Page 16 of Sett and his King
Either the stegi had a very lewd personality, or it knew what Andreas was thinking and wanted to please him.
Did that mean Andreas found me attractive? That he wanted to be with me? And why did the thought make me hard?
The only thing that made me hard was the thought and memory of my husband. No one else.
"We need food. You hear me? Food!" Andreas gritted his teeth, staring at the ceiling before he marched right out of the room and back into the hallway.
He stood by the arch and I took my place next to him. The kitchen was clearly there, past the arc, a very modern-looking room with yellow and silver tones that reminded more of a blacksmith’s workshop than anything.
"Thank you," Andreas mouthed and we crossed under the arch again.
Only to walk into a bedroom once again. This time it was pitch-black. There was only one bed. A large bed that stretched from side to side. The only light came from a red light on the wall that spelledSEX.
Neon lights. The word came to my head along with the context and it took everything in me not to laugh.
"Something you'd like to tell me, Andreas?" I turned and smirked at him.
"Screw this. I'm not hungry anymore." He shouted and spun around. "If you want to be a child, be a child."
We came out of the room and into…the kitchen. Despite reaching our destination, Andreas growled and collapsed onto the nearest chair.
"I hate you sometimes," he mumbled.
"I hope you don't feel embarrassed. Steges can be feral spirits sometimes."
Andreas scoffed. "Embarrassed? Me? Why would I be embarrassed? I've got nothing to be embarrassed about. Other than my house being a dick!"
He shouted the last part at the ceiling, as if that was where he imagined the face of his home's spirit being.
It was quite endearing. Back in my time, steges were revered and respected regardless of their attitude. It was bizarre and funny seeing how Andreas interacted with his.
"It's okay," I said. "If you're attracted to me. It's only natural."
Andreas whipped his head toward me so fast it gave me whiplash. "Excuse me? You think highly of yourself, don't you?"
"Well…I'm used to being admired. Iama god. It comes with the territory. But my heart belongs to someone else."
Andreas huffed and rolled his eyes. "Trust me, mister. I don't care who your heart belongs to. I'm not interested."
He got off his chair and approached a long cupboard and pulled a pot out of the…the fridge. Then he proceeded to divide some sort of stew equally between two plates and warmed them up in the…microwave.
There were so many names for things in this day and age it was giving me a headache. I had no idea how I'd know what half the things Andreas was doing or using were if it weren't for the lingering human consciousness inside the body I possessed.
"There," he said after the food was warm and as I got busy eating, he served me iced water and a glass of red wine.
"A man after my own heart," I said, trying to lighten the mood, but it had almost the opposite effect.
"Listen, Sett! I have no interest in being another god's…plaything. Okay? I just need your help to save my brother and that's it. Now can we eat so we can go out there and find this scarab?"
I nodded and watched him eat his food while I tried to put myself in the young man's shoes. After all, I'd been in his shoes once upon a time. I'd been my brother's plaything and target practice. I'd been his prisoner like Andreas was now. I couldn't blame him for feeling like this. For thinking we were all the same if that was his only interaction with a god. But it still hurt. And I didn't know why I cared.
All I cared about was bringing my brother to an end. Nothing else mattered or would ever matter to me. Not even handsome Greek witches who could definitely steal my heart if I wasn't still in love with my late husband.
"Andrea?**! You're home. And you've got company," said an old woman stepping into the kitchen.
* Pronounced An-dre-a with the emphasis on dre. Male names in Greek usually end in -s. They usually drop the -s in the vocative declesion (if this is too linguistic for you—trust me it is for me too—just think of it as this: If someone’s calling someone’s name, the -s is dropped. I wanted to use some authenticity in the manuscript, especially since Yaya is Greek through and through. Hence why Yaya calls Andreas “Andrea” when she’s talking to him. If she was talking about him, she would address him as Andreas. There’s your Greek lesson for the day. lol
Drew
