Seduction (Curse of the Gods #3)(38)

“Share,” Siret demanded.

Yael released me reluctantly, but Rome stepped in before Siret could grab me.

“I’m not fucking going last,” he declared, looping one arm around me and hauling me up into his chest. “Hi Willa. Glad you’re safe.”

“Hi, Two,” I laughed. “Glad you’re safe as well.”

His mouth twitched, but he didn’t entirely lose his grumpy expression, so I brought my hands up to his face and tried to push his mouth into a smile with my two index fingers. He scowled, shook his head to dislodge me, and then he jostled me further up and pressed his mouth firmly to mine. The kiss was short, hard, and hot.

He pulled back too quickly, his eyes flicking between mine, almost surprised, and then he was putting me down and Siret was spinning me around.

“Lucky last,” he said, his hands on my shoulders.

He didn’t pull me in, or squeeze my limbs in possession the way the others had. He just stared at me, waiting. Waiting for what? I reached out, unsure, and touched his chest. Apparently, that was all he needed. His eyes flashed and one of his hands slipped from my shoulder to the back of my head, and he was tugging me in. His other hand moved down my spine, bringing me flush, and I couldn’t help the shiver that ran the length of my body. He must have felt it because he pressed harder against the curve of my spine, forcing me so close that the pressure of his chest against mine was actually making it hard to breathe.

“That semanight stone doesn’t mean that we’re letting you out of our sights ever again,” he whispered. “I think you’ve proven that you’re far more dangerous when left alone, than any other situation you could be dragged into by us.”

“We leave her behind so that she can be kept safe from Topia and all the gods here that might find her interesting, and what does she do?” Coen seemed to be talking to his brothers.

“It was a very involved story,” Aros answered. “Something to do with fire.”

“She brought herself here anyway,” Siret added, his words still mumbled against my skin. “Like the stubborn little soldier that she is.”

“As much as I’d love to claim all the credit,” I began, pulling away from Siret reluctantly so that I could address them all, “I was technically being controlled through Cyrus’s hold on the soul-link. He’s even worse at keeping me safe than I am. He thought he’d get me out of Blesswood, and that I’d be safer with Emmy—but that didn’t work out so well. Then he thought he’d set a whole building of sols on fire, just to get rid of the couple of idiots that wanted to hurt me—again, not the best plan, but he tried. Eventually, I just ended up in the outer rings where they turn the dead dwellers into Jeffries. Dru dumped me out there because he thought it would be a fun way for me to die.”

“Of course.” Rome rolled his eyes. “She couldn’t possibly have just been murdered like a normal person.”

I immediately started looking around for something to throw at him. There were a few marbled squares set off to the sides of the platform, cleverly disguised by garden beds and creeping vines. I could spot doors in some places, so I assumed that they were rooms, or even entire residences. There wasn’t a single loose object in sight, unless the stone bench a few feet away counted. It probably didn’t, because I doubted I could pick it up and throw it at Rome.

Or could I? I was some kind of dweller-sol-beta hybrid, and I could do things like create fire and cause nakedness, so why couldn’t I throw a stone bench? I quickly side-stepped and grabbed the edge with one hand, attempting to lift it up.

“What’s she doing?” Rome asked, his brow scrunching up in confusion.

“Gods-dammit,” I wheezed out, managing to get the bench almost half an inch off the ground.

“I think she’s exercising,” Siret answered, completely serious if his expression was anything to go by. “I’ve heard that the dwellers need to do that, otherwise they get ugly.”

“Impossible,” Aros scoffed. “Willa can’t get ugly.”

I accidently dropped the bench, and then had to cover my mouth, because I didn’t know whether to laugh or not.

“What if I lose all my hair?” I asked him. “Will I be ugly then?”

Aros started to shake his head, and Yael stepped forward, anger marking his face. “Of course not!”

The laugh threatened to bubble out of me again, but I managed to hold it back.

“I’m picturing her as a server now,” Coen groused, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“See!” I pointed at Coen. “He thinks I can be ugly.”

“I’m picturing that stupid thing the female servers wear,” Coen clarified. “The image is burned into my brain.”

“Yeah, even he’s not thinking that you can be ugly,” Aros told me.

Hot and cold flashes were racing along my skin and I probably looked like I was exercising my jaw now, with the way my mouth was opening and closing. Coen dropped his hands from his face, and suddenly they were all staring at me. It was too much. Too much tension. The heat inside of me flared, and it was followed by a burn licking across my skin. I had a brief thought that I should walk away for a click and cool off, but just when I thought I could tear myself away from them and take a step back, a flash of orange light caught my attention.