Chapter 16
ATHENA
Ijolt awake, disoriented.
It's dark.
For a moment, I can't remember where I am. The stone walls around me come into focus as my eyes adjust, stars peeking through cracks.
Then it comes back. The ruins. Dimitri. Everything.
I blink, forcing my eyes to adjust.
Shit.
I slept longer than I meant to.
But how long?
Hours. It must have been hours.
My muscles ache as I shift, the hard stone beneath me having left its imprint on my skin. I must have really needed the rest to have slept on this.
The area is bathed in moonlight now. Long shadows spread across the crumbling walls.
Across from me, Dimitri sits slouched against a stone column. His gun still rests on his lap, fingers loosely curled around it.
He's got a shirt on now. I don't remember him having one on when I fell asleep.
His head is tipped back, his eyes closed. His eyelids flicker, and I wonder if he's asleep. Maybe it's a ploy. Maybe he's been watching the whole time.
I sit up slowly, pushing my hair from my face.
My heart kicks up when I remember what I told myself.
As soon as I woke, I'd leave.
Before I could get pulled in deeper.
Before this twisted thing between us became something I couldn't walk away from.
The longer I stay with him, the more confused I become. The more I see him as something other than a monster.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I slowly push myself up, careful not to make a sound. The oversized clothes Dimitri gave me rustle softly. I freeze, watching him. He stirs slightly, his fingers tightening on the gun, but his eyes don't open completely. His body relaxes again.
I take a breath and rise to my feet.
If I don't leave now, I never will.
The thought terrifies me more than the prospect of being alone in the dark. Because I know it's true. Something is happening between us, something that makes no sense given who we are, what he's done, what I tried to do to him.
At least this is how I feel, and right now, I need to protect that.
I take one step, then another, trying to be as quiet as possible. I pause at the entrance to our little shelter.
Go, Athena. Now.
I don't look back as I slip through the doorway. I can't. If I see him again, I might change my mind.
The ruins spread out before me, a maze of fallen columns, others reaching for the sky, and half-standing walls.
Vines grow across the marble, and it's eerily beautiful, seeing what was once a solid, glorious structure now crumbled. Just like my need for revenge.
I take a deep breath and I go. I move fast, running toward God knows where. That's something that has fallen apart—my desire to run despite knowing where I'm going.
My feet find their way as I move between stones, columns, and deteriorating walls. The moon is bright enough to light my path but offers enough darkness to conceal me.
The adrenaline races through my veins, and my breath comes in small, controlled gasps as I navigate through Plato's home.
I smile at that thought.
Ugh. Why does this feel different than before?
It's like I'm not running from him this time.
I'm running from me. Self-sabotage at it's finest.
The last time I ran from him, it was pure fear driving me. This time, it's something else. Something more complicated. I'm still afraid, but not of him. I'm afraid of what's happening to me. Of how I feel when he looks at me. Of the way my skin burned when I tended his wounds.
I pause behind a tall section of wall, pressing my back against the stone. The night is silent except for wind winding through the ruins and the distant call of an owl. I strain my ears for footsteps, for any sign that Dimitri is following me.
Nothing.
I should be happy, but disappointment floods through me instead.
Why do I want him to catch me?
This is insane. I should be grateful he's still asleep, that I have a chance to escape.
Yet here I am, part of me hoping to hear his footsteps. To see his silhouette cutting through the moonlight. To feel his hands on me again.
To hear him call me that stupid nickname, Alepoudítsa.
I'll make like a little fox and run now.
I push away from the wall and keep moving, faster now. Away from these thoughts. Away from him.
My heart pounds in my chest for all the wrong reasons, but I keep moving. And then, I hear it.
A rock rolls on the ground behind me.
I gasp and spin to look. I trip over a something, and just as I'm about to hit the ground, he's there, catching me before I fall.
"Found you," he growls, his grip tight as he pushes me up against a stone wall.
He shifts, and one arm cages my throat. His body presses into mine, all heat and hard muscle.
"You think I wouldn't notice?" he says, his voice low and close to my ear.
He's towering over me, his body blocking out the moonlight. His eyes fierce in the darkness. Predatory.
I should move, try to get away, run. But my legs won't cooperate. Something hot coils in my stomach.
I gasp as I feel the cold kiss of metal against my throat. His knife. The blade presses just enough to make me very aware of its presence without breaking skin.
