Page 8

CIRCE

R ust-colored water fills the sink.

A few cuts on my arm reopened, nothing serious. My knuckles are split on one hand, don’t remember exactly when that happened.

Staring at the mirror, I rinse my hands, push them back through my hair before tugging off my shirt, dropping my pants. Bruises mark my ribs faintly, marks from a rough pull of tough fingers.

His fingers.

Pressed into my skin, pulling me away from danger.

I need to pay more attention. Stupid mistake. Stupid hot that he did it so flawlessly.

The way we moved out there…

The way he tossed me around like nothing. He’s unbelievably strong, skilled, even better than me. Makes me fucking irate that he’s so damn good at this job.

No. It’s not a job.

This is our way of life.

We’re trained killers. Never meant for love, never meant for normal lives.

My hand trails along my belly, the faint, small scar low on my abdomen. I blink, losing focus. Why can’t I remember them? Our two children.

I’ve seen the photos. There in the box under my bed at my family’s old house in Greece. I’ve seen the birth certificates. The marriage license.

I’ve lived the dreams, though I rarely remember any details. Just the ache when I wake up. Kinda like the ache I feel right now. For delivering Ero to Ananke.

For tricking him.

I know he would have fought if he saw it coming. I had to make sure he was worn down. Ready to be taken, subdued. Ready to listen.

I let the fugue of exhaustion and swimming memories wash over me as I step into the scalding water. The scouring flood clears my mind, the steam blanketing my worry, blurring my vision to everything beyond the spacious shower in my suite.

A soft sigh escapes my lips as my muscles relax, the heat soothing. Releasing tension I’ve been holding for days has my hands wrapping around my arms, massaging sore spots.

Ero’s rippling arms flash through my mind…

“Mmm…” The little moan buzzes through my lips.

His firm hands run down my body, that rock-hard chest pressed against my back. I imagine my hands seeking back, running along his sides, down his hips, pulling him toward me.

That cut, perfectly lined stomach clenches bucking his hips slightly, tauntingly.

I hate how much I want him.

How I wish he was really in this shower with me.

Lips find my neck through a trickle of skin-tingling water, exploring. What starts softly turns insistent, hungry. His teeth nip at my skin, his tongue curling in tight circles that send chills through my core, imagining where else that clever tongue might wander.

My head falls back against the stone of his shoulder, the columns of his arms circling me, the pillar of his magnificent manhood pressing between my ass cheeks. He holds me tight, firm.

Those firebrand lips brush the cup of my ear, breathing along my neck, and I’m fucking lost. Fingers find their path down, following rivulets lower, spreading me slowly, finding my core soaked to match the rest of me.

That satin slick along my center makes it all too easy for him to slip a fingertip inside.

A pulse of longing thumps deep inside me like a heartbeat.

His heartbeat matching the rhythm behind me.

“Fuuu—” I gurgle through the shower, leaning against him, widening my stance to invite him in.

But that finger just lingers there, right at my entrance, toying with me. They drag back up, unveiling me and sending shocks of pleasure into my legs, along my abdomen. Down and back up, circling, slippery with my anticipation, then sling every fold, drawing out my lust.

“Just fucking…” I growl like I’m not the one making me wait, the flare of anger directed solely at him and the way he makes me feel. Ero drives me nuts. Pisses me off. Turns me on. Especially when he pisses me off.

My middle digits plummet into my center as my need and irritation rise.

Fuck Ero. Fuck this stupid mission.

“Fuck me !” I moan, curling into my inner wall, pressing into the sweetest spot. His fingers would feel even better, his mouth pressed to my clit would give me exactly the release I need.

But the image of him burying his face between my legs is enough to get me where I want to go. Straight from the fight, still glistening with sweat, his muscles tight and flush with adrenaline. Gripping my ass with both hands, spearing his tongue right into my?—

“YES!” I bite down on my lip to smother my scream as my climax rushes up from my toes, through my thighs, shaking up along my ass and though the muscles of my back.

Throbs follow the massive wave of ecstasy, smaller shivers teasing in the aftershocks of the orgasm. Immediately followed by a near fall as my legs turn to jelly.

Sinking to the tile, I let my fingers swirl, keeping a light tension of almost unbearable afterglow clenching in my core. I doubt I could come again, I’ve never been able to more than once.

