Page 9 of Descent

Even if I can’t really remember it all that well.

2

CIRCE

“You look fucking pathetic.” I don’t bother to hide my disdain, or my little snicker at the face Ero makes. He’s slumped in the passenger seat of the jet-black Audi I procured when I arrived in Prague. Benefits of a rich backer.

“Thanks, you look lovely, as always.” The sneer makes the cut on his cheek split. I almost flinch with him. His black eyes flick toward me.

A little shiver runs down my spine for so many reasons I don’t want to face.

Every fucking time I find him, he’s worse. I clean him up, I try to get him on track, then he ghosts me. So far, I’ve let him go.

It hurts too much to force the issue, as much as I hate to admit it.

Stupid heart. Stupid memories.

“Where are you taking me?” Ero grumbles after a few minutes of driving in tense silence.

“To the landfill,” I snip.

“Any ole dumpster would do.” He’s right there with me, like always. Asshole.

“As tempting as that is, I think I should recycle you instead.”

“And turn me into a reusable tool, like you? Pass.” I shouldn’t let his statement sting the way it does. At least I have a purpose. “I don’t need this.”

But his stomach growls, making him grimace like it betrayed him.

“My hotel room is pretty cushy. Do you think you might stick around long enough to chat this time? I’ll order room service.” Almost against my will, my voice takes on a singsong quality. Pleasant. Mocking.

“Drop me at the train station instead and I’ll hear you out.”

“Eat something and shower, then you can wander off to die in a ditch.”

“Yeah, like you’d let that happen.”

“For good reason, Ero. You’re too skilled to waste.”

“Waste. Right. Keep bailing me out so I owe you, so you can use me.” Ero glares at me as we exit the car underground, head toward the hotel garage level entrance. The elevator dings, we step inside.

“Greece was a mistake. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard so soon.”

“You shouldn’t have pushed at all.” He’s leaning into my space, the heat of his body making mine react. “You should have left me to die?—”

“I can’t!” I snap, wheeling on him and raising my finger accusingly. His hand snaps to my wrist, pushing my finger out of his face and backing me into the wall of the elevator simultaneously.

My heart’s pounding, my body flushed with heat.

How can he be so fucking hot? And make me so fucking mad.

“Why not?” he whispers, tilting his head, a stray strand of glossy black hair feathering over his forehead.

“You know why.” I barely manage to respond, my eyes trailing down to his lips, parted slightly. Full.

“Right. Because you’re still my wife.” And just like that he backs off, thrusting his hands into his pockets, leaning back casually against the rail. We reach my floor.

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me,” I mutter, following him out and taking the lead.

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