A Nereid for the Titan (TITANS, #1)

by Lazu, Sotia

  Whether he loved or despised her, the passion in his kiss was undeniable. He moaned in her mouth like a starving man offered ambrosia, and she slanted her hips, to rub her center against his leg.

  Prometheus growled and used his hold on her bottom to lift her. Her robe got snagged on the stone wall and left her upper back and breasts bare.

  He was so big, he was easily pinning her in place with one hand and his thigh. And she wanted more.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips and caressed his breastbone, his shoulder, his arm. Every muscle in his body hummed with tension. She wanted to absorb that tension. Absorb the pain of the years they spent apart. Absorb everything negative that darkened his gaze.

  Moisture pooled at the apex of her thighs, as his erection slid between them, as hard as the rock he pressed her into.

  Pherusa grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged until his lips left hers and found her neck instead. He sucked on the tender flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. She tilted her hips and wedged one hand between them, to position his shaft at her entrance.

  He wanted her. He loved her. A bubble of happiness made Pherusa feel weightless. If this was her punishment, she’d survive it.

  The tip of his erection brushed against her, but never entered her. Prometheus disentangled himself from her legs, and though he still held her buttock, he let her slide down the wall till her feet were flat on the ground. “No.” He shook his head.

  “What...?”

  He disappeared.

  Blasted Titans and their ability to transport around the globe in the blink of an eye.

  She screamed, and her frustration bounced off the walls to reach her ears magnified.

  Was this how he’d pay her back for what he thought she’d done? Drive her insane with desire and then refuse her?

  She used her ripped robe as a sheet on the stone bed and climbed on top of it, then lay in the fetal position. Her body begged for release, her head was light with unquenched desire, and her heart was heavy and aching.

  Prometheus was back, but he hated her. He’d only made love to her—fucked her—to hurt her. Her eyes burned, but she had no more tears to shed. She curled into a tighter ball and wished Morpheus hadn’t faded with the rest of the gods, because she could do with a few hours of dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Six

  The sun peeked above the horizon, and an orange glow spread across the sky, licking at the mountains in the distance.

  Pherusa would look gorgeous in this light. Her pale skin would look golden, and her eyes would shine like precious stones, framed by the spun gold of her hair.

  Prometheus roared at the water, and the waves roiled back until the handful of rocks he stood on in the middle of the Aegean turned into a small island for a split second. She thought he meant to... fuck her—the word flashed at the forefront of his mind, courtesy of his speed-learning course by Eros—as punishment?

  Taking her was foolish. Besides, it wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to seize Vythos and enslave her and her family for the rest of eternity. It’d hurt her more than any physical pain he could bring himself to dole out.

  “Who goes there?” asked a voice in Turkish. A light shone in Prometheus’ eyes, as the rumble of a motor reached his ears. Nice. He’d alerted the Turkish coastguard.

  He blinked right outside his cave, still shaking with anger. Seeing a group of teens drinking beer around a campfire on his beach didn’t help his mood. “Leave and never come back,” he bellowed, letting compulsion seep into his voice. The kids scattered, and he stomped out the fire with his bare feet. Normal flames couldn’t burn him.

  But his soul was on fire.

  Claiming Pherusa last night had been a slip of his focus, and at the moment, he’d been certain she wanted him. Like he was certain moments ago. Only, she didn’t. She thought sleeping with him was something she had to endure. Her punishment.

  Which shouldn’t bother him. For thousands of years, when he fantasized about having her under his control, he dreamed of breaking her and leaving her an empty shell, like he was without her love. He just didn’t want to do it this way. The idea of hurting her physically brought bile up his throat. Even in his angriest imaginings, he never saw himself roughing her up—only yelling threats, while she cried and begged him for mercy.

  “Fuck.” It felt good to scream it. Better when a handholding couple heading toward him turned around and scurried away.

  Why did he love terrorizing these random humans but hated the idea of scaring Pherusa even now? After everything?