But the one I managed was intense.

Necessary.

Probably because?—

You haven’t jerked off in months. Years?

Neither have you, Artemis. Can it.

Damn. That’s cold. Too soon. Way too soon .

Eventually, I find my way back to my senses, I’m almost immediately aggravated. Fucking Ero. Stupid jackass. And me an even bigger jackass for letting him get to me.

God I want him to get to me. Hard.

Ugh. He’s repulsive. Frustrating. Impossible.

I want to beat his ass to a pulp. And I want him to throw me up against a wall and make me ride his cock until I can’t stand up.

My thoughts drift below me, through the floors and down one of the halls in the dungeon-like basement where I know he’s being held.

Another pang of guilt smothers all my wants, chasing me into my bedroom, wrapped in a towel. Why should it bother me what Ananke is doing to him right now? What they’re saying?

He’s probably mouthing off to her and getting put in his place…

I’m tapping on my phone before I can stop myself.

Any issues with our guest?

A few seconds of waiting and I toss the device down on the bed, growling softly and shaking out my hair. And wow I’m pathetic when I hear the damn thing buzz and I dive onto the covers, almost fumbling it onto the floor.

I’ve concluded with my assessment for now. I’ll be absent for a few days while my initial impression has a chance to digest. Leave him to stew for a day.

I don’t bother replying.

Flopping onto my back, I let the remnants of my release cascade back over me. In a few seconds, days of hard work drag me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“Go to him. Now. Play your part.”

The voice note wakes me up, dinging in the early morning. I must have slept more than half a day, from one afternoon and all night. Stiff muscles make sitting up a chore, standing up even more so.

By the time I dress, it’s nothing physical that has me locked up in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at myself. Deep breath.

Tussling my hair, I push my shoulders back.

I look …

Hot as fuck, girl.

… like a stranger.

Other than eyeliner and mascara, I rarely use makeup. Blessings of my genetics that I’ve always had golden, smooth skin. I’ve usually tried to tame my hair, straightening it, fighting with it. A stray memory reminds me how badly I wanted to shave it as a teen.

“All to make changing my appearance easier,” I mutter with a bitter little chuckle.

Wiggling in the tight outfit, I take one last look at the slutty looking woman staring back at me with my eyes, steeling my resolve. This is silly. Mostly for the fact that I actually, really want him to think I look pretty.

Dumb girl shit. Stop it.

“Do what you need to do. Just…”

Use him.

Do the job. Means to an end. Cliché, blah blah.

Rushing out of my room in the upstairs wing of the manor house, I hurry down the steps.

Through the ballroom, I find the sliding panel, press the code.

A loud thunk announces the security door opening to my left.

Stone steps from a time when this house was as much a fortress as it was a home vanish down into the cold modern fluorescence of a tunnel.

Guards nod me along, taking a few turns once I reach the first level of the catacombs. I only occasionally meet with Ananke down here in her conference room. Thank the goddesses. The whole place feels like a tomb.

My steps echo down the last hallway, the holding cells. As far as I know, there’s never been anyone in any of them as long as I have known Ananke, but ghosts still linger, an oppressive aura that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

But the only ghost haunting these halls is his. Or maybe he just haunts me.

“Ero?”

The shadow huddled in the corner of the cell doesn’t look up as I approach the window in the door. Somehow, I know he’s awake. If not, the buzz and clunk of the door unlocking is too loud to sleep through.

I stand there for a few moments, struggling to find words.

“Are you…real?” His voice sounds groggy, disconnected. “I keep dreaming about you. The way your body moved when we fought. When we danced at our wedding. Always dreams, someone else’s dreams. It’s a trap. And I always fall right into it.”

“This wasn’t a trap. Ananke wanted to speak to you, and I just needed to?—”

“I’m not talking about this cell, or your boss. I’m talking about you.”

My spine tightens, my mouth going dry.

A gleam of his onyx eyes glints in the dim of the hall lights cutting into the gloom. Images of a caged panther rake my mind, hinting of shame and fear, primal aggression. And I am alone in this cage with him, no chains or cuffs to prevent him from attacking me.

Still, I take a step forward, then another. Crouching down, I tilt my head, lowering my gaze to meet his as he watches me move. Only a tiny flinch in his cheeks shows me his pain. His desperation.