Ambrosia Lane 1-3: Saranna DeWylde

by Desperate Housewives of Olympus

  “It does my heart good to see you smile, Vivienne. If I’d known that was all it took, I’d have dragged him kicking and screaming years ago.”

  “Everything happens in its own time.” Yes, she admitted again, she felt so much wiser now that she wasn’t wearing her mantle of guilt.

  “It does.” He nodded. “And I need to speak to Morgan about my vows. I can’t be a member of her personal guard, Vivienne.”

  “I should hope not.” Jealousy flared, but she tamped it down.

  “Was that a spark of jealousy, my Lady?” Hector grinned.

  “No,” she lied.

  His grin turned into a smirk. “Oh, I think it might be.”

  “Fine. I am. I’m jealous.” Today seemed to be the day for admissions, so why stop with her guilt, and her fear? What about the good things, too? Not that jealousy was a good thing, but this flirtation with Hector was.

  Since she’d acknowledged her secret feelings for Arthur, they’d been singed by the sunlight and they blackened and withered to ash. They’d never been all she made them out to be and it had been a kind of release for her to realize that.

  He arched a brow. “What shall we do about that, Vivienne?”

  “Nothing at all. I would prefer to continue on as we have been.” She said it lightly, but she meant it.

  “Would you?” he asked, pulling her close against him. “Really? Or are you just afraid of what it means that you’re no longer Lady of the Lake?”

  His tone wasn’t accusatory. Vivienne knew that he was trying to help her. So rather than be offended, or upset, she smiled. “Really. And if you want to wait to be sure that I’m sure, I understand. It’s not like we don’t have the rest of eternity.” She touched his hand. “But we’ve both waited a long time to be happy already. I trusted you, trusted someone else’s magick because you said it was okay. And it was. So now, I’d like it if you’d trust me.”

  “I always trust you, Vivienne. I’d be yours even if you just wanted to use me as a shield against the world. That’s all I’ve ever known. That’s my purpose.”

  “Maybe now, instead of being my shield, you could just love me?”

  “I do, Vivienne.”

  For the first time in centuries, all was finally right with Vivienne du Lac, Former Lady of the Lake.

  26

  ARTEMIS

  A rtemis wanted to go home.

  This vacation wasn’t at all what she’d signed up for.

  Everything hurt. Her legs, her arms, her thighs.

  Her heart.

  Mordred was right. She was feeling some strange movement in her chest and at first, she was sure she’d caught some kind of strange parasite. In a sense, she guessed that she had, but she knew the cure.

  Artemis knew that distance would be the only thing that would kill this bug.

  Or Aphrodite.

  It wasn’t love yet, but it would be, and Artemis just couldn’t afford that. Mordred was her first. How dumb would it be to latch on to the first guy she let under her toga? Especially since he was like some carnival ride.

  How long until he was bored with her charms? How long until the curse faded?

  How long until he left her begging her best friend on her knees to rip her heart out of her chest like Hades had done when he released Persephone?

  It was unacceptable.

  She needed to get back to the house to pack.

  Or screw it, she could just leave her stuff here. She didn’t need it. She might miss the comb Poseidon had given her for her five-hundredth birthday, but she could get another.

  “Have you had enough, then?” Mordred asked lazily when she squirmed away from him.

  “Yes.” No. She’d never get enough of him and that was the problem.

  “Well, I do hope you’ll leave me a good review on Yelp.” He stood and used his magick to dress himself. “Arthur and I have a contest of sorts.”

  It seemed once it was consummated, the curse was broken. Artemis had to admit that there was some part of her that wanted him cursed. It made her feel safe. Like a warm wading pool that had been secluded from a turbulent, deep sea. If he loved her, he couldn’t hurt her.

  But here he was talking about what had happened between them like it was nothing more than a business transaction.

  Which is what you wanted, dummy. Don’t go complaining now.

  Yes, it was exactly what she wanted. Artemis herself had told him no feelings.

