A Nereid for the Titan (TITANS, #1)

by Lazu, Sotia

  With a wicked grin, Prometheus ran his thumb along her slit. “Do you?”

  She held his gaze, one eyebrow arched in challenge, as he replaced his thumb with two fingers, to rub between her sleek folds.

  He groaned. “You’re so wet.”

  Only for him. She hadn't been touched by another man in three thousand years. But she wouldn't tell him that.

  Her hips jerked forward as he wedged his fingers inside her and pressed his thumb to her clitoris. Losing her composure, she dug her nails in his shoulder.

  “So I’ve been thinking you can’t stay cooped up here all the time, and if you want to go for a stroll on the beach, clothes might be good.” The male voice came from a ball of light behind Prometheus.

  A young man materialized, as if spilling out of the light.

  Pherusa squeaked, and Prometheus let go and spun toward the intruder. “You again?” he snarled.

  The man—god, judging by his entrance, though not one of the Olympians—held out a palm, his other arm laden with folded clothes. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

  “Too late for that,” Prometheus said, as Pherusa asked, bewildered. “Who are you?”

  “Eros,” Prometheus whispered. “Aphrodite’s kid. God of love, and annoying pest who won’t leave me alone.”

  “Sticks and stones... Anyway, I’ll just leave these...” Eros looked around and scrunched his nose. “Prometheus, dude, not even a chair? Seriously.”

  Prometheus flicked his wrist, and a section of wall folded outward, to form a sort of shelf.

  “Yeah, okay. That’ll do.” Eros placed the armful of clothes on there and snapped the fingers of one hand. A flat rectangular thing appeared in his grasp. “This is for money. A credit card in the name Prometheus Titanas. Prometheus, if you scroll through the memories I gave you, you’ll know what to do with it. It’s practically limitless, so you could upgrade your digs too. Maybe buy your lady something pretty.”

  Prometheus mumbled, “Not my lady,” but it sounded halfhearted, and Eros had flickered out anyway.

  Pherusa had many, many questions about what just happened, but she also had two of Prometheus’ fingers inside her, and she’d rather focus on them.

  There was a flash of regret in Prometheus’ eyes as he pulled away. He went to what Eros had left them, and rummaged through the stack until he pulled out something white with bright flowers painted on it. He balled it up and tossed it to her. “Get dressed. You need to eat something, and a little fresh air might do us both some good.”

  Food was the furthest thing from her mind, but the moment had passed.

  The dress he’d selected for her was cut like the robes they had at the palace, and she easily wrapped it around her body and tied it at the waist. She looked down at her bare feet. “We can’t go too far. We have no shoes.”

  Prometheus fumbled with the button of his short trousers. “There are eateries along the beach.” He slid the credit card in his pocket and held out his hand.

  She took it. His large palm clasped around her smaller one felt natural. Right. Perfect.

  Blackness closed around her, and then the bright early-afternoon sun made her squint. None of the people around paid them any notice, as Prometheus tugged her along. He had to be doing his compulsion thing, planting in their minds the suggestion to look away.

  The sand was warm under Pherusa’s feet, and the sea called to her. If she broke free, she could have her tail back in no time.

  But Prometheus’ pull was about more than his hold on her hand. She was drawn to him, body, mind, and soul, and didn’t want to leave his side.

  As if he read her mind, he said, “If I let go, will you run away?”

  “Probably.” She bit back a grin when he tangled his fingers through hers. Now they looked like yet another couple strolling along the shore.

  Prometheus led her into the first establishment they came upon, a stark-white building with blue tables spread out in a yard under a canopy. He pulled out a chair, and when she sat, made himself comfortable across the table from her, then called the waitress over and asked her for the day’s specials, like he’d done this a million times.

  “No seafood,” he said. “My... companion is allergic.”

  Pherusa smiled. That was nice of him, not making her see cooked sea creatures.

  He ordered for the both of them, and the waitress left. She returned with a glass jug of wine and served Pherusa first.

