Seduction (Curse of the Gods #3)(49)

All four bodies around me immediately grew stiff, leaning slightly back from me again. I could almost feel the anger emanating from them.

“Who do you want to do it with?” There was a rare frown set into Siret’s face, deepening in the lines around his mouth and turning the green-gold of his eyes into a meld of hurt and disappointment.

He didn’t need to look over my shoulder at Rome. I knew that they were all thinking the same thing.

“Every person that I’ve kissed,” I quickly answered.

“You’ve kissed Rome.” Siret’s serious contemplation flicked over my face.

“I have.”

“And Aros.”

I flicked my attention to the golden sol for a micro-click, before quickly settling it back on Siret’s face. I could see where he was going with this.

“All five of you,” I told him, “almost.”

“Almost,” he agreed, folding his arms over his chest. “All five of us … except me.”

I stepped into him quickly, my hand on his forearm. He refused to uncross his arms, so I slid my touch up to his shoulder and then pressed closer to him. I could feel the sudden intake of air that he sucked in; could feel the swell of breath that pushed out his chest. He was nervous, or unsure. Possibly doubting that I really did want them all, though Siret had more than enough experience toying with my reaction to him. He should have known. The idea of me and Rome together had shaken his confidence.

“Are they going to stop me?” I asked, when I was close enough to whisper to him.

He remained still, not embracing me, not helping me to get any closer.

“They think we’re arguing.” His voice was low, carrying a rough undertone.

“You’re using Trickery on them?” I was surprised, but I didn’t stop the progress of my hands over the muscles in his shoulders, until my arms were almost looped around his neck. I wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the full way without his help.

He began to loosen, just enough to drop his arms and allow me to press in against his chest, though he didn’t put his hands on me in any way.

“They don’t need to see you flirting with me right now out of pity. And they definitely don’t need to see me taking it like I’m starving for the precious scraps you throw my way.”

I resisted the urge to groan in frustration, reaching back to place his arm on my spine instead. “This isn’t pity. This isn’t a scrap.”

He rolled his eyes, but his hand stayed where it was, pressing into the curve of my lower back. I lifted up onto my toes and brushed my lips over his: once, lightly, only a whisper of a word that I might still say to him. He chased my lips when I drew back, hovering but not touching, attempting to out-last my control and draw the word out by force of will.

He started to speak against my lips. “If you’re going to break the pact, you need to break it evenly. Whatever you give to one of us, you give to the rest of us. Because you want to, not out of pity.”

“There’s no pity here.” The frustration was definitely beginning to leak into my tone. “I couldn’t pity you if I tried. You’ve lived a blessed existence of never-ending food, brain-dead dweller servants, and pranking the gods. I can only pity the poor dwellers who’ve had to die just to make sure your silk sheets don’t have any crinkles—”

“I get the point,” he grumbled. Then, a moment later, he grabbed me around the hips and bent my body into his. “You can start evening out the score now.”

I lifted my lips to his before he could change his mind, and sighed at the immediate sound of possession that rumbled through his chest. He had been holding back up until now, but something had finally snapped his restraints. He took control of the kiss immediately, digging his fingers into my hips and pulling me up his body so that he could reach my mouth better. I tunnelled my hands into the back of his shirt, pressing into the ridge of muscle that led to the center of his spine. He jostled me once, wrapping an arm around my butt and freeing one of his hands to press against my collarbone, breaking the kiss.

“If you distract me too much, my power will slip.” His voice was raw, his eyes more green than gold.

I nodded and he set me down, releasing me with a reluctance that showed in the drag of his hands.

“Okay, this is getting us nowhere,” Aros suddenly burst out. “You two need to calm the hell down—Trickery, back off her.”

“It’s fine!” I quickly threw my hands up when I realised that they were all starting to crowd around me, their postures protective, their eyes on Siret.

He smirked at me, almost back to his normal self. “We weren’t fighting. Sorry. Necessary evil.”

The change was instant: Coen made a grab for Siret, but Aros grabbed his arm, and he seemed to re-think the decision—but then Yael made the same move, and it took both Coen and Aros to haul him back. Siret just stood there, while Rome didn’t seem to be moving at all. Only observing.

“It’s only fair,” I heard Aros saying. “She’s kissed the rest of us. He was the only one she hadn’t kissed.”

“This is how you want it to be?” Coen asked, spinning on me.

“You want to get rid of the pact?” Yael also spun around—Siret seemed to be forgotten in that moment. “You want to try to keep it even between us, instead?” There was a challenge in his eyes, as though he expected me to realise the fault in my thinking and apologise.