Page 112 of Immortal Sun

Teach her well, it won’t matter in the end. It never does.

I toss the phone onto the nightstand and quickly slip on my silk robe. I don’t tell the sacrifices this, but all of the fallen wait and want the human being slaughtered because it gives them an edge against everyone. Case in point, Enki had the last sacrifice and now he can see shapes rather than darkness.

He drained what he could from her, just enough to restore some the godliness he would have had, had he ascended, and then we performed the ritual.

Once this last one is gone, they won’t be able to continue in this loop of devouring the sacrifices. There were ten thousand to start with and there was no way I was going to carry out the murder of each by just my own hand, plus there was no way I would be able to give them the gift of my body each time, which is why we came up with a plan, the sacrifice would pick her god, and the remaining deities would create more mates

No attachments. No wondering.

Just primal sex, sacrifice, and power so the ones cursed to stay on the human plane would at least have partners.

The most basic and important things in our lives and in the world some might argue and say it comes down to love. It doesn’t. It comes down to your primal needs every single time and the lie that if you get those few sad little bones thrown at you, that you’ll finally have happiness despite your epic failure to go to Olympus. A sordid Greek tragedy for us all.

I stomp down the concrete stairs yet again and walk past Kratos, who’s grunting about something and looking at his phone.

He’s probably complaining in his head about the lack of finesse in music these days as he listens to every single pop song on Spotify. He almost jumped from the cliff when I found out Charlie Puth was on his playlist.

I walk into the quiet cave.

Cleo’s sitting with the book open on her lap and casually writing names like it’s no big deal.

Her pen is slow, her cadence almost rhythmic in the way she presses the ink against the old parchment. She’s doing my homework for me. Once the final name is written, it will be complete. All of it.

I didn’t expect her to be so calm though.

Why didn’t Kratos warn me, then? That she’d already been writing the names down? Writing down a memorial tribute to every single sacrifice I’ve taken in order to appease the immortals—in order to end chaos once and for all.

She looks up, and her eyes briefly flash before she sets the book down and then starts to undress.

I back up.

Not in fear, more surprise than anything.

Humans have tried to seduce me, but I never expectedherto.

She throws the silk top to the ground, then slides the pants down her hips and kicks them off.

She’s completely bare to me. Her glorious smooth skin is on full display. What’s happening? This isn’t the plan; this was never part of the plan. Searing pain hits my temples as she locks eyes with me.

Cleo takes a step toward me, then another. My breath hitches, and my chest—it burns for her.

She presses a hand to it like I’ve given her permission.

“Don’t touch me without asking,” I whisper.

Her nails dig painfully into my skin. “Kiss me.”

“Apep doesn’t like kissing,” I say.

“But you do,” she says, “since it’s all you can do.”

Okay this has gone on long enough. Enough of her games. I reach for her and pick her up, throwing her over my shoulder and tossing her back onto the bed. “I don’t know what you think you’re up to, but it won’t work. How many names did you write down?”

Her lips tremble, I ignore the fact that it makes me want to give in, it makes me want to fall. It should be working, my sun that heats my heart should be temporarily frozen against her. “Three hundred so far.”

“You’re slow.”

“I’m trying.” She’s naked beneath me again. I grit my teeth while her eyes roam my body. I’m still in the red silk robe. She reaches to push it over my shoulders.

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