A burn rushed over his skin as he straightened. He dabbed at his cheek, looked down at the blood on his knuckles. “Maybe you did learn something from that bitch of a mother.”
He glanced at her on the bed, her black hair a wild tangle around her face, her lips still swollen from his mouth. But the lust was gone from her black-as-sin eyes, replaced with a fury that made those obsidian irises blaze, made her chest heave, made her look every bit the daughter of the Queen of the Underworld.
Needed her? He only needed her for one thing—to calm the voice. The sooner he realized that, the better off he’d be.
“Get some rest,” he said as he headed for the door. “We’ve a long trip in the morning.”
Chapter Twelve
Maelea jerked on the handcuff for the umpteenth time. All her efforts did were rattle the headboard against the wall and send pain lancing through her wrist.
Anger rolled through her, followed by a hum that echoed all the way to her toes. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the bed was vibrating, but that was ludicrous. As ludicrous as what she’d just let happen in this dive of a motel room.
She glared toward the door. Gryphon had been gone at least ten minutes. She wanted to scream, but didn’t dare. His mood changed so drastically from one minute to the next, she didn’t trust him not to follow through on his threat to kill anyone who tried to help her. And whether he was bluffing or not, she didn’t want to be responsible for an innocent’s death. Even if it might be her only chance at freedom.
She yanked on the cuff one more time. Clenched her jaw. She’d kissed him? She’d felt something for him? She’d obviously been out of her fucking mind. What the hell had she been thinking?
Bitterness brewed in her chest and hummed through her legs as she remembered the way she’d offered herself to him like a meal. But before she could get all the way worked up, a sliver of guilt crept in. One that took hold and grew little by little until it lodged in the center of her chest and wouldn’t let go.
Okay, so maybe he had a valid reason to be pissed. Maybe she had set out to seduce him. And maybe distracting him had been her original plan. But that wasn’t what had pushed her to kiss him, dammit. Something had changed during their conversation. Something even she didn’t totally understand.
Whatever. It didn’t matter. The bottom line was simple: no more kissing. None. Obviously, whatever humanity she thought she’d seen in him was long gone, if he could so easily turn on her. The first chance she had, she was out of here.
Olympus. That was what she needed to stay focused on. That was all that mattered anymore.
Plans she’d made back at the colony reformed in her mind. The only way for her to be granted access to Olympus, a home that would forever be safe from Hades’s wrath, was to prove her allegiance to the gods. To turn her back on the Underworld for good.
And she would. But first she had to break free. Everything hinged on that. She jerked on the chain again, grasped the metal with her free hand, and tried to pry the cuff off. Pain shot up her arm, and a burn ignited all around her wrist.
“Padded handcuffs are nicer. There’s nothing better than being strapped down and used by a male when you can’t fight back.”
Maelea jerked around at the sound of the voice so close, then froze. Her mother sat in the chair beside her bed, wearing a black gown cinched at the waist with a red belt. Her long legs were crossed at the knees. A red sandal dangled from her toes.
“I—”
“Speechless? You wouldn’t be the first, my child.” Persephone shrugged her straight black hair over her shoulder. Hair that was just like Maelea’s. “Now, I don’t have a lot of time, daughter, so I need you to focus. My husband doesn’t know I’m here, and if he did, we’d both be in deep shit. Plus my mother’s going to be looking for me soon. She’s always worried I’m ditching her to find Hades when I’m spending my allotted time of the year with her.”
Maelea’s eyes grew wide. Her mother was sitting next to her, for the first time in hundreds—no, thousands—of years. Her mother, Queen of the Underworld. Wife to Hades, the one god who couldn’t wait to see Maelea ground to dust.
“You look pale, child.” Persephone’s dark eyebrows drew low. “Are you all right?”
“No. I…” She swallowed hard. “What…? You…?”
“I wish I had more time, but I don’t, so I’ll make this quick. I know you’re searching for a way to Olympus. For a way to prove your allegiance to Zeus. I can make that happen.”
“You can?”