7. Artemis
7 ARTEMIS
I show up at Olympus on my bike, so as not to give this Atlas character any impression of being a freaking chauffeur.
On most days, I like my car.
It’s not particularly flashy, although it’s new to me.
It has all the bells and whistles.
The guys gave it to me a few months ago when they spotted me walking around town.
It didn’t take them long to figure out I had sold my other one.
That vehicle reminded me of Nyx, and blood, and the freaking war that took over the town.
Up until my brother and his friends swooped in, I didn’t particularly care about my lack of transportation.
My own two feet carry me just fine.
The bike, though. That was a gift to myself.
I dressed in a black body suit fit for riding a motorcycle.
It’s mostly leather, with matte black metal buckles around my thighs, abdomen, and chest. The leather pants tuck into sturdy boots, a black leather jacket zipped up to my throat and straps secured horizontally across my abdomen.
It hides a rather plain black blouse underneath…
and a concealed gun at the small of my back.
The outfit is meant to downplay my features.
I’m more curvy than I’d like to be, especially in the last year.
I gained a few pounds during this peace time in Sterling Falls.
Like the stress of war fell away and I could relax.
As much as I could living with Saint anyway.
My breasts came out of nowhere when I was fourteen, hips and an ass that made an appearance in the same year.
I went from passing as my brother to not .
Unless I’m dressing up for Bow & Arrow or Olympus, I like to pretend the curves don’t exist. I slimmed down quite a bit after the first initial growth spurt, although it’s worse lately.
My hair is in a thick braid over my shoulder, my makeup practically nonexistent.
We’re going down the I’m-not-trying-to-impress-you route.
It doesn’t help that I woke up this morning dreading today.
My eyes opened before my alarm, and I immediately got dressed like a zombie.
Today is my birthday.
I try not to think about my fifteenth birthday.
Waking up with a mixture of happiness and wariness.
Apollo was already gone at that point, and I had plans of sneaking out of the house to go celebrate with friends.
That never happened, and instead…
Terror .
Forcing myself to consider today like any other, I got on my bike and zipped along the mostly empty roads to Olympus.
Once parked, I consider going inside.
It stands still and dark, the sun not yet peeking over the horizon.
But if I go in, I’ll miss the best part of the morning.
The sky robbed me the other day, and I hope it gives me something better today.
I take the path up the sloping hill to the cliffs, my footsteps sure even in the low light.
At the edge, so close my toes almost hang off, I take a deep breath.
The salt air, the low rush and crash of waves below, flood me with strength.
I sit and swing my legs over the edge.
The heels of my boots kick loose little bits of dirt and gravel, and they fall a long way into the churning, dark water below.
In front of me, the sky is lightening in slow increments.
It’s clear of clouds today, which will hopefully grant me a good omen in the form of a perfect sunrise.
Saint is back to avoiding me.
And he and I… After our, uh, sexual misadventure, he rather calmly went into his room and emerged a minute later with a bag slung over his shoulder.
And then he walked out with a weird expression.
It allowed me to freak out alone, but he’ll be back.
He always comes back, whether it’s by his choice or Jace’s.
Besides, my sources say he’s holed up at Starlight, his tattoo shop.
A few months ago, I accidentally discovered a cot set up in the corner of his back office.
When Jace finds out—which he will, because the bastard knows everything—he’ll put an end to it.
But until then, it’s not my problem.
He’s dealing with the approaching anniversary of Nyx’s death, and I’m dealing with my birthday and Atlas and that terrible off feeling that I can’t shake or pinpoint.
So, yeah.
He left me with a mess—mental, physical.
I can’t say I didn’t lie in bed and bring myself over the edge a few more times at the thought of his dirty talk.
Although maybe dirty talk is a stretch.
More like degradation.
Am I into that sort of thing?
I don’t want to be into that sort of thing.
I want to be cherished like a fucking princess, because that’s what I deserve after the life I’ve led.
But Saint knows exactly how to get under my skin, and I hate him for it.
I hate him for who he is, and how much he loved Nyx, and all of it .
Great freaking start to my birthday.
I sweep my hand along the gravel beside me, sending another shower down to the water.
“Aren’t you afraid of falling?”
My shoulders hike up.
Normally I’m good at keeping my awareness up, constantly cataloging my surroundings.
It’s one of those survival instincts that I’ve apparently retired today.
Atlas slowly lowers himself down beside me, then leans forward and peers down.
“Do you drink tea?”
I glance over at him.
Today, his dark hair is a bit shorter.
There’s a curl that flops down across his forehead, very rockstar-ish, and his dark eyes stay fixed on the water below.
His whole persona seems rockstar-ish.
Kind of slouching in a confident, I-don’t-care vibe.
Hot, too.
I should’ve pegged it from Olympus, the fight.
He’s not what I’d call classically handsome, but the slope of his jaw, his high cheekbones, make him stand out.
He’s more startlingly, devastatingly pretty…
and it’s completely at odds with his muscular frame.
I’d put his age at late twenties.
No ring on his finger, though.
That doesn’t really matter when it comes to intentions.
I learned that early.
“I do like tea,” I say.
