45. Nat

45

Nat

not like this either

I wonder if they’ll say we died in the explosion. If anyone will dig our bodies up and discover it wasn’t the fall that killed us, but bullets.

Probably not.

The Gods don’t care.

Creatures are trained to keep to themselves.

And mortals … they’d be killed by the Argos just for looking, all to keep the existence of creatures secret.

If Kadmos were alive, if he’d won his war, we’d get graves and blessings. Our names would be in the papers. Mortals and creatures would rise against the use of Diakonos.

But he’s dead. Everyone good dies.

Fingers clenched tightly around my whip, I survey my new enemies. The Queensguard are a mirror of Kingsguard if they’d never been cursed, never lost their king.

They’re no ordinary sentinels, strong and armed to the teeth. They’d be no easy fight. Especially not when my body battered and broken.

I couldn’t fight my way out, even if Theia wasn’t a liability.

My mind races through fragments of battle strategies, searching for the key to an impossible victory. But Furies fight to eviscerate, willing to die at any moment for victory. We never protect. None of our strategies spare lives.

Innocents surround me. Weak and malnourished. Terrified. Auras a spray of the palest colors of the rainbow. Creatures abused. Doulos .

Sin would soothe them. He’d wipe their minds of worries, he’d give them happy last memories.

He should be here. Not me.

I clutch Theia tighter, channeling authority into my voice as I whisper, “Pretend to go down.”

“I’m—”

“When they shoot, I’ll cover you. Pretend you’re dead. Stay down until their weapons are holstered and they leave. Then run.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

“Leave me.” At her horrified expression, I squeeze her hand harder, feign confidence. “C’mon. I’m a Fury. We never lose.”

I’ll be another story for Aunt Megaera to explain why we don’t belong in this realm, why we stay on the river with Hades.

Killed her husband, lost her friend, lied to her lover, dropped him to his death.

I muster a smile, vision blurring. You’re my best friend in the three realms, black aura or not, I want to say. But it will scare her, so instead I say, “Everything will be fine.”

Her eyes are moons, but she believes me. Nodding carefully. She knows I can lie, she just doesn’t think I’d do it to her.

I do it to everyone I love.

I press Sin’s ring to my mouth, suppressing tears. I don’t regret lying to him about my feelings. His compulsion never worked on me and lying was the only way to ease the guilt from his chest. Still, selfishly, pointlessly, I wish I could tell him. Once. See his face as he hears it.

“I love you,” I tell Theia. “I love you so much.”

As if on cue, the Queensguard advances, weapons poised and ready.

I release my whip. There’s no fight here. I’ll shield Theia with my body, take any shots meant for her like a big red target.

“Kleio. Baby.” A honey drizzled voice cracks and echoes across the parking lot, followed by a cool, encompassing breeze. “This is dark, even for you.”

My blood freezes in my veins, my bones yield at the dulcet tone.

Sin emerges from the shadows, a vision of ethereal beauty and cocky nonchalance. His shorn hair glows under the lights, a capper for his body of golden skin, naked from the waist up. Grime and ash and blood are caked onto chiseled Godly muscle.

I’m dead.

I feel for holes in my chest, for signs I’m dreaming.

No one could survive that fall. Not even a Demigod.

Kleio falters, casting a frosty look at the Blackguard. “Sinis. Why am I not surprised to find you at the center of this clusterfuck?”

It’s real. He’s real. Kleio sees him.

Sin’s alive.

I stare in disbelief as he saunters towards Kleio, signature smirk on his mouth. “Darling, you came because I called. You didn’t think it was a coincidence that we were both here at this exact same moment?”

That arrogance. That easy, over confident gait.

“We’ve had reports of you in and out of known creature traffickers for months,” Kleio accuses, unwilling to lower her weapon. “You really built yourself a nightmare with this place.”

He shrugs, as if he hasn’t been accused of imprisoning every female here, playful smirk belying the dangerous power coiled beneath his deceptively relaxed demeanor.

He stops before the Queensguard leader, and cocks his head to appraise the warrior with a blend of appreciation and challenge. “Why don’t you put the guns down?”

She scoffs. “Vinia won’t forgive you for blood melding. She wants peace.”

