back of the running horses and away from Perseus. The discus sailed far past the farthest mark. He'd won! But people scattered as the discus made its way towards the crowd. It clunked Acrisus in the head. He passed out as blood gushed from him.
Medusa closed her eyes and heard a snip, a sound louder than the crunch the discus made when it came into contact with Acrisus' skull. He was dead.
A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Perseus killed his grandfather in his attempt to prove him wrong. He ran towards him and knelt in front of the man he didn't recognize as onlookers stared. He asked who the man was. They told him.
Medusa had never heard even a tortured animal shriek that way. Perseus yanked his hair and fled the stadium.
Medusa flew after him. Andromeda had abandoned Carius' sisters and was waiting for Perseus outside the stadium. He collapsed at her feet. He looked down at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. The disgust in his eyes was strong as if he thought he did the whole thing on purpose.
Andromeda stroked his arm and whispered. "I'm so sorry. Whatever happened, it's okay."
Medusa wished she could do the same thing, but was happy that at least one person was there to hold him. He shoved her. "This is exactly why you shouldn't want to be with a guy like me. You are too blinded by lust to realize that these are the kinds of horrible things that happen to the people I know. I killed my grandfather and you're next!"
