A Nereid for the Titan (TITANS, #1) Page 2

  Pherusa didn’t care how he was here or for how long. She was finally fully his. She rubbed furiously at her clitoris, while he devoured her mouth and then licked a trail down her throat. “So real,” he murmured against her skin. “I can taste you.”

  He smelled of seawater and darkness and pure masculinity, his power crackling along her skin when he touched her. He closed his lips around her other nipple and sucked, his teeth and his callused hand sending jolts of pleasure to her core in time with his thrusts. Soon, the pain between her legs was muted into a dull throb that gradually gave way to white-hot pleasure.

  And still he drove into her, making her writhe and moan, until stars burst behind her eyelids and her limbs trembled with the aftershocks of her release.

  His shaft tightened and jerked inside her. He pulled out and pumped his length with his hand, until his spendings coated Pherusa’s belly and thighs.

  “My love?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, but Prometheus disentangled himself from her grip and stood.

  His eyes were wild as he stepped away from her, but his gaze turned icy when he drew it down her body.

  She resisted the urge to cover herself.

  “Tell Nereus, this was only the beginning,” Prometheus said, his mouth twisted in distaste. “Tonight, I took his daughter. Soon, I’ll come for his kingdom.”

  Chapter Two

  Pherusa sat up and reached for him. “My love, what are you saying? It’s getting cold. Please hold me. Tell me what power returned you to me.” Her tone was light, but he heard the slight tremble. What glistened on her eyelids wasn’t saltwater; she was tearing up.

  He put more distance between them. Chaos. This was supposed to make him feel better, not worse. Not the intercourse—that was as incredible as he’d hoped, back when he was truly alive and Pherusa fell asleep in his arms. As amazing as he dreamed it would be, those moments when he slipped into unconsciousness under the bottom of the sea, his mind tired of plotting against her.

  He’d believed this to be a fantasy too at first, but being inside her was like coming home. His imagination couldn’t summon the sensation of her slick body gripping him, her soft breasts pressed against him, or the taste of her mouth when he plundered it with his tongue.

  Should he forget his schemes and take her in his arms? Make love to her again and again until they were too exhausted to move?

  No. Claiming her might not have been part of his plan, but it would act as the first step toward settling their score.

  “Prometheus, what’s wrong?” She gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. “You’re not him, if you’re scorning me. You can’t be. He’d never hurt me so. Who are you?”

  She’d been the first thing on his mind when the earth shuddered and slid off his body. He’d felt warm blood rush in his veins and instinctively clenched his fists. He could move. He’d dug his way out of his watery grave and propelled himself through the waves, with her on his mind. He couldn’t name what led him to their cove instead of Vythos, to surface in front of her naked form, spread out on the sand like a feast in his honor.

  “Oh, it’s me. Have no doubt.” Prometheus tried to glare, but her sea-green eyes were filled with pain that tugged at his soul. He hated every traitorous cell in his body, for aching to wrap himself around her and make her feel secure and loved for eternity.

  Throughout his imprisonment, he’d planned for the moment he’d cross paths with her again. He expected her to be shocked. Appalled that he’d returned. Scared about what that meant for her safety. She’d try to run, but he’d stop her. He’d never brought himself to fantasize about physically hurting her, but there were more ways to break someone. Like ravaging their kingdom and hurting those they loved. And he’d make her his slave for the rest of time.

  Not a sex slave, of course. He’d never force himself on an unwilling female, even if she’d hurt him gravely.

  Chaos, had he done so already? Had Pherusa been unwilling when he took her on the beach? She’d begged him to... Was it to placate him? But she’d seemed so happy to see him. And he’d been the first to push through her barrier.

  “My love? Please?” Her plea made his knees weak.

  What was wrong with him? He wasn’t supposed to moon over her. That she welcomed him with open arms and offered herself to him was a pleasant surprise only because it made things easier, not because it allowed him to pretend for a moment that she really loved him.

