Page 8 of Immortal Sun (Dark Olympus)

CHAPTER 8

CLEO

“Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”— Homer, The Iliad

S omething feels different today, maybe it’s because I actually had a good night’s sleep, or maybe it’s Cyrus but he’s acting really nice then foreboding right after that, like I should go with him but not believe a word that comes out of his mouth. Where is this paranoia coming from?

I frown and make my way into the bar, adrenaline still coursing through me over those giant hands sounding like thunder in front of my face. I half expected lightning to follow.

I can’t complain about him, but my nerves are always on edge when I’m around him and it’s not just because he’s a stranger. It’s the way he speaks, I think. Half the time his smile is predatory then it’s suddenly replaced with a gorgeous seductive one that makes me instantly warm.

After last night, I’m careful not to lock eyes with him for too long but the temptation is weirdly strong. I shake my thoughts away—again, even with a good sleep, I’m still clearly imagining things, I know that has to be part of it and I need to get ready for breakfast.

I’m not really paying attention when I walk through the door and start making my way toward my room only to see the stupid cat again running in the opposite direction of where we’re supposed to go. I chase after it and suddenly get lost then find myself in the back kitchen. It must be a separate one from the one used for the restaurant which is strange. Why would they have two kitchens? Maybe because Cyrus stays at the bar a lot and wants his privacy? I have to admit it’s really large—the entire area. Oh shit is this what he was talking about? Where he actually lives when he doesn’t go home? Did I just stumble into his fortress of solitude without realizing it? Gah! Stupid naked Egyptian looking cat!

I have to admit though, something smells amazing, like fresh cinnamon rolls, burned sugar, and flowers. I walk over to the oven. The light’s on, showing off plump, golden cinnamon rolls that instantly make my mouth water.

My stomach growls.

“Someone’s hungry,” a deep voice says from behind me. I jump a foot and snatch up the closest weapon, which is sadly a towel, and hold it out in front of me. The blue and white striped thing dangles off my right hand like a broken sword.

“Cute,” the voice says again. Damn, the body belonging to said voice smells even better than the cinnamon rolls. “Cute that you think you would attack me with that and actually win. I did need a laugh today. Would you like to try a roll of paper towels instead?”

Hands shaking, I drop them by my side and slowly turn.

I immediately realize I’m not ready.

No sane person would be ready for the sort of beauty staring down at me. His eyes are a weird reddish chocolate brown, like red velvet cake, framed by long dark lashes, arched brows, full lips that look better than mine, and a dimple on his right cheek.

His hair is golden-brown with shots of auburn and hits his shoulders in a way that looks like a soft caress. He’s at least six inches taller than me, but not super large like Cyrus; he’s lean like a runner.

“Like what you see?” He winks then lifts my chin with his finger so we’re close enough to kiss. “It’s really just…tragic.”

“What is?” I whisper.

He grins. “Your death.”

Happy moment officially gone. I stumble back “I’m sorry, what?”

He bursts out laughing. “Relax, won’t you?”

How could I? He seemed serious!

He licks his lips in an agonizingly slow way like he’s tasting something, and the longer I stare into his eyes the more I wonder if it’s somehow me. “I knew I was right this time, I can’t fucking wait to rub it in his face. How is the jackass doing? Still moping around like he fell out of the sky?”

“Wh-what?”

Is this man sane? Because right now I’d even take the towel and hold it between us just as a shield.

“Cyrus. Owner of Styx. Super tall.” He holds out his hand. “Weirdly good-looking despite said tallness and inability to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when prompted. That guy.”

I’m still confused why this guy is in the kitchen. “Are you the cook?”

Please God, let him be the cook because otherwise the creepy attractive man is trespassing.

He bursts out laughing again like I’m the funniest person on the planet. “Trust me,” he turns, “never eat anything I offer you. That’s like taking the apple from the…oh shit, what is it? The Evil Queen from Snow White? Yeah, it’s like that or biting into the apple from Eve.” He tilts his head as though in deep concentration. “Honest question: why is it always an apple? Why not an orange? Life is weird. And yet always like a box of chocolates.”

“Why are you talking about apples and Forrest Gump?” Cyrus’s voice is so loud that I stumble back farther from whomever this sexy stranger is, almost feeling a sense of guilt at being caught near him and stumbling into his own private residence. “And stop hitting on her, we’re going to Sin for breakfast in a few minutes. And what the hell sort of poison are you cooking? Didn’t we discuss this? Never feed the guests.”

Wait we’re leaving now?

“Like I said…” The guy goes to the oven and opens it, taking a huge inhale before laughing to himself. “Nobody would ever know, right?”

“Don’t”—Cyrus points at me like I’m the one in trouble—“ ever eat anything he offers you. I don’t care if it’s a fruit snack.” He growls low in his throat. “Enki just likes to mess with people’s minds. Take nothing he says seriously.”

I gulp while Enki rolls his eyes and flips Cyrus off. “You need a vacation.”

“And you need a chaperone.” Cyrus paces the kitchen, reaches for a glass, then turns around, his glare is straight up locked on me. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready, not flirting?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” I say defensively, holding up my hands.