“She doesn’t have to know. If they disappeared, who’d be the wiser? The building came down. Happens all the time. Mortals reaching too high.”

Her gun swivels to him. “We need blood.”

“Great. We have bodies,” Sin drawls, unfazed. “Slightly grazed by the Butcher, but otherwise presentable. Just missing some skin. You know how he gets.”

The commander remains stoic, her expression carved from ice. “What is this? A truce?”

Sin laughs, a rich, melodic sound that makes Theia shiver. I can’t really hear it. Not as he invades Kleio’s space.

I’m so used to him beside me, I forget how tall he is, how Divine. He makes the commander look childish and ugly. His features are too perfect, his form is too solid, too towering.

Next to me, Theia makes a noise of pain, and I let go of her, belatedly realizing I’m crushing her fingers.

He’s alive.

I’m going to fucking kill him.

Sin’s features spark with mischief as he crowds Kleio, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper that catches on the exposed cement. Echoes. “A truce? No, my dear, this is a mere stroll around the rules. Come on, for old time’s sake.”

He runs a finger along the commander’s jawline. I catch the almost imperceptible hitch in her breath, the way her pupils dilate ever so slightly under his touch.

Sin does too. Lips curving into a dangerous smirk.

“Your spymaster for them,” Kleio offers. “A trade.”

“My spymaster.” Sin stretches out each word. “For a handful of frightened creatures?”

“We’ll get him whether or not you help. He must pay for killing the prince.”

“Allegedly.”

Kleio readjusts her grip on the Glock.

Sin sighs as if exasperated by their entire interaction. “For you, Kleio, I would. But he’s underground. Not even I know where he is.”

Beside me, Theia whispers, voice airy like I’ve never heard it, “Who is he?”

Mine .

I can’t speak, though. Can’t say it as fury crawls up my body, boring into gaps and crevasses.

Sin prowls in a languid circle around Kleio, every movement fluid and predatory, honey smooth voice laced with temptation when he speaks. “You’re intoxicating, sweetheart. Just as I remembered. I’ve got such a thing for murderous females.”

Red filters into my vision.

Kleio shuts her eyes. “Just go home. Why do you care, Sinis?”

I’ll slice the name off her tongue.

He shrugs elegantly. “Same reason you don’t want to shoot these creatures.”

She presses her gun into his chest.

He grins. “You know just how to get me hot.”

“I … do?”

Sin leans into the barrel of her gun, a devilish grin stretching to show teeth. “Oh, darling, you do. The way your finger tightens on that trigger, the fire in your eyes … it’s positively electrifying.”

I grind my teeth, my knuckles whitening over my whip’s handle.

His fingers ghost over the Queensguard’s hand, tracing the lines of her knuckles with a feather-light touch. There’s a tremble in her grip.

The rest of the Queensguard is under his spell. They ignore their leader, heated gazes fastened at Sin. He’s winning them all over, distracting everyone.

His gaze shifts to me for the briefest of moments, a burst of triumph in those amethyst depths.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Every whispered word, every sensual touch, is designed to get under my skin and make my blood boil with a toxic cocktail of rage and jealousy.

He moves even closer to Kleio, lips hovering centimeters from her ear, breath hot and coaxing against her skin. His palm drifts lower to skim along the curve of her hip. “Don’t we have enough red in our ledgers?”

Her hold drops on the gun, a war waging within her, duty or desire. “There’s always room for more.”

“Yes, but first.”

Sin captures her in a searing kiss and my breath empties from my lungs. Kleio jumps, but Sin doesn’t hesitate to bring the stakes higher, pouring himself over her.

One hand tangles in her hair.

The other curves around her neck.

He doesn’t bother closing his eyes as he bends the warrior to arch against him. Green leather languid against his bare chest.

Jealousy rips through me, a savage beast shredding my insides with razor-sharp claws.

It consumes me.

Incinerates my restraint.

Before I think, before I blink or breathe, I’m sprinting, my whip uncoiling from my wrist, eager to strike. I lash out with it. The forged iron cuts through the wind with a whistle. It wraps around Sin’s throat, the barbs biting into his flesh, extracting droplets of ichor from his black tattoo.