The corner of his lips lift, and he holds out a travel thermos.
He unscrews the cap and pours some, passing me the makeshift cup.
His jacket is army-green, open to expose a black t-shirt.
Jeans. Work boots. It’s a normal outfit that gives me zero clue about what we’re going to be doing today.
I bring the mug to my nose and inhale.
It smells spiced, and steam curls off the top of the liquid.
“It’s not drugged, right?”
His jaw tics.
“I don’t drug women. And it would be a poor way to spend our day.”
“Ah, yes, about that.” I set the mug aside.
“We’re officially on the clock.”
He chuckles.
When he doesn’t move, though, I pick the mug back up.
I sip the tea, mildly impressed by the amount of flavor packed into it.
I wait for him to ask something of me.
For him to goad me to rise and take me…
wherever he has planned.
But instead, he leans back on his hands and watches the sunrise with me.
And it is certainly a brilliant one.
Happy birthday, Artemis .
My phone buzzes. I fish it out and scan the text from my brother.
Apollo
Beautiful sunrise today.
Chin up, sister.
I stuff it back in my pocket without replying.
He’s got his family to help him usher in the day.
They’ve made no attempt to corral me into their plans, which is fine by me.
Antonio will want me later.
But for now, I’ve got…
I glance sideways. “What is your name?”
He frowns.
“Perhaps we should stick with Atlas.”
“You know my real name.”
“Artemis is your birth name?” Surprise colors his tone.
“My mother was very invested in Greek mythology.” I shrug.
“She had odd quirks.”
“Had.”
“Indeed.” I tip forward and once again contemplate jumping.
It wouldn’t be so bad.
At this time of year, perhaps the water would even be warm.
Warmer than the chilled bite in the air this morning.
She’s still alive, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He doesn’t need to know that I haven’t talked to her since the morning of my fifteenth birthday.
The last image of her burned into my brain is her sadness as my dad drove me away.
“Kade.”
“Friends call me Tem,” I offer.
“Not that we’re friends.”
When the sun finally peeks above the waterline, Kade stands.
He seems to be waiting for something, and finally holds out his hand.
“Come. We should begin.”
“Begin?” I look up at him.
“You’ve barely told me anything. Just offered me tea and sat here in silence.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll tell you in the car.”
“Because I am your favor .” I rise without his help and undo the buckles of my jacket.
Then the zipper. I drop it to the grass and unbutton my pants next.
I take more care with the gun, still strapped in its holster, then kick off my boots and peel away my socks.
Pants next, shaking them out and making an effort to fold them on top of my boots.
He watches me, his dark eyes seeming to get even blacker.
“That’s not what I meant, Artemis.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t stop.
My blouse is next, until I’m standing in just my underwear.
The wind whips at my hair, tugging strands loose from my braid and threatening to push me off that cliff.
Not that I would mind—it’s been my impulse since the very beginning, after all.
And somehow, I need to get the feel of Saint off me.
It’s been two days, and I still feel him .
His fingers left bruises on my hips where he gripped me, but it’s worse than just that.
There’s guilt associated with his touch that I can’t rid myself of, no matter how many showers I take.
Does it remind me of my past, or am I just losing my mind?
Is this a betrayal to my best friend?
I don’t have an answer—and I’ve taken a shit ton of showers in the last two days.
Atlas, aka Kade, is giving me nothing.
I suddenly want to give him nothing in return.
The trick with this particular cliffside is to push off at the jump.
There’s a cropping of rocks at the bottom that will absolutely snap bones if you hit it wrong.
It’s why throwing people over is so tempting.
No launch from the start means they fall straight down.
I listen for the shush of water rushing back out to sea.
When there’s a slight pause in the oncoming waves, I jump.
I take two big steps, ignoring how the rocks stab into the soles of my feet.
I swear Kade reaches for me.
His fingers graze my arm.
But he’s not fast enough, and the wind carries his alarmed shout away.
I leap into the open air, holding my arms out for a brief moment.
Then I cross them and straighten my body, hold my breath, and hit the water like an arrow.
The chill of it wakes me up, and I shoot down, down, down.
My bare toes brush the mossy rock underneath, and the water feels more like a gentle squeeze down here than a washing machine’s spin cycle.
I look up and watch the roll of a wave overhead.
It’s white-capped and angry, but it can’t touch me.
I release a slow stream of bubbles.
In a minute, I’ll swim away from the rock face.
There’s a ladder I’ll eventually need to get to.
But not yet.
This is the first time I’ve felt like myself, and I don’t want to let it go.
A second later, another body enters the water.
Kade hits feet-first, but he turns underwater and dives down.
He seems to think I’m stuck or incompetent, maybe, because he grabs at me.
I shove him away.
Eye contact is really not easy underwater.
And neither are pointed looks…
or glares. It’s like saying, if looks could kill , but the receiver took off their glasses.
He catches my hand, intending to drag me up, but I hold fast. My lungs have begun that delicious ache, the burn for oxygen.
I can last another minute, maybe.
Thirty seconds comfortably.
But that’s all we need.
Another wave moves over us, the last of a swell, and I relent.
I push off and kick for the surface.