“If she was, I’d almost feel sad for humanity at this rate. Would have been a horrible go at it.” Enki shrugs. “She defended herself with a dish towel.”

Cyrus’s eyebrows shoot up. “Was there a reason you missed the knives right next to it?”

His gaze points toward the knives literally inches from where the dish towel had hung.

I would die in war.

Enki unloads the cinnamon rolls onto a plate. “Oh well, I’m just going to bring these delicious rolls into Sin then. Can I catch a ride?”

I swear Cyrus’s entire face tightens to the point of teeth cracking from how hard his jaw clenches. “What are you doing?”

“What I always do, brother.” He slaps Cyrus on the shoulder and squeezes. “Give people a way out. It is, after all, my sole purpose.”

“Yes, well last time you did that we had orgies in the streets for two straight days.”

Enki puts a hand over his heart. “Those were some of my favorite moments. Besides, it was Valentine’s Day. If you ask me, it was a gift from the gods. I’m hurt you didn’t have fun.”

“Someone had to fix it,” Cyrus snaps.

Enki winks then runs a finger down Cyrus’s broad chest. “Admit it, you enjoyed yourself.”

Cyrus jerks away. “Cleo, get ready, and I’m serious, don’t eat anything this monster throws at you.”

Enki just grins and holds out a roll, his eyes practically glowing. “You sure you don’t want a taste?”

Cyrus moves in front of him.

I peek around him as Enki waves at me with his free hand, rolls his eyes, and puts the roll back on the plate then licks his fingers. “Fine, I’ll stop, but I really do need that ride, I took the boat, and Ken’s still pissed.”

“When is he not pissed?”

I raise my hand. “Who’s Ken?”

“A lovely pet you’ll hopefully never meet,” Enki says as he makes eye contact with me again. “It bites. Then again, so do I?—”

Cyrus grabs him by the neck. What is with him and pets?

“Cleo,” His voice is too calm, I think I prefer the raised one. “Go change, we need to go.”

I don’t think I’ve ever changed so fast in my entire life. I don’t even realize I’m wearing a black turtleneck with jeans and Converse until I look down while I’m in the car.

I just grabbed the first few things from my suitcase, snatched my black leather backpack and bolted out of my room and outside to a waiting and still bickering Cyrus and Enki.

I think I prefer the bickering to the sudden tense silence in the BMW as Cyrus drives it down the busy downtown street. As promised, Enki brought the cinnamon rolls and has them in the back seat next to him.

Does he poison people? Drug them? Is he on drugs? And are they really brothers?

I don’t ask.

“Do you guys mind if we play some music?” I have no clue how I find the strength to even open my mouth.

When I look over at Cyrus he’s actually smiling like it’s a funny joke, and in the rearview mirror Enki is doing the same.

Maybe I’m funnier here in here than home.

“What do you listen to?” Cyrus asks as his massive hands move across the screen. “Country? Classic? Folk? Pop?”

“Um…” I hadn’t really thought past the silence in the car. “I’m good with anything. How about something local? An indie band or a…I don’t know…folk.”

“Daggon used to be in a band,” Enki pipes up. “I think he was the lead singer. Memory’s kind of fuzzy. It’s been a while.”

“He can sing?”

Cyrus snorts. “He used to be able to sing.”

I frown as the town comes into view. “Did he damage his vocal cords?”

“Accident.” Cyrus clears his throat. “It was a while ago. I wouldn’t mention it.”

Enki snorts. “If you say so.”

Cyrus instantly turns on some sort of classical music. He takes the streets further towards the Pier and things begin to get a bit darker around us, dingier, or maybe just worn.

People walking down the street see the SUV and slowly look over and stare in what feels like anticipation as we drive by. I can honestly say I’ve been a lot of places but this area of town feels different. A heaviness washes over my body nearly paralyzing me.

Their stares aren’t normal.

Cyrus grips the steering wheel hard and pulls into a parking spot in front of a small bar and grill. Small torches line the front of the building across the black metal walls. They burn extremely bright and add to a cool ambiance.

“Sin.” I turn to Cyrus. “Like a place to eat for sinners and saints?”

“Naturally. Sin’s very welcome to everyone these days, hmm, Cyrus,” Enki says from behind him. “He did after all name it after his own seven deadly ones, right Cyrus? What was the worst of it? Lust?”

Lust? What? I do a double take and point at Cyrus. “You own this too?”

“I like to eat,” Cyrus says before cutting the engine.

“Ah,” Enki snaps his fingers. “Gluttony, sorry my mistake.”

Cyrus curses under his breath and gets out of the car. Guess that’s my cue. Does he take every new employee out for breakfast? It finally dawns on me that he might actually be taking me here just in case I need to bar tend here as well. My plate is going to be so full—too full to even worry about Jake. He never mentioned two bars though. Just how many places does Cyrus own?

Enki beats him to my door and opens it. “Have fun. I’m sure it’s going to be interesting.”

