I stared out at a swarm of frantic activity. Dozens of men and women were shouting and arguing, running around like crazy people. One man stood tall and grim, violently calm, like a boulder in a raging river. I knew him.
Raego Slate, the Obsidian Son. The ruler of the dragon nation. We were on his lawn, facing a vast collection of inky, glossy, obsidian statues of humans and monsters. Except they weren’t artistic depictions. They were his enemies—the ones he’d frozen in stone with his penchant for black fire. He found it amusing to show them off like lawn ornaments.
Dragons stalked the garden, hunting for something. Or celebrating Easter with an egg hunt. I watched as they checked behind bushes, inside sheds, all of them looking ready for immediate violence. Packs of two and three—some in human form, some in dragon form—stalked the perimeter of the property and, judging from the sounds and number of lights on within the home, they were tearing the house apart as well.
My heart began to race as I scanned the array of stone sentinels, wondering what they were so alarmed about. Aphrodite pointed out the area with the most activity and I saw Raego staring at an empty space I hadn’t noticed. I sucked in a startled breath, knowing which statue should have been there.
Peter.
But it had been obliterated, leaving behind a pile of polished rubble. As I stared at the empty void in both fear and disbelief, I heard dragons repeating the news from one to the other. Raego abruptly turned, pointing at two familiar dragons—the Reds. The sisters I had taken Yahn from during the surprise birthday party at Grimm Tech. Their faces were gaunt and pale, but their eyes glittered with unbridled fury.
“Fly to Chateau Falco. Tell them the security feeds from Grimm Tech were genuine. Peter really has escaped. I don’t have an explanation for Alaric Slate,” he snarled. “Yet.” They nodded obediently and began to turn away. Raego grabbed Aria by the shoulder, drawing them up short. “Have either of you heard from Yahn?” he demanded.
I winced guiltily and Aphrodite hugged me tighter. The Reds shook their heads grimly. “No,” they said in unison.
Raego cursed, releasing her. “Then Peter already has one hostage.” The Reds clenched their jaws, looking as if they were on the verge of exploding with fury. “Alert everyone at Chateau Falco and find out if anyone has heard from Nate yet!” he snapped. “Peter will be coming for him next. Or me. We both had a hand in killing him.” Then he dismissed them with a flick of his hand, muttering under his breath, “I should have listened to him and destroyed them all.”
No fucking shit. I’d told Raego that his macabre collection was a pointless risk—leaving an army of his enemies on his lawn. Raego had arrogantly assured me that he had complete control over his statues, shrugging off my warning, even though he’d admitted to not knowing if they were truly alive or dead beneath the stone. That had been answered, now. At least one of the statues had harbored a living person, in spite of having his throat slit before Raego had hit him with his petrifying black fire.
Were the rest equally sentient—alive beneath a deceptively secure shell of stone? Because there were a lot of statues on his lawn. It was a veritable statuary garden. He could have charged admission, there were so many. An army of foes hanging around the throat of his stronghold.
I stared at the remnants of Peter’s broken statue, seeing the section that had covered his face. It was a perfect mold of my old friend. The man who had betrayed me for power walked the earth again. I assumed he still had the bracelet that had made him so incredibly powerful.
And because that wasn’t enough to cause irritable bowel syndrome, Zeus had disguised me to look just like him, knowing full well that Peter would soon walk the streets of St. Louis. This must have been the wild card he’d mentioned to Hermes. An insurance policy in case I escaped.
“Zeus,” I cursed in a low, cold tone. Abducting Alice hadn’t been enough. Taking my power hadn’t been enough. Torturing me hadn’t been enough. Lying to my friends hadn’t been enough. He’d been involved as far back as my first confrontation with the dragons, using Hermes to give me the coin to defeat Alaric. I had to admit, his patience was unparalleled. “How can he still be alive? It’s been years.”