We breach at the same time, a good fifteen yards from the cliff.
I suck in a lungful of air, the burn in my chest immediately easing.
“What the fuck ?”
I slick the water out of my face.
“You joined me.”
To say I’m surprised is an understatement.
His gaze darkens. “Because you didn’t come up.”
Aww, he cares .
I roll my eyes, both at the passing thought and the idea that he wanted to save me.
It all comes back to whatever he needs me for.
He went to the effort of fighting at Olympus, of winning…
and maybe he just made it up on the spot after talking to me before the fights.
I don’t believe that, though.
He has a motive I have yet to uncover.
A wave comes toward us.
A big one, already foaming white at the top and beginning to curl.
“Go under,” I order.
I take a breath and dive down, and he follows a second later.
I tug at his arm, making him swim lower, and I count to twenty in my head.
We pop back up, and I frown at the crash of the wave against the rocks.
The ocean is a bit more volatile today than usual—but that makes two of us.
“How do we get out of here?” He treads water carefully, his gaze flicking from the cliffside to the incoming waves.
He shed his jacket and shirt, too.
Maybe even his shoes and socks—I can’t see from here.
His hair is plastered down.
The smooth, curved lines of his shoulder muscles, down to corded biceps, draw my attention.
Not that I should be watching him like that, but…
you know.
Sex with Saint seems to have awoken that part of my brain.
The lust side.
It was easier when that part of me was dormant.
To answer his question, I point to the metal runs drilled into the rock behind him.
The ladder hugs the uneven terrain, making it an adventurous climb.
Back in its infancy, Olympus tested the fighters’ desires to compete by asking them to do insane things.
Like jumping off this cliff.
Although after a few broke their legs in their attempts, the cliff kind of shifted to represent something more ominous.
Now only the seasoned cliff jumpers attempt it.
There’s another spot farther up the coast with a lower cliff and an easier route up.
That particular spot is also protected by the curve of the land, blocking most of the ocean waves from coming in directly.
This is more fun.
He exhales.
“No one said you got to dictate how today was going to go,” I point out.
“Fine print, my friend.”
I ride the back of the next swell, paddling hard to reach one of the rungs.
My fingers catch on it, and it seems to take herculean effort to drag myself up.
Kade follows right behind me, his breath literally hot on my heels until we get to the top.
I flop onto my back.
Kade drops to his knees beside me, laughing quietly.
“You’re something else.”
Goosebumps prickle at my skin, although I can’t tell if it’s because of the salt water still clinging to my body or something else.
I glance over, taking in his bruised abdomen—where Saint got a few hits in—and tight, obvious six-pack.
Hell, eight-pack. There are no visible tattoos above the waistband of his now-soaked jeans.
His shirt and jacket and boots were discarded a lot hastier than mine, belying his urgency.
Can’t say that doesn’t make me feel a little better.
When the watched sensation doesn’t ease, and I can’t pinpoint it to Kade, I crane my head back.
The lawn becomes the sky, and an upside-down figure stands near my bike.
Maybe it should surprise me, but it really, really doesn’t.
Because I know him from his silhouette alone.
I sit up and crane around, eyeing Saint Hart right-side-up.
Who has no right to be glaring at me like he is.
“My sore loser?” Kade guesses.
He takes my wrist and pulls me to my feet.
I can’t seem to break my staring contest with Saint, while the man beside me gathers our clothes.
I sigh and start toward him, leaving Kade to follow.
Saint meets me halfway.
His gaze rakes up and down my body, a flush overtaking his neck and face.
“What the fuck, Artemis?”
“I thought friends called you Tem,” Kade interjects.
“We’re not friends,” we both say at the same time.
I wrinkle my nose. I don’t like having anything to do with him, including saying the same words at the same time.
Like we’re on the same page?
Nope . He’s been acting like a jerk and avoiding me since I saw his dick.
So why did he come?
Or more aptly—who forced his hand?
My brother, ever the worrier, or one of his best friends?
“I don’t suppose you have a reason for being here,” I say after a beat.
“Well.” He lifts his chin.
“As a matter of fact, I’m your chaperone for the day, Tem .”
Kade laughs.
“Yeah, no.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
The big guy beside me hooks his thumb in my direction.
“Do you see her face? What part of that says, ‘ Oh, please follow me around all day like a lost puppy? ’”
I snort.
I changed my mind. Between this and actually jumping, this guy is growing on me.
“Let’s get dry,” I say to him.
“There are showers in Olympus. And then we can figure out how to ditch the Debbie Downer.”
Saint scowls.
“Seriously?”
“I seriously don’t want you following me around, asshole,” I snap.
“Go run back to the guys and tell them we got away from you. Whatever.”
“Just don’t come crying to me when something bad happens to you.”
I gape at him.
Kade’s watching me, I can feel his gaze like a white-hot poker.
It would take too long to explain my issues with Saint.
To cover the last year…
“Why don’t you go jump off a cliff?” I retort, forcing a sweet smile.
“Make sure to aim for the rocks.”
With that, I turn on my heel and stride toward Olympus.
Because fuck him .
Well, not really.
We’re not doing that again.