Seduction (Curse of the Gods #3)(74)

“Just a cart ride?” Siret was the one to speak, and I registered confusion in his face. I nodded, and his frown deepened. “But you just said it was code-speak for when dwellers did dirty things to each other.”

“Things that should not have happened after you became one of us,” Yael added.

If I thought my mouth had dropped open before, it was nothing compared to now. “I …” I was actually speechless. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, before managing to get a few words out. “I … did not say that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what she said,” Yael argued. “Pain asked if it was dweller-slang for something dirty, right, Pain?”

Coen nodded—and while it was great to see them all working together as a team, it was not great to be on the wrong side of that team.

“That’s right, Persuasion,” he confirmed, as though we were in a dweller court-of-commons, and I had been sentenced with the theft of a very valuable loaf of bread. “Instead of denying it, she asked for clarification on the level of dirtiness.”

“And then she admitted that it was very dirty,” Rome added.

“And said something about being pushed up against a window.” Even Aros was on their side.

I let out an exaggerated breath. “It was dirty because of all the dead bodies. And before you even go there, the answer is no: we were not doing dirty things with the dead bodies, honestly what the hell is wrong with you five?”

“Tensions might be a little high at the moment,” Aros murmured, sounding defensive.

“So you didn’t have sex with a dweller named Gary or Zac or something in the back of a cart?” Siret apparently needed clarification.

“No,” I growled, pushing against his chest.

“Oh, well, in that case. Back to bed!” He spun on his heel and sauntered back to his blanket, completely ignoring the daggers that I was staring into his back.

“Um … yeah, I’m going back to sleep, too.” Yael took a step back to match Siret’s, and then he was turning and retreating to another blanket: typically, he was the only one not sharing a blanket.

Coen had fallen asleep on his rock, leaning up against the wall—and that was where he returned now, soundlessly, as though he wasn’t quite sure how to take back the whole dwellersex-cart incident. He had his feet resting on a blanket, though, and that was the blanket that Rome returned to now. He could only fit his torso and head onto it, while he stretched the rest of his massive body out onto the rock, folding his hands up behind his head and closing his eyes.

“Wake me up when it’s my turn to be on watch.” His soft grumble echoed through the cave, rousing my mother from her position by the crate.

“Yes, Sacred One!” she called out, scrambling to claim the task as her own. I think she felt better having a task, so I decided to give her another one.

“Why don’t you take the last blanket and try to catch some …” I paused, wondering if the servers actually rested at all. If they had a thing called Silence, then probably not, and I really didn’t want her to mistake my order and send herself back into a weird comatose state that she may or may not wake up from again.

“What would you like me to catch, Sacred Willa?” she questioned. “Some of my usual catching tasks include: Greg, the other lowly being under the command of Staviti the Great, Wise, and Benevolent. Our master likes to tell Greg to run, and tell me to catch. It is one of his favoured pastimes.”

“He sounds like a joy,” I replied dryly. She only returned my sarcasm with a blank stare, and I let out a sigh. “Okay, well … forget the catching. Why don’t you just find somewhere comfortable to sit? Maybe that blanket right there?” I pointed to the blanket hanging over the side of the crate. “Maybe you could lay on it? And maybe you could close your eyes but not send yourself into Silence? Can you do that?”

“As you wish, Sacred Willa.”

She moved obediently to the blanket, lifted it from the side of the crate, and shuffled over to the side of the cave opposite Coen and Rome. I didn’t blame her, after their recent show of anger—even though they were pretending to slumber now like the giant, gentle beasts that they weren’t. I watched as she spread out the blanket, stared at it for a moment, and then lowered herself onto it, face-down, her arms awkwardly outstretched to either side.

“Am I doing it right, Sacred Willa?” she called out, her voice muffled by the blanket.

I had no response for that. I stared at her, shaking my head, while Siret and Aros tried to control their laughter by the fire. They were the only ones not pretending to sleep. Probably because it was still their watch duty.

“Are your eyes closed?” I called back.

There was a pause, and then another muffled reply. “Yes, Sacred Willa.”

“Then you’re doing it … right.” I struggled to say that without laughing myself, or cursing, or groaning out in frustration and throwing a giant rock at the back wall—but some of us had to show a little maturity. Clearly, my mother wasn’t going to do it.





I was roused awake when Aros shifted to my right. He was standing, but that meant that the warmth I had been sleepily snuggled into was leaving—my yellow dress, while extremely comfortable, was not very warm—so I reached out for his arm, trying to pull him back. He fell back down beside me, his eyes tired as his hand slipped around the side of my face.