  Plucking her maidenhood should add to his satisfaction. She must have been saving herself for a male Nereus approved of, and Prometheus had destroyed every chance of that. He should be feeling victorious. Instead, he felt colder than when he was covered by tons of earth and water.

  Not trusting himself to speak or move without yielding to her pull, he concentrated on the cavern that had been his home, and willed his essence to its entrance. The beach and Pherusa faded from view, to be replaced by a different seaside scape. It took him a heartbeat to recognize it. Trees he’d never laid eyes on cast their shadow on rocks smoothened by the tide, and new structures lined the shore to his right that was much more expansive than it used to be, but his senses marked the place as his.

  Like Pherusa was his.

  He shook away the thought and turned to his cave. Its mouth was littered with odd-shaped objects. Offerings? They were unlike anything he’d seen before. The materials were odd, and the colors brighter than he’d encountered in nature.

  He treaded over them, careful not to disturb them and make his presence known, and looked around. Rocks blocked the entrance to the lower level. Hopefully, that meant it remained undisturbed. Not that he’d mind finding a beast had claimed the place as its own. A fight might help fill the void that spread in his gut at the memory of the pain etched on Pherusa’s gaze when he left her. He could still hear her cries for him to stay, though he’d put miles between them.

  No. He didn’t care about her pain. She’d betrayed him. She deserved everything she got.

  But she’d remained untouched while he was away.

  Unwilling to linger on that, he blinked to the depths of the cave and reached out with his senses, to ensure he was alone. His eyes had yet to adjust, but he heard no heartbeat or breathing, and smelled nothing but dank, stale air. He waved his fingers and willed light to spill out of them and tear through the darkness. His private space wasn’t marred by anything but time.

  Not that anyone could tell the space had been occupied before; there was no furniture or clothes. Prometheus shaped the earth to suit his every need as that arose, and he had no need for loincloths, which were an invention of the Olympians. But there, in the corner, the floor was raised in a circle, where he rested his body the last night it was his to rest.

  How long since he last slept here?

  How long since he last laid eyes on her?

  He had no way of tracing the passage of Helios’s chariot across the skies while he was in stasis, but it hadn’t been long enough for Pherusa’s lovely heart-shaped face, sea-green eyes, long golden locks, and full lips, or the curves of her supple body to fade from his memory.

  He slammed his fist into the stone wall, and cursed when it gave way instead of hurting him.

  “Feeling more manly, now that’s out of your system?”

  Prometheus spun around at the sound of the male voice, but he was still alone, except for Pherusa’s sobs echoing in his head.

  “Show yourself, god,” he ordered.

  “Not until you promise to behave. I saw what you did to that poor Nereid. You broke her heart.”

  Prometheus’ gut twisted. “It was nothing she didn’t deserve.” Did he still have feelings for her? How, after what she’d done? Her tear-streaked face flashed before his eyes, and he hated himself. For making her hurt. For caring that he did. “And how is what I do any concern of yours?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to figure out if you’re the man my mother told me you are, or this asshole who fucks women on the sand and leaves them in a crying heap.”
>
  Half the words in that sentence meant nothing to Prometheus, but he got the gist of it, and he didn’t like how it made his chest constrict. “Avoiding derogatory remarks might be wise, if you wish to ensure your safety.” He had to keep talking, to locate the god’s position.

  “You’ll excuse me for not taking advice from you when it comes to manners. I’m not the one who left his woman bawling her eyes out on the beach after he took her virginity.” Like a dog with a bone, this one.

  Prometheus roared and swung his fists in the air. Not his fault. Not his woman.

  “Relax, man. I’m here to help, not get my ass handed to me.”

  What was he talking about? “Why would I want to hand you anything?” And what was an ass?

  “I really can help you. Say you won’t hurt me.”

  Prometheus swallowed back his irritation. “I won’t unless I’m forced to.” Which he probably would be, the way the god was going, and that was a good thing. A god could hurt a Titan, and if Prometheus was in physical pain, he might forget the agony of having his heart torn from his chest by Pherusa.

