8. Medusa #2
She snorted, but before she could answer, she turned and kissed him—quick, sure, and soft. Just enough to say mine right back .
“We should get out of here,” Perseus murmured, brushing his knuckles lightly along her thigh.
Medusa smiled and nodded, shifting to stand, but his hand caught hers.
“Leave it in,” he said, voice low.
She laughed. “Why should I do that?”
He leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. “Because I have plans for later.”
That made her laugh again, throaty and wicked. “Mmm. Noted.”
She slipped off to change, and as she stepped into the private dressing area, her thoughts spiraled.
You knew exactly what you were doing, the little voice in her head taunted.
And she did. She had wholeheartedly worn the butt plug.
When the attendant had shown her options and mentioned that it was the theme for the night, she hadn’t hesitated.
She knew it would drive Perseus crazy—and that he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
Things between them had settled into something manageable since Bolivia, something that resembled friendship with a side of lingering heat.
But the truth was, she had wanted him even after her heat had passed.
The desire hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had sharpened with time, curling beneath her skin, waiting for the right moment, and tonight had been that moment.
Thank the gods for the theme night—it gave her the perfect excuse. But even more than that, it was because she wanted to see how far she could take this slow, sweet burn that had taken hold between them.
Medusa had just fastened the last clasp on her dress when the flicker of anxiety returned, sharp and sudden.
She reached for her purse, fingers brushing past the familiar weight of her lipstick and compact before curling around her phone.
The screen lit up—one unread message. As soon as she saw the sender, a cold unease settled in her stomach.
The contents were brief, but enough to jolt her memory back to what she’d been trying not to think about: the other mission.
The one she couldn’t afford to screw up.
She exhaled through her nose, locked the screen, and slipped the phone back into her bag.
Calm down, she told herself, smoothing her hands over her skirt. One thing at a time.
When she walked back into the lounge and spotted Perseus waiting, her breath caught for half a second. Gods, he looked good. Relaxed, eyes warm, smile only for her. And what was happening between them? It felt good . Too good to be just a fling or just for the mission.
He reached for her, hand sliding into hers as naturally as if it had always belonged there.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured. “But not in a snake-hair-make-you-into-stone way. In a you-make-me-want-to-kiss-you-until-the-world-stops kind of way.”
She rolled her eyes, but her heart stuttered.
They headed out toward the car, and she knew tonight wasn’t the end.
Not even close. The ride back was quiet at first, the night humming softly around them as the tires kissed the road.
Medusa watched the lights blur past, her thoughts racing far faster.
The plush leather seats, the lingering scent of Perseus’s cologne, how her body still buzzed from what they’d done, it was too much and not enough at the same time.
She leaned her head back against the seat, still feeling the phantom press of Perseus’s hands, his mouth, his closeness. But the weight in her chest was different now, heavier, more real.
He glanced at her, then shifted slightly in his seat. “We should probably talk,” he said.
There was a beat of silence, tense but oddly tender, then they both started to speak at once.
Perseus laughed softly and motioned for her to go ahead.
“No, you first,” she said, suddenly nervous, folding her arms across her chest. “Please.”
“This thing between us—the attraction, the sex, all of it,” he exhaled, “—it’s not like anything I’ve had before. Not with anyone I’ve dated.”
Her pulse quickened. She hadn’t expected him to say it first. “Me neither,” she said quietly. “Not even with Thastos.”
That made him glance over again, brows lifting slightly in surprise. His hand unconsciously rubbed at his chest, like her words had landed somewhere deep.
Thastos had been her mate, fated, inevitable, written into the stars before she was even born.
She’d accepted it, even found comfort in the certainty of it all.
There had been love, yes, and a kind of solemn devotion between them.
But now, with Perseus, everything felt different, sharper, brighter, more alive.
It wasn’t only chemistry or the thrill of the forbidden.
It was deeper. Wilder. And it terrified her, because how could something that wasn’t fated feel more powerful than the bond she was supposed to have with Thastos?
How could this man make her feel like she’d finally been seen?
“All of this is…surprising,” she admitted. “But not bad.”
“No, not bad,” he echoed, mouth quirking.
A comfortable silence settled over them, the hum of the tires on pavement filling the space between their thoughts.
“We’re here to work,” Perseus said at last. “But I don’t think this…us…has to get in the way of that.”
Medusa watched his face carefully, searching for any hint of hesitation. There wasn’t any.
“I agree,” she nodded. “We’re good at compartmentalizing.”
“And it doesn’t look like the mission is ending anytime soon,” he added with a half-grin.
She huffed a short laugh. “Nope. Geryons. The gods. Creepy underground clubs. Endless chaos.”
“So,” he said, his hand finding hers between them, his thumb brushing along her knuckles, “why not figure this out while we’re in the middle of it? We don’t have to name it yet. Just…see what happens.”
Medusa hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s see.”
It wasn’t a promise. It was better. Honest. Real. And hers.
But then he cleared his throat, serious again. “Okay, so, first thing. We need boundaries while we’re on the job. No blurred lines. If things get complicated between us personally, we can’t let it mess with the mission.”
“Agreed,” she said instantly. “We hold each other accountable.”
Perseus nodded, satisfied.
She hesitated, then added, “Second thing…honesty.”
He looked over again, brow furrowing slightly.
“We don’t know each other that well,” she said carefully. “But if this is going to be more, and real, we’ll need to trust each other with the full picture. Eventually.”
Her throat felt tight, but she held his gaze. Like telling me you’re the son of Zeus…
He nodded slowly. “No rush,” he said, voice low. “But no lies either.”
Medusa turned her eyes back to the window. The city blurred ahead, glowing and unknowable. “Deal,” she said. She felt like a hypocrite, but what could she do?
Perseus let out a long sigh, then reached over and tugged her gently toward him by the wrist. “C’mere,” he said, his voice softer now, a teasing edge slipping in. “You know, you’ve been avoiding me. Should I be worried?”
She rolled her eyes but allowed herself to slide across the seat, nestling into the space beside him. “Maybe you should. Could be a sign I’m plotting something sinister.”
“Oh, good. I love a little danger,” he said, grinning. “Keeps things spicy.”
“Spicy? That’s what we’re calling it now?”
He laughed, the sound warm and easy. “Sure. Unless you’d prefer ‘emotionally reckless and extremely hot’?”
“Hmm.” She pretended to consider. “That does sound accurate.”
They looked at each other then, and the humor faded slowly into something softer. His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing along her cheekbone.
“Come here,” he murmured, and this time it wasn’t a tease.
When he kissed her, it wasn’t urgent or demanding like before.
It was slow, reverent—like he was memorizing the shape of her mouth, the taste of her, the warmth of her breath.
Like she wasn’t just a thing he wanted, but someone he wanted.
Medusa felt her heart trip in her chest. The kiss unraveled her in a way that no amount of physical touch ever had.
She kissed him back, her fingers curling against his chest, her snakes shifting lazily against her scalp as if even they were lulled by the feeling of him.
Her thoughts tried to pull her back. This wasn’t smart. She still hadn’t told him the truth, not all of it. And if she did, everything could fall apart. Her secrets could turn him away. She’d lose this—whatever this was—before it even had a chance to become real.
But she couldn’t stop. Not tonight. Not with how he was holding her, like she was precious, not a weapon or a monster.
But how could she deny them this? This warmth, this connection, this impossible thing blooming between them. Even if it was fleeting, even if it all went to hell tomorrow, wasn’t it worth it to be happy, even if for a little while?
When the kiss finally broke, her lips tingled, and her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t say anything right away.
She didn’t need to.
The look in his eyes said everything.