Aphrodite clutched me tighter. “Although alarming, I didn’t appreciate the ramifications until I saw the disguise Zeus placed on you,” she whispered into my ear. “I have spent some time here, gathering information, wondering if Zeus had woken this Peter to hunt one or both of us,” she admitted. “I heard Raego saying that one of the cameras at Grimm Tech apparently caught sight of Peter abducting Yahn on their feeds. This concerned me, knowing I had sent you to the same place. But when I searched for you, I felt your pearl,” she said, caressing my chest, “so I knew you were alive. Then I saw your disguise,” she whispered, “and changed my plans, knowing the paint would get us close enough for you to see the scene for yourself.”
I surveyed the scene, forcing my pulse to slow rather than thunder out of my chest. “How the hell did he survive a slit throat on top of no food and water for years?”
Aphrodite’s arms suddenly tensed, tightening around my chest like a vise.
I looked up to see Raego pointing a finger directly at me with a furious snarl on his face. I froze, locking eyes with him. How could he see us? Aphrodite had said—
“THERE HE IS!” Raego snarled, partially shifting into his black dragon form. “TAKE HIM ALIVE!” His gaze latched onto my Titan Thorns and he hesitated. “He’s armed!”
I shook my head frantically, holding up my hands, cursing his memory of Peter’s bracelet. My fucking shackles looked nothing like it. “No! It’s not—”
Aphrodite squeezed me hard enough to crack my ribs right as balls of flame slammed into the ground all around us, trapping us in a circle of fire. I felt something tug at my soul and the sounds of screaming and fire puffed out as if I’d only imagined it.
35
I panted wildly, jerking my head left and right for inbound threats.
But the only current threat was the naked goddess straddling my hips like a vise. Her bare flesh was pressed tightly against mine, her entire body hugging me close. I sucked in ragged lungfuls of air, noticing that we were on top of the Round Table in Chateau Falco’s Sanctorum—not our secluded woodland strip club.
The sudden adrenaline rush caused by Raego’s threat—even though our body paint should have protected us from detection—swiftly shifted course to give me an altogether different bodily response.
Never let energy go to waste, it said.
My skin hummed with electricity where it touched Aphrodite’s skin. I bucked her off, and spun to pin Aphrodite beneath me. I stared down at her, panting in starvation, my rational thoughts a very distant whisper as blood pounded in my ears. My veins flared with golden light, triumphing in my dominance of a god now that I’d reversed our positions.
She was mine. As all gods should be—some in different ways than others, of course.
Torches along the walls suddenly puffed to life, casting the room in a purple glow as the Sanctorum responded to the Master’s presence. This was my castle. Everything in my grasp was my plaything, to do with as I pleased.
Aphrodite whimpered, looking surprised—and then aroused that she’d been caught off guard and overpowered. Her pupils dilated and her breathing changed as she blinked lazily up at me. I hadn’t realized I’d secured her arms above her head, holding them down as I loomed over her.
“Yes,” she breathed, her lips barely even parting to let the word out. My grip clenched tighter and she whimpered in response, sucking in her lower lip. She was mine to command—whether to ravage or revile. “The carnage sings,” she purred in a calming whisper. Part of me knew she was right. I could hear the encouraging whispers in my soul, tempting me. “I am the only vessel strong enough to contain it.” She squirmed her hips beneath me, gaining a better position for negotiation—one that made my toes curl. “It will consume you,” she warned. “Give. It. To. Me.”
I shut my eyes, g
asping for air as I struggled to think clearly. She would do anything to lull my carnage to sleep long enough to save us both. Nothing was forbidden and everything was permitted in the aim of that goal. This was to save the world.
Or the Catalyst would get a power boost he definitely should not have.
I…considered it. Anything to give me a fucking break. In my mind, I was on the edge of a mental cliff, staring out at an endless abyss and…
It was beginning to talk back to me in seductive, enticing promises.
And Aphrodite’s seduction was the protection from that dark malevolence. Its antithesis.
She claimed I was not strong enough to contain it—that it would consume me. I felt a spark of defiance rise up in my soul, and the endless abyss of temptation hissed angrily, even at such a frail, pitiful ember challenging it. I fed that spark, rallying behind it in challenge to Aphrodite’s doubts, feeling my head begin to clear. She thought I wasn’t strong enough to withstand temptation. That ember crackled and flared, growing larger.