  “Let’s see what modern Greeks have done with wine,” Prometheus said.

  The waitress gave him an odd look, and he laughed. It was his real laugh—the one that made Pherusa’s legs weak and her heart speed up. It must have a similar effect on the waitress, who blushed and let her hand linger on his shoulder as she told him to call her if he needed anything.

  There was something weird about the exchange, and it wasn’t the woman’s flirtiness. Pherusa figured it out as the waitress walked away. “You speak modern Greek,” she said to Prometheus.

  He nodded. “Eros gave me a quick lesson on... well... everything I’ve missed.” He brought his glass to his lips and made an appreciative sound. “Delicious.”

  The word flipped in her belly, and warmth sped through her. She sipped her own wine, but it did nothing to put out the fire Prometheus lit inside her. Focus, woman. She met his gaze. “If you’ve seen everything, then you saw me cry for you. You know how I—”

  His black eyes hardened, and he turned toward the sea. “He showed me the big picture. Teutonic plates shifting. Populations emigrating. War. Famine. Technological progress. And he taught me a few dozen languages.”

  “I see.” She could think of nothing else to say.

  Thankfully the waitress showed up with their salad, along with an incredible thing called feta and something like a thick savory cloud with a crunchy crust called a bread, and their mouths were too busy for conversation anyway.

  Pherusa paced herself until a platter of what was impossibly tasty fried earth apples arrived. Finally full, she sat back and watched Prometheus work his way through the rest of the dishes.

  A small smile curved one corner of his lips even as he buried his teeth in a meatball and chewed. He was enjoying this, and for the first time since he was returned to her, he appeared relaxed.

  She envied the food for making him so happy, but he might be easier to talk to now. “What do you plan to do with me? Will you keep me on land until I forget Vythos?” She was proud of herself for keeping her voice steady, but honestly, the prospect wasn’t as terrifying when he was this close.

  Prometheus swallowed the bite in his mouth and shrugged. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  “Then why take me?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  He arched an eyebrow and patted his lips with his napkin. “I wanted your father’s crown and trident. He wouldn’t relinquish them. I thought losing you instead would hurt him more.”

  She gulped down the rest of her wine, to hide her wince. Its aroma was muted by the bile in her throat, but the burning down her gullet was a welcome distraction.

  She’d spent more time than she cared to recall, drifting through one day after the next and pretending to be present in her life, while after nightfall she cried into her pillow for her Titan and what might have been. Now she was no more than a trophy, close to him, and at the same time unable to touch his soul.

  Chapter Eight

  He was still in love with Pherusa.

  He chewed on the bread that had lost its flavor, and he was in love with her.

  He looked at the sun dipping lower on the horizon, and he was in love with her.

  He winked at the waitress when he told her everything was delicious, and he was still. In love. With Pherusa.

  He might hate the idea of loving her, but he didn’t hate her, and when her expression fell at his brushoff, he almost blurted out as much.

  But no. No matter what was in his heart, his head set the rules for this game, and it said he’d keep he
r ashore and enjoy her company until she forgot who she was—if there was time for that before he unraveled.

  The table between them shook, and her glass trembled in her hand. The waitress hurried to lean against the threshold that lead inside. Silly girl. They were safe from earthquakes out here.

  A sound like a hard slap made him turn in his seat. A wave crashed against the short white wall surrounding the yard. Down the beach, people screamed, as the water swelled over the shore and pulled them and their belongings into the sea.

  “Is your father doing this?” he asked Pherusa.

  Her face was drawn. “No. He wouldn’t put humans at risk.” She bit her bottom lip. “I... I think it’s you. Your eyes are gold, and...” She slid further back in her chair and indicated his hands with a tilt of her head.

  Prometheus looked down to see them shaking. He stood and slammed his palms onto the table, making it creak. “Chaos. Come.” He reached for her, but she pulled back so hard her chair topped over.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Back to the cave. Come on.”

  She took a step toward him, when her name was carried to them by the wind.