  He’d gone searching for food for her because she hadn’t eaten for hours and looked pale and drained. Not because he cared. She’d betrayed him, and she meant less than nothing to him now. But then, when she proclaimed her innocence, gaze blazing, he’d almost believed her.

  His body obviously had. He’d been unable to resist the fire that burned in him and matched the one in her green eyes. He shouldn’t have kissed her, but he’d been helpless in the face of her anger and her desire.

  She’d melted like putty in his hands and returned his kiss with a hunger that scared him as much as it spurred him on. He was about to bury himself inside her and was convinced it was what she wanted too, when she’d said those words that sent ice slicing through his veins.

  If this is my punishment, I’ll survive it.

  No. Tartarus, no.

  What was worse? That she considered him capable of such a thing, or that that her resignation broke his heart all over again?

  “Feeling more chatty today?”

  Prometheus swung at the direction of the voice.

  Eros barely ducked under the fist flying his way. “Woah. You really need an outlet for this aggression. I can hook you up with my personal trainer.”

  “What do you want?” Prometheus had no patience for the god’s antics.

  Eros raised both arms, expression serious. “I’m only here to talk. About Pherusa.”

  “I’d rather punch you.” Prometheus tried again, and once more Eros evaded his assault, hopping aside like a mountain goat.

  “What is your damage? Just hear me out for two minutes, and then you can go back to your caveman shtick.”

  Prometheus leaned back against the outer wall of the cavern, the fight sapped out of him. “Nothing you have to say interests me, brat.”

  “Right. Because you’re a cold slab of stone now, and have no feelings, right? My mother used to call you the heart of the Titans. Guess Zeus managed to defeat you after all.”

  Prometheus growled and lunged for him. And plummeted into the sand, head first.

  “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but you left me no choice,” Eros said from behind him.

  Prometheus propped himself on his arms and tried to roll on his back, but his body wouldn’t obey him. “What did you do?” he asked, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.

  “It’s only temporary. Will fade in a couple minutes.” Eros’ bare feet appeared in Prometheus’ line of sight, and then Eros sat cross legged in front of him. “So now you have the Nereid of your nightmares. What are you gonna do with her?”

  Prometheus kept his mouth shut and tried every single muscle of his body. None moved, but they soon would, and then Eros would share the fate of the Olympians. Or its messier, bloodier version.

  Water pooled around Eros, who twirled the fingers of one hand in it. “The waves shouldn’t come this far up the beach,” he said.

  Prometheus’ hand trembled, and the water lapped up Eros’ calves and thighs. Around them, the wind picked up, spraying them with droplets and sand. “What are you doing?” Prometheus hissed.

  Eros moved his lips, but voices rose to drown his out. Were people heading their way?

  No. The voices were inside Prometheus’ head.

  His brothers. They raged and thrashed against their binds. Cursed Zeus. Called for Prometheus to help them.

  He had a clear vision of Hyperion in a large room, watching life pass him by and prayin
g to Helios and Selene for release. And Atlas, crouched as if he still supported the world, and surrounded by rubble. The remains of a temple? Was he free?

  Atlas’ bloodcurdling scream threatened to split Prometheus’ head. Not free. Frozen. In stasis. And not the only one.

  A deep sense of shame battled the chaos in Prometheus’ mind, and spikes of pain pierced him ruthlessly. He should have been searching for Hyperion and Atlas, instead of thinking only of himself and his vengeance.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” he asked Eros when the agony subsided enough for him to draw breath.

  Eros’ blue eyes were filled with sorrow. “It’s not me. It’s you. You’re unraveling.” He seemed to want to say more, but he bit his lip.

  “And what the fuck does that mean?”

