I ignore him.
“Victor was right,” I tell Naeva. “When Apollo and Artemis found out I was still alive, they wasted no time coming after me.”
Naeva glances around the dimly-lit room, probably looking for another wheelchair with Artemis tied to it. But all she’ll see are a few water damaged boxes piled in one corner, a rusty crotch-rocket motorcycle frame leaning against a wall, two miss-matched end-tables pressed against an old water heater. But no Artemis Stone.
“Or, Apollo came for me, at least,” I correct myself, and then I look at Apollo. “No sign of Artemis yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Right, Apollo?” I smirk at him. “Or did your sister abandon you? Leave you here to rot like you deserve?”
Apollo smirks right back at me.
“She’s doing what she has to do,” he says. “She’ll come for me soon. And when she does, she’ll finish the job she started—how’s that scar feelin’, anyway? It’s not lookin’ any better.” He smiles. “It never will.”
I grin. Then I reach up and touch the still-healing scar across my throat with my fingertips.
“Actually, I kinda like it,” I say. “It’s proof that I’m not easy to kill.”
“Well don’t forget,” Apollo says with a gleam in his eye, “that Artemis has one just like it.” Then his smile spreads, and he adds, “Seems you have a lot in common with my sister. Near-death experiences. Matching scars. Victor Faust.” If he was trying to get under my skin—of course he was—then it worked. He’s used that against me a couple times since I dragged him down here. But I always openly ignore it.
I move closer to him. “I look forward to the day I can face her fairly,” I say. “Just me and Artemis. No rules or ropes or bars between us. We’ll see how similar we are then.”
Apollo bites down gently on his bottom lip, and his dark eyes sweep over me like a man mentally savoring his sexual prey before he eats it. He smiles with intrigue, and moves his tongue slowly in-between his lips. “Y’know, Izabel,” he says, “I’m all for my sister getting what she wants, but I’d never really want to kill you myself. It’d be such a waste. I can think of a hundred things I’d rather do to you.”
“Is that so?” I say, continuing to move closer; every step I take dripping with sexuality and purpose. I stop right in front of him, and I lean over, grabbing the arms of the wheelchair in my hands; I purposely let my breasts fall before him, barely covered by the thin white tank-top I’m wearing. “Tell me what you’d do to me, Apollo Stone.” I lean over farther, to tempt him further.
And he takes the bait.
His eyes stray, and he looks into my shirt—I look down at his lap, clearly able to see the hard bulge growing behind the spandex-like material of his boxer-briefs. He looks into my eyes, wanting me closer, and so I give him what he wants and I lean in so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my mouth. “I want to switch places with you,” he whispers, “and throw your thighs over the arms of this chair, and then spread you open with my tongue—slowly—before I fuck you with my fingers.”
“And then what?” I whisper.
“And then I’ll shove my fat cock down your throat, and fuck your mouth until you puke.” It was meant to offend me, I know, but I can’t be offended by someone I don’t give a shit about.
Grinning, I lean away from him just slightly, and then look across the short distance at Naeva, whose eyes are wide with shock, and repulsion. “This is what I’ve had to listen to the past twelve hours,” I tell her, shaking my head.
Then I pull back my fist and send it crashing into his face; blood trickles from both nostrils—his nose is already broken, courtesy of me during the first hour after he woke up in the wheelchair.
Apollo laughs as blood streams down over his lips and into his mouth. He spits a little on the floor.
“Do what you want with me,” he says. “I kind of enjoy it anyway. Say, when are you leavin’? I’m looking forward to that meatless piece of ass taking over.” He smiles at Naeva, showing his bloodied teeth.
She makes a horrible face.
Making a face myself, I wipe Apollo’s disgusting blood from my hand onto my tank-top.
“I wondered why you had blood on your clothes,” Naeva says. She glances back at Apollo. He puckers his lips at her and kisses the air. She looks away from him quickly. “What are you going to do with him? Are you going to tell Victor that you have him here?”
“No,” I answer immediately. “Victor will just kill him. I want him alive. I’m not done with him yet.”
“She likes me,” Apollo tells Naeva, wriggling his eyebrows. “Look, I really need to take a piss. And when are you going to feed me? I could do with a burger and some fries.” I start to walk back toward the staircase and he calls out, “You can cook can’t you? I don’t want any of that cheap fast-food bullshit!”
Naeva follows me up the steps.
“I have someone coming to take over for me while I’m in Mexico,” I tell her.