by Amelia Wilde
“Yes,” I said.
“Jesus! What the fuck?” He pulled away from me. “What the fuck? Where are we? Why are you pretending to be Venus?”
“I didn’t mean…I wasn’t…”
“What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?”
I frowned. No answer would make sense.
“Where the hell are we?” His questions echoed in the hot tin can.
I tried to explain where we were, but he was already up, exploring the walls from what I could hear. Pounding on them. Maybe kicking them.
“Son of a bitch,” he said after one loud bang. “Son of a fucking bitch!” I wondered if he’d hurt himself. “And you’re in here acting like you’re Venus? Let me tell you something—you’re not Venus.”
“Yeah, I know I’m not Venus!” I said. “I think I got that.”
“Then why were you pretending to be her? You come into our gang and you try to take her place, running all over and trying to erase her tracks—”
“I wasn’t trying to erase her tracks—”
“And now you’re in here talking like you’re her from the dead? You think it’s funny to mess with me like that?”
“I wasn’t trying to mess with you! Excuse me if I’ve been locked in a pitch-black sauna with you for five or ten hours and a little freaked. Excuse me if you’re completely checked out except when you’re saying the stuff my sisters would say, who I’ll probably never see again, who I feel totally guilty about leaving, contrary to your assessment of it. Excuse me if I have some weepy things to say back, sitting in this hellhole with you about to die.” I sounded totally incoherent, even to myself.
“You knew I thought you were Venus. You should’ve said something.”
“Well, guess what? I didn’t because I’m feeling just a little flipped out right now. So fuck you,” I said.
“No, fuck you,” Zeus said.
I heard him move around the perimeter of our hell-cage.
“Oh, yeah, that’s creative,” I snapped. He rattled something on the side we’d come in. “That would be the padlocked door,” I said. He rattled it some more. “And I’ll tell you something else,” I continued. “I bet you she’d say the same stuff I was saying. You didn’t make her kill herself, Zeus. Nobody can make somebody kill herself. So you can get off your high horse. You’re not a god.”
The rattling stopped. I wished I could see his face. His eyes.
I said, “You may be the center of the universe in your mind, and you’re the center of your pack, but you think you’re so powerful that you can drive a person to suicide? People do what they want to do. She made her own choices. Let her have that, Zeus. Let her have it!”
I heard his footsteps near me in the darkness. I sniffled as he sat beside me. Did he hate me? Maybe, but it’s the sort of thing I’d have wanted my sisters to know.
I felt his heavy hand on my knee, my arm, fumbling upward for my shoulder where it rested.
Was he trying to comfort me now?
“Hey,” he said.
“What?”
“They just love you, that’s all,” he said. “Your sisters love you.”
I felt my face crumble with tears.
I didn’t bother covering it, one of the few advantages of being in abject darkness. “I love them, too,” I gasped out. “But I needed to be free, and I loved being free. I don’t think they’ll ever understand. Well, they sure won’t now.”
“Fuck, come here.” He pulled me to him. I fought to get my sobs under control, wiped my face of tears and sweat.
He smoothed back my hair some more. “I understand,” he said. Then, finally, “I’m sorry.”
I sniffled. “Are you saying that to Venus or Isis?” I asked.
“Both,” he said after a long silence. “I guess both. Are you okay with that?”
“Of course I am,” I said. “Are you?”
He pulled away. I knew he was looking at me there in the dark, felt his eyes, imagined their intensity. “You would’ve really said that to them? To your sisters?”
“Yeah. Blaming themselves for a thing I did? It’s just not right. On any level.”
“But they pushed you. They made you stay, took too much from you. You said so once.”
“They did that, but there are other responses than leaving and taking up with robbers. That was my thing, not their thing. Or jumping off a cliff. That was not Venus’s only option.”
In the intense silence that followed, I wondered if I’d hurt or angered him.
“It helps me that you say that,” he said.
“It helps me that you understand.”
