The whites of his eyes appeared bigger than they had seconds ago, and a look of shock and unbelievable pain flashed across his face. For a second, I regretted it all. I hated seeing him this way and wished I’d never said a word. But that vulnerable look was soon gone, replaced by one that was cold, indifferent, and full of hate. I flinched, practically shrinking in on myself as I sensed the shift between us.
“I love you! Don’t you fucking see that!” he snapped, slapping at his chest, his dark eyes wild with things that chilled me to my very core. “Take me. Be mine. Always. I would treat you right. I would be all the man you ever needed. I would sink into your slippery, hot folds and fuck you until—”
I gasped at the filth that tripped so easily off his tongue. And I hissed, “You’re sick. You’re not well, Perseus. I see that now. You don’t want me. And I assure you, I don’t want you. Not like that. We were friends. That’s all we ever were.”
His upper lip curled back like a feral dog’s. “Were? Past tense? Then what the hell is this?” He gestured wildly between us, reminding me of what I’d done seconds ago. The way I’d practically crawled into his body. How I’d allowed him to hold me. My stomach surged, and the heat of sickness shot up the back of my throat. I had to swallow twice to keep it down.
“You are nothing but a vile, disgusting whore showing off your body to me the way you did. Bet you did that to him too, huh? Slut!” He wet his lips, and madness raged in his eyes. “Do you touch yourself at night, thinking of me fucking you? Of him doing it too? Of owning us all? Do you, Medusa, you fucking cunt!”
I gasped. “How dare you!”
His smile was chilling. “Slipping up your tunic, showing off your shapely legs, swimming in those waters until the fabric bunched and revealed every slick line of your perky breasts and tight, young pussy. You’ve always been a tease. A godsdamned flirt. You knew what you were doing, and you did it anyway. You’re filth. You’re a whore. You’re—”
Pain. Shame. Rage. It all came out of me and shaped into words that I knew would change our lives forever. “You’re a bastard and that’s all you’ll ever be! I went swimming to catch you fish, you sick arse. Do not speak about me ever again in such a repugnant and vile man—”
His grin was cold and made my skin crawl.
“I’ll say whatever the hell I want. If you’re not my mate, then it makes you a whore. A dirty, nasty whore who gets exactly what she deserves. Be mine, Medusa.” He planted his palm against the flat of his stomach, his voice suddenly less cold and more pleading, and I was shocked by the instant transformation that’d overtaken him. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought him acting or that this was some elaborate hoax. But I did know better.
Did he honestly think I could ever forget the disgusting things he’d just told me? What game was this? What kind of self-respect would he think I had if I let him get away with something like this? All I could imagine was my life with him. We weren’t even together, and already he was a monster. I could only imagine how much worse things could be if I were actually his. I thanked the gods that I’d seen this in him before it was too late.
He was sick. It was so obvious now. All those times when I’d felt things were off between us, when I’d sensed that Perseus’s reactions weren’t even within the realm of normal, I’d shrugged them off and believed he was having a bad day, night, year, life. Gods, I’d been so stupid! How he must have laughed at how easily he’d manipulated me.
I’d been such a damned blind fool. Just as I often did with creatures caught in traps in the wild, I’d tried to save something that was well beyond my ability to save.
I shook my head. The stinging and bitter realization of what I’d lost in a heartbeat suddenly came crashing down, leaving me weak and empty. If I’d been standing, my knees would have given out.
“We’re done, Percy,” I whispered as hot tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, blinding me for half a second. “I’m sorry.” The words of apology instantly flew from my mouth, and I realized I was feeling sorry for him when the truth was that he owed me the apology. But even so, I heard myself uttering the words again. “I’m so sorry. But you’re not well. And I cannot be your friend anymore.”
That softness in him fled in an instant, and the devil was back, come to consume my soul. His face twisted into something not human at all. And I swore but for a split second, it was like he’d turned into a literal demon. His flesh, usually a rich shade of mahogany, was near black and full of scales. His blunted human teeth resembled a cobra’s fangs, and a glowing red light emanated from within the pupils of his eyes.
