by Lazu, Sotia
He touched his forehead to hers, willing her to read the truth of his words in his mind. “I cannot deny that cord any more than I can resist it. Accept me, give yourself to me, and there will never be another.” There wouldn’t be anyone else even if Iphigenia wouldn’t have him. Even if he didn’t unravel. She was his other half.
“But—”
Like before, he swallowed her protest. He enjoyed this means of shutting her up immensely—doubly so when she fisted her hands in his T-shirt and pulled him closer, curling one leg around his thigh. Even through his jeans, her center scorched him where it pressed against him. He skated his palm up her bare thigh, to knead one buttock, and then pressed two fingers along the seam of her shorts, where her heat called to him. She rocked her hips into his touch, and he was done holding back.
He wedged his fingers under the thin strip of denim and the cotton of her briefs, and touched bare skin. She was smooth and soft and like a ripe apricot warmed by the sun, and he wanted to taste her more than ever before.
He turned and blinked across the stone floor, to lay her on the bed, then dropped on his knees before it.
She propped herself up on her elbows and blew a dark curl off her face. “What are you doing?”
In lieu of an answer, he clasped both sides of her shorts and tugged. They didn’t give him more trouble than the thinnest lace would, as he tore them in half.
“Hey! Those were new.” But she wriggled her ass to help him get those and her briefs down her hips.
He hadn’t spotted any underwear in the clothes Eros gave him, so he didn’t rip those, but slid them off and caressed his way up her legs.
Iphigenia dropped back with an oof when he used his thumbs to separate her labia and buried his face in her pussy. She felt like silk, and he wanted to rub his face in her slickness, but the scent of her arousal called to him. He groaned as he trailed his tongue up her slit, to find the pearl hidden there and close his lips around it. When he sucked on the tender flesh, she spread her legs wider and tilted her hips, grinding against his face.
Atlas let go of her clitoris to tease her entrance with the tip of his tongue. She was wet. For him.
She tugged at his hair with both hands, until his mouth was on her clit again, but he wanted to feel more of her heat. Feel it squeezing him.
He pushed two fingers inside her, and lifted his head to see her face as he slid them out and inside again.
She was biting her lip and watching him, those hazel eyes of her shining.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked as he pumped his fingers in and out of her.
She shook her head, her eyes wild, as she pushed him down again, to lick and nibble on her clitoris. He added a third finger in her and rubbed at the bundle of nerves inside, not picking up his pace when she moaned and mewled and rocked her hips faster.
“This is... too much,” she managed between panted breaths.
It wasn’t enough. Not until she came apart under his ministrations.
She tasted like nectar and felt like home. He wanted to take his pleasure of her now, but he held back. If he showed her what levels of ecstasy he could offer, she’d be more open to the bonding ritual.
Iphigenia’s breathing came faster, the movement of her hips turning jerkier, as he sated her body. She was close, but he maintained the rhythm of his thrusts, as he teased her with his lips and tongue, to draw out her pleasure.
She thrashed on the bed, holding him pressed to her mons while she grinded against his face. She arched her back and clenched around his fingers, and still he made love to her with his mouth and his hand, until she collapsed back on the mattress.
He crawled up her body and kissed the smile forming on her lips.
“So that’s one point in your favor.” Her voice was throaty and laced with laughter.
He pushed up her top, to cup her breast, and rolled the hard tip of her nipple under his thumb. “I can add to that right now, if you feel up to it.” He was painfully hard, the fly of his jeans digging into his erection.
“Give me a second to catch my breath. My legs are trembling.”
“I am that good. You’d better lock me down.” His smirk dropped from his face when he realized she wasn’t the one trembling. The bed was. The ground shook, the sound of rock splintering filling the room.
He was causing this, and they were over a volcano. He had to get out of here. Away from Iphigenia. He couldn’t risk her.
He tried to blink to Mount Othrys, but he was too consumed with emotion—desire and fear and so much more—to get a solid grip of his power.
He was spinning out of control.
