“And then,” he said in that same emotionless tone, “he sealed the deal by having his way with both of us.”
Shock rippled through her. But it was quickly followed by a wave of emotion that rolled like thunder through her blood. Her heart went out to him right there, in the middle of her kitchen. She’d suffered over the long years of her life, but it didn’t even come close to what he’d been through. What he must be reliving every single day. She wanted to cry for him. Wanted to hold him. Wanted to do anything to take that haunted, dead look out of his eyes.
She stepped out from behind the counter. “Gryphon—”
“You think that’s bad?” Her feet stilled at the rage in his eyes. “If you go after Zagreus, it’ll be a thousand times worse, I guarantee it. He’s as sick as his grandfather, and Hades has unleashed him on the human realm to do whatever the fuck he wants. And he will fuck you, Maelea. Make no mistake. If you get near him, he’ll fuck you and he’ll kill you. In whatever twisted, gruesome, new way he can. You won’t even last a day.”
She reached for him. “Gryphon—”
He jerked out of her hand and stepped away, putting the coffee table between them. “Don’t touch me.”
Her heart raced. He didn’t think she wanted him anymore. He couldn’t possibly know she wanted him more. “Gryphon, just let me—”
“Don’t you get it?” he said with such venom, she drew up short. “I agreed to it. I agreed to be Atalanta’s slave to stop the torture. I did every vile thing she asked me to do, just to save my ass. And I didn’t fight. Not when she took me to see Krónos, not when she traded away my freedom, not even when he put his hands on me.”
“Y-you did what you had to do to stay alive,” she said.
“I was already dead,” he snapped.
She took a step closer. “It wasn’t your fault, Gryphon.”
He scrambled backward, around a chair. “The others…they wouldn’t have agreed to any deal. They would have fought.”
He was talking about the Argonauts. And as she stared at him, she realized where the dead look came from. It was shame. That he hadn’t lived up to his guardian class, to his kin. That somehow, he’d failed them.
Even though she knew she shouldn’t, that eventually she’d get hurt because he wasn’t ageless like her, her heart filled. She took a step around the chair. “You’re wrong.”
He moved back again. Hit the wall. Panic filled his eyes when he realized he was trapped. Panic and fear that speared her heart.
“They would have done whatever they had to in order to stay sane, too, Gryphon.”
He pressed his hands against the wall. Looked toward the door as if judging the distance to freedom. “Don’t touch me,” he said in a strangled voice. “Just…don’t.”
Her heart broke all over again for him. She didn’t want to push, but she needed to touch him. Needed to show him just how much he meant to her. Needed him to believe it.
She moved in close, slid her hands up his chest. Every muscle in his body tensed as he drew in a ragged breath. “I’m not going to hurt you, Gryphon. I would never hurt you.”
“Ah, gods,” he whispered, pressing himself even farther into the wall. His head hit the drywall. “Please don’t. Not right now.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, eased up on her toes, was just about to brush her lips against his stubbled jaw when his head snapped her way.
“Didn’t you hear a fucking thing I told you?”
She stilled, because there was such rage in his eyes. But she wasn’t afraid, because she knew no matter what, he’d never harm her. “I heard everything. Every word you said. And if you think any of it makes me love you any less than I already do, then you really are insane. Which I know you are definitely not.”
“You what?” Disbelief widened his eyes. “No, you don’t. You can’t. What…what the hell is wrong with you?”
A weak smile curled her lips. “Where do you want me to start? I could come up with a whole list.”
He stared at her so long her skin tingled. She couldn’t read him. Didn’t know what he was thinking. Feared she’d just put herself out on the ledge again, taken a chance on loving someone, even knowing how bad it was going to hurt in the end, all for nothing. But he needed to know, needed to understand that what he’d been through didn’t change how she felt. It never could.
“You should be running from me. You should be repulsed by me. You shouldn’t want to be in the same room with me. You should be—”
“I should be kissing you.” She brushed her hand against his jaw, eased up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his cheek.