I gasped, shoving back in the waters and kicking my feet to get away. But the moment I moved, he looked human again, and I questioned what in the world I’d seen just seconds ago. My heart was beating so hard I was sure it would jump free of its cage any moment.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and his hands rose up, his fingers curled, and finally a sense of self-preservation overtook me. Snapping my wings out, I shoved out of the water with all my power, dripping wet and knowing that when I got home, looking as I did, Mother would realize I’d lied to her all these years. But I was choked up with fear and blinded by my tears, and Mother’s disappointment was the least of my concerns, because more than anything, I was disappointed in myself.
“I hate you!” he yelled. “I hate you! I hope you die! And I will laugh, Medusa! I will sing praises to the gods when you do!”
Disbelieving the cruelty with which he hurled those insults so willingly and easily, I gasped then twirled, swallowing the ball of tears trapped in my throat, and raced away from him like foolish Icharus falling from the sky. And long after I’d left him behind, I heard his cries of fury and odium ringing in my ears. Those words would haunt me forever.
For a minute, I felt nothing as I flew, the shock surely shutting down my emotions. I couldn’t believe it was really over between us. I’d known him for five years, and I’d thought him my best friend. Thought we would be friends forever. But with each beat of my wings that took me farther from him and closer to home, the shock began to wear off.
It was over. This was really over. Forever.
I would never see my best friend again.
I would never again know the comfort of being with a peer.
There was no hope of a future mate for me now. I had nothing. This was it. My life as I’d known it was over.
Chapter 51
Medusa
When I saw Mother’s home, the sun was nearing its rest for the night, and I could no longer go on. I dropped. My wings literally ceased moving, and I landed in an ungraceful heap upon the dirt-packed earth. The agony that I’d swallowed came spewing out, and sounds I’d never known I was capable of making exploded around me.
I was like a dying and wounded animal clawing at the ground and grieving the loss of something it knew it should never grieve but did, anyway. I heaved with my sobs.
I clutched at tall grasses with my numbed fingers and stared at a world full of bleeding colors until I noted a ripple of heat on the not too distant horizon.
My brows dipped. Forgetting about my trauma for a second, I watched what looked like a walking flame draw closer and closer. Sniffing, I rubbed at the remaining tears dripping off my nose and cheeks.
What in the devil was that? Growing calmer by the second, I found my tears all but dried up as I became distracted by the mystery of the moving fire. It wove in random movements through the tall grass. I might have thought it Apollo’s fiery chariot racing through the sky except for the fact that it was definitely upon land. And the nearer it drew, the more it resembled a moving pillar of flame.
It snapped golden at the edges and a deep, almost impossible blue at its center. Sniffing, I scrubbed at my eyes with my wrist but still couldn’t tear my gaze off the advancing mystery.
It was the strangest thing, but I grew very still, almost weirdly calm the closer it drew toward me. What was it?
It did not move like any fire I�
��d ever seen. Its movements almost reminded me of a wind funnel. Anywhere it touched, it ripped debris up with it, instantly burning it to a cinder the second it contacted even the coolest part of its flame.
As the mystery unfolded, I grew calmer and calmer, forgetting all that’d just happened and focused entirely on whatever it was that advanced steadily toward me.
Something about it seemed familiar, and though I wasn’t sure why, it was as though I’d seen this fire before. But again, I had no idea when or where, only that I knew I was not reacting as a normal person should or would in this moment.
I kept telling myself to get up and fly away, to leave, that this thing, whatever it was, could be dangerous. It could be sent by the gods to destroy me, and maybe Perseus himself had sent it my way.
But no matter how many words of caution my brain screamed, I could not move. I was frozen fast to this spot of land.