He had to go outside, where he wouldn’t risk bringing the place and possibly the island down, and focus on reining himself in.
“Stay here,” he growled. “You’ll be safe.” Without a look back at her, he left the room.
Chapter Eleven
Like hell, she’d stay here, the damsel in distress, while he ran into whatever not-safe situation he was hurrying to face.
Her logic argued that any such situation would be of a supernatural nature and she’d be risking herself without the means to fight back, but her heart—her entire body—screamed the Titan rushing into danger was hers. She should be by his side.
There might be something to that soulmate thing, after all.
Her top was intact, but she was far from dressed. She peeled it off, tossed it to the floor, and tugged on a long dress over her head, not bothering to look for her underwear. Not the best outfit for battle, if it came to it, but for now, she had to catch up to him.
She stopped outside the bedroom door, to orient herself in the unfamiliar setting. The corridor opened to a sprawling lower level that held a living room big enough to accommodate thirty people chilling, and a dining room to match, both managing to combine modern, clean lines with a comfortable, rustic feel.
She’d take more time getting the feel of the place if she didn’t see Atlas through the floor-to-ceiling glass panes, standing before a large pool with his arms raised.
Slowly, she climbed down the three steps to the lower level and looked again. The pool was larger than Olympic size, and at the other end of the stretch of water stood Rhea, her arm around Marigo’s throat. The Titaness was taller than before by at least half a meter, and the human looked tiny in comparison.
Iphigenia swallowed painfully at the memory of Rhea’s choke hold. Atlas had to do something. He had to save the poor old woman.
No. She had to do something. Rhea was after her, and Iphigenia wouldn’t allow anyone else to die in her stead.
She slid open the patio door behind Atlas. Stepping outside felt like walking through an invisible barrier. As if the air itself tried to keep her from leaving the safety of indoors. Eros had said the place was warded from Rhea. That obviously didn’t include the pool area.
Eros also said this place belonged to Prometheus. Was it the Prometheus—the Titan punished by Zeus for giving humans fire? She hadn’t thought of that at the time.
“And it’s not what you should be thinking of now,” she muttered to herself. Focus. But on what? How could she possibly help Marigo? She stood still. Atlas’ hulking form should hide her from Rhea, and with his attention on the Titaness, he might not notice Iphigenia was here until she made her move.
“Go back inside,” Atlas’ barked without turning around.
Well, there went that. “No. Marigo is innocent. I can’t let her die.” She ducked under his arm, to have a better view of the situation.
“Wise choice.” Rhea’s voice sounded from right beside Iphigenia. Iphigenia turned, startled, but there was nobody there. The Titaness hadn’t moved.
“Come any closer, and I swear to Chaos, I will end you,” Atlas yelled.
Rhea narrowed her eyes. Power sparked around her, making her blond hair stand on end. “Try it.”
He waved one hand, and a cyclone appeared over the pool, gaining bulk with every spin. “Don’t make me use this. How did you even fin
d us?”
Iphigenia was wondering the same thing. Much good the wards did.
“Unusual seismic activity. I’m crazy, not stupid.” Rhea smirked. She blew, and the cyclone faded to a breeze. “Now, you or your soulmate will come with me, or this nice old lady will only be the first of many, many mortals who’ll die because of you.” A row of tiles ripped out from around the pool, to form sharp blades, aimed at Marigo.
“Ah fuck,” the old woman said. Her voice sounded different, and her form stretched and twisted under Rhea’s arms.
What was Rhea doing to her?
But the Titaness looked as shocked as Iphigenia felt, while Marigo reshaped herself into a taller, slimmer woman, until Rhea was holding her waist, not her neck. The lines faded from around her eyes, and her short gray curls elongated into waist-length chestnut locks.
“I didn’t want to do this,” not-Marigo thundered and made a shoving gesture toward Iphigenia, who found herself inside the glass, looking out. It wasn’t as disorienting as when Eros or even Atlas blinked her, but her lack of a physical response made it all the more disconcerting. Her body hadn’t even registered the movement.
