Page 65 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

When the meal finally ended, Si was deep in conversation with Hades and Hermes, and Bronte grabbed a bottle of wine, hooked her arm through mine and swept me off towards the far end of the terrace, Sephy close on our heels. The warm air smelled of jasmine, but my mood with Si was still somewhere between simmering and volcanic.

‘You’re unnervingly quiet,’ Sephy said as Bronte filled three more wine glasses, the soft lilt in her voice making it hard to stay irritated.

I exhaled sharply. ‘Your sea god’s driving me insane. He keeps acting like I’m… his.’

‘When gods love, it is way overboard,’ Bronte said, swirling her wine before taking a slow sip. ‘They lose all reason. You think Poseidon is possessive now? That’s just attraction. Look at Hades and Sephy. Geez, that man is full-blown OTT with her.’

Sephy gave her a prim frown over the rim of her glass. ‘He’s an alpha male… but not a controlling jerk.’

Bronte arched a perfectly shaped brow. ‘Bollocks. He’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to you.’

I circled a finger in the air. ‘Well, this girl is not going to be owned by anyone, especially the arrogant king of the sea.’ I narrowed my eyes, deliberately not thinking about climbing Si’s ripped body like a cracked-out koala. The mark on my thigh pulsated, and molten heat dripped low in my core. Damn him.

Bronte didn’t miss a beat—she just tossed me a mock-sympathetic look, patted my shoulder, and murmured, ‘Told you this was better than Netflix.’

I caught Si’s gaze across the space—remembering far too late he had preternatural hearing. His jaw flexed, and the flicker of ancient storms sparked in his eyes. Bronte clocked it instantly, her smirk sharpening like a cat watching a canary waddle into the room. ‘Oh, this is going to be fun,’ she murmured, topping up her wine with the kind of relish usually reserved for front-row seats.

I might have growled.

Dragging them off the terrace, I led the way down the wide steps to the meadow path. Si was tilting my whole damn axis, and if I didn’t get some distance, I was going to do something reckless—like throttle him… or kiss him.

‘I have a mark on my thigh—' I began, hell-bent on figuring out exactly what that arrogant god had done to me.

‘Show me,’ Sephy cut in, her tone more command than request.

I hiked my skirt just high enough for them to see. Bronte’s face went storm-dark, while Sephy’s lips curved with infuriating knowingness.

‘That’s a claim mark,’ Bronte bit out, her voice vibrating with disgust.

My head snapped up. ‘A what?’ The words left my mouth edged in steel as anger bubbled up inside me, hot and acidic.

Sephy’s brows knit like she was bracing for impact. ‘It’s… a way for a god to signal you’re his. It’s protective⁠—'

‘It’s ownership,’ Bronte cut in, her tone scathing. ‘And it’s bullshit.’

‘Protective?’ I barked a laugh that had zero humour in it. ‘Oh yeah, because nothing says “romance” like branding someone without their consent.’

‘That’s not exactly—' Sephy started.

‘Don’t,’ I snapped, holding up a hand. ‘I need space. I need—' My voice cracked under the weight of fury and betrayal. ‘I need to not be here right now before I stab the next god I see in the face.’

Bronte’s smirk was gone, replaced by a flat, dangerous calm. ‘Say the word, and I’ll have you back in London before Poseidon even realises you’re gone.’

‘Bronte,’ Sephy placed a hand on the mage’s shoulder. ‘Poseidon is one of the big three. His power is… unparalleled. He has more control over air than an air elemental, and he plays the ocean like a damn musical instrument. If he finds out you’ve taken her, he’ll explode, and you’ll be his target.’

‘I’m not scared of him,’ Bronte shot back, eyes hard. ‘Anyhoo, you’re coming with us. That way, you’re complicit, and we’ll have Hades’ protection.’

Sephy’s eyes widened, clearly torn between alarm and intrigue.

I turned to her, my voice low, clipped, and shaking with restraint. ‘Can you both take me home? Tonight? Just for one night. You can drag me back tomorrow if you have to… I just need space to breathe before I do something I can’t take back.’

Sephy hesitated, glancing towards the castle like she half-expected Si to appear in a flash of seafoam. ‘Cordie… running isn’t⁠—'

‘It’s not running. It’s not surrendering. It’s me getting my head straight before I either try to kill him again or…’ I cut myself off before “sleep with him” could escape my lips.

Bronte gave a slow nod, already mentally plotting, I could tell.

Sephy sighed, rubbing her temple. ‘Cordie, when you go, there’s no pretending this isn’t going to blow up in spectacular fashion.’