Seduction (Curse of the Gods #3)(50)
That wasn’t going to happen, though. There was no fault in my thinking. I really believed that I could keep it even; that I could stop them from fighting.
“Let’s make a deal.” I displayed my palms to Yael, a gesture of peace. “If I can keep you all from fighting about the dynamic, you will stop trying to force restrictions on what I do with my body. Okay?”
Yael frowned, apparently torn, but Aros once again proved himself to be on my side.
“Even,” he demanded, pushing past the others to stand in front of me. “Make sure you keep it even, sweetheart, and I won’t start any fights.”
“If you think you can …” Coen drew my attention, though Aros’s hand was snaking around the side of my face. “Then I can do away with the fucking pact.”
I sought out Siret, who only nodded at me, but it was enough for now. He had already given in earlier. I had felt it in the way his kiss worked to claim me as much as was possible in the sliver of time that he had stolen. He was finished with the pact.
“That pact is finished,” Rome spoke up from behind me, and I felt everyone relax almost as quickly as I felt them all tense up again.
There was still one Abcurse who didn’t seem to want to let go of the pact, and it was the one Abcurse who I thought might have serious problems with sharing in any way, shape or form. Yael met my eyes, the challenge still burning in his expression.
“I’ll try not to break anyone’s dick,” he finally announced.
Thirteen
I felt … lighter. Ever since I had accidentally-on-purpose overheard them discussing the pact, there had been a pressing weight on my shoulders, trying to tell me how to be and what was okay. I didn’t do well with restrictions, clearly, but now I was free again. We all were, and I was determined to keep my part of our new deal. There would be no more fighting over this.
“I’m going to clean up,” I announced, an upbeat tone to my voice. Turning to Siret, I added, “I’m going to need some kickass clothes, kickass boots, kickass glov—”
“I get the point,” he said drily. “You’re going with a theme, and the theme is—”
“Kickass. Yes.” I clapped my hands a few times. “Okay, great. Be back soon.”
I spun around, accidently causing Rome’s shirt to fly up a little—and I probably flashed some thigh in the process, but no one said anything. We were all on our best behaviour. Or at least I assumed we were. I was almost at the top of the stairs when the sound of a throat clearing caught my attention. Tilting my head back to them, I noticed none of them had moved an inch.
“What?” My smile was way too broad for our situation, but happy seemed to be radiating out of me.
I had wanted the pact gone since the very first sun-cycle of the pact existing, and I had finally won. No one answered me, and I felt my cheeks lower as my smile faded away.
“What?” I repeated, worried now that my one click of happiness was almost over.
Coen was the one to answer me. “Just letting you know that we’ll be called to the Sacred Sands Arena in fifteen clicks, and you need to eat. So …”
He trailed off, and I was starting to get the idea of where this was all going. We had just dissolved the pact, and I was heading down to the bather. They wanted to come with me and I wanted them to come with me, but I was pretty sure five and one was something we needed to slowly work our way up to. Besides that, if I wanted to keep the peace, I needed to be careful about keeping things even between them. I needed to delicately work out some sort of schedule.
“I’ll be quick.” Those words were pretty much thrown over my shoulder as I dashed down the stairs, tripping over the last few and tumbling to the ground.
A huff left me as I lay there. It was really unfair that I got a bunch of Chaos fire power, but I still couldn’t manage to stay on my own feet. I was grateful, though, that I managed to scurry up and hide in the other room before any Abcurse came to investigate the thump.
Pulling off Rome’s shirt, I folded it haphazardly and put it on a shelf. It probably should have bothered me that I had no real possessions. Hell, I didn’t even know where my things were that I had been holding onto. Most likely my fist-rock and the scraps of dress I owned were still in Coen’s room. My medical kit and poison antidote—the only things I brought from my village—were still with Emmy. She wouldn’t misplace them. No doubt my duffle was sitting neatly on my bed.
I fiddled with the controls on the wall, finally figuring out how to get the water to fall from the ceiling, I considered the reason why I had never bothered to retrieve that bag when I was first soul-linked to the boys. Part of me had never felt like a dweller. It wasn’t that I thought I was above dwellers, or equal to the sols. In fact, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I simply hadn’t felt that there was a place I belonged. I had never been a proper dweller, and I could never be a sol. I’d always just been me. A weird mess of a being who was determined to prove everyone wrong and live at least twenty life-cycles.
Everything in my duffle had represented a part of my old life. It didn’t fit me anymore. I wondered if it ever had. Or was it that possessions just didn’t mean much to me? I held on to the people I loved, which, before a few moon-cycles ago had only been Emmy. Now I had so much more.