Page 10 of Falling for the Devil

OH, WHAT SHE WOULDN’T give to have Medusa’s curse right now! Whether she froze the great and mighty Lucifer, or herself for being such a fool, would be the ultimate question if she did have that power.

For a moment, Diana considered giving herself over to the water nymphs as a sacrifice to avoid her humiliation. She had acted a fool. Flirting—kissing—an archangel?! And considering how her body had responded to that one chaste kiss... Well, she’d killed mortals and demigods for just the sin of thinking of her in a lustful fashion. And when that entitled brat son of the Norse god—what had been his name? Loki?—had tried, her twin brother had taken care of that miscreant.

But she had brought this embarrassment upon herself. She had thrown herself at the egomaniac, self-righteous archangel like a harlot. Dammit! She was the virgin goddess! Wasn’t she supposed to be above the allure of sinful lust?

Apparently... no!

Diana’s legs nearly gave out from under her when she first stepped back onto the slippery mossy shore. Lucifer’s armor had seemingly recovered his body magically, for he was already redressed. The only telltale sign of their swim was the water still dripping from the ends of his hair.

Oh, I hope it rusts that armor!

Not that it would matter. His armor was rumored to be manufactured of a metal only available in the angelic realms and incapable of destruction or even a scratch. It certainly wouldn’t rust. Dammit!

She stomped over to her discarded stola. The sheer material stuck to her damp skin, making her tug and grunt, pulling it over her torso. The soft yellow color of the fabric darkened in irregular splotches where it came in contact with her wet tunic and skin. There was no way her hair was going to dry by the time they reached the castle. Everyone would clearly see she’d been up to no good. And would know she’d been a fool.

What was I thinking? Oh, that’s right... I wasn’t.

Of course, her father and brothers would all blame her for bringing disgrace upon them. Considering they were constantly causing mischief and screwing every mortal and immortal to which they weren’t related, it was unfair and hypocritical. But no one in Olympus cared about that. Even Eleos—the personification of mercy and compassion—would condemn Diana’s bawdy behavior.

And to think she’d convinced herself she would make Lucifer out to be the fool.

The screech of an owl obliterated Diana’s racing thoughts, and she looked up. Athena was circling far overhead, just above the tree canopy. Had she been watching this whole time?

Self-loathing burned up from her belly to scorch her throat. Not only had she been humiliated in the eyes of the archangel, but now her sister knew it; therefore, all of Olympus would hear of it—how the virgin goddess had enticed an archangel and been completely, without mercy, rejected.

Her eyes caught a motion underneath the raging waterfall. A trio of water nymphs danced and giggled, pointing their tiny little fingers in her direction.

Could this get any worse?

“Sister, what trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

Diana pivoted so fast she nearly fell again. There, standing beside a thicket of thorn bushes, with his meaty hands fisted on his hips, his mouth turned down in a deep frown of disgust, stood her brother. Not her twin who would’ve immediately attacked Lucifer or any perceived threat against her virtue. For Apollo to bear witness to this catastrophe would have been mortifying, but ultimately, he would’ve been kind to her. No, staring at her with such revulsion that her own stomach roiled with bile, stood the god of the rivers, Achelous.

The owl swooped, buzzing over the irate god’s clipped hair before morphing into a tall, but slim young woman with hair the color of refined cocoa and ice-blue eyes sparkling with intent. The moment her slender feet touched down on the soft grass, she stepped over to Diana, taking her hand.

“I believe you should take your unspoken accusations and shove them into a great rift under the River Styx. For if you so much as breathe a word of your vile imagined tale to anyone, you alone will be to blame for the war that erupts... a war that could eradicate our kind.”

Achelous opened his mouth to interrupt, but Athena held up her hand for silence.

“You know it and I know it. If Zeus were to discover his daughter to have been sundered by anyone, even an archangel, he would exact his revenge, which would lead to war. Considering the Creator so highly favors this one”—she jerked her head in Lucifer’s direction—“He would most certainly not stand for him to be so maligned.”

Achelous snorted; his face contorted like an enraged bull in the arena. “She has disgraced herself, apparently. Look at the guilty expressions on both of them. Zeus has no say-so over the angel, but he can discipline his own child.”

Lucifer stalked over to the angry god. Crimson fire exuded from his aura, blasting Achelous without the need to even touch him. “There has been a misunderstanding. Nothing untoward has occurred here. And you”—he physically shoved him now—“are out of line.”

Athena squeezed Diana’s hand tightly. When she glanced over, her sister winked. “Don’t worry, sister. You have done nothing wrong. Besides, no one would dare accuse Lucifer of being anything less than a perfect gentleman. No one would believe that buffoon, anyway.”

Praise the Fates. Diana breathed a sigh of relief. For once, her sister had come to her aid instead of boring her with an endless litany of her sins—past and present—until Diana wanted to stick a cork in her ears to shut out Athena’s lectures. Oh, there could still be a lecture waiting, but when it counted, sisters stood together.

Still, Achelous could ruin everything just to be a bitter jerk, which he always was. With a fierce angel snarling in his face with threats, things could go badly if he didn’t back down. A blistering red crept up his wide neck until his entire face was the color of a ripe tomato. Steam evaporated off Achelous’s thick skull. But Lucifer did not concede an inch. In fact, he shoved him again for good measure.

Diana barely stymied a giggle. No one treated a god that way and survived. Somehow, she knew Lucifer would be the last man standing in any battle against any deity, other than the Creator. Her overbearing brother was about to be taught a nasty lesson. Half of Olympus would sell their own souls for the chance to witness his downfall.

The two men stared long and hard at each other. Sweat dripped down Achelous’s forehead in rivulets. A controlled rage permeated the air with a pungent, unfamiliar odor.

Lucifer sneered. “What will it be, little god? You going to apologize for your hurtful words to Diana, or do you prefer to have your body and spirit crushed into a diamond for her to wear around her neck for eternity?”

After a beat, her ever-proud brother bowed his head and stepped back—a sight Diana would never forget. Joy raced through her heart. She desperately wanted one of those amazing mortal artists to recreate this exact moment in paint, sculpture, a giant mural to Achelous’s humiliation for it would forever be among her favored memories—if she could block out the embarrassment from moments earlier when the archangel had spurned her so violently.

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