Chapter 9 #2
“Oh my gods. Who is it?” Alex squealed, maybe a little too loudly. She was at home like this, drinking in the delicious drama. I supposed I was happy to provide it, though my face burned even hotter.
I raised my brows. “He’s not anyone you’ve met,” I said carefully.
“Then you can tell us his name without fear!” She shoved me playfully. “Come on, seriously! Why won’t you tell us everything?”
I sympathized. I would’ve been upset, too. “He’s gorgeous, and that’s all you need to know,” I declared, shrugging when she groaned her frustration.
“Ugh, fine.”
“I hate to ask,” Zoe said softly, “but…you’re sure he’ll be careful, right? You trust he won’t go bragging to someone and let this get out?”
I laughed at that. “Don’t worry. I’m certain he won’t say anything.”
“I’m just saying, if I fucked you I’d brag about it.”
“Thanks, Zoes,” I replied, beaming. “Now, all of you stop fretting about it and let me have fun. And let me sleep! It’s the middle of the damn night.”
At last they mumbled agreement and moved to put out the lights.
In darkness I pulled my curtains closed, calling out a last “goodnight” as I climbed into bed.
I waited a little while for them to settle, until the night was quiet once again.
Then finally I closed my eyes and touched myself to the thought of him.
The next morning I woke sleepy but happy. When we left our room for food and rounds, I received a few more warning glances from my sisters, but I waved them off. I did make sure to wipe the smile from my face before I entered the courtyard. Time to be holy, virgin, non-swearing Cyrie.
It was hard not to think of it, though: my presence here was now blasphemy, in more ways than one.
I doubted very much that the Olympians would look kindly on my association with Death and the Underworld.
But…technically, it could be argued that I’d proven myself pleasing to the divine, if not to the “right” gods.
Yeah. If anything, this made me more holy, and what Apollo didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
So I showed none of that emotion as I spoke to the supplicants, and I thought I did a good job with keeping my expression a stony mask.
I concentrated harder on it for my sisters’ sake, for their peace of mind.
It wasn’t as difficult as expected, because I found that if I got off track I could just imagine Keeper’s snarl.
Summoning that picture made it easy to wipe the joy from my visage every time.
After lunch, Andrew had us waiting on wealthy landowners in the high wing, as if we were food service instead of gods-marked seers. This was irritating, but I kept calm through it all, floating about with an air of deference. I could be a good little priestess.
Andrew had been a welcome change from the monster we’d previously endured.
Even so, some more regrettable changes had come with his arrival, as it seemed he believed our services as domesticated beauties should take precedence over other duties.
So now in the afternoons we were to be called upon as needed to tend to the temple’s elders and guests, intended to be silent, pretty things.
Tonight, Andrew had added another stipulation, requiring that we wear elaborate makeup styled after the harvest rituals, both now and in the future.
Apparently it enhanced our “look.” Whatever that meant.
So here I was, painted with detailed coppery eyeliner and dark lips, playing the wine-bringer for a gathering of old men.
My usual long tunic had been replaced with a one-shoulder white dress.
I supposed this was no more revealing than my previous wear, but the gold ribbon around my waist made me feel like a package to be presented, neatly wrapped for others’ enjoyment.
With the way the men looked at me, I was more or less certain it was true.
Though I prickled with irritation at each glance, I let none of it be seen.
That was easy; I’d long since perfected my response to looks such as these.
Meet their eyes, pretty little smile, and look away again.
Acknowledge, but pacify. Make clear your respect while subtly reminding that you are off-limits.
My sisters and I could do it in our sleep.
No, what angered me today wasn’t the objectification; it was that when old men gather with wine, they talk on and on forever and forget the hour.
They laugh loudly and yell for more drink and neglect the courtesy of dismissing their holy servants, who would really like to have an evening, too.
Nope—I had to remain until the wine at last ran dry. But I did my part.
The sun had well and truly set when I finally broke free and made my way across the park’s grassy field.
In one hand I held up the lantern that lit my path, and with the other I lifted the hem of my dress off the ground.
It would be a pain to clean if covered in dirt and grass stains.
Ugh, why was I thinking about laundry when I was finally free from prying eyes?
Maybe to calm my accelerating pulse. I figured Thanatos would understand my delay; I just wondered if he was still there.
Of course, I shouldn’t have questioned it.
I had hardly set a foot through the archway before he’d crossed the distance to me and taken the lantern to set aside.
His hands were on me the instant they were freed, and he broke into an irresistible grin, stroking reverently along my jaw, down my neck, and across my collarbones.
I sighed contentedly at his touch, and nuzzled closer as his caresses moved over my breasts and down to my waist. He lifted me off my feet like it was nothing, and in a blink set me down again with my back pressed against the wall.
His alluring smile brightened when I pulled him closer, and he leaned in, brushing our noses together.
“Did you forget me?” he pouted.
“Never.” My face heated as I grinned back at him, and my fingers trembled against his skin. “The men who restrain me forgot their common decency.”
He swept me into a kiss before I could finish the sentence, and my last couple of words came out as an unintelligible slur.
We melted together, pressed so close, his delicious weight pinning me against the wall.
Now all at once I was surrounded with the feel and taste and scent of Thanatos.
To this sensation, adrift in his affections, nothing could ever compare.
“Mmm,” he moaned softly. Apparently I was forgiven.
“Missed you,” I whispered. He kissed softly over my pulse, always careful.
“Me too,” he murmured back, his breath tickling my skin. He pulled me gently forward, and his hand slipped down to squeeze my ass, to hold me closer. I felt his erection press against me, and the butterflies in my stomach all flapped their wings at once.