He let out this breath, this labored exhale, as though he’d been holding it forever. We sat there in silence that droned on. Machinery sounded outside in the distance, then faded.
“Thanks,” he said after a while.
“Back atcha.” I felt strangely connected to him. And a little bit better, even. It was as though our guilty souls had been washed together.
I felt him sit up. He smoothed back my hair again. Drips of sweat rolled off my forehead, rolling along my hairline.
“We have to get the fuck out of here,” he said.
“Where you were last, I’m pretty sure that was the door.” I found his hand and pressed it to the floor, moving it in the direction of the door. “That way.”
He crawled to the door side of our box. I heard him feeling around and banging at the metal. “I wish they hadn’t taken my shoes.”
“No, here!” I fumbled around until I found his shoes.
He put them on and banged at the door, presumably with his feet, trying to get it open. I didn’t hear him peel off his shirt, but I heard the soft clop when he threw it. I put on my shoes, too, and fumbled my way over to him. We sat on our asses together in the darkness, ramming the door with our feet in unison until I thought my heel bones were cracked.
“No go,” he said finally.
We collapsed back, side by side.
I wished I could see him. I thought back to that day at the bank, the way his eyes looked behind that mask, the connection I felt. I flashed on his gaze that day in the hot tub—all that hunger and disdain in his eyes, but still the intensity was there. The connection.
“I never meant to erase her tracks. I never wanted that.”
“I know,” he said.
We didn’t talk about the air. I still wanted to believe there was a pinhole letting some in.
“I’m sorry to have pulled you into this,” he said.
“This again? This apology shit?”
He snickered softly. I felt him go up on his side next to me. I closed my eyes as a finger slid across my wet forehead. “That sorry was for you,” he said. “Not her.”
“Well…you get the same response. I chose it. So you can just respect that.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I said.
Another breathy little laugh in the darkness. He moved closer. In spite of the heat, I liked to be touching him. I needed it. I snuggled closer, enjoying his calm—that calm of a large animal.
And his maleness.
He slid a hand down my arm, and I felt the tickle of drops run ahead of where he stroked, like he was pushing rivulets of sweat down to my wrist, wiping them right off me. Slick, everything slick. He shifted, then, and I sensed his face nearing mine in the darkness. Lightly, he kissed me on the cheek. Then he found my lips.
This wild swell of desire came over me as we kissed. I needed him like I’d never needed anybody.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered into the kiss.
I wiped the stinging sweat out of my eyes. “You probably say that to all the girls in a pitch-black death trap from which there’s no hope of escape.”
During the ensuing silence, he passed up the opportunity to give me hope. He didn’t think we’d get out, either.
“I don’t say it to all the girls in a pitch-black death trap.” He sounded serious now. “I say it to you. I always thought it.
I thought it that first moment at the bank. Like you were beautiful. Different.”
I touched his soaked chest. I supposed we would run out of sweat at some point, but for now were like slick fish in a strange pond.
His hair tickled my cheek and his lips came down on my neck. Everything was new between us.
I snaked my hand over his shoulder, feeling so close to him, like we were porous to each other.
He kissed my neck, moved his lips to the base of my neck, that tender center part. His lips there felt as intimate as fucking. He kissed me on the lips then, cupping my cheeks.
“You know what it’s been like?” he breathed. “Watching you with them?”
I snaked my hands around his chest, skin hot and slippery, feeling so connected to him now, like he was revealing his heart.
“When I saw you on the couch that first day with Thor and Odin, I wanted to tear you three apart,” he said. “I hated them for bringing you in and having you take her place.”
He was silent for a while. I could feel how hard it was for him to say it.
“It was so bad at the end with her in that downward spiral. No way to help her. I was cruel to her because I wanted her to shape up. Then suddenly she was dead. So it was this grief and guilt and relief, all mixed together. You know? Watching you three together, it made me feel twice as messed up about her. I wanted to be with you, too, but I couldn’t get past how I felt. You came and brought all this life to us, brought the feel of our family back. I wanted you so bad, but I hated you for stirring it all up again. But I couldn’t stop wanting to be with you, Ice.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Do you still feel messed up about it?”