  A male form shimmered into existence in front of Prometheus’ eyes. He wasn’t one of the Olympians, but that didn’t make him a friend.

  “I am Eros, the god of love.” The god gave him a sweeping bow. “At your service.”

  Prometheus studied him with narrowed eyes. Could he be Zeus transformed? No. He didn’t give off that sense of infinite power. “You’re not an Olympian?”

  The god shook his head. “My mother was Aphrodite.”

  That saved him from being pummeled. Aphrodite had won a spot in Prometheus’ heart, with her charming, easygoing nature. Prometheus could see the resemblance now. Eros had his mother’s pale-blue eyes, dimpled chin, and golden hair. But— “She was? Did something happen to her?”

  Eros’ expression fell. “She was the last of the Olympians to fade from existence as the world moved on without them.”

  The world moved on? The Olympians were gone? So Zeus was gone too? Prometheus wouldn’t be able to torture him like he deserved. Fresh fury clawed at his insides, but he stifled it. “Your mother was kind and gracious. I am sorry to hear of her demise. Who rules the world now?”

  Eros shrugged. “Technology. Money. Greed. The internet.”

  “New gods? Were they the ones who freed me? And what about my brothers?”

  Leaning back against the cave’s wall, Eros said, “You were the first to break stasis. We aren’t sure if you were awakened by human action, but whatever caused it, you may want to treat Pherusa better from now on.”

  “You are here to plead her case?” Prometheus roared. The cave rattled around them, and small rocks came loose to clatter to his feet. Good. He ought to transform to his full size and let the cave collapse. They’d survive it, but it would shut the insolent mini-god up for a while.

  “See this?” Eros pointed to a crack on the wall. “This is gonna happen to you, if you’re not careful. The way Zeus formed the curse he hit you with, if you were ever free, you’d have to bond with your soulmate, to keep from unraveling.”

  Prometheus arched his eyebrow. “The words you sling my way hold no meaning.”

  Eros blew a blond curl out of his eyes. “I was afraid of that. Give me your hand.”

  The underworld would be turned into a flower garden before Prometheus willingly let a god touch him.

  Eros must have known, because in the blink of an eye, he had his palm pressed to Prometheus’.

  Prometheus tried to break the contact, but the god said, “Let me show you,” and all resistance melted away, as images and sounds and smells flooded Prometheus’ senses. He searched the instances for glimpses of Pherusa and hated himself for it, but she was nowhere to be seen. Because this wasn’t about her.

  Civilizations, rising and falling. Mortals, killing each other and bringing forth new life. Creation and disaster. Nature, yielding and pushing back. New languages. Old passions. New gods—some benevolent, some calling for blood—and humans leaving those behind too. Pain and pleasure and knowledge and idiocy and a million ways of disseminating information.

  Also, Eros was more widely known as Cupid. Which was Latin. And Prometheus could speak and understand it, along with every language invented since he last walked the earth—including those forgotten.

  His head throbbed, as he absorbed millennia of knowledge and experience. Millennia.

  Eros let go and stepped back. “Now you’re all caught up, I need to talk to you about Pherusa.”

  Prometheus growled and blinked out of there.

  He’d been trapped under the seabed for three thousand years, kept from this new, human world.

  He’d tried to save it. Now it was time to tame it. And he’d start with the sea.

  Chapter Three

  It must have been a dream. That, or a cruel joke by a shape-shifting being. But who would do such a thing?

  Palaemon and Delphinos could change forms at will, like all sea daimons.

  No. Neither Pherusa’s old friend nor her sister’s mate would lie with her as a joke, and the rest of the daimons wouldn’t dare as much as touch her hand without her explicit permission.

  The man who’d... fucked her, as some of Mother’s favorite reads called mating, didn’t only look like her Titan, he also felt and smelled like him. His scent lingered in her nostrils. She tasted him when she licked her lips—Prometheus and the saltiness of the tears gliding down her cheeks.

  “Tonight, I took his daughter.”