The pillar was so close I could smell its fire. But it wasn’t like the smell of wood smoke typically associated with an open flame. This smelled of darkness and wild magick, which were two impossible smells. I knew this, and yet it was the only description I had for them.
One thing was solidifying in my mind. This was no normal fire. This flame came from the gods themselves and that’s how I realized I had seen its like before. Mother would often create a similarly burning patch of it from the very tip of her finger with naught but a thought. And just as I thought it, the fire began to take shape, drawing closer in some spots and out in others.
And as it drew nearer and nearer, it changed entirely. No longer fire, it was now a man—a powerful warrior with armor so deeply black that it was void of all color. It did not shine or even gleam. It was pure, consuming darkness. His skin was the rich umber of deeply burnished wood. His face was chiseled of granite, his jawline so sharp and square that it made me think of a finely honed metal blade. Upon his head, he wore a crested helmet full of bloodred bird feathers. After lifting his hands, he gently removed the helmet and tucked it to his side.
He had wavy dark-brown hair that nicely framed his already handsome face, making him look ten times more appealing than before.
I sucked in a sharp breath, trembling all over, as for the first time in my life, my heart gave a violent surge that was not at all fear or rage but something altogether different. My entire body felt like a taut bowstring, quivering and ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
There was no doubt in my mind that what stood like a towering tree before me was a god. And at a guess, I would say that there was only one it could be. I’d never worshipped him before, but I had worshipped his sister. Wetting my lips, I stared at the god of war and wondered why he was here and who he had come to see. I could not make sense of his being here. Had this been Zeus, it might have made more sense, but Ares wasn’t known for being a flirtatious and carefree god amongst the mortals. Legend always depicted him as fierce, charismatic, and cunning.
Maybe if I’d been in the midst of a war, his being here would make sense, but it was just me, alone in the dawning night. What business could he possibly have with someone like me? Immediately after thinking that, I thought of something else. Maybe there was more to it. Maybe he was exactly where he was supposed to be. I glanced at the quicksilver gleam of his blade that hung by its hilt at his side.
Gods, he was a big man. Tall and broad shouldered.
I was stunned by his undeniable beauty and feline gracefulness. He moved like a predator, which made sense, I supposed, considering who he was. And then my heart suddenly and instantly clenched with fear.
Perseus was Zeus’s son, and he’d cursed me to a violent death just now. Had his father actually answered his supplication by sending his other son to finish the task? I sucked in a sharp breath and quickly averted my eyes, no longer thinking of the god of war as anything remotely beautiful but now terrifyingly deadly.
I shook as I expected to hear the snick of his war blade sliding from its sheath to give me my final punishing blow for daring to bring dishonor upon his mortal half sibling. But as the seconds ticked past and I heard no sound of his war blade, I dared to chance a peek up at him.
He stood there like a mighty sentinel, calmly staring back at me. A gentle wind riffled through his hair and swayed the ends of his chiton. He reminded me of a statue come to life, and he studied me almost as though he’d never seen anything quite like me before. That was impossible. He was a god, and he’d literally seen the birth of my world. But he was not simply looking at me. His eyes were moving all over my body, and they burned with obvious curiosity. His was not the look of someone sent to end my existence but rather a study by someone who couldn’t quite seem to make me out.
It was a bit unnerving to be so blatantly studied in that way.
I thought then of Mother’s eternal banishment from Olympus and wondered if his being here had anything to do with her and nothing at all to do with Perseus after all.
I swallowed and dug my fingers into the loose, rocky soil, aware of the bugs now crawling over my sprawled-out legs. Nyx had taken up residence in the sky once more. Mother would surely be worried about me and wondering where I was. My stomach knotted up into a nest of nerves.
Should I speak to him? Ask him why he’d come? Or should I not? Would he think me impertinent if I tried? If I were one of my sisters, I would speak up. As an immortal, I would not fear Ares’s hand of justice. But I was not immortal like my sisters. I was very mortal and extremely breakable in the hands of that god.