With a savage yank, I wrench him away from the Queensguard leader, sending him stumbling back.

Amethyst eyes flare beautifully. He reaches up to his neck, not to tear at my whip but to caress the collar I’ve given him.

He unveils a slow, wicked smile. “There’s my love,” he purrs, his voice dark a heady mix of anger and arousal. “I was starting to question if you even cared.”

The whips metal handle digs in the broken skin of my palm as I pull on it, draw it into me until we’re nose to nose. “I should end you right here, right now.”

“But you won’t, will you?” Sin’s arm bands my waist and he yanks, slamming us together, my feet sliding on top of his boots, his bare chest a blaze against me. “Because deep down, my little Bloodspiller, beneath all that righteous fury, you still want me. Just as much as I want you.”

I throw my head into his for a perfect headbutt when a lone shot rings out.

The Queensguard.

No longer consumed by Sin’s power.

A growl escapes Sin’s chest and my shoulder blade grows wet and hot and sticky. Shot.

The thrall counters it instantly, siphons the pain and blurs the edges of the realm as I pivot, unlocking my whip from Sin and lashing at Kleio.

Her gun is still smoking. A triumphant sneer twists her beautiful face into something cruel and ugly.

“You shouldn’t have interfered,” she spits.

Rage surges through me. The agony, the fear, everything but vengeance vanish.

I lurch out of Sin’s grip, my whip singing through the air, a streak of silver and crimson. It bursts across Kleio’s face, splitting her cheek open to the bone, a cascade of pink blood paints the ground.

With a cry, she staggers back, hand flying to her ruined cheek. I don’t allow her a chance to recover. I’m on her in an instant, a whirlwind of fists and fury. Each impact delivers shockwaves of pain radiating up my arms, each burst reminding me she touched my male.

All that matters is making her pay for what she’s done.

Bullets ricochet off my surroundings, wide and hesitant, sparse. Afraid to unintentionally harm their commander.

Kleio tries to block my blows, but her movements are sluggish and clumsy, her vision obscured by the swell of her ruined cheek. When she pauses to spit shiny pink blood at the asphalt, I’m riddled with vicious joy. Fast, fueled by adrenaline, my knuckles connect with her jaw, her nose, her temple. Each strike a declaration.

Mine .

He’s mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

I catch glimpses of the battle around us from the corner of my eye while I rain down blows on Kleio’s battered face. Theia is a blur of motion, guiding females away from the battle to safety. I nearly scream for her to save herself, when at the back of the garage, I spot salvation.

The Blackguard has arrived.

Adorned in varying states of armor, whirling black auras divide to conquer, half hauling the Diakonos to the exits, half charging for us.

“Incoming!” Sin calls out.

I dodge a sword just in time, then kick Lydia back as a knife flies at her. Black. Adamantine. Gods crafted. The guard deflects with her sword, switching to swing at Sin.

At mine .

They come at me from all sides, a tide of forest armor and flashing blades, and I meet them like a true Erinyes. Head-on, death and defiance swirling through my bloodstream.

I slam my elbow into the face of one guard, listen for the satisfying crunch of shattered bone beneath the impact. No time to smile. I pivot, my leg striking out in a vicious kick that sends another hurtling backwards.

I am a Fury, and it’s time this realm understood the depth of my power.

I twist and weave through the Queensguard ranks, my whip dancing, lashing out with the speed of a striking cobra. It cracks against blades, licks bare skin, shreds the strongest armor, leaving trails of blood and screams in its wake.

The throb in my shoulder is a distant thing, overshadowed by my pounding heart.

And all the while, in perfect movement with me, defending against a team of warriors, Sin fights on a frigid wind.

His amethyst eyes never let me out of his sight as he takes on the lieutenants, shucking knives and slicing out.

He’s a force of nature.

Mine .

The jealousy inside me roars to the surface, and I turn to kick Kleio back down to the ground before throwing my whip at him again.

He’s mine to kill.

To deflect the impact, he raises a forearm. I grin, maniacal pleasure coursing through me at the promise of shredding the arm that dared to step out on me.

Metal clangs. The talons of my whip slip. Hook into a gleaming silver vambrace.

“Ah ah ah,” Sin drawls, “Daddy says hi.”