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Until the smell of food hammers into my senses like a battering ram. Suddenly, every instinct is alive, screaming in need.

I realize I’m breathing hard as my escort uncovers a tray of simple rice and lentils, my mouth practically slobbering. All very abruptly tempered by the sound of silk-draped granite.

“Ero. You look…ready.” Ananke steps into view, sweeping across the room in a gown made for a queen.

“You look…” Like my nightmares.

“I know,” she croons, taking the seat across from me. “I see your hatred has not abated. Good. You’ll need fuel to be your best.”

I want to throw the plate at her, lunge across the table and strangle her.

A single glance of those cold eyes freezes me to my seat. And I realize I don’t really want to hurt her. Not really.

“Eat. Then you may rest.”

Carefully, I take a shaking spoonful, chewing slowly. It takes every ounce of what little self-control I have left not to shovel it into my mouth. A few bites later, I feel unreasonably full.

The disconnected feeling from my cell takes the place of my hunger, my hate.

“This hazing. When you’re done buttering me up, you’ll throw me down there again, won’t you? Maybe torture me a bit. Waterboarding?”

Ananke stares blankly at me for a few seconds. Then she tosses her head back and laughs, full and throaty. “Boy, I could do anything I could think of and I know it won’t change who you are at your core. Believe me, I’ve tried. Consider this an apology for losing my temper, for wanting to punish your impudence and foul language.”

“So that’s it? I just eat. Sleep. And I can leave tomorrow?”

“You could.” She stands, circling the table, dragging one of those immaculate claw nails along the lacquered wood. “However…you will not go.”

It’s not a command. Not a manipulation. Just a statement.

I want to deny it, to protest. It’s my instinct to argue, to fight.

But she’s right. Something changed in me over the past few days. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Or don’t want to.

Without a second thought, I lower myself onto my knee before her. I place my lips on the ring at her finger, bowing my head.

“Do you want a purpose? A holy mission?”

“No. I just want someone else to tell me what to do. I’m a weapon. Point me at a target. And let me watch the world burn in my wake.”

It’sdark when my eyes open, just after the door to my room creaked softly. No warnings, no signs of danger.

Anyone else would miss the brush of a foot on the carpet, almost imperceptible. I stay still, feeling the presence move to the other side of the bed, pause.

Then someone eases down onto the bed, curling under the covers and up against my back.

Without a word, I turn over, my arms slipping under Circe’s neck, pulling her toward me. Our noses barely brush in the darkness, right before her lips graze mine.

I should refuse this.

Push her away.

But the silence of the night, the protective darkness around us, lets me give in.

My lips caress her neck, tugging down the strap of her nightgown, liquid smooth under my fingertips. It makes running my hands across her body even more alluring, sensual.

Her collarbones are one of my favorite features, prominent, bold. They accent her neck, graced with strong shoulders, a muscular physique. None of that detracts from her curves, however.

Her hips and ass are full in my grip. And those thighs…