"Did you really think you could get away from me?" His voice is rough. His face is so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. "Did you think even if I said you could go, that I wouldn't come for you?"
I try to form words, but nothing comes out. My body betrays me, responding to his proximity in ways that I can't stop.
I'm cold and on fire at the same time.
"You know what I think?" he asks, trailing the knife down my throat, running it along my collarbone. "I think you ran because you wanted me to catch you."
I can't speak, so I shake my head, but the denial feels unreal.
"Tell me I'm wrong." His eyes bore into mine, searching, challenging. The knife continues its journey downward, tracing the outline of my breast through my sweatshirt. "Tell me to stop."
My heart pounds. My thighs clench as the blade moves lower and lower.
God, I hate him.
God, I want him.
"Tell me to stop, Athena," he repeats, his voice softer now. "Say the word, and I'll back away. We'll pretend this never happened."
I glare at him. I can't deny it, damn it, but the last of my delusional restraint, my pretending to fight, surfaces and the words flow out, "Fuck you."
He presses into me, hips pinning me to the stone.
"That's exactly what I intend to do, Alepoudítsa."
And then, without warning, his mouth crashes onto mine, fierce and consuming.
I moan, the sound ripped from me like it had been patiently waiting for his touch.
His hands tear at my clothes, rough and fast. He's yanking the sweatshirt over my head before I can even register what's going on.
His mouth trails down my throat, teeth grazing between licks of his tongue.
He brings the knife up and slices clean through my sweatpants waistband. They fall, pooling at my ankles.
I'm now naked in front of him. But I don't feel embarrassed or shy. The way he looks at me, I feel like a goddess among the ruins. Like he's traveled all the way to my temple, and now he's ready to make his sacrifice to me.
The knife clatters to the ground, and his arms are around me, crushing me against him as he deepens the kiss.
"You're mine now," he growls, tangling his hand in my hair, yanking my head back.
His teeth scrape against the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and I cry out, my body arching into his.
"I've wanted this since I saw you in that red dress," he says as his mouth finds my breast. I arch, giving him what he wants. His warm tongue circling my hard nipples. He's hot, hungry as he licks and kisses my chest.
I reach for his shirt and lift it up. He helps me take it off. The moonlight catches on the planes of his muscled chest and the tattoos that cover his skin.
I lean forward and kiss his chest. Without thinking, my hands slide down and undo his pants. I pull them down and reach for his cock.
It's thick, long, and rock hard. I can feel him throbbing in my hand. He pushes me back and kisses me, running his hands everywhere, in my hair, over my breasts, gripping my thighs. Each touch leaves fire in its wake, burning away any last hesitation.
His fingers slide between my thighs and I can't stop the moans coming out of me.
My legs part, and when his fingertips gently rub my clit, I feel like I'm going to explode.
"You're so wet for me," he growls, sliding a finger inside me, sending electricity through my entire body. "That's a good girl."
He pulls out and brings his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers. "You taste like heaven, Alepoudítsa."
I bite my lip as he slides a finger back inside me.
"Tell me you want this," he demands.
"Damn it, I hate you," I gasp.
His smile darkens.
"That's not what I asked," he says as he slides a finger in and out, his thumb rubbing my clit.
Fuck it.
"Yes," I moan, my nails digging into his triceps. "I want this. I want you."
That's all it takes before our ritual starts and he makes me feel what it's like to be a goddess.
He lifts me with ease and his strong arms pin me to a column.
My legs wrap around him instinctively, his large hands firmly grabbing my ass.
"Look at you," he breathes. "So fucking perfect. And you were aching for my cock to be inside you."
I gasp, heat pooling between my legs.
God, he's right. I'm trembling. Desperate.
He wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes.
"Beg for it."
"Please," I gasp. "I need you. Fuck me now."
I feel him reposition his hips. The tip of his cock is now at my entrance. I squeeze my legs, pulling him in.
In one brutal thrust, he's inside me.
I scream.
The stretch, the fullness, the overwhelming heat of him slamming into me, hard and deep.
Holy hell, I've never felt this full in my life.
I moan as my lungs search for air, my body desperate after the explosion of instant pleasure.
He stays still for a moment, allowing my body to adjust to his size. When I loosen my grip on him a little, he takes the sign to slowly start thrusting.
I feel every inch of him sliding in and out of me.