AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Neeka’s hackles flared. Younger sister? The nerve of this goddess! And oh! She hated, hated, hated that her mother had beaten her here.
Tension turned Rathbone into a pillar of stone. “I’ll be taking the boy with me and undoing whatever was done to keep him this age.”
“You won’t.” Hera smiled at him, as smug as Maximus had been. “Precautions have already been taken.” A second later, everyone but Rathbone and Neeka vanished.
Rathbone remained statue still for several beats before cursing. He flashed her to his bedroom in the Realm of Agonies. Guess they were done with the Realm of the Forgotten. Which mattered because...she couldn’t recall. Oh, well.
“I’ll get him back, and I’ll steal the bone from Grenwich,” she promised. “I’ll also find the remaining bones. She won’t beat me again. In the meantime, we should probably talk about what happ—”
“I’m going to refortify the defenses,” he interjected, keeping his gaze anywhere but on her. He said nothing more before flashing away, leaving her alone.
Knees knocking, she sank onto the edge of his bed. Poor Rathbone. So many shocks today. Almost dying. Learning he had a son. Losing said son. Temporarily misplacing a bone. Finding out his wife had helped his most hated enemy for reasons Neeka had already discerned. A new worry thrown on the mounting heap.
According to the visions, the goddess partnered with Erebus. Like the Astra, the Deathless desired Lore’s resurrection. They hoped to kill her at the final ceremony, but the god intended for her to birth those hideous flesh-eaters. Ergo, Lore would do anything necessary to aid the Astra in their quest.Should have guessed.
Had Rathbone begun to accept the truth? Should she tell him everything? Was he ready to hear it?
What if he kicked her to the curb? She hadn’t been part of the ceremony in either vision, so, something took her out of the game along the way.
Better to wait. To gain some assurances.
She withdrew the elixir from her garter, the thick liquid swishing inside. The best assurance in town. Should she risk losing a genuine connection? Shouldn’t she?
With the lives of harpies and Rathbone on the line, she should be willing to risk anything. So. Decision made. They would both drink and boom, their bond would solidify. He would be compelled to do whatever she asked.
Driven by instinct, she marched to the decanter of whiskey at the wet bar, unstopped the vial, and poured the contents inside. Trembling, she prepared two glasses...and drained one without thinking. Oops. The liquid burned going down. Burned hotter as it spread through the rest of her. Cells fizzed and popped. Well. There was no going back now. She’d ingested the elixir, and it couldn’t be undone.
She refilled the glass, willing to ingest a second round when Rathbone enjoyed his first. Double the power, right? With nothing left to do, she sat at the edge of the bed and awaited his return.
How much time passed before he reappeared, she didn’t know. But when he did, she was a mess of uncertainty. He was a mess, period, both sweaty and bloody. He spotted her, his mátia locking on her, noticed the waiting glass and scowled.
She licked her lips and proceeded full steam ahead. “Let’s have a drink and discuss—”
“No drinks.” He flashed over, grabbed the glass, and poured the contents into the decanter. “The Astra won’t bypass my new traps. You’re safe anywhere on the grounds. I’m taking a shower. Be gone when I exit.” Poof. He disappeared.
Oookay. What just happened? This was more than an upset over today’s events.
The urge to comfort him took center stage, and she remained. If he wanted her gone, he’d have to carry her out, and that was that.
Minutes that felt like hours passed. Finally, the door opened. She straightened with a snap, her heart thudding.
Her gaze found him. He stood in the doorway, naked. Water dotted his lashes and wet his scarlet skin, droplets cascading over his bulging muscles. His mátia focused on her, glinting with desperate need.
Her heart thudded faster, harder. She lost her breath.
“You should have left,” he growled, stomping over to claim her parting lips with his own.
21
So many thoughts barraged Rathbone. His spoiled son, raised by a despised foe. Lore’s partnership with the very enemy attempting to kill her. The lost bone. The comfort and torment of Neeka’s presence. His undeniable desire for the oracle and no other. He’d never felt so raw or needed solace more.
He kissed his oracle with all the fervency seething inside him. She kissed him just as wildly, matching him stroke for stroke, grounding him in the moment. Addicting him to the wonder of her taste. The perfection of her scent. The delight of being wrapped in her arms. Her. Just her. Everything she brought to the table. Strength and cunning. Smiles and laughs. A shockingly tender heart. Such a zest for life.
Now, he burned. He was an inferno, and she was the never-ending supply of kindling. She lit an unquenchable fire so deep within him the flames consumed him from the inside out.
He rolled his tongue with hers, removed and tossed her metal breastplate. Before the heavy piece even hit the floor, he had her plump breasts in his hands. A groan of pleasure slipped from her, and he swallowed it. The sweetness of her whipped him into a frenzy.
This wasn’t the same as other interludes, and he knew it. He ached worse, craved more, and cared nothing for the consequences. The danger of relying on someone else when he had yet to work through the box of unpinned grenades awaiting his attention.