  “That’s it, then?” she said in a clipped tone.

  He paused and looked over at her. “That’s what you wanted, right? You said you’d had enough. I assume I’m dismissed, Oh Goddess of the Hunt.”

  She swallowed hard. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. No matter what she’d said. “Can we…”

  “Can we do it again? If you like. You’re on vacation and I am, after all, just a tourist attraction.” He said this with no rancor, but his words were sharp nonetheless.

  “No. Can we…talk?” She bit her lip. “Is that hopelessly stupid and virginal of me?” Artemis propped herself up on her elbow to look at him.

  The hard lines of his face softened. Well, as soft as something chiseled from marble could be. “Maybe, a little. But if you want to talk, we can talk. I don’t have any plans.” He eased back down into the grass, elbows propped on his knees.

  “You’re supposed to say it’s not stupid at all,” she teased, feeling better that whatever had been between them before was back.

  “How bored would we all be if I did everything I was supposed to do?”

  “There is that,” she acquiesced. “So how many women have you slept with?”

  “Direct, aren’t you?” He sounded bored, but she knew she was deflecting.

  “We had this part of the discussion already. You already know that while I like the hunt and the chase, I like to be honest too. If you don’t want to answer, it’s not like I can make you. You could just say, ‘fuck off, Artie’ and that’s what I’d do. I’d fuck off.”

  “Artie? I would never in a million years say ‘fuck off, Artie.’” He made a face. “Artie is a fat garbage man from Omaha. You are the Goddess of the Hunt. You are Artemis.” He snorted. “Artie.” He said it again like it left a foul taste in his mouth.

  It made her giggle. His incredulity, his palpable disgust, it was so out of place on his face that it tickled her.

  “That’s what Aphrodite has called me since I was born. Didn’t you have a nickname?”

  “Can you imagine my mother, the wicked witch, calling me anything but Mordred?” A black brow arched in query.

  Artemis cocked her head to the side, studying him. “I don’t know. Maybe. She was rather gentle with Lancelot.”

  “She’s not grooming him to destroy a kingdom.”

  “No, it seems like he did that on his own.” Artemis smiled. “I think I can see it. I bet you were her little crabapple or something equally endearing.”

  “She called me Little Prince. As if there were some danger of me forgetting I was the son of a king.” His tone had dark undercurrents, but he wasn’t sour.

  “Maybe she didn’t want you to forget that you are a son of Avalon. Like Lance. Isn’t he a prince of sorts as well?”

  “I’d rather not discuss him.”

  “Okay then, back to how many women you’ve had.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “I just want to know.” Why was he being so difficult? It wasn’t like a state secret or anything.

  “And I ask again, why? You’re a goddess, it’s not like you can get an STD.”

  “Why is that the first place your brain goes?” She scowled. “Do you… I mean…” They hadn’t discussed protection.

  “No. I do not.” He laughed.

  “Then why won’t you tell me? You know my brother is a total manwhore. It’s not like you’re going to shock me or anything.”

  “I don’t know, okay?” He said this like he was confessing some grievous sin.

  “Oh.” She pursed her
lips. Artemis had never stopped to wonder how he felt about his position on Avalon. She’d thought he was a manwhore and proud of it—most men would be. But century after century…

  And here she was treating him the same way.

  “Conversation killer right there, isn’t it?” He leaned back in the grass and looked up at the sky.

  “So, not knowing, it bothers you?” As soon as she spoke, she felt like an even bigger, steamier piece of minotaur crap. Why couldn’t she just leave it alone? It was like kicking a dead Pegasus.

  “Sometimes.” He sighed. “Don’t mistake me, I’m not having a pity Mordred party. I know what I am. I know what I’m good for. My place in the world. I have it better than some. Worse than others.”

  “I’m sorry about the curse. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “Why not?” It was his turn to roll over and study her.

