Page 6 of The Shadow Gods

Speaking of...I crossed my arms and pressed my fingers into my skin again. Every thought of the goddess brought with it the memories she'd thrust into my head.

“Leo.” Pollux's huge hand gripped my shoulder and I jumped. He kept his hand there, letting me get used to the pressure. I was grateful he didn't yank away. I needed the touch.

The comfort.

“I don't know how to stop,” I said, as much to him as to myself. I knew who was in the car with me and knew I had nothing to worry about. But my mind and my body weren't on the same page.

“It takes a while.” Paris's words were quiet, but I heard them. “You'll get there.”

“We won't let anything happen to you.” Pollux said it like it was a promise.

Reaching back, I gripped his hand, holding it tightly. “I know.”

The hours flew by, but it was late by the time we got to the ferry. The lights on the dock were so bright, they blotted out the ocean, but even with the sound of cars, gears, and grinding metal, I could make out the waves bashing the shore and boats. Hector pulled into a parking lot, and a moment later, Achilles and Orestes stopped next to us.

Achilles gracefully stood from the driver's seat and stretched his arms over his head until he saw me waiting next to the Land Rover Defender. Then, he strode toward me. I almost took a step back. All that size and muscle bearing down on me instinctively made me wary, but I didn't have anything to be nervous about. Not anymore. The heat in his gaze raked down my body, leaving a hot flush in its wake.

The second he was close enough, he gathered me to him and lifted me into the air. It was like hugging stone. Every muscle in his body was cut and defined, stretching the seams of his clothes. Having seen that body naked, I knew how those muscles could stretch and glide. I'd felt them flex under my hands and tense against my skin.

“That was too long without you.” His voice was gruff against my ear, but his strong arms were gentle. “How are you?”

The blast of the ship's horn filled the night. He tightened his grip until the echo dissipated.

“Glad you're here,” I answered after my ears stopped ringing. “We're traveling together now.”

Another hand touched my back as Achilles lowered me to the ground.

“You're okay?” Orestes studied me.

Everything with Orestes was careful—his touch, his gaze. He was leaner and shorter than Achilles, Pollux, and Hector. His shoulders were wide, but he was shaped like an upside-down triangle. Those shoulders tapered into a narrow waist. He reminded me of an Olympic swimmer, all defined arms and legs and built to slice effortlessly through water. His golden-brown eyes traveled from the crown of my head to my toes. But where Achilles had visually inhaled me, Orestes seemed to be studying me for injuries.

“I am.” Tension eased from my shoulders as the three of us huddled together against the buffeting ocean winds. Their nearness was exactly what I needed.

“Are you sure this is the best way?” Achilles asked.

I was confused by his question until I realized Hector stood near us, arms crossed as he stared at the ferry. Something about his posture must have bothered Achilles, because the huge man narrowed his eyes and squinted into the darkness toward the sea. Moving behind me, he put both hands on my shoulders and drew me back against his chest.

“Would you prefer the Chunnel?” Hector asked, referring to the underground highway that went beneath the English Channel. Having spent years in Boston, traveling underground through the mile-and-a-half long interstate that went beneath the city was a weekly occurrence. Tunnels didn't faze me.

Maybe it was a question of how quickly we'd arrive in France. “Is that faster?” I asked.

“It is.”

But there was something else, and sure enough, after a beat, he went on. “I don't know if it's better to be on the water or under it. Or over it. It all makes me nervous. We don't know if any other gods have escaped, and I don't want to be at their mercy. Especially not—”

I got it now. “Poseidon.” The god of the seas. The god whose actions made Athena punish me.

Medusa.

Me.

But even if Poseidon had released himself from the prison where he'd spent the last thousands of years trapped, he wouldn't care about me. If we came face-to-face, he wouldn't know who I was or who I had been. Medusa and I didn't even share the same eye color. I was small potatoes, just another human he'd used and discarded for his own pleasure.

“The gods are coming after us, that's certain,” Paris said. His intensity matched his brother's. His blond hair had dried on the drive and fell in heavy strands around his chin. Unlike Hector, Paris was clean-shaven but had the same trick of clenching his teeth so the muscles by his ears popped. “Revenge will drive them—”

“And boredom,” Orestes added.

Achilles dropped a hand from my shoulder to wrap his arm around my waist, keeping me against him. He clenched me with long fingers to hold me in place.

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