He winks and then saunters off in his black leather jacket and hole-filled jeans away from the pub.

People give him a wide berth at first, and then he holds out his plate of rolls and stops in the middle of one of the sidewalks like he’s getting ready to feed the poor or something.

I can’t hear what he says but he’s definitely talking to everyone around him, and they’re eating it up like candy, gathering closer and closer, reaching toward him like they want to touch him.

Suddenly, several old people are getting in line and taking the cinnamon rolls from him and saying thank you and bowing like they never get food.

Frowning, I’m still trying to figure it out. All of them are old, really old.

Cyrus curses under his breath. “Come on,” He takes my arm. “We should eat. Enki will be fine.”

I shrug and follow after Cyrus, still looking back at Enki. “It’s nice that he feeds the elderly.”

Cyrus’s entire body tenses almost visibly before he opens the door. “Killing is never a kindness but a necessity.”

“What?” Chills run down my spine. Did he just say what I think he said?

“Like I warned, don’t eat anything he offers.”

“Poison?” I’m ready to sprint toward the slow ferry and never look back, what kind of lunatic poisons people with warm food? “Please tell me your kidding.”

Cyrus frowns down at me, his eyebrows draw together like I’m a math problem. He seems way too calm about his brother handing out evil cinnamon rolls. “I never said poison.”

“But you said kill.”

He ignores me, walks up to the bar, and knocks twice on the wood. “Two menus.”

“You again,” a voice interrupts.

A man is sitting at the bar. He’s wearing a grimy white shirt, work pants, and tall boots. His braided hair is jet-black and flows past his shoulders. His fingers are filthy. In fact, everything about him screams dirty, and yet he’s really attractive. How does he get so dirty but keep his hair so perfect? Even his braids dangling past his pierced ears look neat and tidy.

“You know you don’t have to eat here,” Cyrus growls. “Had another fight with your dad?”

The guy just shrugs and takes a ginormous bite of eggs followed by a gulp of coffee. “He’s a dick this time of year.”

“That we can agree on,” Cyrus mutters. “Except it’s every day, every year.”

They both seem to snort in unison of joined irritation.

“Anyway, the town won’t protect itself.” The guy gets up and grabs a tool belt from the seat next to him.

“This must be her.” The guy says.

I instantly gaze into his eyes. They’re so dark they’re almost black. I mean they’re clearly brown, but they look like they belong to a man without a soul.

Wait, and he protects things? He seems more the type to destroy them or burn them to the ground.

“Yup, this is Jake’s sister, one of my new employees. Since things are slow in the mornings I’m showing her the ropes. I might even let her explore the magical fantasies of Sin.”

“How special.” The guy says with an obvious sneer in my direction like I’m anything but. “Anyway, I’m off to work. Thanks for another shit meal.”

“Did you at least pay?” Cyrus asks in a bored tone.

“Do you even care?” the guy fires back. “Bill the dickhead.”

“Oh, I will.”

The guy walks past us with ease. “Charge extra.”

“I always do.” Cyrus laughs. “Work hard, Kratos.”

Kratos salutes us both and walks out.

A waitress brings us two menus and two cups of coffee, as I look back down the street. The guy looks ready to yell at anyone who speaks to him; people give him a wide berth like they too know that speaking might cause him to snap.

“He’s not as bad as he looks,” Cyrus says like he’s a mind reader. “He also has an extremely keen sense of smell, he hates perfume. He smells me a mile away and always looks pissed about it. Do you know what you want?”

I glance down at the wooden menu then back up, finally getting a good view of the pub. It’s what I would expect but beautifully intricate. The walls are wooden and are littered with different stories or mythologies. “Greek mythology, the fall of Hercules, Achilles…” I point and smile. “Mesopotamia, I don’t know as much about that one. Oh, Gilgamesh! One of my favorite stories, I had to read it in college and became obsessed.” I frown. “Roman mythology.” I laugh. “Vampires? They have a mythology too?”

“Vlad the Impaler, horrible imm—person.” Cyrus nods. “Glad you finally noticed all the hard work we put into the décor.”

“This is incredible!”

“Go explore. You know you want to.” He smiles into his coffee. “I’ll order for you while you look.”

He finally glances up at me, and I do it again; I stare into his eyes.

An orange flame burns before he frowns and tilts his head like nothing happened.

I back up.

“Heed all warnings here, small one.” He winks. “Oh, but this is safe.” He shoves a glass of water toward me. “But before you hydrate, take a look around. There’s even a wall near the restrooms. You’ll find that one…highly entertaining.”

I bolt.

But it’s not because of excitement anymore.

It’s because I saw something, or I think I did.

Black spots fill my line of vision for a few minutes before I’m able to finally blink them away. It was like direct eye contact with the sun.

I should probably get my eyes checked when I get back home, dark spots can’t be a good sign, or I guess it could be my blood sugar?

I make a mental note to eat as much as possible, gather more mental strength, and attempt to listen as best I can.

Wait for my brother.

Don’t eat anything Enki bakes.

And never, never, stare too long into Cyrus’s eyes.