Rhea let go of not-Marigo and blinked a couple meters away. “Who are you? What are you?” The words somehow reached Iphigenia’s ears unaltered by the window and the distance.
“Call me Circe.”
The Circe, from The Odyssey? What was next?
Oh no no no. You never ask that.
A ball of light appeared to Iphigenia’s right, and she barely had time to panic, before it swirled and grew into Eros. At least he was on their side. Who was Circe rooting for? Not Rhea, judging by how Circe spun on her and sent water flying from the pool to wrap around Rhea in a tight column.
Rhea’s arms appeared through the water, and twin balls of light hit Circe in the stomach.
Circe let out an oof, but she was smiling as she snapped her fingers. The water unrolled from around Rhea, sending her hurtling into a couple of sun chairs.
Rhea shrieked in fury. “Why can’t I blink?”
“Because that would be no fun.” Circe shrugged.
“Can’t you do something?” Iphigenia asked Eros.
“No need. Circe’s got it.” He shook his head. “When she’s like this, I remember why I shouldn’t piss her off.”
So he’d just stand here and watch the crazy?
Would Iphigenia?
She’d never felt for a man the way she did for Atlas within a mere few hours. He was a magnet, calling to her. An artist, who made her body sing. But that wasn’t all. She felt at peace when she was with him. Which was admittedly insane, when this was the most stressful situation she’d been in. When she looked into his eyes, something she never knew was missing fell into place. Five minutes ago, after that mind-blowing orgasm, she’d been ready to throw caution to the wind and accept the bonding.
Now, though... She couldn’t cope with his world. Her life was about logic and plans and a steady job—even if the plans sometimes didn’t pan out and the job came with a Taser. A witch and a Titaness fighting it out in the middle of the day, while a Titan contributed with gusts of wind that couldn’t exactly boast laser-point accuracy, and an ancient Greek god watched with lovestruck eyes, didn’t belong in her reality.
She had to go. Immediately. While everyone else was busy.
But where to? And how?
She turned to ask Eros, but he was outside, on Atlas’ side. She never saw him move.
Yeah, that was the weirdest part of the past thirty-six hours.
Circe threw a blast of what looked like liquid light at Rhea. It bound the Titaness’ arms to her sides and launched her into the sky so fast, she was but a speck in the horizon in a heartbeat, gone in two. Without missing a beat, Circe turned to Eros. “Did you come to divulge more sensitive information?”
Eros’ body leaned toward her, as if he longed to go to her, but his voice was icy. “Nah. Just missed seeing your role-playing skills.”
So Marigo wasn’t Circe’s first... What? Secret identity?
Circe’s blue eyes blazed. “You realize this would have gone more smoothly if you’d stuck to the script, yes?”
“What script?” Atlas asked.
Eros ignored him. To Circe, he said, “I said I was sorry.” His face was a stony mask when he turned back toward Iphigenia.
Atlas was looking from the god to the witch. “She’s the one you mentioned before, who told you about...” Atlas trailed off.
Eros nodded.
“So she knows?”
“Everything.”
Circe arched a perfect brow Eros’ way. “You told him about me?”
The god grimaced. “Only mentioned you once. Twice tops. Honest.”
She rolled her eyes. “Men. Can’t keep their mouths shut to save the world.”
Eros scowled.
Atlas’ shoulders bunched with barely reined-in tension. “Children, focus. Please.” When the other two stopped bickering, he went on. “Rhea won’t give up that easily.”
Circe scrunched her nose. “Our... skirmish brought down the wards, but it’ll only take a couple days to set them back up.”
“What if she comes back before you do?” Atlas’ voice thrummed with his tension.
“Doubtful. I sent her into orbit.”
Atlas threw his head back, and Iphigenia sensed his frustration even without seeing his face. “Still, at some point she’ll be back. What do we do? Iphigenia is in danger,” he said.
Eros clasped Atlas’ shoulder. “If you don’t get on with the bonding, we all are.”
