Page 12 of Descent

“I have a list of jobs that I need a second set of hands on. After that, we can hunt down some leads on…us.”

“Who says I want any of my memories back?” The response sounds more like an automatic clapback, no fire behind it.

“I do. Because I want to find out what I’m missing too.”

“And how exactly did you come by your amnesia? Seems a little too convenient that we both have missing memories.”

“Not convenient at all. Head injury. Followed by…let’s just call it a traumatic experience.”

“Look at us, a couple of broken little dolls. You’re not wrong about one thing. We’re fucking pathetic.” Ero spins, rising and walking away.

“I saidyou’repathetic.”

He glances back, a scoff huffing his chest. “And you’re a raging head case.”

“Yeah, I am angry,” I snap, taking a step toward him, foolishly letting him get a rise out of me. “Aren’t you?! Someone did these things to us. Took from us.”

I’m right up in his face, my teeth clenched. How can he do this? Blow me off, seem to not care about anything.

I know it’s a lie.

I know he has to hurt as badly as I do.

“Then why don’t you take it all back? Take whatever you want…” Ero mutters, his nostrils flaring with a hint of bitterness twitching at his lips.

“What do you want, Ero?” I find myself saying, leaning closer, begging him to take a swing, to show me something other than self-loathing or indifference.

He doesn’t speak.

But his hands are at my waist suddenly, tugging me into him. Our lips meet in a blaze of desire, flooding around me and through me with a rush of blood in my ears. My nails dig into his back, his fingers find their way down, clutching at my ass.

Sweet goddesses, I need this.

I want this.

And I hate myself for giving in.

I must be some kind of wretched bitch for manipulating anyone this way. At the same time, I am just as lost as he is. And a part of me relates to him, to wanting to get lost in something, someone.

A moan rumbles in my throat, out into his mouth as my tongue explores his, dancing with insistent longing. Words form somewhere in that sensual entanglement, a request, a demand for him to take whatever he wants from me.

To have me again. Like the snippets of our lovemaking I see in my dreams.

Pushing back from him, I rest my hands on his cheeks, seeking some sort of mirror for the ache in my heart in his eyes. His fingers, gripping my shirt, halfway to stripping it away, pause.

Ero blinks once. Then again, like he just woke up or shook himself from a stupor.

And without a word he snatches his boots, his shirt, his coat, and dashes out the door, leaving me standing in the middle of my hotel room like a fool.

3

ERO

“Ero!” Circe’s voice echoes down the hallway in my wake.

And so my bullshit continues. I storm out of her hotel room, down the stairs, out onto the street. Too much. All of this is too much.

Seeing her, touching her…

---