Page 27 of Crown of Olympus
My heart had galloped like a herd of Pegasi all night, leaving me exhausted and jittery before the day had even begun.
My fingers clenched the silken sheets — I hated this. Hated the tightness in my chest, the tingles in my extremities. Hated the restlessness clawing beneath my skin, and the way my mind couldn’t focus on a single thought, flitting from one bad scenario to another.
I needed a way to quiet it.
I pressed my fingertips against my temples, massaging gently in the hopes it would ease the tension headache brewing in my mind. The coldness of my fingers helped ground me, and my hands wandered lower almost of their own volition.
The icy tips of my right hand skated down my neck and across my upper chest, gliding back and forth in soothing lines. My left travelled lower, brushing past a peaked nipple and coaxing a sharp gasp from my lips.
Yes.Thiswas what I needed to quell the disquiet.
I palmed my breast through the thin linen of my shift, dragging a solitary finger across the tense muscles of my abdomen — toeing that invisible line between belly and core.
Pinching a nipple between the fingers of my left hand, I let my right delve lower still. It skated over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, anticipation building tightly, curling my toes. A breath hitched in my throat as a finger grazed over that bundle of nerves. I circled it, teasing, letting my fingers explore, passing through my folds and back again. Taunting myself. Driving myself ever closer to the euphoria of release.
I slipped my middle finger inside, my palm pressing firmly against that aching bundle. The friction was delicious. It was everything my body had been crying out for, and I could think of nothing else.
I repeated the motion until my hips tilted up, seeking even more.
Just as I pressed down, nearing that sweet crescendo, an image flashed through my mind.
Furies be damned.
A pair of eyes.
Silver eyes.
Like liquid mercury, his irises swirled.
I tried to shove the image away, but it sank deeper, imprinting itself on the backs of my closed eyelids. It felt likehewas here, watching me — staring as my pale fingers rubbedcircles over that bud, faster and faster — racing towards the edge of that metaphorical cliff.
A whimper escaped my throat. I hated myself for letting him taint my much-needed pleasure — hated him for being there, even if he wasn’t. Not really.
And yet, I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
I was too far gone.
I leapt over that cliff, tumbling down through waves of exquisite release.
My back arched off the mattress as I cried out into the darkness. My whole body trembled with the force of it, breath coming hard and fast.
A knock at the door froze the blood in my veins.
“Nyssa? You’re going to be late!” Charon called through the thick obsidian door.
“Fuck,” I breathed, rolling off the mattress onto wobbly legs.
“Coming!” I yelled back.
“Sounds like you just did,” he replied, amusement threading through his tone.
“Oh, you’re one to talk!”
His laughter echoed down the stairwell as he retreated. I rushed around, hastily pulling on my leathers, and throwing my hair up into a tangled braid.
My shadows formed a doorway in midair, leading directly to the Parthenon and whatever awaited me in today’s task. I took a second to compose myself, reaching inward toward that cold darkness where my mask of indifference lived.
With a deep breath, I strode through the portal — into the unknown of the second trial.