I struggled with an internal desire to know why he’d come but also with a deep sense of self-preservation. A stuttery breath spilled off my tongue.
As if that sound made him aware of how strangely we were both acting, he finally moved, and shamefully, I almost jumped out of my skin. My wings tingled with the need to fly, to get as far away from him as possible. Even my feet burned with the need to run. But I was no swift-footed Hermes that I could beat War in a race. There was no outrunning Ares, and if he really wanted to take me down, he could with but a snap of his long, masculine fingers.
“Do not fear me, child.” He spoke for the first time, and his voice was deeply exotic and melodious.
My brows quickly drew in with consternation, and my lips parted. I was no child. I was a maiden of seventeen years. But before I could mutter those words, I remembered to whom I would be speaking and shut my mouth.
His full, wonderfully designed lips stretched, and a curious glint filled his eyes. “You wish to speak with me?”
I shook my head, but I was speaking before I realized what I was doing. “I’m not a child. And stop talking so much. Your voice bothers me.”
I wasn’t lying. It bothered me in a wonderfully decadent way. My skin tingled everywhere, and between my legs was a strange heaviness I’d never felt before. I couldn’t describe the sensation so much as the feelings they gave me. Longing. Heat. Quickly clamping my mouth shut, I suddenly wished like the Underworld that I’d not said that. What if he thought I actually meant his voice displeased me? Would he take offense? I waited, fully expecting to see the fury of his wrath rain down upon me any second. Olympians weren’t known for their patience. But he did the most unexpected thing instead.
He tipped his head back, exposing the long, lean lines of his powerfully strong neck, and laughed. The winds suddenly rang out with the sound of it, like the most beautiful of music. I sat entranced watching the god of war take delight in whatever it was I’d said that was so funny.
I was shocked and also a bit enraptured by the sight. Gods above, he was beautiful, wasn’t he? My heart gave the merest bump of agreement.
“You are a feisty one, aren’t you, woman?” I sensed his teasing, but weirdly, I liked it too. “And what, pray tell, is wrong with my voice? I’ve never been told that it offended anyone. Just the opposite, in fact. One of my more redeeming qualities, or so Dite tells me.”
My brows rose high up on my forehead at the casual reference to his lover and the goddess of love
and lust herself, Aphrodite. And shame like I’d never known filled my body. What must he have thought of me? Here I was, nothing but an impertinent human female. Beautiful by mortal standards but no better than a hagfish compared to the beauty that daily surrounded him.
Automatically, I tucked my wings in tighter around my middle. I did not usually like to keep unprotected in this manner, but he was war, and I knew there was nothing I could do to save myself if he really wished to destroy me. The wings were many things for me. My comfort. My joy. And also a shelter when I felt threatened, as I did right now.
I felt a tugging on one of my feathers, and when I looked, it was to note that Ares held it in his massively large palm and was tracing the quill with his other hand.
Words completely left me as I marveled in that strangest of sensations. Not just touch, because Perseus had done it often enough, but his touch had never made me feel on fire. Alive and blazing like a nova. Everywhere Ares moved, it was like an arrow was shot through my flesh, making different parts of my body come alive with a mighty surge that unnerved and tantalized me. I couldn’t keep from shivering, which he must have noticed because he looked up at me from beneath his long, dark lashes, and a curl of a grin took up residence on the left-hand side of his delectable-looking mouth.
“Does this bother you?” he asked in his deeply sensual voice that I was coming to crave as much as the freedom of winging through the skies above.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “No, no. But surely you’ve seen other wings before, yes?”
He shrugged and finally released my feather. I thought I would feel relieved, but I felt anything but. An ache was spreading mysteriously through me. I wanted more of his touch, even though I knew I had no right to it. Not to mention that everyone knew he was the property of Aphrodite, and I did not wish to become another Helen of Troy. Not that I was as pretty as her—I was sure Aphrodite would feel no jealousy from looking at me—but Helen’s ultimate fate had been far from pleasant.
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