Chapter 52 The Lover
THE LOVER
PATRO: ONE DAY LATER
“Is something going on in there?” Augustus shouted from the hall as he knocked. “What’s that noise?”
Shit.
Achilles wrenched the door open, blocking the empty room with his body.
“We’re fucking,” I said as I joined him. “Sorry—we got a little carried away.”
Together, we didn’t let them see inside.
Poco sat perched on top of Alexis’s head, gnawing on her curls, and her oversized protector was prancing down the hall with the potted end of a decorative olive tree sticking out of its mouth (I had no words).
Augustus and Kharon were draped around her, their arms strewn across her shoulders possessively.
I scoffed. They’re so whipped, it’s embarrassing. I would never be so obsessed with a woman.
Alexis was my mentee, and sure, I’d thought we could be more. I’d wanted to give us a chance, so I’d done the unthinkable—I’d tried. But she’d made it clear whose side she was on.
My chest tightened.
I hated how betrayed I felt.
Alexis smiled at me, her cheeks flushed with satisfaction, two different-colored eyes bright and unguarded for the first time since I’d met her. Poco hissed.
I wasn’t so selfish that I couldn’t admit to myself that the three of them suited each other.
At first, they’d been a fucking disaster. They were all so similar, different shades of stoic suffering that was beyond exasperating.
But now, they’d found their wedded bliss.
Stomach heavy with dread, I tried to ignore what that meant for Achilles and me. We’d still have to get married to a stranger who’d try to ruin us with their petty jealousies. They’ll try to take Achilles away from you.
No one would ever marry someone for immortality and be happy playing second fiddle to me, but that was the only option we had left.
Bile filled my throat at the mere thought.
I’d pitch myself off this villa’s roof before I loved anyone half as much as I loved Achilles.
He felt the same.
It was why I’d tried so hard to make something happen with Alexis. That, and she wasn’t as annoying as most people. A part of me still genuinely considered her a friend. Not that I’d admit it aloud.
Augustus narrowed his eyes. “Interesting—keep it down.”
“Of course, brother,” I said smoothly.
He raised his eyebrows at me. We’d never had a particularly close relationship, but I respected his ability to stay calm in the face of Sparta’s perpetual bullshit.
Achilles slammed the door shut in their faces.
Poco screeched belligerently.
Their footsteps receded.
Achilles turned to me and adjusted the obscene bulge in his cargo pants.
No one has ever been as handsome.
He studied my face with intensity. Ever since I’d been interrogated during the SGC, he’d been struggling with possessiveness and separation anxiety.
We were already unhealthily codependent on each other, but it had somehow gotten worse.
He’s so perfect.
I reached for Achilles’s muzzled face, and he tilted his head, leaning into my reverent touch.
Going up on tiptoes, I pressed a kiss to the hollow on the front of his neck, warm, heated skin tensing beneath my touch.
He gripped my hips, pushing himself flush against me. I groaned, licking at him.
Smoke from his muzzle wrapped around us.
He smelled like carnal sex, fire, and everything I’d ever wanted.
He’s a dream come true.
“Can you maybe wait to do that? Also is there a reason you’ve cornered me again?
Or do you just want me to watch?” a throaty feminine voice asked with annoyance.
“I don’t think I’m into that. Also, are you prone to outbursts and random acts of violence?
If so, I think you have a diagnosable condition called—”
I wrenched away from Achilles, his intoxicating taste still tingling on my tongue.
I’d gotten distracted from what we were doing in here—getting answers.
“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” I asked, with genuine confusion, because from what I’d seen, she didn’t. Ever.
Medusa scoffed.
I enjoyed silence, preferred it, and she rambled constantly.
She was the opposite of Achilles in every way.
“No.” Medusa clutched her left arm, eyes narrowing as her long black hair shifted, three monstrous snakes rattling. “I will not be quiet just because you can’t stand the fact that you’ve been threatening an innocent woman for weeks like a cowardly—”
I laughed. “Oh please—you forget who you’re talking to. I read people, that’s my power, and I know for a fact that you’re still hiding things. Drop your innocent act.”
Medusa stomped toward the door.
I blocked her.
“Move out of my way,” she demanded. “I’m done with this crap. Corner me again, and I’ll bite you.”
Her snakes rose up around her head, rattling louder.
A lesser man would have been cowed by her display of power—one Gorgon snake was intimidating, three was a hideous show of might. Achilles and I both studied them with open curiosity.
We’d always been intrigued by dangerous things.
Medusa shifted.
I stepped with her.
Smirking, I glared down my nose at her.
She was no match for me.
I would discover what she was hiding and prove to the world that she couldn’t be trusted.
“I said move!” Medusa shoved at my chest, and I laughed at how weak she was.
Her nails dug into my chest.
My skin prickled where she touched me, heat flushing across my sternum—with disgust—and I wrenched away from her.
“Never lay your hands on me again, snake scum,” I warned.
She threw a punch, and I caught her hand, twisting her wrist painfully. Her bones creaked, embarrassingly fragile in my hand. She was all soft curves and long, jet-black hair. There was nothing Spartan about her. Kronos, most humans were built stronger.
I’d never met anyone so useless in my life.
