15 - ARACHNE
Murder didn’t bother me; I’d glimpsed enough bloodshed in my lifetime to fill a sea. Especially not the demise of the male who sexually assaulted me. The one who locked me in his office and laughed as I cried.
Athena looked like an angel of vengeance as she lifted the ancient sword overhead. Like it weighed nothing, no less. I couldn’t help but want her.
Not just because her brattiness was notably absent, but because she was going around taking serial rapists off the streets.
I wished there weren’t so many instances of assault in my history. I wished there weren’t memories of the authorities gaslighting me out of reporting these two offenders. I wished there weren’t so many recollections still visiting with night terrors.
Most of all though, I wished that Athena didn’t have to see this piece of my past. Despite having become stronger from it, she now had history I hadn’t shared. It didn’t sit well.
I was beginning to suspect my best friend’s involvement; she was the only one I told about Donald here. It was infuriating, but Blossom likely had her reasons. Reasons I would demand the second I saw her.
As Athena’s exposed tattooed arms came down, slicing right through the fucker’s pale neck, and blood spurted like a broken fountain, I was transfixed. Incapable of looking away as she looked to me for approval.
Athena The Great just slaughtered on your behalf.
The macabre scene was far more alluring than was normal.
We were essentially in public. Anyone walking past could glimpse how their great hero was actually a homicidal maniac.
I had a perverse urge to lick it off her.
My loathing was still alive and well though. Passionately. And that was the crux.
When her amber gaze collided with mine, and she smirked as though she were somehow picking up on my attraction, I had the urge to grab the second sword to behead her next. “Cut it out,” I sneered.
“Absolutely not. There’s an inferno blazing between us and you know it. Let me prove to you how compatible we are.” Athena’s confidence as she ran a bloodied hand through her mullet infuriated me further.
When she rifted a step from me, closing the distance, my brain screamed to flee.
My body, however, refused to comply, keeping my feet firmly planted. The stench of iron from the blood suffocated her bergamot scent as she leered over me. “I know gifts aren’t your thing. But what about well-deserved justice enacted on your behalf?”
I didn’t know how to respond.
Her grin spread at whatever expression my face decided on. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Then our lips locked. The taste of rust on her did nothing to detract from how incredible she felt. Having her pressed against me again was electric. It was as if the planet stopped spinning when she ripped the tie from my hair, digging her nails into my scalp as her tongue roughly swiped at mine.
Teeth. Tongues. We were locked in a battle of wills. Covered in Donald’s blood. With his decapitated head and dick lying a few feet away.
When we withdrew, I snarked, “Stop killing for me.” It unfortunately left my lips too breathy to sound serious.
“I’ll do whatever it takes for you to kiss me like that again.”
She was such a fucking nuisance!
So, why are you kissing her again?
I only allowed myself a few more minutes before rifting home without a word.