“Less.”
I touched his cheek, grateful for that.
He slid his hand down my wet shirtfront. There were no words—just his touch.
I reached up to his chest; I wanted to touch him everywhere, to be naked with him. “Be with me now,” I said.
“Ice.”
“Please,” I whispered.
He let out a great, gusty breath and yanked open my soggy shirt. I heard buttons ping nearby.
I barked out a laugh, half surprise, half thrill.
“What the hell,” he whispered, running his hands over my breasts. “We’re rich bank robbers. We can buy all the shirts in the world.”
I laughed. It shouldn’t be funny. Nothing mattered now.
I wrestled out of my pants—I couldn’t get them off fast enough; I wanted to be under him, to be taken by him. I pushed him to the warm metal floor and pulled his pants off.
Dizziness came over me as I tossed them aside, but I didn’t stop. I stroked his thighs, slippery with sweat, crawling up over him, slicking my hands up, up, up in the darkness until I reached his rock-hard, wet cock. I stroked him, loving touching him, so hot for him.
He groaned and rose, flipped me over, came over me, loomed over me as I stroked him. I had this thought he should stay lying, to conserve his energy.
But…why?
He growled and bit my neck, all wolfish, then licked and kissed and bit his way down to my breast, sucking, tonguing, as I wriggled under him, cock in hand, awash in sensation.
I lost contact with his cock as he moved his lower half out of my range, but there was so much more of him for me to touch and squeeze, and I did it, my hands roving all over his strong arms and shoulders, his chest.
I wanted to cry, that was how bad I wanted him. That was how grateful I felt that he was there with me, with his power and intelligence and big-animal calm.
His confident, heavy hands hydro-planed over my wet skin and my quivering belly, delving to my slick sex, fingers in my cunt, then back up, pushing up over my breasts, and neck and inside my mouth. I sucked in his fingers, keeping them mine. I wanted to consume him inside and out, and for him to consume me.
Then I let his fingers go. “Do it,” I panted.
There was this pause, then I felt him pushing my legs open.
I slid under him a bit, gripping his big shoulders. “Yes!”
He said, “I don’t have—” He panted, “Don’t have—” Don’t have a condom.
I considered my cycle—I was in a pretty safe zone, and then I thought, why am I even worrying?
“Hello, we’re being steamed like oysters,” I said. “Fuck it, Zeus. Be in me. Come inside me. Fuck me!”
He growled—a yes if I ever heard one. He set to kissing my belly, my breasts, rough last kisses, and then he guided his cock into me and plunged in with a guttural cry.
It was glorious to be filled by him, and so intense I thought I might black out. Or was that from the heat?
Actually, I may have for a second, but then I was back, and he was driving into me, slowly, sensuously, moaning softly with every thrust. I loved his man-moans, and the way his furred belly slid against my belly, and how his legs pressed along my legs.
I held him, moved with him.
Everything between us was so heated, so on the edge, it seemed unwise, yet I wanted it to last.
He drove into me, and I gasped, feeling like I might pass out again.
Breathe normally! I told myself, but it was all too hot on every level. And it didn’t matter.
He changed his angle and I cried out from the deliciousness of it, my voice echoing inside the box.
He fucked me new yet again, sending stars into my mind, tremors into my body. I was going delirious, like we might be fucking ourselves to death. It was a total god pack way to die.
The sensation increased, and I grabbed onto his arms, then his back, digging into his skin for dear life as we fucked like wild bears. My hands were slipping all over. More moisture, more slickness. A different kind of slickness.
Had I drawn blood? “I think I gouged you! I’m sorry,” I gasped.