  “If you weren’t so stubborn and would just listen, we’d have been over this hours ago.” He clapped his hands once, and then rubbed them together. “Let’s try this again, now that you’re more inclined to follow the conversation. Thanks to your nephew, Zeus, once you’re awakened from stasis, you only have a limited time frame to find your soulmate and bond with her before you spin out of control. Now, I’m pretty certain Pherusa is your soulmate, which means you don’t have to keep looking, but you’d better get a move on, or it’s buh-bye universe, before you yourself burst into stardust.”

  Pherusa, his soulmate? And saving the world required bonding with her? The possibility of sinking into her supple body again made Prometheus’ heart soar for the briefest of moments, before he squelched away the remnants of his affection for her. “Then you’d better start kissing your loved ones goodbye.” Because he’d never again love the Nereid who’d wronged him, and if he couldn’t have her, the universe might as well burn.

  A wave rose like a wall and crashed down on where Eros sat moments ago.

  Prometheus climbed to his feet, as a tremor shook the earth.

  Pherusa. She was trapped in the cave. If its walls collapsed, she’d be hurt, even if nothing of this world would harm a Nereid gravely.

  He focused on her and blinked back inside the cave.

  Things were quiet in here, and Pherusa was asleep on his makeshift bed. He waved his fingers and ordered grass blades to brave the barren earth and spread beneath her. He wasn’t thinking of her comfort; this corner had the perfect temperature, so he was going to share the space.

  He stretched out on his back next to her and folded one arm under his head. The warmth of her body was as alluring as her nakedness, but he wouldn’t touch her again. He’d just stay here and study the cave ceiling and wait for creation to run out of time.

  Chapter Seven

  Pherusa tried to roll onto her back, but she bumped against something hard.

  No. Not something. Someone.

  Last night came back to her in vivid detail, as did this morning. Prometheus made love to her, then broke her heart. He accused her of the ultimate betrayal, then took her to his cave.

  He kissed her against the wall, before disappearing.

  Yet here he was, in bed with her.

  His arm came up around her waist, his fingers grazing her breast as he pulled her into the curve of his body. The contact sent a bolt of lust straight to her core and hardened her nipples. If only her body would stop reacting to him... But he’d awoken in her a hunger so potent, she couldn’t fathom never having him inside her again.

  He bent his legs beneath hers, and if she kept her eyes closed, she could pretend they were lovers, resting before their bodies merged again. She could pretend he loved her.

  Though really, she should hate him. He blamed her, hurt her, and tore her away from her family. And he used her lust for him to manipulate her.

  She nudged him on his back and scooted aside, to put some distance between them, but his other arm sneaked between her body and the grass mattress they lay on, and tucked her flush against him. Her head was on his shoulder, her face centimeters from his. She should wake him and tell him to keep his hands to himself—she was done being toyed with—but she didn’t know what mood he’d be in, and was in no hurry to engage a Titan who could mold and shape the earth.

  So she lay still, her pulse thudding in her ears, and looked up at him through her eyelashes. He frowned, even in his sleep.

  Her fingers tingled with the urge to smoothen out the crease between his eyebrows and kiss away the tightness of his mouth.

  No. She wasn’t his lover; she was his prisoner.

  She placed her hand on his chest, meaning to push away. He was warm under her palm, his heart beating as fast as hers. “I don’t care if you believe me,” she whispered, “but I didn’t—wouldn’t—betray you.” And she’d never stopped loving him.

  His eyelids didn’t flutter as he covered her hand with his. Did he hear her?

  Pherusa let him lead her palm down his torso, thrilling at the sensation of smooth skin breaking into goose bumps under her touch. She reached the line of short hair beneath his navel and circled her fingertips through them. She wanted to follow her hand’s path with her lips, but she was too busy watching Prometheus’ face for a reaction.

  He was expressionless, and she almost withdrew her touch, before he nudged her hand lower.

  Perhaps he was reacting in his sleep, starved for someone’s touch, after this long in solitude.

  She wouldn’t be any someone.

  When she made to withdraw, his grip turned to steel. He wanted this.