Aphrodite had obviously underestimated my tolerance for scrotal sorrow.
I was the king of unhappy sex. I could turn her and the carnage down. Easy.
The ember of my abstinence roared to a pillar of flame and I felt a faint pop as the carnage fled from my mind. I fell to the side, crashing to the table next to Aphrodite, panting as if I’d just raced a mile. Our bodies were slick with sweat, but the glowing symbols painting us had not smeared at all. On the other hand, my veins no longer glowed beneath my skin.
I craned my neck to see Aphrodite staring up at the ceiling high above, a stunned look on her face. “Impossible,” she whispered.
I’d beaten back the carnage—and Aphrodite’s ever so helpful solution of slapping skins like two wild animals atop King Arthur’s Round Table in my secret, underground, inter-dimensional library. At my parents’ house. Only now did I realize how sad and depressing my victory actually was.
“Chastity!” I cheered weakly, barely able to lift my shaking fist.
She slowly turned to look at me. “As impressive as that was, I have decided to make it my life goal to get you to have sex. You are a black hole of loneliness. You need this. The world needs you to need this,” she said firmly.
I narrowed my eyes. “Hey. Let me enjoy this miracle without your nagging.”
“I will murder your abstinence,” she vowed, “as my duty to all of existence.”
I grunted, lifting my gaze to stare up at the ceiling—a depiction of the night sky made from precious gems to indicate stars, constellations, and distant planets. I’d frequently come down here to stare up at them, liking to think that Kai, my old Beast, was up there somewhere looking down on me. It should say something that I felt more connected to a Beast than my ancestors.
But that was because my ancestors had all been assholes. Every one of them.
Aphrodite reached out and clutched my hand tightly. I squeezed back reassuringly. “To be completely honest, I’m open to negotiation on the whole find Nate a lover thing. Or else I’m going to need to invest in icepacks.” I smirked. “All the icepacks.”
She burst out laughing, squeezing my hand even tighter. “There aren’t enough in the world.”
My thoughts drifted to Peter.
The instant obsidian casting had probably served as a bandage to stop the bleeding of Raego’s throat-slash, allowing Peter to actually heal beneath the stone over the past few years. He would be truly insane by now if he’d been conscious this whole time. He’d been halfway there before we’d sentenced him to death.
I needed to get these damned Titan Thorns off, and I needed to get my friends off the board before they accidentally hunted me down, thinking I was the real Peter. Raego had been convinced. I knew Peter would also want to hunt down his impersonator. And he likely had a bracelet overloaded with power that would get the job done. Unless Zeus had brought Peter up to speed already, maybe even pointing Peter at me as the price to pay for his release. Peter probably knew more about the current shitstorm than I did.
“How did they see through the paint?” I asked, frowning down at the runes and symbols covering my body.
She paused, looking uncertain. “I do not know. It should have been impossible.” Her tone made me glance over, so I saw the raw fear in her eyes before she masked it from me. “Perhaps Zeus found a way to nullify my powers,” she mused uneasily. “I obviously have no power to seduce you,” she said, dryly.
I grunted. “Doubtful. I’m just infinitely defiant—even to my own detriment.”
I swept my gaze across the Sanctorum, frowning uneasily at a new thought. Why hadn’t Chateau Falco reacted to my presence? She either should have responded with a warm welcome if she saw through my disguise, or sounded an alarm if she hadn’t. But the torches had flared.
“I’m not sure it’s safe here,” I said, sitting up.
Aphrodite sighed, sitting up as well. “You’ve proven you’re worthless to me at the moment,” she grumbled. “You are running out of time. I do not know what Zeus intends tomorrow, but it has a sense of finality to it. You must find a way to remove the Titan Thorns. It is your only chance.”
I nodded my agreement. “I know.” I took a deep breath and met her eyes. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“I need you to return to Olympus. To turn yourself in.”
She paled, licking her lips. “He will kill me.”