  “Because making you love me would be wrong.” She wondered how he didn’t see that.

  He laughed. “I’d have kissed you anyway, Artemis. I wanted you from the moment I saw you. Curse be damned.”

  “But—”

  “But what? After what I did to Circe and Medusa, I probably have it coming anyway. It’s my turn to suffer. We all have them. Just like you broke my heart, someone will break yours. It happens. And we survive.”

  Artemis knew plenty of stories where the heartbroken hadn’t survived. “Not everyone.”

  “Then this life wasn’t for them anyway. Something my mother always told me is you can’t appreciate the beauty of the stars without the darkness of night. Night was born to be black and it is what it is. It doesn’t apologize, instead the stars burn bright in its arms.”

  She smiled, thinking of Nyx. Of all that great power she held within her, but her quiet, gentle nature. She’d said something similar once about her son Thanatos—Death. “So you’re saying that you’re the dark and Camelot was a star?”

  “That’s how my mother made it okay.”

  “Made what okay?” She asked, twirling a dandelion between her fingertips.

  “Me.”

  His answer tore at her. He was much nobler a creature than she’d ever imagined. Thanatos wore his darkness like a cloak, and it looked good on him. Hades burned with dark poetry like Byron, but Mordred—

  He was temptation and sin, an irresistible combination for any goddess worth her margarita salt. Mordred LeFay was the living, breathing epitome of a bad boy. He didn’t know any other way to exist. She was screwed—oh so horribly screwed. In fact, she was fucked. Straight up fucked. Artemis had a weakness for the misunderstood bad boy, but the darkness in him that strived to be something it wasn’t—this was devastating.

  “Of course you’re okay.” Artemis managed. “Everything and everyone has a purpose. It’s not always pretty, but it’s necessary.”

  “Necessary evil, yes. I’ve heard it before.”

  “No, more than that. Like Morgan said, you need the night to see the stars. You need the night to grow. Living things can’t survive with no reprieve from the sun. Apollo is a sun god and he married a titan. Nyx—the night and all things dark belong to her. Her son is Death, her daughter Nightmares, and they are loved. Don’t you know that no matter why you were born that your mother loved you?”

  “In her own fashion. But it’s not her love I want. It’s yours. And I can’t have it.”

  Artemis didn’t know what to say.

  “Not so keen on talking now, are you?”

  “What do you want me to say, Mordred? You don’t understand.”

  “Of course I do. You’re my punishment.”

  “I don’t want to be your punishment,” she cried. “I already told you that I can have Aphrodite—”

  “It’s you who doesn’t understand now.” He brushed his fingers over hers. “It hurts, it hurts so damn good, Artemis. I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t want it to go away. I always wanted to know what it was like to love someone more than myself. Now I do. For all the fucking I’ve done, my heart was still virgin.”

  Oddly enough, she understood what he meant. It resonated inside of her and made her wonder if that’s what she should do, if she should surrender to these budding feelings and let them grow wild. Or run away as far and fast as she could and never think about him again.

  “Your curse—”

  “Leave it alone, Artemis.”

  “What if I want you to love me without it?” She squeaked. Stupid traitorous mouth. It wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.

  “I wouldn’t. I can’t.”

  “So it’s not real. Why would you want that for yourself? And if you love me, why would want it for me?”

  “That’s the beauty of it. I didn’t see that until now. But the fact that I can’t have you makes it that much sweeter.”

  “I’m glad it’s going to work out for you.” Artemis replied in a tone that said she thought anything but.

  “You already said you didn’t want feelings.”

  “I don’t, but I had them anyway. Guess that doesn’t matter.”

  “Shit, Artemis.” He leaned back in the grass. “When the curse is broken, or it fades, I’ll go back to being the same dick I was when I was okay being a carnival ride. Run now. Go back to Olympus and have Aphrodite root me out of your heart like a weed.”

  “I will. I’ll do just that.” Artemis stood and walked away from the clearing, tears burning in her eyes.

