Seduction (Curse of the Gods #3)

“That’s our girl,” Rome grunted, clearing the entrance to the cave and stepping aside for me to go in first.

Coen was sitting against a rock, his back up against the wall of the cave and his hands folded behind his head. His eyes levelled on me as I came in, flicking over my wet clothing and the loose pieces of grass stuck to my damp legs. His examination extended out to Rome and Yael for a moment, but quickly returned to me, his face remaining expressionless. I felt a small tug of guilt, but I wouldn’t let it gain any traction. That would ruin us. I needed to focus on keeping things even. I walked up to him, positioning myself directly between his legs, my arms looping around his neck as I wrapped him in a soft hug.

“Thank you,” I whispered, just for him.

He returned my hug, pulling me into his body, and I could feel the tension draining out of him, as easily as that.

“You should eat,” he finally said, pulling back.

I glanced around, searching out my mother; she was standing by a fire that she most definitely had not built—unless Staviti had also reprogramed her with basic wilderness survival skills—and she was stirring something in a small, cast-iron pot. Siret and Aros were sitting close to the main fire, their heads still leaned a little toward each other as though they had been in the middle of a private conversation when we had walked back in. They both watched me, their expressions as careful as Coen’s had been. I walked over to them while Rome and Yael moved to the crate, rummaging around inside it for what looked like several bundles of coloured robes. That spurred me a little faster in Siret’s direction, and I quickly seated myself between the two of them. I had a feeling that Cyrus had only packed god-clothes in the crate, and if he thought that I was the Chaos Beta, then he would have definitely packed red robes for me, and there was no way that I was changing into a pair of red, Chaos robes. Nope. No way.

“What’s she making?” I whispered, as Siret and Aros seemed to relax a little more, planting their arms behind them, their palms flat against the blanket they were sitting on, so that an arm from each of them crossed behind me, forming a wall of muscle for me to lean against.

We all turned toward my mother, who was still happily stirring away.

“Water, by the looks of it,” Aros whispered back.

“What?” I asked, a little too loudly.

My mother looked up, noticed me for the first time, and then went back to what she was doing. Well now that was a little more like the old mum.

“She poured some water in there, propped it over the fire, and she’s been stirring it ever since,” Siret informed me, a small smile on his lips. “I don’t think she knows how to cook.”

“What about all the ingredients?” I asked, glancing over at the crate again. “Didn’t Cyrus send over a bunch of food?”

Siret shifted, reaching into his jacket as Rome and Yael approached the fire—now dressed in coloured robes.

“Here,” Siret sounded apologetic. “That’s all we could salvage. She ate the rest.”

He was holding out half a carrot and a small chunk of bread with a little wedge of cheese stuffed inside. The cheese actually still had teeth-marks in it. I looked from the food to the robed Abcurses, and couldn’t seem to decide which image was funnier. Rome was dressed in a deep, royal blue, a hint of his massive chest left bare as he spread out another blanket and sat on the other side of the fire, his glittering eyes locked onto me. Yael was in a dark, forest green—a shade darker than his eyes. His wet hair had been pushed haphazardly back from his face, but a few strands were still falling forward into his eyes.

“Do you both wear those things all the time in Topia?” I asked, trying to keep the amusement from my voice.

“Try not to be too impressed,” Rome grumbled.

“There’s a robe in there for you, too,” Yael told me, ignoring the question completely.

“Is it red?” I asked, finally taking the food from Siret and nibbling on the end of the carrot. I was starving, but there was still too much frazzled energy bouncing around inside for me to be able to easily digest any food.

“Yes.” He glanced up, the fire flaring up between us and momentarily obscuring the look of wicked amusement painted across his beautiful features.

“Figures.” I sighed, stuffing a whole bite of the carrot into my mouth and breaking it off. “Cyrus has one hell of an agenda. I won’t be wearing it, by the way. In case you were wondering.”

Aros grinned, before tilting his head toward Siret. I was just worrying about what those two had cooked up when Siret reached out and touched my arm. I felt the familiar ruffle of clothing being changed. The material that had been slowly drying against my skin was being replaced by a slide of silk, a burst of gold flashed before my eyes, and when Siret removed his hand, I was dressed in a beautiful golden creation.

Jumping to my feet, I did a quick spin, taking in the entire outfit. The hem was all different lengths—not as long as the dresses from Siret and Yael, but still past my knees. In fact, it seemed as though the entire dress had been made up of different lengths of silk. It was comfortable, smooth, soft. I could have slept in it just as easily as I could have fought in it.

I loved it.

“It’s time you wore my colour,” Aros said smoothly, his eyes running down the length of me.

When I stepped closer, he reached out and gripped a section of delicate silk from the top of the gown, tearing it off in the blink of an eye. I dropped my head to see what he’d done, surprised to see a band of bare skin poking through the top. The dress was so free and flowy, it was almost as good as being naked.

I leaned in closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love it.”





Eighteen





After my meagre serving of dinner, I had to convince my mother to stop stirring her pot of water. She’d been at it for several rotations and wasn’t showing any signs of letting up.

“Mu—Donald?” I sidled up to her, peering into the pot. Most of the water had evaporated by now. “Do you think we could maybe stop stirring now?”

Siret and Aros were still sitting together, talking quietly—they had first ‘watch’ over the cave, while the others were trying to catch some sleep. I glanced over to them while my mother paused in her stirring, and Siret looked up and winked at me. I tried not to smile, but it was pretty hard to not laugh at the things that Siret found funny.

“It hasn’t turned into soup yet, Sacred One. We must wait. Patience is an acceptable trait in such lowly beings as those tasked with serving the Great Staviti, our benevolent and wise Creator of All Things.”

“You lost me at soup,” I admitted. “When you speak too formally like that I tend to give up in the middle somewhere.”

She stared back at me blankly.

“Oh-kay.” I drew out the word. “Let’s try this again: can you please stop stirring?”

“The Sacred Ones do not wish to have soup?” Cue small, mechanical-sounding gasp.