12. An Offer from the Ocean
An Offer from the Ocean
Andie
There were few things I hated more than the knowledge of my own lack of control. I’d hated it back home, when the Olympian world had threatened everything I’d always worked for. I hated it even more now, when the infection seemed to be coming from my own veins.
It had been two days since Alexander had visited. Two days, and I still didn’t understand what had made me surrender to him.
The path to the oldest House Hera altar wound upward through twisted olive trees.
I’d discovered it yesterday while the priestesses thought I was resting.
Hiding under countless gnarled branches, the crumbling stone stairway was half-reclaimed by wild thyme and rosemary. But it had all beckoned to me, anyway.
The ruins appeared suddenly as the path crested. Weathered marble columns stood sentinel around a simple stone platform, untouched by any kind of modern renovations. This was Hera’s altar as it had existed millennia ago, before marble temples and golden statues. Raw. Ancient. Real.
I stopped at the edge of the sacred space, my fingers trailing along stone worn smooth by countless hands.
“We are the daughters of the First Queen, dearest.”
Mother’s voice came to me, crystalline in my memory.
I’d been seven, maybe eight, young enough to still believe in fairy tales, old enough to sense the weight behind her words.
We’d been in her private study, surrounded by old books and older artifacts.
She’d shown me a painting: Hera enthroned, peacocks at her feet, her expression neither kind nor cruel.
“What does that mean, Mother?” I’d asked.
She’d smiled then, a sad, knowing curve of her lips that I hadn’t understood until years later.
“It means we are fortunate. Though we are Omegas, we are stronger than any Alpha can ever hope to be. But we must never forget that strength comes at a price.”
I’d thought she meant our positions on the Council. Our ability to manipulate bonds, to shape the very connections that defined Olympian society. Political power wrapped in an Omega’s skin, defying every expectation the world held for us.
But even then, she’d known it. She’d been all too aware of the curse lying dormant in my blood, waiting for the right catalyst, the right moment to strike.
A flash of iridescent color caught my eye, snapping me from my thoughts.
The peacock emerged from between two fallen columns, its tail dragging behind it in a sweep of emerald and sapphire. Its eyes fixed on me with an intelligence that had nothing to do with a bird’s simple consciousness.
I knelt slowly, extending one hand. The peacock approached without hesitation, pressing its jeweled head against my palm. Its feathers were impossibly soft, catching the light in patterns that seemed to shift and change. Greens bled into blues, then purples, then colors that had no name.
“Did Mother send you?” I whispered. “Or did you come on your own?”
The peacock tilted its head, regarding me with those ancient eyes. Then it opened its beak and released a single, piercing cry. The sound echoed off the ruins and sent chills racing down my spine. It wasn’t the simple screech of a bird. It was a warning.
Immediately, my hand stilled on the bird’s iridescent plumage, every muscle in my body going taut. I turned around, knowing I was no longer alone.
Orion Maris stood at the edge of the ruins, backlit by the lowering sun.
He wore simple linen rather than his usual impeccable suits, the fabric moving in the sea breeze like water itself.
Even dressed down, he carried himself with that particular quality I’d noticed on the yacht.
It was a stillness that suggested vast depths beneath a calm surface.
“Lord Maris.” I straightened slowly, keeping my voice level even as my pulse kicked up. “It’s a surprise to see you here. What brings you to the shores of House Hera?”
He’d seen me drunk, reckless, stumbling into a stranger’s bed with all the grace of a drowning woman grasping at driftwood. And then he’d used his Olympian talents to pull me from the water. After everything that had happened, I had no idea how I felt about him.
“Miss Cross.” He inclined his head, the gesture somehow managing to convey both respect and apology. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I assure you I didn’t mean to disturb. I merely came here to give thanks to the Mother Goddess.”
I watched him approach the altar, tension coiling tighter in my chest. “Thanks?” The word came out sharper than I’d intended. “What are you thanking her for?”
Orion knelt before the altar with fluid grace, drawing something from his pocket. “It is an ancient practice from our House, hailing from the time of Odysseus.”
He placed his offering on the weathered stone. The delicate flowers were unlike any I’d seen on land, their petals translucent and faintly luminous. Sea flowers, no doubt, ones that bloomed in impossible places where pressure should have crushed them into nothing.
“Did you know, Miss Cross,” he continued, “my ancestor never blamed Hera for severing the bond between him and Penelope? He was thankful to her for giving his Omega her freedom.”
I stared at the flowers, at the way they seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
“We of House Poseidon keep to that pact,” Orion said softly. “To honor freedom.”
Something hot and bitter rose in my throat. “And yet you guard the borders of this shore.” I gestured toward the invisible barrier I’d encountered in the water. The one that had trapped me as surely as any physical wall. “The bars of a cage.”
