5. Medusa
Medusa
D uring the rest of their time in Nepal, Medusa hadn’t found anyone else in the village who went above zero on her magical scale.
While she was disappointed, Perseus reminded her that she had saved them a lot of time and effort.
Which was good because the time off she requested would be coming soon.
Thankfully, no one on the team asked for details, because frankly, the details were embarrassing.
Because, how was she supposed to explain that her heat was coming up?
As a gorgon, she had periods when she went into heat—unpredictable windows of intense desire and heightened senses—and she could feel that time creeping closer. She’d been counting on being settled in Bolivia for her scheduled days off when it happened. But the timing was never an exact science.
Finally, they were on their way. For some reason, the private jet felt…welcoming to Medusa.
Maybe because it was familiar? The soft hum of engines, the subtle scent of leather and expensive perfume, the hush of a space sealed off from the world—it all felt like stepping into a place where the rules were different, where she could breathe a little easier.
As soon as she stepped inside, Charlotte greeted her with a dazzling smile, eyes sparkling as she slipped Medusa’s trench coat off her shoulders.
“Welcome back, Miss Medusa. How was your trip?”
She gave a small, wry smile. “Beautiful…but I got altitude sickness.”
The flight attendant’s eyes widened, her hand fluttering lightly to her chest. “Oh no! Poor thing. But you look incredible —altitude sickness or not.” Her voice dropped to a playful lilt as she leaned in a fraction closer. “Honestly, I don’t think altitude could ever get the best of you.
“Are you still feeling unwell?” Charlotte asked, her fingers brushing lightly against Medusa’s arm as she straightened.
Medusa caught something shimmering in the woman’s gaze but chose not to comment, simply offering a polite smile. “No, Perseus took care of me.”
Even as she spoke his name, a warmth rushed through her chest, blooming outward like sun on cold stone.
He had saved her, yes, but it was waking up in his arms, her face tucked against his chest, that carved something deeper into her.
When she stirred, the first thing she felt was warmth.
Perseus’s arm was draped around her, protective even in sleep, his body a steady line of heat against her side.
For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
It shifted something in her, softened edges she didn’t know she still had, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to wonder what it might feel like to be seen and wanted, not for her power, but for herself.
She moved deeper into the cabin, heels sinking into the thick carpet, and settled into a wide leather seat by one of the windows. Closing her eyes, she let the muted drone of the engines wrap around her like a cocoon.
A moment later, she sensed Perseus approaching.
She cracked one eye open and peeked at him.
Gods, he really was gorgeous. And when he was unaware and unguarded—as he was right now, brow slightly furrowed in thought—he was even more so.
Of course, he was also magnetic when he tried to be.
He’d been incredibly flirty the entire time in Sirbhajun, and it didn’t escape her notice how he’d “accidentally” brushed his hands on her shoulder or arm a few times.
Later, they sat next to each other at the table as the flight attendant returned with gleaming silver trays.
Plates of perfectly arranged food appeared—roasted vegetables, fragrant rice, grilled fish.
Medusa couldn’t help catching the glances Charlotte kept sneaking in her direction: lingering, assessing, eyes sparkling with something playful.
Medusa frowned into her water glass. Was the flight attendant actually interested in Perseus—or…in her ? She’d assumed all the attention was directed at the demigod sitting next to her, but now she wasn’t so sure.
After the meal, exhaustion from their trip finally hit them both.
The snakelets under her scarf began shifting restlessly, tiny coils twitching and pressing against the fabric, letting her know they were dying to be free.
Medusa sighed. “Perseus…can I take off my scarf?”
“Sure,” he replied absentmindedly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m going to remove the scarf. You’re going to see the girls.”
Perseus shot her an annoyed look. “Yeah, and I said go ahead.”
“Okay…” Medusa murmured.
She carefully untied the scarf—a piece of Tibetan silk brocade she’d bought from a local seller in Nepal, soft and shot through with delicate patterns—and slipped it off, shaking out the folds.
The snakelets immediately uncoiled, lifting away from her scalp, each one breathing tiny huffs of cool air as if relieved to stretch out.
She chanced a glance at Perseus and found him staring, completely mesmerized. “I don’t care what anyone says. That’s easily the most dramatic hair reveal I’ve ever seen.”
Medusa snorted, trying to suppress her smile.
Perseus reached out a hand toward one inquisitive snakelet.