  Why would he be so cruel? For centuries, Pherusa wished she could have touched him once more. Kissed him once more. And now he came to her and completed her—showed her what true ecstasy meant—only to cast her aside?

  It had to be a dream.

  Pherusa looked down at herself. The seawater had washed away his spendings and the blood of her maidenhead, but she was sore between her legs, and his palm had left red marks on her breast and hip.

  It had been him. Somehow, Prometheus was returned to her. She still felt him inside, and she wanted nothing more than to make it a happy memory, to last her the rest of her eternal existence.

  But she couldn’t forget his look when he turned her away, or how it shattered the remains of her broken heart.

  Prometheus wouldn’t hurt her like that. His imprisonment was messing with him.

  Why do I love you in my dreams?

  Or an unseen power was messing with them both. He might believe he was dreaming too, and that she hadn’t truly been there with him.

  She stood on shaky legs, to look around. “Prometheus?” she called out. The beach was empty at this hour, but she wouldn’t care if someone heard.

  She turned one way, then the other, seeking the outline of his body against the city lights in the horizon. “Prometheus, where are you? Talk to me. I love you.” But did he still love her? The look he’d given her was one of hatred. And his words...

  Soon, I’ll come for his kingdom.

  He’d coupled with her to prove a point? Something was wrong. The Prometheus she knew and loved had nothing but love for her and respect for her father. Could the ages he spent in Tartarus have warped his mind?

  “Prometheus?” she called out again. She’d gladly search for him, naked as the day she was born, but she had no idea where to start. “My love?” Her voice broke, but she kept calling for him until her throat was sore and her eyes burned.

  A head appeared in the distance, and then wide shoulders, as an obviously male form slid through the water toward her. Hew heart skipped a bit. Was he back?

  The male waved and called her name in a voice she knew well. It wasn’t her Titan. Palaemon had arrived, to deliver her back to the palace that hadn’t felt like home in forever.

  But she still had a couple hours till dawn.

  She stood and splashed toward him until the water was as high as her hipbone, then dove under the surface. Her legs gave way to her tail, and she swished it from side to side, propelling herself forwa
rd.

  She ducked her head in the water, to wash away any signs she’d been crying, and then surfaced to meet Palaemon. “Why are you here?” It came out snappier than she meant for it to.

  “Your father sent me. The sea hag said one of the Titans awoke, not far from here, and the palace is on high alert.” As the last remnants of the old world, Nereus and his people’s survival hinged on keeping their existence secret, and it’d be very difficult to do so if Titans were running loose. Plus Father was worried that, if the Titans returned and found no Olympians to take their wrath out on, they’d redirect it to Vythos.

  Was he right? Was that what Prometheus was going to do?

  Soon, I’ll come for his kingdom.

  She placed her hand on Palaemon’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Pherusa barely paid any attention to how the waters changed around them, until her father’s kingdom spread out beneath them, awash in the pale-golden glow that replaced both the rays of the sun and the moonlight down here.

  Palaemon helped her in the bubble and averted his gaze when she regained her human form. “Call me if you need me,” he said, as Pherusa was wrapping a seaweed robe around her bare body.

  She entered the palace and made her way to her room. She’d say nothing. What happened was between her and Prometheus. She’d shower and lie in her cool sheets and only recall the parts of tonight that made her happy.

  Drat. Halie was waiting outside Pherusa’s door. For an achingly long moment, Pherusa wanted to slap away the smile that hadn’t left Halie’s face since she and Delphinos got together.

  Shame over her pettiness was added to the swirl of emotions tugging at Pherusa’s chest. She should be happy for her younger sister.

  She tried to return Halie’s smile, but her cheeks hurt, and her eyes stung, and her heart was breaking all over again. “Sister. What brings you here at this time of night?”

  Halie buzzed with barely concealed excitement. She always was a ball of energy, but her hazel eyes never shone this bright before she bonded with her sea daimon. “Didn’t you hear? One of the Titans is up, and I heard mutterings among the fish that it’s”—she lowered her voice—“Prometheus.”