Chapter 29
Hecate
It’s as if by speaking of her, even indirectly, we summon Circe. Or at least the reminder of her.
A cry sounds from the bedroom. It’s so lost and alone and full of despair that I’m on my feet before I make the decision to move.
Atalanta is at my side as we rush down the hall and through the bedroom door to find Circe tangled in the sheet, her body taut with remembered panic, her head thrashing against the pillow.
She’s clearly in the grip of a nightmare and terrified out of her mind.
Atalanta and I share a look of perfect understanding. Neither of us knows what the future holds, but we saved Circe from the river and we’ll be damned if it takes her now, even in the dreaming world.
We climb carefully onto the mattress, one on each side, and take her hands. “Circe, baby, wake up,” I say softly. I don’t know if this is a nightmare or a night terror, but I don’t care if common knowledge says not to wake someone up; I’m sure as fuck going to do it. Just…softly. “We’re here.”
“You’re safe,” Atalanta matches my careful tone. Maybe she should look ridiculous kneeling on the bed in nothing more than my too-tight shirt, but to me she just looks like mine. Come to think of it, I probably look ridiculous, too, naked and clearly well-fucked. It doesn’t matter.
Circe gasps and jerks into a sitting position, her green eyes going wide. Her chest heaves as if she’s been running—or fighting for her life. Tears slide down her cheeks. “I… Fuck… I can’t breathe.”
“Yes, you can.” I press my free hand to her back and Atalanta does the same to her chest. “Inhale, baby.” She gasps. “Slower. I’m going to count to three for you; match your inhale to the count. One…two…three.” She shudders in a breath to my count. “Good, now exhale the same way. One…two…three.”
It takes a few minutes, but she slowly calms down enough to fully register where we are and who we are. Circe gently pulls her hands from ours and wipes at her tears. “Gods, this is embarrassing.”
“Actually, it’s PTSD.” Atalanta sits back on her heels. “There are some extremely effective therapy techniques for dealing with it, and they don’t include bringing down the regime of the Thirteen and killing a bunch of people in Olympus.”
Okay, not the angle I would have taken. I give Atalanta a sharp look that she returns unrepentantly. Right, I stroke Circe’s back. “You’re safe.”
“I’m really not.” Her breath hitches a little on her inhale, but she ignores it and searches my face before turning to Atalanta. “Antigone is dead, isn’t she?”
We share another look over her head, but this time, Atalanta ignores my silent command to keep things soft right now. She nods slowly. “Yes. She and the others who were on the bridge. I’m sorry.”
“It’s my fault,” Circe whispers.
She looks so fucking lost in this moment, nothing like the commanding woman I’ve come to expect.
She looks like…like the Circe I knew so long ago.
Magnetic, yes, but a woman who always felt so deeply, who loved with everything in her.
She wasn’t romantically involved with Antigone—I’d stake my life on it—but she cared about her the same way I care about Eros and Dionysus and Hades.
The loss I felt when Eros died…and I didn’t even consider myself directly responsible for his death the way she clearly does about Antigone.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. And I am. I’ve never been able to stand the thought of the world giving Circe more scars on her soul. This time she may not be a victim of anyone but herself, but it doesn’t change the fact that I hate seeing her in pain. “Circe—”
“I don’t want to think about it. Not tonight.” She looks at me and then Atalanta, her eyes wide. “Morning will come soon enough. Please.”
“We don’t have to talk about it tonight.” I keep a soothing tone to my voice. “You can go back to sleep. We’ll stay, and—”
She laughs, the sound more like her usual self, deep and melodious. “No, Hecate, I won’t be sleeping again any time soon.” She reaches out and runs her fingers over Atalanta’s bare thigh. “You two were obviously having a good time before I ruined it. Let me make it up to you.”
I hardly think sex is the answer right now, not when she’s so clearly in distress and there’s a legion of things left unsaid.
It was easy enough to ignore them when it was just me and Atalanta; we were consummating a connection a decade in the making.
But Atalanta doesn’t say a sideways word as Circe hooks the bottom of her shirt and guides it up and over her head.
At that point, I have to admit that any plan that results in Atalanta naked is one I can get onboard with. Immediately.
Atalanta narrows her eyes at Circe. “This isn’t going to fix anything.”
“On the contrary, I think it will help my mood immensely and give me an escape from the grief threatening to drown me.” Circe almost—almost—sounds like her normal polished self when she speaks, but there’s an undercurrent of tumultuous emotion, lingering just out of reach.
“And I would have to be dead not to respond to having the two of you naked in bed with me.”
Atalanta rolls her eyes. “You were just in a panicked sweat and there’s still tear tracks on your face. You’re gorgeous beyond belief, Circe, but chill it with the seduction act. You’re human, just like the rest of us.”
She’s taking such a hard line. I don’t know if it’s the right call.
I have to fight down an instinctive need to defend Circe.
No matter what she’s going through, she is more than capable of defending herself.
More than that, I’ve never quite seen this side of Atalanta, and the reminder that they share something entirely outside of me is one I don’t know how to deal with.
Circe sits back with a huff. “You’re being difficult for the sake of being difficult.”
“It’s just my charming personality.”