Orion’s laugh was quiet, almost sad. He rose to his feet, brushing stone dust from his linen pants. “I told you on the Odyssey, Miss Cross.” His sea-dark eyes met mine, and in them I saw something that looked like genuine regret. “Politics is often the one storm I can’t control.”
The peacock stirred between us, its tail feathers rustling like whispered secrets.
“You’re worrying about the wrong storm, Orion.”
Alexander’s voice cut through the air like a blade. I felt it in my chest before I even turned to see him. He stood at the head of the stone path, and his eyes locked on Orion with an intensity that made the air itself feel charged.
The peacock shrieked, a sound of pure alarm that pierced straight through my skull. Its wings exploded outward in a riot of color before it bolted between the columns, disappearing into the olive grove in a flash of panic.
Smart bird.
The temperature dropped. Or maybe it just felt that way. The scent of ozone thickened around us, mixing with something deeper—salt and endless depths. Two Alpha scents colliding, each trying to dominate the space, to claim territory on sacred ground.
I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt compressed, my skin too tight, every nerve ending screaming contradictions.
I was angry at Alexander for being here, for existing, for the way his presence alone made my thoughts scatter.
I was even angrier that I still craved him, that the temporary mark on my neck burned hot enough to make my eyes water.
Orion gave Alexander a smile, but there was nothing warm in it. “Alexander, I have no reason to be worried. After all, what use is an Alpha who can’t even protect his own Omega?”
The words hung in the air like a thrown gauntlet.
The sky darkened overhead. Clouds manifested into existence from nothing, rolling across the previously clear horizon in seconds. Lightning webbed between them, crackling and branching, each strike closer than the last.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. This was it. This was the chaos that followed him everywhere, the destruction written into his bloodline, the reason I’d—
Alexander closed his eyes.
The lightning stopped mid-strike, frozen in the clouds like tree roots suspended in amber. The wind died. The pressure in the air released all at once.
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was clearing, clouds dissipating as if they’d never existed.
“You’re right,” he said. “I owe you. For helping Andie when I could not.” He paused, and I watched something that looked almost like pain flicker across his features. “If there’s anything House Zeus can do for House Poseidon—”
“As far as I’m concerned, our alliance stands, Stormwright.” Orion cut him off smoothly, but his attention had shifted—not to Alexander, but to me. “But in any other way, I couldn’t care less about House Zeus.” His sea-dark eyes held mine. “I’m here for you.”
Something twisted in my stomach. Alexander had stopped the storm. He’d pulled back from that edge, had humbled himself to another Alpha because—
Because of you, a traitorous part of my mind whispered. For you.
The mere thought made me want to recoil. Another voice slithered in my head. The one that had first appeared the moment I’d met him.
Look at him. Another performance. Another lie. No Alpha acts this way. They can’t. This is just what he wants you to think, what he needs you to believe. Don’t be fooled again.
Orion turned fully toward me, dismissing Alexander’s presence. His expression softened into something that looked almost gentle.
“I was honest on the yacht, Miss Cross,” he offered. “It would be my greatest pleasure to get to know you better. And to help you find your freedom.”
Help me find my freedom? How exactly was he supposed to do that? He was here, yes, but by his own admission, he was honoring his pact with my Olympian House. I wanted to believe him, but nothing in my life was ever so simple.
“Andie,” Alexander began, “you don’t have to—”
“She doesn’t have to listen to you,” Orion interrupted smoothly. “That’s rather the point, isn’t it? Unless you’re suggesting she lacks the capacity to make her own choices.”
“I’m suggesting that she’s been through enough without having you use her situation for—”
“For what, Stormwright? Unlike you, I’m not the one who’s made her life a living hell.”
The scent of the two Alphas thickened again, making my head pound. Every word felt like a physical weight pressing down on my skull.
They don’t care about you, the voice in my head whispered, louder now, insistent. They only care about themselves. About what you represent, what you can give them. You’re just a piece on their board, and they’re fighting over who gets to move you next.
The voice was right. It had to be right. Because the alternative—that any of this was real, that either of them actually gave a damn about me—was too dangerous to believe. I’d believed once. On the yacht. In that guest room with Alexander’s hands on my skin and his scent filling my lungs.
Look where that had gotten me.
“I don’t know what you’re both here for,” I said, cutting through their argument. “But I’m not interested in it.”
They both stopped, turning toward me with identical expressions of surprise.
“Have a good day, Lord Maris, Lord Stormwright.” I forced my voice to stay level, detached. “Or don’t. Just keep me out of it.”
I walked past them both, past Orion’s sea flowers still glowing on the altar. Past Alexander’s rigid form and the lightning scars hidden beneath his perfect suit. My legs felt unsteady, but I kept moving, following the shadowed path back down through the olive trees.
Neither of them tried to stop me.