Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
When the door swung open to reveal the room just beyond, my knees were on the verge of buckling at the sight. What may have looked like a bedroom at first glance was anything but.
The crimson curtains shielded all but the thin bands of sunlight that cut through the room in diagonal stripes across the floor.
To the far right, the obvious outline of an imposing four-poster bed stood cloaked in shadows.
More angular shapes and edges of polished wood hinted at typical bedroom furniture along the perimeter of the room.
But there was one imposing object to the left, nearly as tall as the ceiling. I could only make out the white sheet that covered it, thanks to the spill of sunlight that revealed the bottom edge.
Curiosity and dread warred at odds inside me. Though the overbearing presence at my back decidedly shoved me forward as he released my arm.
Stumbling into the room, I flailed several steps before steadying myself. Whirling around, this jaded man had already closed the distance between us. A sharp snap of his fingers, and lights flickered on overhead.
It took several squints to adjust to the harsh shift as darkness receded abruptly. My arm still ached with the promise of bruises to come where he had roughly handled me. But all of that paled in comparison to everything revealed inside this room.
The massive bed was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Gilded posts, sheers tied back with velvety ropes the color of ripe pomegranates, and a mattress dressed in silks and furs that the most ostentatious of gods would have pined for.
Dressers and wardrobes lined the walls as I had expected. Oil paintings graced the room, each one telling a different story. The labors of Heracles, King Midas, Hades and Persephone, and one depicting a tale I wasn’t familiar with.
The rest of the room had priceless trinkets and tokens of a time when all of ancient Greece worshipped us gods. Each item was seemingly mundane if not for the thrum of power beneath its surface, one that sang a tune true to divine origins.
All of it left me dizzy with overwhelming familiarity.
But none of it prepared me for the monolithic sheet-clad structure across from the bed.
Its shape was familiar, but the scale was all wrong.
Curved at the top and cylindrical at its core, it’d be a far stretch for even me to assume that this massive mystery piece came from IKEA.
“You know what they say about curiosity,” he said, drawing my attention away from the concealed object that loomed nearby.
Before I could answer, he leaned in close enough to my ear to feel his breath warming my skin. “It killed the Cupid.”
A sharp chill rolled down each vertebra of my spine.
He must have seen the reaction of my body, or perhaps he was easily amused by his own sense of humor. Either way, a resounding chuckle echoed from his chest.
Light as a feather, his fingertips dragged across my collarbone as he walked past me. Stepping up to the cloth, his reach for it tightened something in my gut in apprehension.
This god felt familiar in all the wrong ways. His stride emanated the confidence of someone who was used to being in control, a master manipulator. Even the way he fisted the sheet in his hand felt deliberate, like he was willing the material to recognize his strength.
Entranced, all I could do was stand there speechlessly and watch to see what came next.
With one firm jerk, followed by another, the fabric seemed to come alive like a ghost, haunting souls of the past. Just as quickly as it came alive, it floated to the floor to become lifeless once more.
Nothing more than a heap of wrinkled bedding designed to give nightmares to housemaids everywhere.
Speaking of which, I briefly questioned if I had left my iron on that morning. Before I could dwell on the thought, my attention shifted to what was left in the wake of the sheet’s removal.
A massive bird cage made of gleaming silver towered in front of me, my head craning to take it all in.
The sheer size of it made my throat tighten.
It wasn’t designed to contain any natural aviary creature.
It was meant for something bigger. At least three humans could comfortably stand inside the space, and that realization was more sobering than being tossed into the River Styx.
Unable to tear my eyes away from it, I still managed to stumble back a couple of steps.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” His voice was a low murmur, distant over the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Breaking the stare from the cage itself, I shifted my gaze to find him looking at the structure in awe and appreciation. His fingers traced along one of the bars reverently, much like one caresses a lover.
Swallowing hard, I eased back another step towards the door. “Impressive is one word for it. I’d consider ‘compensatory’ a better alternative.”
Yes, Charlee, instigate another god. That seems wise.
My sarcastic thought to myself was nothing short of realizing that my self-preservation instincts weren’t always intact.
A bark of laughter erupted from him. It was unsettling. He didn’t look like a man who laughed on the regular.
Stepping away from the cage, he closed the distance between us in the blink of an eye. His hand shot out and clamped down on my shoulder with an unyielding force that hovered between discomfort and pain.
He gestured to the barred structure. “You know what this fine piece of history is?”
Shaking my head, the motion was jerky from all the tension locking up the muscles in my body.
There was no delay on his part to appropriately educate me on why the hell he had a massive birdcage just hanging out in this bedroom.
“This is a spectacularly crafted piece of history. These bars once caged Aello after she threw one of her infamous tantrums. When I came across it at an auction a few years ago, I knew the second I laid eyes on it that it deserved a spot in my collection.” His hand made a broad sweeping motion in reference to all the other Greek artifacts on display.
