27. Nat

27

Nat

steak knife to the throat

The kitchen crackles with tension, thick as the steam billowing off Zeke’s saucepan of ramen. I’m hungry and exhausted, and I hope he’s been saving up flavor packets for a mega delicious bowl and if we can have it right now.

“How much longer?” I ask, sinking my hip against the fridge, stretching out the ache in my neck.

“The noodles are just the beginning, padawan.” Zeke swirls salt into the noodles. “We’ve got veg, eggs. I haven’t even begun marinating the sirloin.”

“Its instant ramen.”

“And it, similar to all things, can be elevated into something wonderful with a little patience, don’t you think?”

I snort, feeling like I’ve had this same conversation with Megaera regarding her dirty rice.

“It’s rice, Auntie. How long can it take?”

“If you just want rice, then crunch on the dry stuff. If you’re seeking excellence, shut up and wait. Tell me about your KOTD.”

Kill of the day.

“Don’t argue.” Meda’s sprawled on the counter, buried in a green sweatshirt three sizes too large. Under the island pendant lamps, she resembles a plate under warmers, waiting to be served. “It makes him slower. Hurry up whiz kid. You’ve got mouths to feed.”

Zeke mumbles something to the boiling water and palms an egg, twisting to ask Sin, “You in on this?”

Meda joins Zeke to stare at the black pillar of rage stuck in the doorway.

“Uh …” She slides off the marble, boots whisper quiet on the floor. “I think Captain Love Shack is broken.”

“He’s experiencing a harsh reality,” I explain coldly, refusing to turn around. I feel his presence like a too near blaze, a towering form of barely contained ire.

Zeke’s pale, not entirely here pupils blow wide, piercing blue frosted. “Wait! Don’t tell me.” He taps a spoon to his chin. “No one credited him in the Kama sutra. No! He learned missionary was the most popular position.”

“Oh.” Meda glows, bouncing between her feet excitedly. “I like this. Let me have one. He—”

“Nothing so devastating,” I cut off, nudging between the two Blackguard to stir the abandoned ramen. “The bitch fit of the century is because he didn’t get what he wanted.”

“You?” Zeke asks.

I jolt to look at him. “You’re the crazy one, right?”

He grins.

“Tell them the truth.” Sin’s livid. Voice a bitter rumble. “Tell them how little you value yourself. Tell them how a creature that refuses to bow or surrender has forfeit her life.

His words dump ice water through the room, each syllable laced with a venomous disappointment that coils thorny vines around my heart.

Drawing air through my teeth, I face him. “Did you see me on my knees, Blackguard? No. I did what must be done.”

“You should’ve kept your mouth shut!” he shouts, clenched fists trembling at his sides. “That damn short fuse. What were you thinking?”

Only one thing.

When I agreed to Lesenia’s demands, when I twisted Sin’s fingers until he nodded that big stupid stubborn head, I’d only thought of Theia. What I should have been doing all along.

Tonight the thrall had sunk claws into me, not on her behalf, but his . Theia hadn’t crossed my thoughts until Sin’s snarl. Fight it for Theia.

Devastation was instant.

Lesenia’s offer was cruel, but I’d have handed her my beating heart then and there to ease the guilt rising in my stomach.

What about you ?

He’d been my only thought.

A lapse. A slip of the thrall. I shake it off. Accept the terms of my new path. If Emil owns the best collection of creatures, then Theia has to be there. Has to. And I’ll offer my life for hers every time.

I can handle it, I was designed to endure. And like I did before, I’ll break out again, return to Theia, and we’ll set the entire fucking realm on fire. No males allowed.

“I don’t defend my actions to you. As much as you cherish the notion of me being yours, Blackguard. I am not.”

He’s on me then, a torrent of wrath.

Meda yanks Zeke from the warpath by his belt loops.

I turn the heat on the stove up. As high as it’ll go. Demand evenly, “Take a step back.”

“Fuck you, Nat. You want to do what you want, then so do I.”

“I want Theia.”

“You want to be a Gods cursed martyr. You want to be Aphrodite marrying the beast to save Hera. It’s a lifetime. It’s—”

“Why are you harassing my guest?” Atlas asks, strolling into the kitchen, looking fresh off the runway.

I stir faster, ignoring the crack I’m putting in the spoon’s wooden handle. “Because he doesn’t value his life.”

“It’s a growing fucking trend,” Sin says tightly, hand gripping my elbow.

I tear out of it, reaching for the pot handle.

“What are you going to hit me with a fucking pan? Are you a Disney princess?”

“This may be challenging for you to accept, Lord . But not everything is about you and your descent to Hades.“ I nod to Atlas, falling into his side as naturally as I would with Megaera. “We’ve made contact with the foremost creature collector. If Emil doesn’t have Theia, he’ll know where she is and admit it after we … converse.”

“Torture,” Zeke translates happily.

A dip of Atlas’s angular chin. “Excellent.”

Sin does not agree. “When do you plan on this fucking sit down with a madman, Nat? Before or after you’re locked in Lesenia’s chains? Before or after she beats you?”

I throw the pan, not swinging to hit, but to splatter him in scalding water and crinkled noodles.

