Page 40 of Invoking Ruin

“Answer my question about Deimos, Vita.”

We don’t have time for these kinds of power games and history lessons right now, but his grip tightens as I try to draw away. He presses me back against the edge of the chariot. Heat flares in me again. Could we fuck like this? Right here? It’s dangerous, even for me, but the way his pupils dilate tells me he’s having the same thought.

Maybe he wants to stay by my side.

Maybe I can figure out a way to keep him.

“I found Deimos a while back,” I say. “Even I’m not sure how long it was.”

His grip loosens as I talk.

“He wasn’t missing his memories, not really, but he was weak. I took advantage and made him help me, and when I didn’t have any more use for him, I cast him aside.”

He draws in a long breath through his teeth, absorbing my words like a blow. He knows what kind of goddess I am, but I’m not sure he fully realized it until this moment. “Do you use everyone like that?”

There is nothing good in me. Nothing selfless or caring. Dionysus knows that. But Sandro doesn’t remember.

I can’t lie to him now. “Most everyone.”

“But not me?” He scoffs, sarcasm dripping from his lips like wine. “What makes me so special, Vita? What could possibly make me believe you’re the one in the right, here?”

Absolutely nothing. Because I’m not in the right. I know it. I don’t even care so much about right and wrong. Those are concerns for others. I only care about what I want.

Dionysus is what I want. What I’ve always wanted.

“I would tear open my own chest for you, Sandro.” I take a deep breath, trying to ease the wild flight of my heart. He doesn’t know me, which is both blessing and curse. Dionysus would never give me the benefit of the doubt.

Sandro might.

Slowly, I reach for him, sliding my arms around him when he doesn’t protest. His arms come to rest around my waist, like they’re moving on their own. His violet eyes are glued to my face. What answers can he read there?

“I have never used you,” I tell him, meaning it.

“I don’t believe you.”

The rejection is like being dropped into cold water. I hate the weakness it inspires, the urge to curl up and cry like a little girl. I would never, certainly never let him see my distress. I want him to know me for my fury, my strength.

I try to pull away, but his grip only tightens. “You can do better, Vita. You owe me that much.”

Better. I hiss. “We can’t just sit here. Nemesis can fly, you know.”

It’s a weak protest, but it’s all I have.

“You keep saying that. ‘We can’t stay. We have to move.’ But if they came for me, what would happen? Am I the one in trouble, or is it really just you?”

My stomach drops. If he realizes just how much the Olympians want him back, will he leave me? He’ll be miserable on Olympus, trapped behind walls and shackled with duties he doesn’t want.

But he doesn’t know they make him miserable. I’m not sure he ever did.

“They’ll take you home,” I say. “If they catch you.”

“You make it sound like a prison sentence.” His tone is chiding, and his grip on my hair doesn’t loosen even as I seek to avoid his gaze.

“For you, it might be.” He shakes my head until I glare up at him. “You need to be here on Gaia. You need the company of mortals and the freedom to go where you please. You would hate it, back there.”

His grip loosens, sliding down my back now in a caress that makes my eyes go half-lidded. Soothing and sensual. My toes curl in their shoes.

“Do you know me that well? To know what I want, what I need?” He doesn’t sound sure.

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