Page 51 of Scion of Chaos

“His semen possesses powerful magic. It looks like it grew through Hyperion’s shackles, breaking the chains, which enabled him to release his brothers, and then the vine provided a way for them to climb out. The shackles themselves were impervious to their own magic, but not Pan’s.”

“So what I’m hearing is that if he’d gotten laid by one of you, none of this would’ve happened.”

Asterius huffs and stares down into the pit. “Perhaps, but none of us were in the mood for his antics. When we encourage him, we wind up distracted.”

I don’t push, because what’s done is done. I just stare into the darkness below and heave a sigh. After seeing the conflicting messages about who was deserving of their sentences, I have to ask.

“Do you think they deserved their punishment?”

He pauses for a moment, considering his words as he looks into my eyes. “Perhaps they did. But sometimes the gods can be too heavy-handed; punishment should fit the crime, not exceed it. I see your point about some of the others—Prometheus and the Danaids. Maybe Sisyphus too. But the Titans went to war with the gods. This was an appropriate sentence for them, all things considered. That I’m related to one of them should not affect my opinion on the matter.”

My eyebrows lift. “Hold up, you’re related to a Titan? It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself that you shouldn’t care when you clearly do.”

He shifts his gaze back to the pit and takes a deep breath. “I was never assigned to guard them myself because Vesh worried my blood ties might allow Hyperion to influence me—he is my great-grandfather. I take my job seriously, though. I was freed from my own prison to serve Tartarus. I would not jeopardize that honor, no matter who I was assigned to guard. The Danaids… I would sooner free them than any of the others.”

“Then why don’t you?” I ask.

“Nemea, we are already in dire straits after the Titans’ escape. Perhaps once we’ve recaptured them, we can address your concerns with Vesh. I don’t know if there is any way to reverse the sentences of any of the inmates, but if there is, he would know.”

It will have to be enough for now. I let him lead me back down the dank and grim corridor, numb to the sounds of torment that fill the air. When we reach the doors leading back into the library and step through, he closes them firmly behind us, throwing the lock and blocking out the noise completely.

Despite the peaceful silence of this library, I’m still troubled by what I witnessed and the conflict weighing my heart, so I sit at the table again, face buried in my hands as I try to process it all.

Asterius reclaims his seat beside me and sits in silence. His big, warm presence is an odd comfort, and I allow myself to set the burdens aside for now. I need to learn who I am and what I’m capable of before I go trying to help the unfortunate souls unjustly imprisoned here. Perhaps when I have more practice, I’ll have earned enough respect from the other guards that my opinion will carry some weight.

Vesh is the one I really need to work on.

A warm sensation glides against my shoulder, and I look down to find Asterius tracing one big finger along the edge of my tattoo. The octopus covers my entire side, its arms wrapping around me. Two of the tentacles twine up over my breast in front and my shoulder blade in back to meet along the top of my shoulder, where they taper up along the column of my neck.

His touch is soft, his expression curious. “Is this what I think? An octopus?” He lifts his finger and reaches for the empty perfume bottle that still hangs against my chest. “Like this?”

He lifts the bottle gently by its chain. I look down at the tiny object and the octopus wrapped around it, a mirror of the design that holds me in its grasp.

“Yes. It’s a symbol of creativity, adaptability… escape. I’ve just always been fascinated by them. I grew up inland, but the first time we visited Seattle when I was a kid, we went to the aquarium. They had this little octopus named Inky in a tank there who I just sat and watched goof around for hours. It was like he was performing just for me.

“Later on, I heard that he’d escaped—crawled right out of his tank and went down a tiny little drain that led all the way to the ocean. How cool is that? Ever since, I couldn’t get the idea ofescapeout of my head. Because if he could do it, maybe I could too.” I shrug and give him a crooked smile, but he’s studying me intently enough to make my hair stand on end.

I swallow when the parallel hits me. There are nine of them, not eight, but Vesh is obviously the leader—the body with eight individual arms.

“I know it’s soon yet, but this can be home to you too,” he says without addressing the implications of my chosen symbol—my totem. “Give us a chance, Nemea.”

The earnest look in his eyes makes my insides tangle with longing. To belong, to have a family that actually wants me around… That day at the aquarium, I didn’t move from that spot by the cephalopod tank the entire time. Yet when my mother found me, she yelled at me for running off, then punished me as if she hadn’t been the one to abandon me all day while she and her boyfriend got high in the restroom and entertained themselves with the other exhibits.

I grasp Asterius’ hand and lift it, pressing my cheek into his palm. His long fingers curl around, threading through my hair to cradle the back of my head. I close my eyes, simply absorbing his warmth and tenderness. When he moves, I open my eyes again to see him slip out of his chair, careful to maintain contact as he lowers himself to his knees in front of me.

“If you asked me now what I would do, it would be different than last night. You were a temptation then. You wanted us to say filthy things, so that’s what we offered. But that isn’t all we are.”

I swallow thickly, looking up into his dark eyes. They’re a rich brown with flecks of gold and green, and so soulful I can’t help but believe him—trust him.

“What would you do now?”

He doesn’t answer me with words. Instead, he lowers his mouth to mine and takes my breath away with a gentle kiss. The warmth and tenderness of it shatters the desire I’ve felt all morning, replacing it with a longing even deeper and sweeter—a hunger that’s in the process of being fed.

I moan against his mouth and slip my arms around his thick neck, sliding off my seat only to find myself caught by his free arm, his hand easily cupping my ass to pull me against him.

When we break our kiss, I whisper, “Why don’t you take me to that big bed of yours and make love to me?”

A deep rumble rises in his chest and he shakes his head. “I have a better idea.”

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