Page 2 of Taming Achilles

He whimpered and wailed, his head jerking back and forth.

“Christ, she hadn’t even started yet,” my instructor grumbled.

“Maybe I should get to the toes, just to try it out … so I can really know what you’re made of.” I smirked, though I was feeling queasy. “We could stay here for hours so I can really get to know you.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want,” the man whimpered, tears and blood ran down his swollen cheeks to his cut lips. “Please … please …”

Here we go. I was getting somewhere.

I had to make him give up the one thing that was most precious to him. What was that? I wasn’t sure. That was part of the test.

“Got any kids?” I asked, twirling the knife in my hand.

He nodded. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore.”

I ignored his request. “How old are they?”

“Just one. He’s five.”

It didn’t take long to find out his son’s school, his favourite toy, and how I might best lure him from his kindergarten and into my car.

He was well and truly broken.

I took the blade and plunged it into his stomach, through his bowels.

“Goddamnit it, Pegasus,” my father whined. “This whole place is going to reek of shit now.”

It was true. The bowels would open, the contents would leak out and he would smell like the turd that he was.

What kind of man would give up his own child? All to avoid pain. It was pathetic.

I smoothed a hand over my long hair, sweeping the wisps back into the braids that ran over one shoulder. I’d have to go back to St. Michael’s boarding school in Switzerland to finish my A-levels soon, and I had missed my friends.

Would they notice a change in me? Would they see hints that I was becoming an MI6 spy? I hoped not. I’d hate to have to lie to them.

To Geo.

Chapter 1

Geordie

Present day

The California sun beat down on us as the two of them walked back from the walkway that bisected an ornate koi pond, their arms interlinked, gazes on each other. It was a wonder how they didn’t trip over themselves and get eaten by fat orange fishes swimming around them.

We threw petals in the air, and they fluttered down on the breeze showering them in dancing, blood red tear drops.

Callum’s wedding wasn’t the grandest, but it was the sweetest I had ever seen. As alumni of St. Michael’s International Boarding School, we had our fair share of friends with lavish nuptials, but … rarely was a marriage truly a thing to celebrate.

But this one was. The bride and groom were madly in love.

A strong, requited, needy affection that didn’t always exist in our circle.

They had the ceremony and the reception in the famed Japanese Gardens in the middle of Los Angeles. It was a cool, spring day and everything was in bloom. Ripe, and fragrant.

The reception was filled with Filipino food, which was highly underrated, in my opinion. There was folk dancing, which was a rare treat. There was a rhythmic dance with silk costumes, and bamboo sticks being tapped on the ground, then snapped together, as dancers stepped between them, narrowly escaping their sting.

Some women put candles in little glasses, which they balanced on their hands and foreheads to a very Spanish sounding tune played on guitars.

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