He doesn’t move, skin staining a dark angry pink.

Glaring, he pulls a noodle off his cheek. The weight of his gaze, dark and stormy as a sea during the tempest, carves into my spine. Steam rises from his skin. “Do not dare to push me tonight.”

A tingle of pleasure runs through me at the dangerous lilt in his honey voice. I tilt my face up to his. “I do nothing as feeble as push , guard. And you’d do well to remember that my power predates your Olympians. I am Titan and I will not bow.”

He stares down into my eyes, challenging me. “You kneel for Hades. An Olympian.”

“Hades honors us as equals. You wouldn’t understand equal respect, would you? Fragile males cannot fathom that a female may be stronger, swifter, faster. Deadlier.”

”I know you’re that.“ He’s in my space, radiating hostility. “Gods, I know you could wreck us all.” He grips my cheek and tips me up further. “I see the ichor in your blood like stardust. Calling to me.”

“Then you know capture is no threat to me.”

“You are—”

“Doing what I decide, no matter the risk.”

“I won’t allow it!”

Won’t allow it?

I have my teeth bared again. “What will you do, Blackguard? Show me the truth. You gonna muzzle me like them? Hold me down, take the knife to me. Do it. Remind me how you earned your name on my list.”

He gapes at me, breathing heavily. Riled. “You are strong enough to endure anything.” His gaze slinks to my mouth, like he’s remembering what it felt like against his at the church. “But you don’t have to.”

“I—”

“ I can’t survive it,“ he interjects. “I’m not strong enough, alright? I can’t see you hurt.”

“Then close your eyes, warrior.”

“You frustrating …” He trails off, insult hovering before his lips crash against mine, fierce and urgent. “You are not a thing to be traded.”

He growls it, outrage spreading through every syllable.

I slap him, shove him back, stamp my heel into his foot. “Do not—”

But he’s back again, capturing me in a dominant kiss, thrusting his tongue past my incisors, tasting me. The shadow of his beard rubs my cheeks raw, a bristle to compete with the softness of his lips.

There’s a series of sounds. Chair legs scraping tile, footsteps, a door closing. And we’re alone.

“I can’t let her have you,” he rasps against my throat, tipping my head aside for his tasting. “I can’t. She can have me again, not you. She doesn’t get to break you.”

I blink. Ignore the strange warmth behind my sternum. “She won’t.”

“She will .”

“I’m stronger than you.”

His purple irises almost burn sapphire. “Are you?”

Another growl rakes hot coals on my body.

My hackles rise. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Are you?” He shoves me back, all seven feet, two hundred pounds of warrior slamming my spine into the cabinets.

I push back, arching. “Let go—”

“You’re stronger than me,” he mocks darkly, fingers digging into me, pinning me. “Isn’t that what you said?”

His thumb presses harshly on my wrist and I drop the pan, crying out. “Show me,” he barks, digging into me harder, lifting me to my toes, stare burning into me.

With every bit of my strength, I thrash, kicking out, using the cabinets as a springboard, fury building inside me, spilling from me.

Nothing happens.

Sin’s solid. Unmoving.

He traps my thighs under his. Has my movements locked everywhere, muscles straining.

My heart pounds for a different reason.

Sin can’t taste my emotions. He doesn’t know, he’s still angry. No, he’s seething, making his point. “The proud Fury. A fucking martyr.”

“Get off me.”

“Held down by a mutt, by a Blackguard, the very thing—”

“You are the devil—”

”—you hate. The creature you vow to kill but—”

“Free me and—”

“You haven’t, have you?”

“I fucking will—”

“Because you found a shard in me that you might actually like. And that makes you hate yourself even more than you hate me.” He's looming over me, jaw dipped, panting.

My stomach twists, my pulse races.

We glare.

Sucking down air that’s not between us.

“I refuse to give you up, Bloodspiller.” The statement is threat and vicious promise combined. “If you want to sacrifice yourself, you’ll need to make good on your vow and kill me first.”

A filthy threat.

I should tell him off, remind him no one commands a Fury. Except … he’s not pretending. I know it like I know a whetstone is the best weapon.

I look at his mouth.

At a mouth I decidedly hate.

At lips I desperately crave.

I close my eyes. Shame and guilt crawling to me in small pieces as I angle my head up.

The smallest movement.

A fraction of surrender.

Sanity flees.

He kisses me.

I kiss him.

And like a single fault line dashing through the earth, bounding through gaps and weak stones, we rip apart the world. We kiss like animals. At first, any spot we can reach, frenzied tongues and lips, teeth, scrambling for more.

Then all at once, the fault fractures. Expands. Overtakes. The fight fizzles to lust. Sin surrounds me, his clove scent seeping into my veins. His hips roll forward.

I gasp.

The earth quakes. Shudders. Stones shatter to pieces, and the realm yawns.

Sin devours me, drugs me, drags me into the aftermath of our disaster. My hands are free, my legs release and I use the freedom to wrap around him. Climb him. I loop my arms over broad, powerful shoulders, hook my ankles behind his hips, nibble up his throat, and sink greedy fingers into his curls.

His touch roams over my body, fingertips tracing each dip and curve.

It’s not enough.