Seduction (Curse of the Gods #3)

He did, then, spinning around to face me. “So many things,” he replied thoughtfully, cocking his head as I drew level with him. “I want a change. A new system. I guess you could call me a revolutionary—but I also want to survive, and revolutionaries generally don’t have a great history of surviving.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn’t have much of a chance to argue before a flash of red in the trees caught my eye. I craned my neck to get a better look, panic starting to swell up in the base of my stomach. Flashes of red were never a good sign: especially out in an isolated, dark place.

“If you scream,” a grating, high-pitched voice announced from the trees, “I’ll make sure those boys of yours don’t wake up at all.”

“Rau,” I hissed, moving around Cyrus to face the cloaked man as he strode from the trees.

I pulled my knife up, holding it out in front of me with both hands gripping it tightly. I still had no idea how to use a knife in self-defence, which seemed like a substantial oversight given how often I ran into perilous situations. I thought about screaming through my mental link for the guys, but I wasn’t sure just how well Rau would be able to follow up on his threat. Could he really defeat them? Maybe he isn’t alone … I glanced into the trees to see if I could spot any more flashes of colour, but Rau was moving toward me quickly, forcing my attention back to him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife—eerily similar to the knife I held in my own hands. Wait a click … it wasn’t just similar, it was the same! I glared down at the blade I held, feeling as though it had betrayed me in some way, only to find that I was clutching a short, smooth stick. It wasn’t even sharp at the end.

“What the hell?” I threw it aside, the panic inside me growing to an overwhelming point. “I didn’t know Chaos could do stuff like that,” I said, hoping that maybe if I started talking, Rau would stop moving toward me.

I glanced to my side, at Cyrus. I was almost surprised to see him still standing there, but then it dawned on me that maybe he had drawn me away from the Abcurses on purpose.

“Chaos can do most things,” Rau told me, that voice of his rubbing up my skin the wrong way. “There’s a potential for Chaos in almost every situation. You just need to know how to use it. But I can teach you.”

His eyes were gleaming, and I cast another look at Cyrus. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Did you set this up?” I growled out at him, taking a subtle step backwards.

Rau had stopped moving, finally, but he was still too close. I could see the spots of precipitation marking his robes from the damp grass, and the way his eyes flickered in constant appraisal of both myself and Cyrus, along with the environment around us. He couldn’t seem to keep his attention on one thing long enough to even identify what it was, before he was moving on to the next thing. I would have thought him distracted and skittish, except that his posture was braced. Ready for something.

“This might be a little bit my doing,” Cyrus admitted, as Rau’s hand suddenly flicked, and the knife that he had been holding sailed through the air toward me.

I flinched, lurching out of the way as fast as I could, but Cyrus had already reached out. He plucked the knife from the air only an inch or so away from my face.

“That wasn’t nice,” he said—the words directed at Rau.

I was shaking, my eyes on the blade. What the hell was going on? I thought Cyrus had betrayed me, but there he was, saving my life. I fell back a few more steps, trying to control my urge to turn and run away from the situation.

“I can’t protect you if you’re standing all the way over there,” Cyrus told me, though he hadn’t actually taken his eyes off Rau—who, in turn, still hadn’t taken his eyes off me.

He didn’t even seem shocked that Cyrus had foiled his death-by-flying-knife plan. He was simply staring at me. Waiting for something. I moved closer to Cyrus, stepping partway behind him. If I couldn’t wake the Abcurses up, he was the best chance that I had, and if he had saved me once, then maybe he would do it again.

“What do you want?” I asked Rau, my voice almost steady despite how much I was shaking.

“I want you to die already.” It was almost a whine. “Why won’t you just die?”

“I …” I didn’t really know how to answer a person who was actually whining about the fact that I wouldn’t up and die. “I’m not ready?” I finally replied. “I guess?”

“You’re ready when I say you’re ready.” He drew up to his full height, crossing his arms and ceasing the flickering movement of his eyes—resting them solely and heavily on me. “Do you know why?”

I swallowed. I had that feeling that I sometimes got when I knew that I was about to be told something that I really didn’t want to hear.

“Why?” I finally gritted out, when it didn’t seem like he had any more secret knives hidden up his sleeves and Cyrus didn’t seem to be handing back the one he had thrown.

“Because I am the God of Chaos, and you, little girl, are my Beta.”

Cyrus turned, then, and I only got a flash of the apology in his eyes before he was shoving the blade toward me. I felt the shock of something piercing my skin, pushing past the barrier of my ribcage and searing through me with an agony that seemed to go beyond pain. It was ripping me apart from the inside out. I tried to scream, but the sound died off in my throat as a hand wrapped over my mouth. I lifted my arms, trying to fight off whoever was restraining me—but even the slightest movement seemed to twist the knife deeper, and I started to tilt toward unconsciousness.

The image of the trees wavered before me, and I would have collapsed, if an arm hadn’t wound beneath my neck, cutting off my air supply. The space where Rau had been standing was empty—only Cyrus was still visible to me, his eyes swimming in front of my face.

I couldn’t tell if he still looked apologetic or not, because the tears were blurring him out.

“Die.” A high-pitched whisper sounded, directly behind my left ear, and the arm around my neck tightened. “Why won’t you die already?”





Nineteen





Pain.

Suddenly, it was everything I knew.

My limbs felt like they were burning and my head was aching with the memory of pain ricocheting through my entire body. My stomach cramped violently, and I opened my eyes, attempting to sit up.

Everything was white. The ceilings were white; the wooden furniture had been painted white; the sheets wrapped around my body were white; and my rage, when Cyrus came into view, was white-hot.

“I’m going to kill you,” I announced, my voice croaky and weak. I cleared it, and tried again. “I’m going to kill—” this time the words died off on a cough that seemed to seize through my whole body.

Dying was hard.

Wait a click—

“You stabbed me!” I pointed a finger at his entirely too-neutral face. “How am I still alive? Was it a trick? Is Five here? Was it an illusion? Why did he have to make it so damn painful?”