I shook my head firmly. “No. He might torture you, but he has a sick dependency on his kids. He needs you to worship and revere him.” She shuddered knowingly. “And he might not even torture you when you tell him that Hephaestus is the key to acquiring Pandora’s Box.”
She stiffened abruptly. “What?” she hissed. “That is impossible. My husband would have told me—would have told Zeus.”
I met her gaze, unflinching. “Just trust me. Tell him that Hephaestus will no longer be used as leverage, or Zeus will castrate his own chances at acquiring Pandora’s Box or the Armory.” I smirked. “Use that word. Castrate.”
She grimaced, knowing the reference. It was what Zeus’ father, Cronus, had done to his own father, Uranus. Something to make Zeus ponder and fret over. “Is it true?”
I smiled at her, not answering. “I hope I can figure out these manacles without you,” I said.
She smiled sadly. “You do not need me to confirm your answer. You need to give the question serious thought. When you say the right name out loud—with confidence—the Titan Thorns should fall free all on their own. I am merely here to help you wander the path—not to point out the path for you. And you found your pearl all by yourself.”
“Any last-minute pointers?” I asked, hopefully.
She was silent for a few moments. “Think on what your goals are. Not now, but what they have always been. Who has embodied them to such a degree that you hold them in high esteem? Who could give you advice on such values and you would be least likely to question their source? Not just who would agree with you, but who would emulate your chosen ideals best. Also, don’t disregard someone just because you might disagree at times. Iron sharpens iron, after all.”
I grunted. “So, in summary, someone who might argue with me or someone who might not.”
She sighed. “Yes, if you want to oversimplify it.”
My thoughts immediately went to Kára’s adamant declaration to Freya—how she wanted to be my confidante. Could she really be Indie? I kept toggling between yes and no, finding arguments for both sides. Either answer seemed wrong, unfortunately, despite genuinely liking Kára as a woman to begin a romance. She wasn’t someone I already loved unconditionally.
“I’m definitely ready to return,” I muttered.
“As you wish.” She hesitated for a few more moments, lingering on my shoulder to the point that I wondered whether she was the figurative angel or devil attempting to influence me. “Be wary of the Valkyrie. Matters of the heart will not matter if you allow yourself to suc
cumb to the pleasures of the flesh to hide from your heart.”
I flinched, fearing she had read my mind somehow. “Christ, Aphrodite. Are you trying to depress me or help me?”
The room began to dim at the edges as my vision tunneled towards the center. “Yes,” she whispered, her breath tickling my ears. “Love hurts.”
36
I opened my eyes to find myself back in… “Niflhut,” I murmured, nodding.
Thankfully, Aphrodite had left, allowing me to endure my walk of shame with dignity rather than having to escort the body paint version of the goddess of sex in front of my crew. Her scent still lingered on my skin.
I was seated on a dusty, rotted crate. I shifted my weight and it collapsed into splinters, sending me crashing to the floor with a curse. I jumped to my feet, brushing at my rear and groin, fearful of a poisonous Niflheim splinter skewering my ass or impaling my giggle berries like misty cocktail olives.
I froze to find that I wore a crisp dark suit with a loosely buttoned white dress shirt. I even had new shoes. “What the fuck?” I whispered out loud. It was a perfect fit. I frowned, spotting my robe in a wadded ball with a strip of paper resting atop it. I scooped up the note and read it.
The robe was hideous. Always wear protection.
I grunted, crumbling the paper in my fist. Protection? I got the joke, but was the suit armored in some way? I would find out soon enough. Regardless, Aphrodite had pimped me out—and she’d known my size more accurately than any tailor. I chuckled, shaking my head. At least she hadn’t given me a toga. As I inspected my new threads, I winced at the illuminated symbols that still painted my skin.
I quickly checked for any kind of reflective surface to check my face. I found a sliver of broken mirror and immediately cursed to see the intricate designs Aphrodite had painted on my face and cheeks. I continued staring, touching at my cheeks thoughtfully. I looked…
Carnage: Nate Temple Series Book 14 Page 24
