Page 69 of Crown of Serpents

“You are a warrior. You are a survivor,” Perseus countered, his gaze unwavering. “You protect those you care about … and those that can’t fend for themselves.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she inhaled sharply when his fingers brushed her skin, cupping her cheek.

“Your strength,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, “it's the most glorious thing I've ever witnessed. No work of art could ever compare to the sight of you cutting down your enemies with fierce determination burning in your eyes. So, please, don’t ever be ashamed … not even of the wild parts.Especiallynot the wild parts. I see all of you, and you are beautiful, Medusa. So strong, and wild, and fearless!”

Beautiful. Medusa despised what this word meant for women. It sentenced them to a lifetime of lustful glances, unwarranted touches, and being regarded as somebody’s most prized possession. She had never understood why so many women were devoted to Aphrodite when she knew that beauty was a curse, not a blessing. Yet, when Perseus said she was beautiful, it made her feel … wonderful.

Perseus had not averted his gaze out of fear but because he could only face her with a flimsy piece of fabric between them. Even now, when he was so close that his scent engulfed her, the veil was the only thing that separated them.

She was suddenly aware of how dangerously close he was. His rough palm still cupped her cheek while Perseus’s gaze lingered on her lips. There was something ravenous in his stare that she immediately recognised as lust. Yet, it was not fear quickening her pulse but giddy excitement becausehe wantedher.

Medusa knew she should move away, yet all reason seemed to have left her body. She should create a safe distance between them, but instead, she returned Perseus’s heated glare, raising her eyebrow to challenge him. A warning hiss beckoned her to come to her senses, but she did not want to listen. She wanted to be as wild and fearless as Perseus believed her to be … and she wanted to kiss him. So, she did.

She closed the remaining distance, barely brushing his lips. When her eyelids fluttered open, the longing in Perseus’s eyes had been replaced by utter shock.

Medusa recoiled, instant regret swirling in her gut. Shit. Shit. Shit. What had she done? Had she misread his expression?

Yet, Perseus remained frozen only for a second before he pulled her onto his lap to return her kiss. Even through the flimsy fabric of the veil, his mouth was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. He cradled her against his chest, sending electric currents through her body where their skin touched. She tilted her head back, offering her neck, a silent invitation. His lips trailed down her throat, igniting a fire within her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, urging him closer, but he pulled back, his gaze suddenly serious.

“Do you trust me?”

Medusa furrowed in frustration. Why did he have to ask questions when all she wanted was to lose herself in his touch?

She meant to grab his shirt to pull him close again, but he snatched her hand away. “Believe me … all I want is to taste you, to hold you in my arms, and to worship you how you deserve. But that is impossible because of this stupid veil. So, I need you to answer me if you trust me.”

“I do,” she exhaled.

The words had escaped her mouth before she realised. She didn’t need to consider it because her heart already knew the truth. It had known since she cried herself to sleep in his comforting embrace. Maybe she had even known since when he had fallen to his death to save his crew from Cetus. He would never willingly hurt her.

Perseus scooped her up, enveloping her in his scent of thyme and leather, and gently placed her on the straw cot. When he withdrew to rise before her, Medusa hissed in protest but quickly seized as Perseus took off his linen shirt in one swift movement.

Her gaze devoured the sight of him, broad shoulders tapering to a chiselled torso, bronzed skin gleaming in the dim light.

When she had likened him with Adonis, the most beautifulman in the world and lover of Aphrodite, it had been a sarcastic jab at his vanity, but now she realised she had spoken true. Not that she would ever admit that.

Luckily, Perseus had not noticed her longing gaze as he ripped the fabric of his shirt and knelt before her.

“Close your eyes for me.”

She obeyed, and he gently tied the strip of linen over her eyes, setting her skin on fire wherever his fingers brushed against her. Darkness enveloped her once more. Then, he tilted her chin up, his lips finding hers in a kiss that stole her breath.

He pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him. Medusa wrapped her legs around him and pressed herself against his bare upper body, desperate to feel him close. In the dark, she explored those glorious muscles with her hands and found his skin just as smooth as she had expected. She felt him harden beneath her. The feel of him pressed against her should have terrified her. It should have made her recoil, but instead, something wild and ravenous awoke within her core — a hunger that she had only ever felt when her snakes had craved the blood of her enemies. Only her snakes were quiet now, Perseus’s fingers entangled in her emerald curls. Still, Medusa had to obey the wicked urge that made her heart gallop.

As Medusa slowly started rolling her hips, Perseus tightened his grip on her in an attempt to control himself. Delighted by his response, she ground against him, feeling him twitch beneath her, and bit on his lower lip.

“Fuck,” he muttered and flipped her on her back. “You are driving me crazy.”

Slowly, he began trailing his kisses down her neck until he reached the neckline of her blood-splattered dress. He paused for a moment, lifting his torso off her, and Medusa snarled in frustration, trying to pull him close. Perseus restrained her as he spoke to her in a serious tone, “I am going to worship you now … with my tongue, my hands, and whatever else you want, Medusa. Whatever you want is yours, but you must tell me to stop if there is something you don’t want.”

Medusa reached for him again, but Perseus ordered, “Promise me you’ll tell me the moment you feel uncomfortable.”

She nodded.

Perseus pulled down her dress to her navel with one swift movement and gently cupped her breast, blowing over her nipple until it was hard. When he finally caressed it with his tongue, Medusa arched her back, leaning into his touch. His mouth slowly wandered down her body, exploring every inch of her. Finally, Perseus reached her hips, gently pulling the dress further down until she lay splayed before him — wholly bare, vulnerable, but not afraid.

He spread her legs and started kissing the sensitive skin on her inner thigh, careful not to hurt the scar where the arrow had struck her. Medusa gripped onto the cotton sheet beneath her as he trailed up and up and up … until Perseus reached the apex of her thigh. She gasped as he slid his tongue across her core.

“I knew you would taste just … perfect.”

Then, he unleashed himself on her. Kissing and caressing her senseless, circling her clitoris with his tongue, worshipping her as she buckled beneath him.

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