This was Iphigenia’s cue.
“I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m out of here,” she called out. Being sneaky about it would only lead to three more immortals coming after her. She’d stand her ground, let them know bonding was out of the question, and then ask Eros for a magic ride, somewhere far, far away.
Chapter Twelve
Iphigenia wanted to leave, when moments ago she’d been so willing to give herself to him?
Anger, potent and hot and irrational, roiled up Atlas’ chest. “You will go nowhere,” he snapped and blinked in front of her.
Her pursed lips and arched dark eyebrow said she didn’t appreciate being told what to do. Could he blame her? He’d thrust his world on her and expected her to take it in stride and like it?
He swallowed down the urge to bodily prevent her from walking away. “Please. You can’t leave.”
“So you’ll keep me here against my will?” The way she tapped her foot betrayed her nervousness, despite her sneer.
He considered lying, but he wanted her trust as much as he craved her love. “I will, if I have to.” He looked at Eros over his shoulder. “May we have some privacy?”
The witch—she had to be a witch; she wasn’t a goddess or a Titaness, and no other could wield such power—pouted. “But I want to hear this.”
Eros shook his head. “We’ll go.”
“Not together, we won’t.” Circe’s scowl wasn’t very convincing.
“I said. I’m. Sorry.” Eros blinked to her and wrapped his arm around her waist in a manner that said they’d been this close before. A lot.
When they disappeared, Atlas turned back to Iphigenia. Her posture was even stiffer now, like she’d bolt at the first opportunity.
But she hadn’t so far. If he found the right words, she wouldn’t.
Words never failed him in the past; he could always express himself precisely and effectively. It should be easier now that he apparently spoke a few dozen languages, thanks to Eros. This time, though, he didn’t need to put thoughts into words, but feelings. And this was new and frightening.
“You want me.” He stared her down, challenging her to deny it.
Instead, she gave a small nod.
“Then I won’t let you go,” he said. “I can’t. And it’s not because I want to save this world I owe no allegiance to. It’s because I need you. The centuries I spent surrounded by darkness melt
away when you touch me. From the moment I first saw you—”
She snorted. “A whopping two days ago?”
He poured his sincerity into his gaze. “No. Four moons ago. You shone brighter than the sun that blinded me after being underwater so long, and I knew I had to have you.” He’d felt he was betraying Pleione for being so drawn to this human, and he’d denied it with every fiber of his being. Now that was no longer the case.
“Fuck.” Her voice was so tiny, he wasn’t sure he heard right.
“Sorry?”
She huffed. “I said fuck. As in, Fuck. Now I want to kiss you.”
Like his anger before, the glee blossoming inside him was unprecedented. It made his heart beat faster and his fingertips tingle with a fresh wave of power.
No. He had to control this. Control his happiness. Control all emotion until they were bonded.
Which should be in an hour or so, if he had his way.
He clasped the back of her neck and crushed his mouth to hers. This kiss wasn’t meant to seduce, nor was he trying to make a point. He was staking his claim, and he did so with all the passion and hunger Iphigenia ignited in him.
Her hands found their way beneath his T-shirt, and she clawed at his skin, trying to raise it over his head. Her palms scorched him, the scrape of her nails adding to the desire roaring inside him.
He pulled away and tore the shirt open, neck to navel.
The lust in Iphigenia’s hazel eyes mirrored that stretching his jeans.
He tensed under her scrutiny, his pecs flexing as he hooked his thumbs in the loops of his belt.
She dropped her gaze below his waist, where his hands framed his erection, and licked her lips in a motion too natural to be intentional.
“Do that again, and I’ll make you mine where you stand,” he said.
“Promises, promises...” The smile quirking one corner of her lips was devilish, and then her tongue made another, more lingering appearance.
He needn’t hear more of an invitation. He blinked behind her and pressed her body against the window. He ran his fingers down her arms, took hold of her wrists, and led her palms over her head, to splay on the glass.
