The Revelation (Pandora's Harem 1) A Reverse Harem Tale(8)
I think each of these Spartans needs to come with a warning label. A very large warning label, if the illicit thoughts running through my head are any inclination of where my mind is going to end up going—and probably my body, too—if this whole scenario turns out to be true.
Leonidas takes a seat by the window on the far wall across from the end of my bed, his tall, well-muscled body dwarfing my dainty pink and white striped side chair. He’s massive, all bulk and raw sex appeal. And he’s handsome in that rugged yet sophisticated way, like he can head up a major corporation, but still ride a Harley on the weekends. His shiny, not quite shoulder-length black hair, glistens in the morning sun as a beam cuts across my room. I wonder how long these guys have been here because the curtains were not open when I went to bed.
Lycus walks over, the scent of his cologne stealing my focus. He smells of real pine trees, a whole forest of them, and not that cheap imitation crap discount stores pass off as holiday room spray. He grabs the helmet from the pillow in front of me and tosses it across the bed to the guy at my back who is only now just getting off the mattress.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Ares,” Lycus says, “Keep your shit together.”
The now named Ares walks around the bed and makes his way to the nightstand, goes right for the food and plucks a strip of bacon off the plate. A hint of sage and fresh basil reaches my nose. Gods, but even shaggy-haired dude smells good.
“Leave Pandora’s breakfast alone,” Leonidas says. “There’s plenty more in the kitchen to stuff your ugly face with.”
As if I could eat now. Well, maybe I could, but not what’s in the plate on the nightstand. Between Leonidas, Lycus, and now Ares, I don’t know who is more delicious. I am so screwed.
Ares winks at me. He grabs a second piece of bacon.
I pull the sheet up and tuck it under my chin. Save for my pink lace bra and panties and fuzzy pink socks, I don’t have a stich of clothes on. I’m suddenly very aware of my near nakedness. “So why are you here?”
“To help you find your missing box,” Lycus says. He has incredible hair, a chocolate brown so dark it’s nearly black. It’s also about as long as Leonidas’s and Ares’s hair.
I can easily visualize all three on a battlefield, their massive, muscled bodies decked out in helmets, flowing red capes, and those ancient open-toed boots. I bet they each once carried a spear and matching shield, too. Shields were huge to Spartan warriors, so much so, if a man lost his, he was disgraced.
I’m not so sure I’m comfortable with having three immortal dudes guarding my back.
Lycus offers me a serious stare, though I can’t imagine he’d give anything different. He seems the serious, quiet type. “Moros wants your box as much as you do. And while I don’t mean any disrespect, Moros is the god of dark Destiny. He’s the one who sends you to your death. We’re the guys that can help you stay alive while you search for your box.”
“Yeah, and we can help find the box, too, Pumpkin,” Ares adds.
I doubt I have much choice but to accept all this. Or in the least, see if it’s all real. “Okay,” I say. “We’ll try this for a few days. But if it doesn’t work out, I have to find a way to send the three of you back.”
Ares grins. “Oh, it will work out, Sweet Cakes. Trust me.”
I don’t trust anyone or anything at the moment. Especially myself. Never mind three dudes who jumped from a page in a book and I do bet that is where they came from. From that image on the page with that damn spell. Though, had I known it was a spell, maybe I wouldn’t have said it aloud.
Right. Who am I fooling? Being Pandora, I would have said those words out loud regardless of what I thought would have happened. Curiosity is such a bitch. Naughty Pandy.
Chaos said I’m not a goddess, but she didn’t say I didn’t have powers. And apparently, I do have some because I made that spell come alive and look what that brought me. Maybe I have a lot more powers than the gods want me to realize.
A strange notion settles in my nerves.
It’s one thing for me to embark on this journey to find the true me—the true Pandora—and in the process, locate my missing box. But to do it with three, sinfully sexy Spartan warriors in tow, I’m not so sure that’s a wise choice. What if we all end up in trouble? Or doomed by Moros?
Though I will admit, my ass is probably in a heap of shit just for having summoned my Spartan dudes, so worrying over this now, seems a bit late.
I’m so going to pay for this one.
Chapter 4
After showering and tossing on a pair of jeans and my favorite gray sweatshirt, I head into the living room, hoping for a cup of tea and some more talk with my Spartan protectors, but instead of gunning for the kettle on the stove in the kitchen, I’m frozen in the archway between the two rooms, my gaze lingering on the three tall men huddled over the coffee table.
My gut does an odd flip. So not a good thing. I may not be a goddess, but I definitely have some kind of sixth sense thing going on inside me. Always have. And I know a bad thing when I see one. Well, I know it as long as it’s not me, personally. I’ve never been good at detecting my own mishaps.
I stare at the trio, their voices barely above a whisper so I can’t make out their conversation. But they are engrossed in whatever they’re talking about.