Chapter 21
POSEIDON
Every carefully constructed thought evaporated like mist on the sea; thinking became impossible, because her beauty stole my breath as something akin to Zeus’s lightning bolt pierced my heart.
She stood there in a short black dress that hugged her curves like it had been stitched by sin itself.
Her bare shoulders glowed in the soft light, her auburn hair half-pinned, the rest falling in soft waves, and her blue eyes—gods, those eyes—pierced through me, spears tipped with defiance and fire.
I knew a dagger would be strapped to her thigh, a whisper of warning that she was beautiful but not safe.
Good. I liked danger.
Cordelia wasn’t like the others. She didn’t fawn. She didn’t fall. She challenged. And, for all my godhood, I found myself bracing like a man caught in the middle of a perfect storm.
All I could do was drink her in. She didn’t look away, and neither did I.
When she held my gaze with that infuriating spark of pride, I knew something dangerous was happening. Not a war. Not a power play… Worse.
I’d fallen for her. Hard.
‘Cordelia,’ I said, letting her name linger in the space between us, tasting it like something forbidden… Something I wasn’t supposed to want this much.
She tilted her head, suspiciously—wary and beautiful.
‘Are you going to invite me in for a glass of wine?’ I asked. ‘We have enough time.’ There was a pause—but then she stepped aside, and that was all the invitation I needed.
I followed her in, and the moment her back turned, I took in the sight of her.
The sleek black dress left most of her back bare, a soft sweep of skin tapering into the curve of her hips.
Her body moved with a feline grace—unhurried, unbothered, but every step was calculated—feminine, and completely lethal.
Gods, she was a storm in silk.
She poured another glass of wine and handed it to me without a word.
Our fingers brushed—brief but electric—and then she settled into a low, plush chair by the fireplace, legs crossed, eyes watchful.
The flames danced in her eyes, making them look like twin shards of sapphire.
Her perfume tickled my senses—reminiscent of a tropical summer breeze.
I remained standing for a long moment, glass in hand, observing her in silence.
She doesn’t even know what she does to me, I thought. Or maybe she does. Maybe that’s the real danger.
The heady scent of her arousal hit me next—warm, subtle, but unmistakable, curling in the air like smoke, wrapping around my senses, dragging my thoughts to places I shouldn’t let them go.
My cock stirred even more at the smell, twitching, even as the sharper tang of her nerves undercut the sweetness.
Worry and hesitation. It clung to the space between us, a fine mist of things unsaid
She was conflicted; torn between what she wanted… and what she thought she shouldn’t want.
I stayed still, holding my wine, watching her.
Her lips parted just slightly, and I could hear the faint shift in her breath.
Her body was screaming with what her mouth wouldn’t say, and yet—she didn’t look away.
That was the part that undid me. Not the perfume of her desire, nor the way her pulse fluttered in her neck like a trapped bird, but her resistance; her control; her restraint. I was desperate to break them all.
But not tonight. Not unless she asked. However, I did intend to push her boundaries.
I took a slow sip of wine, my eyes never leaving her face. ‘Your name,’ I said—her lashes flicked up, those sharp blue eyes locking onto mine again—'means heart of the sea. Guinn’s name means white wave.’ I paused, taking another sip. ‘You were always destined to be mine, Cordelia.’
She didn’t answer. But she didn’t deny it either. Instead, she pivoted, slipping into a well-practiced deflection with the grace of someone who’d done it a hundred times before.
‘So, Perseus said you can all speak every language in the world?’ she said, her gaze still holding mine.
‘Gods can speak all languages,‘ I said smoothly. ’In any dialect. We rule the world.’
‘You’re also a load of self-important douche canoes.’ She pursed her lips, and I barked a deep laugh. She was impossibly infuriating.
‘Je veux te baiser.’ I leaned forward, giving her a slow, sinful smile.
Her brows drew together. ‘Translate.’
I merely grinned, letting the meaning hang in the air between us like a spark suspended above dry kindling.
She squinted suspiciously. ‘Something rude?’
‘Very,’ I said. ‘And entirely honest.’
Her mouth parted, just a little, and that glint in her eye told me she was dangerously close to asking for more information. ‘Let’s go, King of the Sea,’ she said, draining her wine with an elegant tilt of her wrist before rising from the chair.
‘Do I have time to punish you before we leave?’ I raised a brow… ‘After all, it’s well over due… assassin.’
I heard her breath catch—barely—but it was enough; a tell. She gave me a flat stare. ‘In your dreams.’
‘That’s funny,’ I murmured, stepping closer. ‘That’s exactly where you always end up.’
She didn’t look back—but the slight hitch in her stride and the way her shoulders eased told me everything. She was fighting a smile… and losing.
Fates, I was in trouble.
Somewhere between her defiance and that soft, unguarded breath, I’d lost the upper hand.
She wasn’t just under my skin—she was the pulse beneath it.
I wanted her with a hunger that bordered on madness.
Her fire, her refusal to yield—it should have infuriated me. Instead, it ignited something darker.
Her resistance was a drug I couldn’t quit. Every sharp word, every glare, every time she held her ground—it made me want to push harder, to see how close I could bring her to breaking before she shattered in my hands.
But I held back—barely. I’d test her boundaries; gods, I couldn’t help myself.
But I wouldn’t push too far. Not yet. She needed to come to me, to choose me.
Until then, I’d live in this exquisite torment, craving every defiant breath she took, every flicker of fire she aimed my way…
knowing it was only a matter of time before it consumed us both.