“Doulas? It’s time.”
The double doors opened, and he followed Atalanta into an ornate room. Leather couches, arching windows that looked out over Sin City, Grecian pillars, and richly colored rugs. A wall of books covered one whole side of the two-story room, but what captured his attention was the man—no, god—standing to the right. Unhooking a female from a metal contraption mounted into the cement wall with hooks and chains and restraints.
The female’s nakedness was quickly covered with a blanket, but Gryphon didn’t miss the lines of blood running down her skin or the whip that lay on the floor at Krónos’s feet. As two servants escorted the weeping female through a door to the right, Krónos dried his hands on a towel and turned to greet Atalanta.
“Well, well, well. I heard a rumor the wicked witch of the west was back in the Underworld. I just never expected to see her with my own eyes.”
The Elder God wasn’t what Gryphon had pictured. Sure, he was tall—over seven feet at least—but he didn’t look a day over forty. His hair was short and dark, with only a smattering of gray at the temples. His body was strong and lean, covered in jeans and a short-sleeved button-down. He was muscular as most gods were, but it didn’t seem he could smite one with a look. There was no indication he could overthrow the world if he escaped from this prison. If anything, he looked like a normal, albeit tall, human.
Atalanta, dressed in her curve-hugging, cleavage-baring emerald gown, smiled and pursed her plump, fiery red lips. “When I heard what you’d done with the place, I just had to see it for myself.”
“You lie so well, Atalanta. It’s obvious you’ve honed those god qualities you wrangled from my son. Do you like what you’ve seen so far?”
She slanted a look toward the door the girl had been taken through, excitement lighting her dark eyes. “So far, I do.”
Krónos leaned a hip against a long mahogany desk set near the windows. “No wonder Hades was tempted by you. Now why have you disturbed me during my…playtime?”
She slinked toward him, ran her fingertip down his shoulder to stop at his bicep. “I’ve come to make you an offer.”
“There’s not much you can offer me that I don’t already have. Look around you.”
“How about freedom?”
When he didn’t answer, she turned back to Gryphon, where he still stood near the doors. “Do you see my doulas over there? He’s not just man candy. He’s an Argonaut.”
Argonaut. The word revolved in Gryphon’s mind but meant nothing to him.
Krónos slanted him a look. “I’d not heard an Argonaut had been killed and banished to Tartarus.”
“He wasn’t killed. He was sent here by magic. His body remains in the human realm, where a warlock possesses it. But the soul and body could be easily reunited if one wished it.”
“A warlock, you say?”
“Mm-hmm.” She moved closer to the Elder God, rubbing her breast against his arm in a move Gryphon knew was as calculated as this meeting. “They’ll come for him, Krónos. I guarantee they’re hatching a plan as we speak. You know how loyal and heroic those Argonauts can be.”
Krónos studied Gryphon a long beat, then looked back to Atalanta. “What does this have to do with me?”
“I want you to gift him the darkness of the Underworld.”
Gryphon tensed near the door. He didn’t know what that meant, but it couldn’t be good. And he didn’t want anyone to rescue him. He remembered the torture he’d endured in Tartarus. Sin City, as gruesome as it could be, was a thousand times better than what lay beyond its gates.
“You want me to make him a god?”
“No.” Atalanta laughed, running her fingers up Krónos’s chest. “I want you to give him just enough darkness so he belongs to me.”
Krónos tipped his chin down. “Why?”
Her voice hardened. “Because the Argonauts stole from me what was rightfully mine. And because with him, I’ll have a better chance of finding the Orb. Your Orb. And then I’ll be able to release you from this prison your sons locked you into.” She leaned into him and whispered, “Imagine being free of this city. Of this realm. Imagine the two of us, ruling the world.”
He stopped her from kissing him with two hands on her arms. “Why do I need you?”
“Because I can leave the Underworld anytime I want. You can’t.”
He studied her so long Gryphon wasn’t sure if the Elder God was going to kiss her or tear her limb from limb. And the word Argonaut kept spinning in his head. Something about it struck him as familiar, but he couldn’t remember why.
“How do I know you won’t fuck me when you’re free?” Krónos asked.
A licentious grin curled her mouth. “I never said I wouldn’t fuck you.”
“Answer the question, Atalanta.”
“You don’t,” she said, sobering. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“I learned not to trust a long time ago.” He let go of her, leaned back. “However, I am willing to make you a deal.”