Page 20 of Descent

“Well, the only desire you give me is to puke,” I snip.

“It’s mutual, trust me.”

“Can’t trust a trickster. Might try to shoot me with an arrow…” I raise my eyebrows, wanting this to go a very different direction suddenly.

“Arrow. Bullet. Whatever shuts you up.”

“Please. Put me out of my misery.”

We stay like that, eyes locked and heat searing the air between us for a second, a minute. Finally he breaks, huffing once.

“If I am any kind of angelic being, it’s the Angel of Death,” he says softly, almost to himself.

“Give me a break. And you say I’m dramatic,” I huff, using the opportunity to shift the mood. Getting too real. Too painful.

But Ero doesn’t take the bait. Like the fight’s gone out of him.

Why am I disappointed? It’s not like we were…

Flirting harder than a dog in heat?

You’re disgusting, Arty.

And you’re going to wind up a spinster hag, Cirs.

5

ERO

You’d think after months of nearly getting trapped by Circe repeatedly and being hunted for months, attacked, and nearly murdered, I’d learn my lesson. You can’t trust a pretty face.

You can’t trust anyone.

We arrived in Italy early in the morning after an eighteen-hour train ride.

I think I slept. For a few minutes anyway.

Circe was bright-eyed and way too alert when we got off in Milan. Should have been ready to bolt. Wasn’t until we got in an SUV, drove across town, and pulled into an estate with military-level security, that I really got antsy.

Guess the lack of sleep caught up to me.

They had me cuffed and gagged as soon as I stepped out of the car. And that conniving bitch just let it happen. Said it was protocol, that everything would be fine.

Can’t. Trust. Anyone.

“Not even yourself.” Ciro yawns, swinging his feet up onto the table in the middle of the long, featureless room. Reminds me of an interrogation chamber.

“Not even my hallucinations.”

“Shh…you look crazy when you talk to me.” He points up toward the blinking red light of a camera. “Not that I’m complaining. Living rent-free in your head is booooring.”

“Then get the fuck out.”

“Nah. Then you’d be lonesome.”

“Then I’d be—Shut up, someone’s coming.”

“Really?” Ciro snort laughs, kicking his head back. I keep the scowl from my face as the door to the chamber I’m being held in opens. The guard glances around, narrows his eyes, before saying, “Silenzio! Nessun trucco…”He gestures meaningfully with one hand on his automatic rifle.

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