“What do I care? Take everything, Isis. Take it all.” He came down closer, propped himself on his elbows and grabbed my hair as he pumped into me. “Take it all!” He kissed the breath out of me. I swung my legs around him, took him deep, getting pleasure fringed with pain.
I groaned as the orgasm uncoiled in my belly, blooming through my sex, dragging me under until it exploded my mind, my toes. “Zeus!” I cried. “Zeus!”
He didn’t stop—he was building, building, fucking me, breathless. Then he dropped his forehead to my chest and drove into me one last time, coming with a strangled yell as I held him tight to me.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes.” I felt him pump into me, cock shaking inside of me.
After a while he relaxed over me and groaned, panting.
“Yes,” I whispered again.
He kissed me then, all over—he kissed my cheek, my closed eyes, my forehead, my hair. “Oh, Ice,” he said, kissing me.
A little later he pulled out of me and collapsed on my side. With an arm he drew me to him. I held onto him and there we lay in the darkness, heating each other and not caring.
We said nothing for a long time. I listened to the distant buzzes and rumbles I’d been listening to for hours.
“Well,” I joked. “What should we do now?”
He groaned and lifted himself up, pulled on my arm. “Come here.” He moved toward the wall and I fumbled after him. He sat himself back against the hot side of the container. I sat next to him and he put his arm around me. “I don’t want to pass out just yet.”
“Pass out?”
“Lying there like that. It seems like we’d pass out sooner. I think—I’m not sure. Where’s Thor when you need him, huh?”
I nestled in closer. “Are you scared?” I asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Being pursued by these guys for so long, it’s been a low-level tension for so long, that being grabbed by them, it’s a little bit of a relief. I just don’t want them to pull us out and torture us. I guess I’m scared of that for you.”
“You think that will happen?”
“Nah. It’s been too many hours. It means they have Odin and Thor too.”
<
br /> “No,” I said, feeling my eyes sting.
“They would’ve come back by now if they didn’t. They’d want to use my body parts to lure them.” The silence stretched long. “I think it’s over. I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t,” I said, feeling despondent.
“Hey,” he kissed my cheek. “You’re okay.”
But I so wasn’t. Neither of us was.
“I have a confession,” he said then.
“What?”
“It’s a big one, so get ready.”
“Okay,” I said.
“We didn’t really take our names from gods.”
“Huh?”
“Well, not really. They’re from comic books.”
I closed my eyes, smiling in the darkness as tears streamed from my eyes. “That is so…” Cute, I wanted to say, but it’s not a thing you say to a man at a moment like this.
Oh my badass Peter Pans, I thought.
“I’m glad we got one of your comforters bought,” he said. “I hope they don’t lose the farm.”
“Me, too,” I said. “The other comforters were up with a longer lead time. I think they’re getting lots of orders. I hope they’re okay.”
I felt a tear slide down my cheek.
“I bet they keep the farm. Your farm sounds nice. I can’t believe you know how to make cheese and woolen goods and things. Were your folks hippies?”
“Kind of,” I said.
“It sounds amazing to make things like that. Simple things like that.”
“Says the bank robber.”
A long, dizzy silence. Then, “I wasn’t always one. We weren’t always robbers.”
“What were you?”
“On the nothing chance we survive this, I shouldn’t tell you.” Zeus toyed with my hair.
I waited, hoping he’d say at least something.
“Screw it—I’ll be vague,” he said.
“I’m good with vague.”
“We were…we’re supposed to be dead, basically.”
“Were you all in the military?”
“Good guess. Let’s just say we were in intelligence,” he said. “Odin and I were, not Thor. Thor was a doctor. He was overseas, working for an NGO—a volunteer medical organization. Thor saw something he shouldn’t have and he pursued it, cracked open a massive can of worms. I’m not going to say where, but it was very huge, very damaging to certain people in power. Odin was sent to kill Thor. Odin got suspicious and didn’t do the job right away. I was sent to kill Thor and Odin both.”