  She’d meant to only play her V-Card, not her heart. It was time to cut her losses and run.

  27

  GWEN

  Gwen lay sated and warm in Arthur’s arms, but she was not happy.

  She knew the next words that came out of her mouth would shatter their idyll, but she owed it to Arthur to offer him a reprieve from his pain. From everything she’d done to wrong him.

  “Regrets already?” he whispered, though his tone was not unkind.

  “Not for today, no.”

  “Then why are you so stiff in my arms?” He dragged his cheek against hers, the soft scrape of goatee against her skin making her shiver as the sensation reminded her that just moments ago, he’d been doing that same thing between her thighs. “You should be snoring.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  “Yes, you do. You sound like a piglet with a head cold.”

  “I do not!” she gasped. “Ladies do not snore.”

  He laughed. “But you do, and it’s adorable. I didn’t realize I’d miss it until you left.”

  She thought about all of the little things that she’d never noticed about him until he was no longer hers. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way his dirty clothes were never on the floor, and how he never failed notice her.

  “There’s that heavy exhale again. Say what’s on your mind, Gwen.”

  “Aphrodite is on the island.”

  “I knew that.”

  “Did she come to see you?” Gwen asked, biting her lip and girding herself for the answer. She knew that she was hiding from Ares, was it possible that she’d come to see the sights and do all of the touristy things? Gwen knew she had no right to be jealous, but she was.

  “No, I just heard some of my guests talking about her and Aeron.”

  “Oh.” She was silent again for a long moment. “She’s agreed to help us.”

  “Help us? What sort of help do we need from the Goddess of Love?” Arthur pulled her more tightly against him.

  Goddess, but she loved the way he smelled. The hardness of his body. The way she fit against him. Gwen was having trouble finding the words—no wait, they were there. Her mouth just didn’t want to speak them.

  “I was thinking she might help you, if you asked her.”

  “Again, I ask, what kind of help do you…” he trailed off. “I see.” Arthur moved away from her. “I didn’t need your pity fuck, Gwen.”

  “That is not even in the same universe as the truth.”

  “Then why do you come here bearing your gifts of Aphro
dite’s help, if you don’t pity me. If you’re not trying to put me out of my misery,” he snarled.

  “I am trying to put you out of your misery because I caused it. All the pain you carry, you don’t need that.”

  “Gwen, I think you should go.” He was frozen and stiff, like a statue.

  “You don’t deserve it,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “She can make it so you never loved me. All you have to do is ask her.”

  “This is what you want?”

  “It’s not about me, Arthur. It’s about you.”

  “No matter what it cost me, I’d never wish away my years with you. Or the time I spent loving you. And if that’s what you’d ask of me, then you don’t know me at all.”

  “I just wanted it to be better. I’m giving up something too.”

  “What? Lance? It sure as hell isn’t me and I don’t know why I can’t get it through my head that you don’t want me and you never did.” He sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her.

  “I was a stupid child. I’m trying to make it right.”

  “Just go home, Gwen.”

  Gwen didn’t know what was wrong with her, but all of her guilt had turned to venom. “Just go home? What home? I don’t have one. I’ve never belonged here. I was supposed to die in a monastery repenting my sins. You’re always so quick to send me away. You never fought for me. I was just yours. Like some piece of furniture my father handed over to you.”

  “When did I ever treat you like that? When, Guinevere?” he snarled. “I couldn’t court you, I was fighting a war to unite Britain under one flag. When we were building Camelot? When we were teaching our world how to live in peace? I thought you were my partner. I thought you wanted what I wanted.”

  She realized now that all of her angst was self-made. He’d treated her exactly as she’d wanted, like an equal, not a shrinking maiden and she’d been too blind to see it.

  “You wanted me to fight for you?” His voice was softer now. “I thought that’s what I was doing when I made you a queen instead of a warlord’s lady.”

  “You were going to let them burn me.”