Instantly, several of them hissed, their forked tongues flicking in warning.
Medusa shot him a look. “I wouldn’t do that. You’re not friends yet.”
Perseus eyed the gently swaying snakelets. “Are they poisonous? I mean, they obviously bite.”
Medusa arched a brow. “Maybe?”
Perseus gaped at her. “You don’t know ?”
“Of course, I know,” she said, crossing her arms. “And no, they’re not poisonous. What’s deadly is my gaze, not them.”
“Right,” Perseus muttered, leaning his head back against the seat as if suddenly exhausted by the entire conversation.
Medusa allowed herself to relax a little closer to him, feeling the jet’s quiet vibrations under her palms.
One of the snakelets, a slender green one with delicate gold markings, stretched out cautiously toward Perseus, flicking its tongue.
He hardly seemed to notice, still gazing at the ceiling.
Medusa felt the snakelet’s shifting emotions ripple through her, cautious, but also open, curious.
Its tiny tongue darted in and out, tasting the air around Perseus, while its body swayed gently as though deciding whether he was a threat or something intriguing.
A few other snakelets lifted their heads, watching with bright, jewel-like eyes, as if silently voting whether he might be worth trusting.
She leaned back in her seat, swirling the ice in her glass.
Perseus rested his arm along the back of their seat, and Medusa could feel the warmth radiating off him, curling around her like an invisible embrace.
The snakelets were out and about, some winding lazily on her shoulders, others flicking their tongues toward Perseus.
“You have an audience,” she said dryly, nodding to where one pale green snakelet stared right at him.
“You know,” Perseus said, shifting in his seat and giving her a sly look, “now that I think about it…when I carried you down that trail, I’m pretty sure I felt something bite me.”
Medusa snorted. “Maybe you deserved it.”
“It was one of your snakelets, wasn’t it?” he accused, feigning outrage. “Little traitors.”
Out came a chorus of offended hissing.
Medusa rolled her eyes. “Great. Now you’ve hurt their feelings.”
Perseus leaned closer, speaking toward her hair as if addressing an audience. “Ladies, I promise I meant no disrespect. You were just…protecting Medusa.”
The hissing quieted slightly, a few gentle rustles replacing it.
“Hmph.” Medusa folded her arms, trying not to smile. “Looks like you’re winning them over.”
He gave her a smug grin. “Told you. I’m very charming.”
“Oh really?” she arched a brow.
“Yeah. Watch this.” He cleared his throat and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “Hey…wanna hear a secret? Medusa talks to herself more than anyone I know—and I still think she’s the most fascinating woman on the planet.”
Medusa blinked, half-amused and half-bewildered, wondering what exactly was happening between them. But she couldn’t deny she liked this looser, unexpectedly playful side of Perseus—more than she’d ever admit out loud.
One pale green snakelet stared right at him. “That’s Thalia.” Thalia paused mid-hiss, tongue flicking in the air as if tasting Perseus’s words.
“She’s considering it,” Medusa said weakly, trying to regain her composure.
Perseus grinned. “Told you. I’m a natural with the ladies.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she shot back, though her lips twitched with a smile.
Another snakelet—a shimmery gold one—curled closer to Perseus, delicately tapping him as though testing his patience.
“And who’s this one?” he asked, moving his arm.
“That’s Helios. She likes shiny things…and people who flatter me.”
“Well then,” Perseus murmured, leaning even closer, “Helios and I have a lot in common.”
Medusa felt a ripple go through her chest. The air seemed thinner somehow as Perseus’s voice dropped lower.
“Is this…your way of charming the jury?” she teased, her own voice softer now.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just telling the truth.”
He was close enough now that she could see the faint gold flecks in his green eyes. A snakelet flicked its tongue against Perseus’s chin, but he barely flinched this time.
“You’re getting brave,” Medusa tilted her head, unable to help herself.
Perseus gave a low laugh. “And you’re getting distracting.”
He leaned in, closing the last few inches, his breath mingling with hers. Her pulse pounded as her eyes dropped briefly to his mouth.
But just as their lips were about to meet, three of the snakelets hissed in perfect unison and flared their hoods, surging between them like a wall of scales and flicking tongues.
“Whoa,” Perseus froze, blinking. “I take it back. I’m not that brave.”
Medusa gave a groan, half mortified, half laughing. “See what I have to deal with?”