5. Medusa #4
“No,” she said quickly, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not the altitude. I just…need to freshen up.”
Before he could ask more, she spun away and headed for her room, her footsteps quick on the polished wooden floor.
Behind the door, she leaned back against the wall, clutching the fabric of her sweater as if that might soothe the restless heat coiling under her skin.
It was still faint—just a tingling, a flush, an ache—but she knew the signs.
Her heat was coming on, and of all the times and places, it had to start here, trapped on a snowy mountaintop… and stuck in the same house as Perseus.
Her snakes shifted anxiously, and she swallowed hard, trying to calm both them and herself.
Not now. Please, not yet.
She paced the room for several minutes, forcing herself to take slow, even breaths. She splashed cool water on her face, pressed her palms to the icy glass of the window, and counted backwards from a hundred, anything to push the heat away.
At last, her pulse began to settle, though the restless energy still simmered beneath her skin.
Then came a gentle knock at her door.
“Medusa?”
She froze, curled sideways on the bed, willing herself to stay quiet. Maybe if she didn’t answer, he’d assume she was asleep and go away.
Another pause. Then, through the wooden door:
“I, uh…made dinner. Come down?”
Medusa squeezed her eyes shut. She could keep pretending. Let him eat alone. But the thought of slinking out later, still having to face him—heat simmering under her skin, anxiety churning—felt even worse.
The snakelets shifted restlessly around her shoulders, flicking their tongues in nervous little darts, as if echoing her indecision.
She took a shaky breath.
Okay…yeah. Better to ask for time now than deal with it later.
She pushed herself upright, gathering the snakelets into the scarf, pressing cool fingers to her cheeks in a futile attempt to calm the flush prickling beneath her skin.
Then, swallowing hard, she called out, “Be right there.”
He said, “Okay,” and she heard his footsteps retreat down the hallway.
She sat there a moment longer, trying to pump herself up. The tingling heat she’d felt earlier…it was gone. Totally gone. A fluke, she told herself. She’d overreacted. She could handle this.
She stood, smoothing her scarf, forcing her breathing even.
She stepped out of her room, blinking as she was immediately confronted with the huge window across the sitting area of the second floor. A wall of white greeted her. Snow hurled itself against the glass in dense, swirling sheets, obscuring any trace of the valley beyond.
Another window by the stairs offered the same blank whiteness, so thick it felt almost like they’d been swallowed by a cloud.
Medusa pushed into the kitchen. “Wow. Qhatu wasn’t kidding about the storm.”
“Yeah,” Perseus replied, looking up from where he sat at the kitchen island. Plates of food were set out between them—steaming bowls of quinoa stew, warm bread, slices of grilled meat.
But the moment their eyes met, the air between them seemed to tighten. Heat unfurled low in her belly, spreading outward like spilled ink.
This is a bad idea, she thought miserably, even as her gaze lingered on his lips.
She sat at the place he’d set for her, feeling the tension in her shoulders like wound springs.
“This looks good,” she managed.
“You bet,” Perseus said, raising an eyebrow. “It took so much effort to…reheat everything.”
Despite herself, she let out a quick laugh, almost like a hiccup.
But he sighed, leaning forward on his elbows. “Okay. What’s happening?”
“What?” she said, too quickly.
“There’s something going on,” he said firmly, eyes narrowing. “And you should tell me what’s up.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, trying for breezy and failing spectacularly.
“It’s not nothing ,” he shot back.
“Don’t tell me what I’m feeling!” she snapped, her voice pitching higher than she wanted.
“Then just say it !” he snapped back.
“Fine!” she burst out, fists clenched on the table. “I need the days off because…I’m going into heat.”
Perseus blinked. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean that’s it ?!” she shrieked, throwing her hands up.
“That’s not a big deal,” he said calmly, as if discussing the weather. He picked up his fork and took a bite of stew. “Mmm. Good stuff.”
“Are you for real?” she demanded, leaning toward him. “I thought humans can’t deal with sex. Like—it’s taboo or something!”
“Huh?” He stared at her blankly for a second, then gave a low laugh. “Oh. That. I’m a shifter, Medusa. Sex is a big part of our lives. We’re not shy about it.”
She gaped at him. “You could’ve led with that!”
He shrugged, giving her a mischievous grin. “Well, I figured we’d get here eventually.”
“What?” she said, exasperated.
“Oh right,” Perseus said, like he just remembered. “We’re supposed to act professional.”
She glared at him across the island.
