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Fuck she is beautiful, strong, powerful, and just a little crazy. My fingers flex. I want to own her. I want to pin her underneath me and tame her wild ways with my cock. Fuck her until she obeys, knowing she will never give in. Even if I am pleasuring her, even if she loves how I can make her feel. Just like in the pool, she will give in to the pleasure I can give her, and she will even thank me for it. But that is it. The second she has what she wants from me, she will go back to doing whatever she pleases. Why does that make my mouth water?
Why does the challenge of breaking Athena Godwin make my cock hard?
Athena raises the gun and fires three shots, one after the other.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Athena
“Angel, give me the gun.” Paris has his hand out to take the gun from me. I can’t give it to him. My head is swimming, and a tightness around my ribs is making it hard to breathe. I don’t know what to think or who to trust.
I fired three shots to make everyone stop. It worked. The yelling and fighting is over, and everyone is watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do with the gun. I’m waiting to find out for myself. I have no idea what I’m doing. There is no plan here, and no time to make one.
“Why?” I ask Paris. Looking him in the eyes, I know he is keeping something from me.
“Hand me the gun so no one gets hurt,” he says slowly, approaching me with both hands out like he is trying to calm a wild animal.
“No. Did you kill my mother?” I ask.
He flinches back at my words. I can see the betrayal in his eyes before they harden.
“No, I didn’t. I would never have hurt Freya,” Paris says. “I could never hurt her. I loved her. She gave me a home when my mother wasn’t there. She took care of me when my mother wasn’t well enough to. Why would I hurt her?”
I don’t know if I believe him. My hand is shaking so hard, I’m a little worried I will accidentally hurt someone, so I let my arm drop the gun now pointing at the ground, and the entire room seems to take a breath.
“Hand me the gun, baby girl.” Eros comes to stand behind me. A small trail of blood runs from a cut on his temple, and bruises are already blooming on his jaw. I’m sure there will be plenty more soon. Even tied, Heph is a beast.
“No, I don’t want…” I am not sure how I want to finish the sentence. Everything’s happening so fast, and for the first time, I feel like I don’t have control. I’m not the one dictating what happens here. I can only react to it, and I hate the feeling of being a pawn in someone else’s game, especially when I am so uncertain who is controlling the board.
“It’s okay, baby girl, I’m putting it away. No one is getting shot tonight,” Eros says before taking the gun from my still-shaking fingers.
I clench my fist to stop the tremors. They make me feel weak. My father’s voice is ringing in my head.
Never let them see your fear or worry. Never let them see you as anything less than steel. If they think you are weak, they will exploit it. You are a woman, so they will try to break you, never show them a single crack.
Sorry, Father.
“That’s it, baby,” Eros whispers, placing a kiss on my temple as my eyes slide closed and I try to compose myself. “It’s over now.”
A cold laugh comes from Paris that almost sounds a little manic. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. Him? You choose him to give yourself to?” He scoffs, his hands falling to his sides with his fist clenching.
“Stop talking now,” Eros says in a low growl.
“No, fuck that,” Paris says at Eros before looking at me. “You wait so fucking long to give yourself to someone claiming you want someone worthy of being your first, and then you give it up to the two of the biggest whores in the city. Perseus and then Eros! Why? Because Eros pretended to love you? Or did he just bat his eyes at you, and you fell over with your legs open like every other dumb slut he wants something from? Don’t even get me started on why the fuck you’d allow Perseus to steal that flower of yours.”
There isn’t any hatred in his eyes or even backing his vile words, but they still cut deep. I feel my cheeks flush, my arms numb as my stomach tightens. He doesn’t mean it. He is angry. Jealous. He can’t mean the harshness.