Someone really should protect her. I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge the ridiculous thought.
“How about you just stay away from me.” Medusa glared, snakes rising higher, and all of them focused on me as she tried to tug her arm out of my grip. She failed.
Heinous memories clawed at my spine.
I held on to her wrist tightly.
“You’re nothing but a pathetic mutt. Stop crying. You won’t survive Sparta,” my Gorgon tutor snarled.
Hands flashed in front of my face, drawing me back to the present.
“I’m here—they can’t hurt you,” Achilles signed.
I nodded, feeling faint.
“Stop following me around,” Medusa said haughtily, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself release her.
“I can’t,” I whispered, still feeling out of sorts from the memories. “Since we’re your new bodyguards.” I forced my lips up into a cruel smile, even though I wanted to fall to my knees and scream. “You’re the reason we were tortured.”
She was found innocent, and it’s a good thing the Olympians never got to her, because she wouldn’t be able to withstand torture.
Medusa kicked my shin.
I looked down incredulously.
If I hadn’t seen her move, I wouldn’t have known she’d just tried to attack.
Someone really needs to teach her self-defense.
She wasn’t my problem.
She kind of is.
I shook my head at the ridiculous thought, taking a jerky step back, dragging her with me.
The back of my right leg tweaked at the movement because my severed tendon still hadn’t healed fully. The Olympians had poured a strange poison on the open wound so many times that I was worried it might never heal.
I didn’t care.
The real problem was, Achilles thought it was all his fault, and he was coddling me endlessly these days, acting like I was made of glass.
Medusa narrowed her eyes. “Release me!”
I twisted her wrist, making sure not to actually cause harm.
There was something immensely satisfying about toying with her.
Achilles shifted closer. “Don’t hurt her,” he signed, mirroring my thoughts.
“Obviously,” I drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Achilles glanced down at where I was touching her, then back to my face, a question in his eyes.
He didn’t understand why I was acting this way.
Neither do I.
“Get over yourself,” Medusa said. “It’s not me you’re angry at—it’s the Olympians. You’re just another prideful narcissist from the House of Aphrodite—I can see through your self-absorbed despondent act. You’ll never be anything … but the man who lived in Achilles’s shadow.”
I dropped her arm.
My fingers burned where they’d touched her—they felt cold when someone lied, and warmed at the truth—vision blurring, I gasped for air.
“You’re nothing but a weak mutt.”
Tortured screams from my past rang in my ears.
It took every ounce of control I possessed to harden my features and don my mask of cruel indifference.
“You know nothing,” I said quietly.
Medusa gripped her arm tighter, and for a second she looked small and lost, but then her eyes flashed, snakes rattling, as she also donned a blank expression.
“Just leave me alone,” she spat.
I can’t.
This time, my smile wasn’t faked. “Didn’t you just hear the announcement?” I taunted, raising my eyebrows. “We’re your new bodyguards—we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
Achilles stepped up next to me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, fingers caressing my bicep.
I melted against him.
Medusa frowned, her ruby lips curling down, creating a pouty effect, and I stared at them, unable to look away.
Achilles traced his fingers up and down my arm in a soothing pattern.
Medusa looked between the two of us, curiosity flashing in her strange lavender eyes.
“We’re going to be sharing a room,” I said with dangerous softness. “There’s going to be so many nights just the three of us. Alone.”
Her lips parted on a gasp.
Pure masculine satisfaction squeezed my gut.
For the first time, she had nothing to say.
Yep, I just found a new hobby.
I caressed Achilles’s chest, enjoying how he flexed and pulled me tighter to his side, his bulge unmistakable.
A blush stained the top of Medusa’s cheeks, as she still struggled to speak.
Achilles flexed his hips, his hardness pressing against me.
Medusa bit down on her lower lip—hard—then she covered her mouth. Suddenly, she pushed past us, running out of the room, and as the door slammed shut behind her, the most inane urge gripped me—chase after her.
My breathing was too loud in the silence.
Achilles turned to me.
He exploded, movements jerky with need—blood rushed south as he grabbed me by the arms and pushed me back until I was pinned against the wall. His fingers trailed across my abs, then lower. He unzipped my cargo pants, freeing my aching shaft.
Ever since the SGC it had been like this between us—frantic and rushed.
I pulled out his man bun and tangled my fingers in his silky hair.
He palmed me roughly, stroking hard, just the way I liked.
I tugged on his hair.
“I love you so much,” I said as I traced my hands over his face, then lowered them and reached for his zipper. I pulled out his hard, tattooed cock. It pulsed in my hand, unbelievably thick. Precum beaded the ruddy head.
His hips jerked, smoke pouring from his muzzle, as he fisted both of us.
I looked down—and spit.
Then once again buried my hands in his hair, holding on for dear life as he stroked us both faster. Slippery sounds echoed, mixing with my grunts of pleasure. He didn’t stop until our cum covered his hands, dripping onto the floor.
Heaving after a powerful orgasm, I buried my head in the divot between his neck and collarbone, my favorite part of his body. I kissed his skin, his sweat an aphrodisiac on my tongue as I licked and suckled.
With his muzzle, it was the closest we could ever come to a kiss.