“Relax.” He grinned wider. “I’m kidding…mostly.”
She sat with a huff and stabbed a slice of meat like it had personally offended her.
“I could help you out,” he offered casually.
“Oh right, ha ha,” she said, not bothering to look at him.
He leaned a little closer across the counter, his voice dropping. “Like I said…I’m a shifter. And really good at sex.” He winked.
“You’re such an asshole.”
He just smiled, unbothered, sipping from his cup.
Medusa took a shaky breath and looked away, but it was too late—her body had already picked up on the offer, on the raw truth underneath his teasing. He wasn’t just messing around. Her blood pulsed hotter, and she clenched her thighs under the table.
Damn heat, she thought, biting the inside of her cheek. Now is not the time.
Perseus watched her squirm, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know,” he said, swirling his fork through the sauce on his plate, “it’s kind of flattering, you wanting to hide away because you’d be too hot for me to handle.”
She dropped her fork. “Oh, my gods. Stop.”
“I mean, it’s sweet. You’re worried you’d jump me.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “For the record…I’d survive.”
“Perseu sss !”
“What?” he shrugged. “You’re the one who said it’s heat. It’s biological. Natural. We could?—”
“ Sss hut up!” she hissed, face blazing. “Can you not talk about this like it’s a casual brunch topic?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, feigning innocence. “Should I whisper it instead?” He leaned even closer, eyes glinting. “Medusa…do you want me to help you with your heat ?”
She groaned and shot to her feet. “I’m leaving.”
Before she could bolt, Perseus caught her wrist. “Hey?—”
She tried to pull back, but he held firm. “Let go of me.”
“Medusa, come on?—”
She turned to yell at him, but he was right there, so close she could feel his breath on her lips. His scent wrapped around her, something crisp and wild and achingly familiar. Her snakes quivered, and the heat roared up through her veins like wildfire.
“Damn heat,” she muttered—and surged forward, grabbing his shirt and kissing him hard.
Perseus froze for half a heartbeat—just long enough for her to wonder if she’d made a huge mistake—but then his hand slid to the back of her neck, anchoring her to him as he kissed her back.
His mouth was warm, confident, matching her urgency with a hunger that sent sparks through her blood. She hadn’t meant to lose control. She’d meant to make a point. But gods, he tasted like a challenge and everything she’d been trying to avoid.
He pressed her back against the kitchen island, their bodies flush, and the intensity of it nearly undid her. Her snakelets stirred, curling with interest, and Perseus pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “Still want to keep things professional?”
“You’re such a bastard.”
He grinned, breathless. “Takes one to kiss one.”
She swore and kissed him again, deeper this time, like she could burn the frustration out of herself—or maybe just give in to it completely.
She sank into the kiss, letting her eyes flutter shut as the heat rolled through her veins. His hands were strong on her waist, steadying her even as her pulse thundered like a war drum.
It’s just the heat, she told herself fiercely, trying to ignore how perfect his mouth felt against hers. This doesn’t have to mean anything. We can still work together after this.
We’re professionals. We’ll just…get it out of our systems.
But when he angled his head, deepening the kiss, tasting her like he’d been starving for this, a treacherous part of her heart whispered that she was lying.
Still, she clung to the story in her mind as she pulled him closer. We’ll be fine. It’s just the heat. We’ll be fine.
Perseus pulled back just enough to smirk against her lips. “Gods, Medusa…you’re so grumpy for someone who clearly can’t keep her hands off me.”
She glared at him, breathless. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He chuckled, leaning closer. “Why even try to resist me, huh? You can’t. ”
“This is just for the heat,” she shot back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “ Just for the heat. After this, we’re going back to being coworkers. That’s it.”
“Sure,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “Whatever you say.”
And then he kissed her again, sweeping her right back under.
She should have been angry, but all she felt was a delicious rush as his lips moved over hers, his arms tightening around her like he’d never let go. She was drowning…but in a way that made her never want to come up for air.
Medusa pulled away just long enough to gasp for breath, caught Perseus’s hand, and tugged him toward the hallway. “Come on,” she said, her voice low, urgent. “Let’s go to my room.”
But before she could take a step, he planted his feet and yanked her against him.
“Wait a second,” he murmured, eyes glittering with mischief—and something darker. His hand slipped around her waist, then wandered lower, and she shivered as his palm skimmed her butt, pressing her tighter to him.
“Per sss eus…” she breathed, trying to sound stern. But her voice trembled, betraying her.