  “Pherusa.” It was a man’s voice.

  Prometheus spun toward the sea. “It is your father. Or someone working for him.” He raised his arms, and the waves followed his motion, arching higher than their heads. He couldn’t drown a sea deity, and Nereus would assume control of the waters in no time, but Prometheus needed to cause a distraction until he grabbed Pherusa and blinked away.

  “Wait,” Pherusa yelled. “He’s a friend. Let me talk to him, and I give you my word I’ll be right back.”

  Prometheus stood between her and the waves, swallowing the bitter taste of jealousy. Whoever the male was, Pherusa belonged to Prometheus now. “Your word means nothing to me,” he spat.

  She narrowed her eyes and her nostrils flared. “That is a pity.” Before he could stop her, she ran past him and jumped into the water.

  Prometheus ordered the waves to toss her back out, but they didn’t obey. His hands still trembled, and people still screamed, and now gray slates tore out of the floor beneath his feet and spun wildly before crushing into the restaurant walls and marring their perfect white.

  Was he causing this? Was he unraveling, like Eros warned?

  His head throbbed, as Atlas’ roar bounced inside his mind. Prometheus felt Hyperion mentally slam against the marble he was locked into. Another, primal echo overrode everything, threatening to destroy him with its intensity.

  Prometheus took a long breath and focused on letting it out slowly. He wouldn’t hear his brothers, because they weren’t here. This was his mind, playing tricks on him. His emotions, getting the better of him. He wouldn’t be jealous of Pherusa’s daimon, because Pherusa was his now, whether she wanted to be or not. He wouldn’t be angry at himself for loving her, because love couldn’t be reasoned with.

  But he was still jealous, and he was still angry, and he was still. Fucking. In love with her.

  “Fuck,” he called out, to the darkening sky. Lovely word. So versatile.

  Fuck the daimon and fuck Pherusa and fuck this entire world. Prometheus would let earth split in half if it came to it. He had nothing to lose.

  He strode to the edge of the yard, above a three-meter drop that ended in glistening dark rocks, and tried to make out Pherusa’s form in the water. Her green tail broke the surface beside a blue one, and then she was gliding over the waves, hanging onto a dolphin’s back. The wind dropped as suddenly as it had picked up, and the beach goers quieted, but they were pointing these... things toward Pherusa. Cell phones. And cell phones had cameras that could capture Pherusa’s tail and the moment it gave way to legs, and get her and all remaining immortals into trouble.

  Prometheus called on the electrons in the atmosphere, and static crackled throughout the air. This would wipe the phones’ memories, if he got it right. Humans weren’t ready to know about Vythos and its creatures.

  Which didn’t matter. Because he’d soon be ending creation.

  The waitress braved the weather, and in a shaky voice approached him and asked him to pay.

  He gave her his credit card and told her to keep a tip of twenty percent—more than her usual, judging by her dazzling smile. When she returned, he flattened the flapping piece of paper she held out to him on his knee, and used the pen she offered to scratch his name on it. He knew how to use a pen, like he knew how to handle himself with the rest of this modern world—thanks to Eros—but it felt fragile and awkward between his fingers, and it snapped in two when he got to the s in Titanas.

  The waitress recoiled, but her smile remained in place. “Thank you.” She took the paper back but left him the broken pen. “And this is your receipt.” She handed it to him and scurried off to the relative safety of inside.

  Prometheus pocketed the card and receipt. It was surreal, this bit of normalcy he’d never before experienced, in the midst of the chaos.

  He returned his gaze to the sea, just as the dolphin approached with Pherusa holding onto his back.

  It shifted into a blue-haired man, who helped her find her footing on the rocks that lay at the bottom of the outer wall.

  Prometheus leaned down and held out a hand for her before he realized he was about to. As soon as Pherusa clasped it, he blinked back to his cave.

  He made sure she had her balance, and then conjured a soft glow that resembled that of the evening sun. “You came back.”

  “I told you I would.” She didn’t let go of his hand.

