Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
To find I’m not alone.
I register short dark hair, pale skin, and large green eyes in the space of a heartbeat. I recognize those features a bare second later. “Circe.” I stumble back a step and try to get my gun up.
She rushes me, shoving my arm wide before I can pull the trigger. “Hello, lover.”
She smells good. It’s such an absurd thing to register when she’s punching me in the fucking stomach. She looks like one of the fragile socialites who populate this fucking city, but she hits like a pro fighter. I can’t stop myself from doubling over, my lungs cramped and constricting from the blow.
Circe uses the opportunity to divest me of my gun. I manage to look up to watch her dismantle it with the ease of someone who’s done it many times before. She tosses the clip away. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
That’s rich considering she just punched me in the stomach. “Fuck. You.”
She steps carefully back, her hands raised as if I’m naive enough to believe she’s harmless. “I just want to talk.”
I finally manage a full inhale. It’s the sweetest air I’ve ever tasted. I straighten slowly. “I don’t believe you.”
“That just proves you’re not a fool.” She grins, suddenly looking like a completely different person. There’s none of the carefully poised mask or the leader who convinced an entire city’s population to see things her way. Before I can decide how I feel about the change, she moves into the kitchen and starts digging through the cabinets.
It’s only then that I fully register that Circe is here. “How did you find me?”
She smirks over her shoulder at me. “Please. I took control of the city’s cameras. No one goes anywhere in the upper city without me knowing about it.”
Yeah, that’s a cute statement, but it’s not true. Hermes—Hecate—has always managed to dodge the camera system when she felt like it. I suspect she’s doing so now, wherever she is, or Circe would be fucking with her instead of me. Fucking her.
The thought sends a shiver of poisonous heat through me. I’m standing here in a towel, without even the barrier of clothing to protect me from this woman. I move deeper into the living room so I can see the entirety of the kitchen. If she comes at me with a knife…
But Circe isn’t caressing the knife block. She’s pulling a pair of glasses from the cabinet and then goes onto her toes to tug down a bottle of amber liquid. She whistles under her breath. “Expensive taste.” She turns to me and holds up the bottle. “Temporary truce?”
“As if I’d eat or drink anything you touch.”
“I’m hurt. Truly.” She shrugs, sets the bottle on the counter, and takes a dramatic step away from it. “If you’re so concerned, then you pour.”
I don’t move. “I’m not drinking with you.”
“Are you sure? You look like you could use some unwinding.” She leans a hip on the counter and surveys me. This woman has looked at me before, fought me in a life-or-death battle, but this is the first time she’s looked. She drags her gaze from the top of my curls, over my scarred face, down my body to my toes, and then reverses course. Taking her time. Appearing to drink in the sight of me, appearing to like it. Witnessing desire blossom across her face… I don’t know what to do with that.
She smiles slowly. “You’re very, very good. I understand what she sees in you.”
“I don’t want to talk about her.” No need to say her name—either of her names—in this space. The memory of our last conversation, our last fight, rolls through me again. Only someone I love could hurt me the way Hecate has. “You need to leave.”
“You’re too smart for that. If I leave, I’ll just have you dragged in, and I’d prefer to save us both the indignity. I have…” She glances at her phone. “A very short time before my people start panicking that I’m gone. Let’s talk, Atalanta.”
I don’t exactly make a decision to move. It’s more that I can’t stand this stillness, this knowing, that pervades every inch of this suddenly too-small apartment. “I’m not interested.” I stalk to the hallway to change the laundry because fuck like I’m going to get a nap now, but I’ll be damned before I have to haul ass through the streets with only a towel for cover.
When I walk back into the main space, Circe hasn’t moved. I don’t trust that for a moment. She could have easily dosed either—or both—of the glasses with something nasty while I wasn’t watching.
But she’s right; I could really use a fucking drink.
“Atalanta…” She takes a breath, something almost vulnerable rising in her green eyes. “Please.”
It’s clearly another manipulation attempt. I retuck the towel as best I can and grab the bottle. This, at least, is sealed. If we all survive this, I’ll send a new one to Briseis. I open it and take a long drink. Bourbon. It burns down my throat and warms my stomach. After a beat of hesitation, I hold out the bottle. “Fine. Talk.”