Page 11

11

Icarus

Poseidon has been gone for hours. At one point, around two in the morning, I checked the hallway to see if there was a possibility of escape, and there he was, his big body sprawled out across the open space. Protecting me? Ensuring I didn’t flee? Impossible to say. All I know is that I slept soundly from that moment on, waking in the late morning to find my door still unlocked and the hallway unguarded.

I won’t secure my safety if I keep hiding in my room. It’s time to take the offensive.

I’m waiting for Poseidon the moment he walks through the front door. He looks tired, his head low and his shoulders bowed. That ceases the moment he sees me. He narrows his eyes and stops short. “What are you doing down here? You should be in bed.”

“I’m feeling much better. Or at least better enough to get restless.”

He remains unconvinced. He looks around as if expecting one of his people to pop out of the woodwork. There’s no one around. There hasn’t been all day. I am not entirely certain that I couldn’t have walked right out the front door and taken my chances in the city itself. I was tempted to try, but the reality of the situation is that I have very few resources currently—and no exit out of the city. I’m trapped as much as the rest of the Olympians, and that means I need someone to protect me.

Someone powerful…like Poseidon.

It seemed a reckless concept last night, but I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. He’s my best shot. I just need him invested enough in my safety to step between me and any threat that arises. The best way to do that is to bring feelings into the mix. Starting now.

I smile in the face of his unease and spread my arms. “I was thinking we could share another meal.”

Instead of appearing charmed, he just seems more suspicious. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Some overzealous person decided to stab me a bunch of times through it. I hardly had a suitcase when you hauled me out of the bay. I don’t have any other clothes.”

“You were wearing a shirt last night.”

“Was I?” I shrug. “It got blood on it.” It’s, strictly speaking, the truth. My cuts are mostly scabbed over, but one of them bled a little while I slept.

He frowns harder. “You need clothes. More clothes.”

It’s kind of cute how single-minded he is. “I’m not about to argue, but the fact remains that I don’t have any without blood on them and I have no way to get some.”

He looks around as if racks of clothing will suddenly appear just because he wills it. I’m not entirely sure he’s wrong. He’s fearsome when it comes to certain things. I even believe him when he says that none of his other people will touch me. A guarantee most leaders couldn’t make. No matter how loyal people are, tumultuous emotions make them act without considering the potential consequences. Because of the moves my father made in service of Circe’s war, there are plenty of extreme emotions to go around. I might even sympathize with Polyphemus, if he wasn’t intent on carving up my chest.

The silence stretches between us, growing strained and awkward. I motion to the door leading outside. “Shall we eat?”

“I suppose.” He cautiously follows me across the lovely little paved walkway to the main house. He’s so tense, as if he’s ready to jump forward and catch me should I stumble. But that’s a fanciful thought. Poseidon might have taken care of me, but he doesn’t ultimately care about me. I can fight for that to change, but it’s entirely possible he’ll still throw me to whichever enemy requires the sacrifice of my life—especially if it means his people have a better chance of living.

It’s what I would do. You can’t be loyal to everyone, so you have to choose wisely.

I’ve set up a haphazard seduction in the kitchen. In another time and place, there would be candles across every surface, soft music playing in the background, and delectable desserts designed to be foreplay. Best I can tell, though, Poseidon only keeps what’s strictly necessary on hand. I suspect whoever his cook is buys a week’s worth of ingredients and then cooks them all into meals that can be reheated for him and the revolving number of his people who stay in the guesthouse.

As such, I only found one half-burned tea light, a dusty bottle of wine, and some lasagna ready to be reheated. It’s hardly my finest work, but the shock on Poseidon’s face makes me wonder if anyone’s ever done something like this for him. Surely they have. He’s handsome and powerful and shows every evidence of not being a complete monster. He should be beating prospective spouses off with a club. And yet in all our research of the Thirteen, he’s never been publicly attached to anyone.

“What is all this?”

I grab the first plate of lasagna and slide it into the microwave. “Dinner, obviously.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Why are you going through all this effort? It’s not necessary. You’re as safe as it’s possible to be in Olympus right now.”

It’s really cute that he thinks so, but if he’s not lying to me, he’s far more naive than I would have thought. I’m not safe. All it will take is Zeus demanding my head, and there’s not a whole lot Poseidon could do. He’s one of the other legacy titles, so theoretically he could push back and actually be successful, but why would he? He owes me nothing. At least…not yet.

A few minutes later, we have two steaming plates of lasagna in front of us and I’ve managed to wrestle out the cork of an expensive bottle of merlot so I can pour us two glasses. Poseidon is still staring at the food as if he expects it to be poisoned, but before I can decide if I should address that, he takes a tentative bite.

I wait while he eats for a few minutes, allowing him to settle in and relax. A little. This man doesn’t seem to relax completely…ever. There’s no reason for that to make my chest feel funny. Just because he’s a palatable enemy doesn’t make him any more of an ally.

I sit back and sip my wine, determined to see this plan through. “I thought we could play a game.”

“A game.” He sets his fork down carefully and appears to give me his full attention. “Now we get to the heart of why you’ve gone through all this effort. There’s no point in making it a game. Be direct and ask for what you want.”

Be direct? The very idea is laughable. If I tell him I intend to seduce him so he’ll be emotionally compromised and therefore keep me safe, he’s liable to haul me back to the guesthouse and lock me in again. Better to circle around until I can come at this from an angle I’m sure will give me the advantage.

