Page 31 of Prometheus' Priestess

“Why don’t we sit here a while?” The weather had proven favourable, though dark storm clouds loomed ominously across the way.

Together they sat, just enough space between them that Amara didn’t feel intruded upon, and she found herself irked by it. As if she was now such damaged goods that she would forever be the broken butterfly to be protected rather than seen as a sensual woman again.Where on earth were these thoughts coming from?She was happy, she was safe, she was just grateful she no longer broke out in a cold sweat every time someone approached her, she reminded herselfscoldingly.

“You know, they put plays on here in the summer,” Theo told her, interrupting her thoughts. “Right there is where they usually do Shakespeare’sAMidsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Oh I loved that one!” Amara said with a laugh. “I played Titania in school but I always much preferred the character ofPuck.”

Theo threw his head back, the strong cords in his neck bulging as he let out a deep laugh. “That probably says a lot more about you than you want me toknow.”

Amara didn’t even realise she was staring at his neck until she looked up and he appeared to be waiting patiently for her to reply to a question she hadn’t heard.

“Sorry, what did yousay?”

“I asked if you were hungry after all that walking. There’s a little street vendor in the park that does a great pork and applebun.”

Amara scowled. “Do you only ever eat street food?” It had been all he’d offered her during their week of exploring together. She wasn’t so damaged that she didn’t notice he was feeding her comfort food. Again the knowledge irked at her.

“I mean you must eat proper meals. Look at you,” she continued, gesturing to the bulk of him.

Hesmiled.

“A proper meal is what you want? A proper meal we shall have.” He stood and this time he held out his hand to her. It was the first time Theo had offered physical contact since she’d flinched when he’d held her shoulder in the exhibition. Her heart thudded in her throat. It was a risky move on his part, but some instinct told her Theo never made risky moves unless he was almost certain they’d payoff.

She placed his hand in his.

The contact floored him. He felt the ichor run to his fingertips, the oath tugging into place firmly. The sheer strength of the bond was overwhelming. He felt instincts, old,oldinstincts rise to the fore. One by one, they roared to life, some he recognised, others he hadn’t felt in eons. One was ... new. Different. Odd. He rode the wave as each one ignited until he felt like he was burning up with it. Like the only way to get the heat off his back was to jump into the abyss, a cliff he hadn’t realised he was standing over.

He kept his back straight, muscles bunched, trying to not freak Amara out with the sheer weight of it all. Instead, he grounded into the weight of her palm in his. Her soft, small palm. He stroked the back of her hand, focusing on the feeling of her warm skin, soothing him until the flame of emotion retreated into dancing embers that settled in his chest. It felt like a crater had blasted through his chest and now there was molten lava quietly pulsing where his heart should have been.

“Ready?” Amara asked, a quizzical look on her face.

“Yes.”

Together they strolled to a café that looked busy but not full for a Wednesday lunchtime. That was always a good sign that the food would be excellent. He introduced Amara to haggis, and to his surprise, she tucked into it without so much as pulling a face. She wolfed down neeps and tatties before joining him in a whisky that burned the back of his throat and brought tears to both their eyes. He watched her carefully as she finished taking careful measured bites of the cute traditional Scottish cranachan that was held in the chocolate mould shaped like a cupcake, which had made her sigh when it arrived on the table. The way her tongue flicked over the final scoop of cream on her teaspoon before she sucked it clean made his trousers painfully tight.

“And I thought I could eat,” he murmured.

“Well, I was hungry.” Amara shrugged, defiantly. This bad-tempered version of her he liked. It was much better than the protective little mouse she’d been before. The fire in her called to him like a siren song.

Her stomach the next day, however, did not agree with the fact that she had gorged to the point of overindulgence. She hadn’t vomited since she’d finally had the nerve to talk to another stranger again afterthe incident, though she still woke up in night sweats sometimes. On those nights, she always had to get up to triple check the doors and windows were locked, before turning a light back on to help her get back to sleep.

But this feeling gnawing at her stomach was far worse. It felt like being stabbed with sharp, hot pokers. Her bowels protested and her monthly bleed arrived at the same time.Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. On little sleep, the dull fatigue made her body feel heavier than usual. Her arms and legs felt weak and jelly-like. So she took to lying on the cool grey bathroom tiles waiting for the next round of cramps.

There was a knock on her door. Tentatively, she made a move to sit up against the bathroom wall and another cramp ripped through her, shredding her insides. She groaned, moving back to her porcelain seat. Moving towards the door was not an option. The visitor knocked twice more, but Amara was too weak to even call out.

What seemed like hours passed before she managed to stand shakily and wash her face when there was another knock. She shuffled out of the bathroom slowly, manoeuvring between the tiny space of her bed and the mini wardrobe to her right, before she reached the door. Opening it she found a white plastic bag, tied at the top into a bow. On a Post-it note attached to the bag, written in a strongly slanted curve, it read,

Could hear you calling from the porcelain toilet when I came by earlier. Here’s some soup − Theo.

The little gesture made her burst intotears.

CHAPTER XVI

Prometheus had forgotten how wonderfully complex he had made them, the humans. Amara was such a walking contradiction in her human flesh. When he had met her in Olympus, she’d been polite, reserved, respectful, with a steel backbone underneath it all. All the things you would expect of a priestess. But now, that heart of wildfire only occasionally peeked out from behind a veneer of innocent vulnerability. She still possessed all the same qualities, but it was like they had melded together differently this time as they had grown with her human skin. And yet being around her was the most exhilarated he had felt around humans ineons.

When he had realised who Amara was, his first thought had been to tell her who he was, whoshewas. But every time he went to say it, the words sounded like the ramblings of a mad man. Instead, he’d decided to remain on Earth to support her. Zeus be damned. The challenges the goddesses had set would not be easy to complete and it was clear Amara would need all the help she could get.

If Prometheus was a betting man − and when his friend Tyche wasn’t around, he was − he would have sworn that the goddesses had sent gluttonous Adephagia to visit Amara as one of the first of her challenges.

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