  “Why didn’t you look for me when I was away?” And where did that come from? If he was right all along, she’d wanted him gone. Were her lies getting to him, or did his heart see past his anger and recognize what his mind refused to?

  Her red-rimmed eyes pierced holes into his soul. She licked her lips. “I didn’t know I could. Zeus told Father you were gone—in Tartarus. I considered taking my life, but even then we wouldn’t be together, since death would deliver me to the Elysian Fields.” Those deemed worthy by Hades were allocated there after their passing, and minor deities had sort of a standing reservation at the place.

  Would she have really died for him?

  Irrelevant.

  He should focus on current matters. “What did the daimon want?” he asked.

  Pherusa’s shoulders sagged. “Palaemon said two of your brothers are stirring.”

  The feeling spilling through his veins took a moment to recognize. Relief. His brothers would soon join him on earth, and then maybe the world wouldn’t have to end, and he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

  “The sea witch doesn’t know which ones”—Pherusa grimaced—“but she’s afraid one of them might be Kronos.”

  Well, fuck.

  Chapter Nine

  Prometheus was quiet for so long, Pherusa wasn’t sure he heard her. “What if it is him?” she asked.

  He absentmindedly caressed her wrist with his thumb, sending a wave of warmth up her arm and across her chest. “What if it is?”

  “He might want to pick up where he left off.” Kronos had ruled the world before Zeus overthrew him, and had fought hard to remain in control. Pherusa was born after the Titan’s reign, but she’d heard horror stories about the Titanomachy—the battle that decided all Titans’ fate. “The witch and my father are worried he may come after the remaining deities, to establish his dominion. A war could be devastating for Vythos and the mortal realm alike.” The prospect was terrifying. If only she could burrow in the safety of Prometheus’ arms...

  He had no reason to want to comfort her.

  He tightened his grip on her hand for a second, before letting go and stepping away. “Did your daimon friend come to ask you to recruit me on Nereus’ behalf?” His eyes blazed in the dim light, and the muscle in his jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth.

  “Would it be so bad if he did? You may hate me and Father, but the humans? You created them. You can’t tell me you don’t care that t
hey’ll be sacrificed in the altar of your brother’s ego.” She snapped her mouth shut before she added again.

  Prometheus let out a bitter chuckle. “You don’t know me anymore, little Siren. Don’t act like you do.”

  She should be more understanding, after what he’d been through, but fury—white hot and all consuming—shoved aside her sympathy and guilt. “I know the man I used to love would never do that.” Her voice boomed in the confined space. “I know he was good and fair, and he wouldn’t support a murderous, power-mad proto-god, even if he was his own blood.”

  He shook his head, and tension rolled off him in waves, thick enough it tightened around Pherusa’s chest. “I didn’t stand by my brother last time, and you saw what it got me. I shared his fate, even after all I did for Zeus. Maybe this time I’ll pick the right side.”

  “The right side?” She snorted. “What can possibly be right about Kronos? He was insane before he was ever put in stasis. Can you imagine his state of mind if he’s released? He’ll wreak havoc. He’ll—”

  “He’ll unravel,” Prometheus said in a flat tone. “And the world will follow him into demise.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “And you’re fine with that?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? Eros showed me what humans have done with the life I gave them. They kill each other in the name of religion as easily as they do over petty cash. They pillage and rape and torture. They destroy without second thought. What about them is so special that I should fight my brother to protect them?”

  It broke her heart to see him so jaded, as much as it incensed her that he’d given up on all that was good. She tried to reason with him. “What about love? And children? And... and puppies? Yes, there is bad in humans, but there’s good in them too. They save each other on a daily basis. They grow and learn and discover and evolve. You cannot support their destruction because they’ve disappointed you.”

  “Watch me,” he said. His eyes glowed gold, before he squeezed them shut. When he opened them again, they were black like tar, and his face was relaxed. Impassive. “I’m tired. I need to rest. If you wish to go outside and play with your daimon friend—”