Using controlled force, he guided me closer to the massive prison. He rapped one knuckle against a bar, resulting in a dull hum. It was the type of noise that spoke to the strength of the metal and whatever supernatural reinforcement made up its construction.
“I figured anything that can contain the homicidal fury of a harpy attempting to claw out a demigod’s eyes would be a priceless masterpiece to own.”
Guiding me towards the open door of the cage, every muscle in me locked up. My throat tightened as fear’s icy grip wrapped itself around my neck. No, that was his hand grasping the area just below the base of my skull, fingers latched onto me.
My sputtering filled the air surrounding us. Nothing but strings of nonsense and protest came spilling past my lips.
“Shh, shh.” The sound was meant to sound comforting, but it only set me more on edge.
As he leaned in, his lips brushed against my temple. The scent of him invaded my space before he whispered, “It’s perfect for very naughty girls who are set on misbehaving.” He paused meaningfully. “You should be right at home.”
His hand released me only to shove me between my shoulder blades, sending me stumbling forward right into the confines of this cage.
The door slammed behind me with a reverberating clang.
The sound registered at the absolute top of my scale of existential dread.
At the bottom of said scale was the nonchalant ‘this could go poorly’ sentiment.
This particular situation landed far beyond anything I’d ever known.
A nameless place where my immortality shit its pants and huddled in a corner, crying for vats of ambrosia and nectar.
Whirling around, the surprise took my breath when I saw that he had unexpectedly joined me inside the cage. Rushing to create distance between us, I stepped back only to trip on the pile of pillows and throws that were a mocking comfort inside this enclosed space.
The unforgiving bars hit my back, drawing a gasp from me while I stared at his approaching figure. He radiated something predatory that made my heart try to claw its way out of my ribs.
Each hand curled around a bar to steady myself.
I had nowhere to go as he stopped in front of me.
His face tilted down as he studied me. He leaned forward and braced his hands against the bars above my head.
The heat radiating off his body seeped through every barrier of clothing, despite no contact having been made.
Could he hear the way my heart tried to escape its own cage of ribs and tissue?
We both stood there in the charged moment for what felt like several eternities. When he spoke, it was the quiet of gravel over silk. “Do you know why you’re here, Charlee?”
The emphasis on how he said my name was damning. He knew more than he was letting on.
After I didn’t immediately respond, he continued speaking in that same way that sent goosebumps down my arms. “Because you sell false promises. I’ve heard tales of your pairings from others.
It’s quite the reputation you’ve built for yourself, selling desire wrapped in pretty packages.
But tell me, what happens when those packages unravel? ”
I shook my head. Double-tap matches didn’t fail. Floundered from time to time, sure, but never broke down fully.
“They don’t. Ever. Each match bears a purpose for something more permanent.” I said, voice coming out as a hoarse whisper as if I were afraid to speak too loudly in his presence.
“Poor, sweet Charlee. So wrapped up in the innocence of it all that you don’t realize you’re dealing death to hearts. Did you ever think about the poor fuckers who get left behind when you rip one half of their heart away to match with another? Or is collateral damage of no concern to you?”
His finger traced across my forehead with a delicate sweep as he pushed a few rogue strands of my hair away from my face.
Collateral damage? Ripping one heart away from another to give it to another?
I hadn’t been doing that, had I?
Doubt crept into my eyes before I forced it back with a flare of stubbornness.
“It’s not like that.” I projected certainty into my words even if there wasn’t any to be had.
He released a breath with controlled exasperation like he was trying to explain a foreign concept to a simple-minded child.
Placing a hand against his chest, it was not only a way to brace myself from him leaning in further, but a way to get a read on whatever damage his heart had suffered.
Every muscle beneath my palm stiffened. Electricity sparked through my fingers at the turmoil that lay beneath the surface. Erratic rhythms. Sharp edges. Pain. Heartbreak.
All the sensations fed into selfish behaviors, distribution of discordance, and bitterness. Not even the good type of bitterness that you found in dark chocolate. Pure spite for what he thought had failed him—his heart. It made that nickname he had called me—Heartspite—ironic.
Without flinching, I met his gaze. “I know who you are,” I declared with a steady voice.
“Who am I, Heartspite? Go on, tell me what you think you know.”
“You’re the god of discord, son of the goddess Nyx. Responsible for turning worlds upside down, disrupting natural orders. Inflicting dissonance where you see fit.”
“Mmm, such a smart girl.” The scruff of his stubble scraped over the side of my cheek as he dipped his head to speak against the curve of my jaw. “You can call me Eryx. Though fuck knows I’d settle for theos.”
God. How modest of him.
He pulled away from me, retreating to the center of the cage as a primal darkness filled his eyes. His hand came up in front of him, thumb and middle finger pressed together, poised.
“Let’s see which side of me you beg for first, the man or the god.”
Snap.