I smile and take another sip of my wine. It is quite good, full-bodied and dry on my tongue. “My only aim is to get to know you better. You’re something of an enigma, and since you’re my captor, I would like to learn everything I can about you. I propose we ask a question for a question. I have information that you want, I guess, for all the good it’ll do you. And I’m curious about you. It’s win-win from where I’m sitting.”

“A question for a question.” He seems intrigued for a beat, but then he shakes his head. “No matter what you say, I can’t guarantee you’ll be honest. There’s no point to this game.”

At this juncture, I have no reason to lie. Withholding information will just convince him I know nothing that’s useful. I’m not certain my information is useful, but the time for secrets has long since passed. It sailed away with my sister. Maybe if I’d been honest with her from the beginning, we wouldn’t have reached that point where the choice was to potentially watch the only person I care about in this world be cut down or to sacrifice myself so she has a chance at happiness. Secrets have a way of breeding complications.

“I’ll be honest. Pinkie promise.” I hold up my hand with my pinkie extended. He stares at it as if I just offered him a snake. I can’t help but laugh. “Come now, Poseidon. You must know a pinkie promise is the most honorable of promises. It’s horrible luck to break one. I wouldn’t risk it.”

“You’re making jokes at my expense now.”

“In fact, I’m being uncharacteristically serious. Come on. You know you want to ask me questions. Here’s your chance.” I wiggle my pinkie finger at him.

He reluctantly reaches out and loops his thick pinkie finger around mine. I shouldn’t be startled at his calluses, but I am all the same. One of the Thirteen who actually works? Color me surprised. I release him and pick up my wine again. “In the spirit of charity, I’ll even let you ask a question first.”

He studies me long enough that I wonder if he’s changed his mind. Then he shakes his head and takes a sip of his wine. “Do you really think seducing me is your pathway to freedom?”

I blink. Did he just…? I give a nervous chuckle. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“I’ll remind you that you promised honesty. Are you already throwing your pinkie promise out the window?”

Damn it. In all my years of using seduction as a technique to gather information, I’ve never had someone call me out so explicitly—or so early in the process. Denying it will get me nowhere and it’ll mean an end to this game.

I force a casual shrug, keeping my body language loose and relaxed. “Is that so wrong? If you’re concerned about power dynamics, just know I would have seduced you the moment I saw you regardless.”

“You’ve seen me two times in the past at parties in Dodona Tower.” He holds up two fingers. “We’ve never so much as spoken.”

Well, he has me there. “My father kept me under tight control. I was hardly free to pursue sexual encounters of any flavor. Believe me when I tell you that, yes, I clocked you, and I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.”

It’s even the truth. Poseidon has an unrefined handsomeness that makes me want to dig my fingers into him. He’s not like the perfectly coifed peacocks from the Aeaea court or even like the rest of the Thirteen. He doesn’t play games. I should have taken that into account when I proposed this one. “But in the spirit of perfect honesty, yes. I do think seducing you will pave the way to safety, if not freedom. I couldn’t ask for a better protector than one of the Thirteen’s legacy titles.”

“I already promised you my protection. You don’t need to bring sex into the equation in order to ensure it.” He’s glaring as if being invited into my bed isn’t a godsdamn gift.

Getting riled up isn’t the pathway forward. I swirl my wine lazily. “Maybe not, but it certainly keeps things interesting. I think it would be fun. That’s all the reason I need to do it.”

“No.” Poseidon pushes to his feet, towering over me. I can’t help but rake my gaze over his body. He seems to favor jeans and T-shirts that hug his chest and round stomach, clothing with nothing loose to be caught in machinery or whatever the fuck it is he does. A working man, so to speak. I bet he looks excellent with dirt smudges on his brow and sweat glistening on his skin.

I don’t exactly mean to lick my lips, but I’m only human. And no matter what other motivations I have, lust is always a good reason to jump into bed with someone. There’s lust aplenty when I look at this man.

“I answered your question. I want you to answer to mine.”

He doesn’t sit. His body is tense, as if he’s about to bolt out of the room. In all my estimations and plotting, I never expected Poseidon to be skittish. But then, a lot about him has surprised me in the last twenty-four hours. He finally gives a jerky nod. “Ask.”

There are a thousand possibilities, and even more angles, to take to get what I want out of this. But the question that springs to my lips is one of genuine curiosity. “When I pulled your hair, your knees buckled. Does pain get you off?”

His face flames a deep crimson like I’ve come to anticipate. He looks away and starts up that tapping of his middle finger against his thigh. This man must be terrible at poker. The moment he gets even the slightest bit agitated, he starts fidgeting. Or maybe it’s not actually fidgeting. Maybe he’s stimming. That would make a lot of sense, now that I think about it.

“I…don’t know.” Each word sounds like it’s forced from his thick throat. “I’ve never experienced pain in the bedroom in the way you mean.”

I open my mouth to ask a follow-up question, curiosity sinking its teeth deep within me, but he’s already on the move. He stalks to the doorway, his words trailing behind him. “This game is over. Go back to the guesthouse and don’t leave. I can’t guarantee your protection if you do.” Then he’s gone, the door slamming behind him. I swear the actual walls rattle with the force of it, but for all that, I don’t even flinch.

Did Poseidon just flee? From me?