Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Aren’t you glad I’m not? Look at what an asset I am. Look at how cooperative I am. Just like a good little captive.”
His dark-red brows draw together. “What game are you playing, Icarus?”
Now is the time to ensure he’ll continue to protect me. To go on my best behavior and play by the rules he’s set out. I don’t. Instead, that perverse little impulse inside me, the one that always gets me into trouble, takes the reins. I lean against him, pressing my hand to his chest right over his steadily beating heart. “I’ll play any game you want me to, lover.”
“What are you talking about?”
I blink up at him, searching his expression. Normally, when I drop some innuendo, the target of my desires picks up on it quickly enough. Most people are simply looking for an excuse to do the “bad” thing, the opportunity to take my hand and be led into the lust-filled night. And all the while, they tell themselves that it’s not their fault, that they have no choice but to go to bed with me.
But there’s none of that with Poseidon. He genuinely looks confused. Either he’s a better actor than I could have dreamed or… I push forward, testing him. “I’m talking about sex, Poseidon. Down and dirty fucking. Whatever flavor you’re into, I guarantee I’ve done it. I’d like to do it with you.”
“You’re talking about…” Poseidon’s face flares a delicious crimson. His mouth moves, but no words come out. I actually made him speechless. I don’t know if I’ve ever done that to a potential lover before. Not that I had plans to make Poseidon my lover five minutes ago, but now it seems like a great idea.
“You’re probably asking yourself why I want to fuck you.” I keep talking on pure instinct, but my mind is moving a mile a minute. This…isn’t an act. I had my doubts before, but now I’m sure of it. He genuinely isn’t playing hard to get. It literally never crossed his mind that I might set out to seduce him.
Aw, wee lamb.
“We’re not… We can’t… Absolutely not.” He’s sputtering. I shouldn’t find it so charming, but I do. Especially when he shifts back as if putting more distance between us will change the possibility I’ve put to voice. “It would be a horrible abuse of power,” he finally manages, voice strangled.
“You’re one of the Thirteen,” I say slowly, still determined to test him. “Experience says that power is meant to be abused.”
“It’s wrong.”
“That just makes it even hotter.” Oh yeah, I’m going to seduce the fuck out of Poseidon. Because he’s handsome, yes, and powerful, of course, but most importantly, because he truly is honorable. If he feels like he’s taking advantage of his captive, guilt will take residence in that impressive chest of his. It will ensure he continues to protect me until I no longer need him.
And I’ll get to have a bit of fun in the process.
8
Poseidon
“You need to eat.” I don’t mean to speak the words. “I…uh, you should have a meal. I should feed you.” Putting a little distance between myself and Icarus seems like the smart thing to do, but here I am offering him a meal. It’s too late to take back.
Especially when he smiles suspiciously widely. “I could eat.”
Did I really think he was going to turn me down? He’s already shown himself to be resourceful and that he will end up in places he shouldn’t be. I have him trapped in my house. Of course he’s going to be looking for a way to create some leverage for himself. Every person wants to survive, after all. He’s no different just because he’s an enemy to Olympus.
But he’s already experienced unacceptable amounts of harm while he’s supposed to be under my care. Depriving him of a meal simply because his presence—his offer—makes me feel strange isn’t acceptable. So I motion for him to follow me.
Whichever one of my ancestors built the guesthouse apparently didn’t think their guests deserved a kitchen, so we have to make the short trek to the main house. It looms in the fading light, a monster intent on devouring.
Except, no, it isn’t. It’s not a monster. It’s just a house. Four exterior walls and an absurd number of rooms. Too much money spent on decorations for how hideous it is. There are no ghosts haunting the place, for all that my uncle and cousins died there.
For once, Icarus has nothing to say, but when I glance at him, I wish he were prattling on because, instead of talking, he’s watching me. I can’t even pick up my pace because he’s barely staying on his feet, and if I leave him behind, he’s likely to pass out in the rosebushes.
Instead, I push open the door and hold it so he can precede me into my uncle’s kitchen.