Page 40 of Crown of Olympus
His smirk morphed into a full grin, perfect white teeth on full display. He was beautiful, and he knew it — used it, even. Tales had a way of spreading, trickling down even into the Underworld.
His silver eyes flashed — a warning I didn’t heed — and a split second later, Caelus had flicked a dagger of his own in my direction. I hadn’t even seen him unsheathe it, but sure enough, a tiny silver blade had embedded itself into the log an inch from my inner thigh.
My eyes narrowed. “If you wanted me to spread my legs, all you had to do was ask, princeling,” I spat, mimicking his earlier taunt.
Caelus’ eyebrows twitched upwards, visibly thrown.
“Of course, I’d rather sit on a cactus and spin than acquiesce to such a request, especially from the likes of you.”
It was a bold-faced lie. But he didn’t have to know that. The comment was quickly followed by a smirk, and a zap of lightning striking the wood two inches higher, dangerously close to my throbbing core.
Traitorous hormones.
Distracted by the near-devastating loss of one of my favourite body parts, I was too slow to dodge Caelus when he launched himself over the rotten log, tackling me to the soft earth.
I grunted as my body hit the ground with a hard thud. All air rushed from my lungs, sharp and painful, but it was not the impact that had stolen my breath. It washim.
I could feel him everywhere, against every limb, every sliver of exposed skin. Caelus’s calloused hands roughly cuffed my wrists above my head while his thick, tree-trunk thighs lay bracketed by mine.
No.
My senses warred with the duelling sensations of his body’sheat at my front and the cold ground beneath me. Panic was setting in.
No, no, no, no. Stop touching my skin!
The rapid thrum of his heartbeat pounded against my sternum, racing mine to an increasing tempo, not an inch between us. Then I felt it — his breath, warm and close, whispering against my neck. Goosebumps bloomed in its wake.
My mind rebelled, overwhelmed by the sudden sensory overload and the increasing danger from our skin touching.
“No, no, no,” I whimpered.
Nobody had ever touched me like this. None dared to get this close. Not even Charon. To do so was to court death.
No sooner had I thought it, did I notice his white locks start to droop and wither — like a steadily decaying flower. Wrinkles now lined his face; his eyes hollowed.
“No, no, no, no,” I repeated, ensnared in an endless loop of denial.
Iwasdeath.
I was darkness.
I was something to be afraid of.
And I was involuntarily killing him.
Panic had me caught between fighting and fleeing. I hovered somewhere in the middle, unable to do either. I thrashed, growling at Caelus as terror writhed through my veins.
Trapped.
I did the only thing I could think of: unleashing my second gift.
Shadows erupted from my chest, my hands, even my damned open mouth — until we were both engulfed in the maelstrom of my power. Instant darkness robbed us of sight as invisible winds howled, ripping my hair free from its braid.
And still he did not let go.
“Nyssa.” A voice called my name from some far-off distance.
“Nyssa.” It called again when I failed to respond.
