Page 32 of Curse the Flame

English. He just spoke English.

He chuckles at my shocked expression. “The potion worked, I see. You understand me now, woman. Good.”

Uh. Yeah. I understand him, but we have a huge miscommunication to correct if he honestly thinks that I’m going to just sit here and accept that I’m his wife. And, sure, I’m currently tied to this tree so I’m not quite sitting, but you know what I mean.

And this guy needs to know, too.

“What? Oh, no. I’m sorry. I think you’ve got it wrong. I mean, I know this is some weird world where we’re all supposed to be Greek gods, but⁠—”

“I am not Greek,” he retorts. “And what you think matters not. I found you. I claimed you. And you, woman… you shall be my bride.”

I squeak. I mean, I figured from a combination of context clues, charades, and lucky guesses, but hearing him say it in English…

“Bride? But I don’t want to get married!”

Persephone has some pretty crappy timing. She finally perks her head up inside my chest, chirping, Husband? Husband, where are you?

Um. It’s definitely not going to be this Roman guy⁠—

Oh.

Oh.

I don’t know where he came from. I actually sense him before I see him, and when he appears at the edge of the camp, it’s like he materialized out of the shadows. The man actually seems like he’s made up of them. That’s how dark his old-fashioned suit is. It’s how dark his blue-black hair—slicked back in a fashion that hasn’t been popular in almost a century, but darn does it make him look good—is. The fire bounces off of him, showing his pale features and pitch-black eyes in sharp relief.

He’s taller than the soldier, though not as broad. He has a lean build, but a commanding air about him. As he moves, he seems to glide, and I let out a gasp of shocked surprise when Sir comes bounding forward even as he stays close to the stranger’s boots.

The closer he gets, the stronger this pull I feel toward him. Between the fire and the moon and the slight glow emanating from his pale skin, I can see his face. He’s… oh. Wow. He’s absolutely gorgeous.

He’s also furious.

“Lower your sword. Now.”

When he speaks, I experience the deep, powerful timbre of his voice all the way down to my lady bits. Like… whoa.

The soldier had turned his back on me, facing the much bigger threat once he sensed that we had company. His sword is out again, and I hear the sneer in his voice as he says: “Pluto.”

Huh? Pluto? Like Mickey’s dog? No. I found the puppy. I named him Sir, and, oh my goodness, I think it’s finally happened. I’m hysterical.

And then the dark-eyed man looks over the soldier’s head, finding my gaze, and the weirdest thing happens. His eyes go from black to white. Smoke from the fire disguises him for a second, but it’s not from the fire in the ring of stones, is it? Because, just like Cassandra, he lifts one hand, a palm full of flickering flames hovering over his skin.

He flings it at the soldier.

I wouldn’t have guessed he was afraid of fire. Not when he has that pretty big fire going in his pit, but all it takes is a single spark of the stranger’s fire catching on the leather straps of the Roman’s man-skirt to have him losing his entire cool.

Completely forgetting I exist, he slaps at the leather. It takes longer than it should for the fire to go out. The soldier panics, and I only hope the fire doesn’t jump to me or anything.

Another hysterical worry. The fire winks out, but the moment it does, the soldier bolts. He runs for his horse, using his sword to slice the rope tethering the horse to its post. As we watch, the soldier hops on its back, kicks it in the flank with his sandal, and disappears.

Leaving me tied to a tree, and the man who saved me wiping his hands together as though trying to fool me into thinking that he didn’t just set that guy on fire.

But he saved me? That counts for something, right?

And Sir… Sir seems to like him. He’s currently yipping happily at the man’s heels, and—oh.

I gulp. “Is Sir yours?”

“Sir?” He lifts his head, meeting my gaze again for the first time since he set the soldier on fire with his flames. “His name is Cerberus.”