  Under his guidance, she ran her fingers through the coarse short curls, to wrap them around his manhood.

  He was erect and long and thick, and her hand wouldn’t encircle his girth, but his hand over hers guided her to twist her grip as she stroked from tip to bottom, like when he’d first taught her to pleasure him.

  “Pherusa...” he muttered, his lips barely moving.

  “Yes?” She stretched her neck, so her lips were a hairsbreadth from his. Would he kiss her? Did she want him to?

  He didn’t. His breaths turned shorter, more urgent, as he squeezed his fist over hers, tightening her hold on him on every upstroke.

  Pherusa glided her thumb across the tip, and he groaned. He claimed her mouth and she sucked on his tongue in tandem with tugging on his erection.

  He was close. She could tell by his panted breath and the way he pumped his hips against her fist. She broke away from the kiss to watch the corded muscles in his neck stretch and the line of his jaw harden, as he approached his release, and then relax as he coated her hand with his seed.

  When he opened his eyes, they were wild. Angry. Not glazed in post-orgasmic bliss. “On your back,” he rasped.

  The ache between her legs begged her to comply, but she held his gaze. “Why?”

  “Because I owe you a release, and I don’t like debts.”

  She shook her head, as his words ripped her heart to confetti. He didn’t like debts. Bastard. Did he plan on paying her back for every moment he believed she stole from him?

  “Suit yourself.” He stood too fast, jarring her, and walked to the farthest corner. He twirled his fingers, and water sprung from above, to hit his head and shoulders. Wet like this, he looked like the first time she’d seen him. Only his gaze had lost its playfulness, and his full lips looked incapable of smiling.

  She tried to hide her interest, as she stole glances of him showering his large, perfect body. Muscles bulged on his wide shoulders and arms, and rippled on his chest and down his stomach, making her palms tingle with the urge to trace every curve. But it was his long, thick, strong legs she loved the most. She wanted nothing more than to join him under the water jet, straddle his thigh and kiss him, but he wouldn’t appreciate her company.

  When the water stopped running, he blinked away, thankfully not taking the light with him this time.

  Pherusa about had it with the hot-and-cold treatment. What had been done to him was horrible. He believed her responsible, and though she might not have alerted Zeus to his presence, she did feel guilty for not making it her ete
rnity’s purpose to find him. She would accept his indifference or even his hate, but she couldn’t handle the dissonance between his desire and the cold detachment with which he looked at her.

  “Prometheus?” she called out. “You need to stop doing this.”

  He reappeared, holding two brightly colored towels. “These are all I could find in the vicinity.” He tossed one to her and wrapped the other around his waist.

  Pherusa didn’t move, letting the towel fall on her crossed legs.

  She’d seen a giant jungle cat on the prowl, one time Father sent her and Galene to the Amazon rain forest, to gather some plants for the sea witch. Prometheus looked every bit as feral and dangerous, as he approached to loom over her. “Cover yourself.”

  The menace in his voice made her feel small. If only she could disappear as easily as he did. Instead, she made herself stand, put her fists on her hips, and stare at him as fiercely as she could. “Why?”

  “Because I won’t take kindly to rejection again, if you keep making yourself so readily available.”

  That stung. “I’m readily available? You”—she poked his chest—“brought me here against my will. You lay next to me. You used my hand like... like a prop.”

  He huffed. “I will not be repeating that mistake.”

  “Why? Because I turned you down? Did that hurt your fragile male ego?” she asked with a sneer.

  His icy laugh made her skin crawl. “My ego can take it, Pherusa.” Her name dropped from his lips like a curse. “But unless you cover yourself and keep your distance, I’ll spread your thighs and fuck you against the nearest surface. Take my pleasure from you and leave you weeping. Again.” He spread one palm across her hipbone, his thumb brushing her mons. “Do you want to risk that?”

  Her arousal coated her inner thighs. Couldn’t he see how her body yielded to him? She bit her lip, to keep from begging him to touch her.