Page 5 of The Games Gods Play
I keep going.
Staring at the pristine columns surrounding the walled-off inner temple rooms in the center, I try to formulate a plan. Praying and begging first would be the smart move. But now that I’m standing here, alone in the dark, with my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides, every unbearable, excruciating millisecond of misery caused by Zeus’ curse flashes through my head.
I’m shaking so hard with a vile concoction of anger and heartache and mortification that I rock on my feet. But the worst part of all is that, maybe for the first time ever, I admit to myself how fucking lonely I am.
I’ve never known what it’s like to whisper secrets to a friend, or hold someone’s hand, or have someone to just sit with me when I’m feeling low. We wouldn’t even have to talk.
And I just…
In a haze, almost as if I’m watching myself from the outside, I search the ground around me and grab a rock. Cocking my arm back, I go to hurl it at the nearest column.
Only, a hand clamps around my wrist mid-throw, and I’m jerked back against a broad chest. Strong arms encircle me. “I don’t think so,” a deep voice says in my ear.
I forget every self-defense technique drilled into me and instead thrash against my captor’s hold. “Let me go!”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, and for some reason, I believe him. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be free, though. I have shit to deal with.
“I said”—I grit out each word—“Let. Me. Go.”
His grip tightens. “Not if you’re going to hurl rocks at the temple. I don’t feel like dealing with Zeus tonight.”
“Well, I do!” I kick out, trying to twist away.
“He’s an asshole, I get it. Trust me,” my captor mutters in a low voice. “But if I thought throwing a tantrum would change that, I’d have brought that temple down with my bare hands years ago.”
It’s not just the words—something in his tone makes me still in his arms, almost as though the two of us are sharing the same emotion. The same anger. The feeling steals my breath, and I find myself leaning back, reveling in the moment. As if, for the first time in my life, I don’t feel utterly alone.
Is this what it’s like to connect with someone?
Crickets chirp in the distance, their slow cadence in sync with his even breaths. In sync with mine now, too, I realize.
“If I let you go, do you promise not to attack a defenseless building again?” he asks softly.
“No,” I admit, and I feel a sigh rumble in his chest. So I add, “That fuckhead doesn’t deserve any prayers.”
“Careful.” His voice wobbles. Is he laughing?
“Why?” I ask, a surprising grin spreading across my lips when only a few seconds ago, I was ready to throw down with a god. “You worried someone might want to hit me with a bolt of lightning while I’m in your arms?”
“Talk like that could win a few hearts.” His voice is soft, his breath rustling the hair at my ear.
I go stiff against him, my chin falling to my chest.
“Highly unlikely,” I mutter at the ground. “Zeus made sure no one can ever love me.”
A gaping hole of silence greets my bitterness. My interfering do-gooder drops his arms and takes a step back, probably worried curses are contagious. I immediately miss his warmth and shove my hands in my pockets.
“I…” He trails off as if considering his words. “Find that hard to believe.”
I’m so desperate to escape this whole scene, the change in his tone doesn’t entirely penetrate as I round on him. “Listen, I’m fine now. You can move on…”
The rest of my words wither on my lips.
If I went dead still earlier, I might as well have looked Medusa in the eyes now. The only thing about me that moves is the blood pumping through me so hard and fast, my ears thrum. My mind races to make sense of what my eyes are telling me.
Oh no. This can’t be happening.
Suddenly, it’s as if all the emotions that drove me here like a banshee with a bone to pick blow themselves out, leaving me empty.