“I do find your thorns so intriguing.” She rallies admirably, sliding into Atalanta’s lap without hesitation.
I half expect Atalanta to drop her onto the floor on her ass, but she wraps her arms around Circe, holding her easily.
My chest gives an uncomfortable thump, which only gains strength when they both look up as if they heard my traitorous need.
Atalanta frowns. “Hecate, stop sitting there with your heart in your eyes and get over here.”
There’s nothing to do but exactly that. Morning will come soon enough, and with it all the realities of our current predicament.
Neither one of them will watch me with apparent indulgent love when I explain what I have cooking in the back of my mind.
It’s selfish in the extreme to take this comfort, this pleasure, when I know I’m about to piss them both off mightily, but I’m a selfish kind of woman sometimes.
Atalanta holds out a commanding hand to me, and I relish this simple touch, a slide of my palm against hers before she yanks me into them.
And then it’s just the perfection of chaotic sensation.
Atalanta’s mouth against the back of my neck, her hands questing down my body.
Circe kissing my breasts, and then my mouth.
She lifts her head with a wicked grin. “I can taste Atalanta on your lips.” Before I can come up with any kind of response, she’s kissing me again, deeper this time. As if she can lick every bit of Atalanta’s desire from the inside of my mouth.
I try to touch them, but Circe catches my hands and pins them to the small of my back, between me and Atalanta. I break our kiss to curse. “What are you doing?”
“You can have your turn playing later.” She glances over my shoulder to Atalanta and smiles wider. “It’s our turn right now.”
Atalanta palms my pussy. “I told you before; you have more in you, Hecate. We’re going to find out just how many times we can make you come before you beg for mercy.”
A flutter of something like panic in my throat, quickly drowned out by pure need. “Oh, well, I guess that’s fine.” I gasp a little as Atalanta pushes two fingers into me. I’m still so fucking wet from having sex with her earlier.
Circe chuckles darkly, and then she’s kissing her way down my stomach. It takes some shifting around to get situated, but we find a good place with her stretched out on the mattress between mine and Atalanta’s thighs. And then there’s no space for thinking at all.
These two women were diametrically opposed only a few days ago, but they work my body as if they’ve been partners for a lifetime. Atalanta hikes one of my legs up, opening me for Circe’s questing mouth, while she uses her free hand to guide my head back so she can claim my mouth again.
I’ve had group sex before—of course I have—but this is on a different world entirely. These are the two women I love most in this world, and instead of trying to kill each other, they’re united in their focus on making me orgasm.
It doesn’t take long at all. Circe knows my body too well, even after all these years, her wicked tongue driving me to new heights even as Atalanta swallows my whimpers and moans.
One moment, I’m drowning in pure sensation, and the next, my toes curl so hard the arch of my foot spasms. I feel no pain, though, not when I’m flying so high.
Atalanta reaches down and grabs Circe by the back of her neck, hauling her up to claim a kiss. Tasting me on her mouth. I shiver. “That was…”
“A good beginning.” Atalanta nips Circe’s bottom lip. “Nowhere near enough.”
She’s right. She’s always been right in so many ways. I can’t believe I denied us both this experience for so long. To have it now, with Circe, is something that will threaten to break my brain tomorrow. Right now, I’m enjoying myself too immensely.
“Good idea. You next.” I twist and topple her onto the bed.
The move might have worked on anyone else, but Atalanta isn’t anyone else.
She laughs and rolls us, somehow wrapping me up like a damned present.
One moment, I’m victorious, and the next, her mouth is on my pussy.
Maybe I’m still victorious. It sure as fuck feels like it when she fucks me with her tongue.
Circe shifts to kneel at Atalanta’s back. “Yes, this is a good beginning, a good idea, and…” She palms Atalanta’s round ass. “How you resisted her is a mystery to me, Hecate. She’s intoxicating.”
“Right here,” Atalanta murmurs against my heated flesh. “Stop talking over me.”
“Mmm. I prefer to tell you with my touch anyway.” She meets my gaze, so many things left unsaid in those big green eyes.
Regret and sorrow and…hope? It’s there and gone in an instant.
She refocuses on Atalanta. One hand disappears, and Atalanta’s rhythm stutters briefly before she rallies.
I know what it is to have Circe’s hands on me—in me.
The fact she can rally at all is a testament to her control.
She curves her fingers inside me, finding the same spot she did earlier, the same rhythm and pressure, and the slick slide of her tongue against my clit is overwhelming in the best way.
I give myself over to the pleasure rising with each stroke, each perfectly timed slide, and then I’m coming, my back bowing and a cry erupting from my lips.
Atalanta isn’t far behind me. She shifts up to bury her face in my stomach, wedging her arms between my body and the mattress as Circe drives her closer and closer to orgasm. I feel the exact moment she tips Atalanta over the edge, her ragged cry muffled by my body.
And then it begins again. We shift fluidly, Atalanta and I bringing Circe to a peak, and then Circe toying with me until I’m shaking and unable to form words.
We take turns going down on Atalanta, each doing our damnedest to get that sexy little squeal out of her.
Time ceases to have meaning. There are only us, this bed, and the pleasure we wring from each other’s bodies again and again and again.
Even though I know it can’t last past sunrise, I can’t stop myself from being happy.