Goddess (Starcrossed 3)

“Your uncle Adonis.” Helen didn’t even have to mull that one over. She knew how cruel the Fates were, and for some reason they seemed to be particularly cruel to Orion. Like they had it out for him.

As soon as she thought this, she made a guess at the reason why. Aeneas was one of the only male survivors of Troy. He’d escaped fate. Somehow, this one character had gotten away from his destiny. Helen wondered how in the world anyone could do that, but she put that thought on the back burner as Orion continued.

“It was fine while I was still a baby, but as soon as I got a little older, my mother started confusing me with her brother.” He stopped and swallowed. “She started to see me as an enemy. I haven’t been able to go anywhere near her since I was eight. And my dad couldn’t leave her alone for long. So he left me to fend for myself most of the time.”

Helen could hear the bitterness in his voice, even though he tried to tone it down. A thought occurred to her. She felt all the hairs on the bac

k of her neck stand up and anger flushed hot under her skin. Her voice shook when she spoke. “Did your mother give you those scars, Orion?”

“No,” he said sharply. “My mother’s cousin, Corvus. He didn’t want me to succeed my mother when it became clear she was too far gone to lead anymore. I was claimed by the House of Athens, and a lot of my cousins still don’t think I should lead the House of Rome. Corvus came after me when I was eleven. He lost.”

Helen saw a dark fire burning inside Orion’s chest. Black flames licked at his heart. He killed his cousin, she thought. Orion had only been eleven years old when he’d killed a man. Helen shook her head and decided to stick with a topic she could actually fathom at this point—his mother.

“Did your mom ever try to . . . you know . . . kill you?” Helen asked carefully. Orion only nodded, his eyes glued to the waves. Helen turned her head and looked back at the water with him.

“It was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he admitted in a dead tone.

Helen wanted to ask him more about his scars and his cousin Corvus, but she knew from the numb look on his face that Orion had dug up enough painful memories for one night. Besides, she didn’t know if she could bear to hear any more just then.

“You know what scares me?” she asked after a long silence. “The ocean.”

Orion laughed softly. “Not Tartarus?”

“Tartarus blows,” Helen agreed with a definite nod. “But the ocean truly terrifies me.”

“And what about everything you just learned about me?” he asked quietly. “Does that terrify you, too?”

“No,” she replied. She thought about how Orion’s father had left him to fend for himself. How this Corvus guy hunted him when he was just a kid, and how pretty much every second of his life he’d known that he would never get anything that resembled love from the people who were supposed to take care of him. “It really pisses me off, though.”

They shared a comfortable silence, each of them thinking their own thoughts.

“Thank you,” Orion said after a long pause. He began untying his boots.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, puzzled, as he kicked them off.

“First, I think it’s pathetic that you grew up on an island and you’re scared of the water,” he said, standing up and taking off his jacket. “Second, I think it’s time for both of us to stop being afraid.” He reached down to help her up off the sand. “I’m going to teach you to swim.”

“Now? Wait,” she quibbled, tugging on his arm. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Sure you can.” He grinned at her—back to his sweet, playful self again. “Now take off your clothes.”

Helen laughed, but when he took off his shirt and she saw the scars on his chest, her laughter died away. After a brief moment she made up her mind and jumped to her feet. “Why not?” she said, kicking off her shoes and pulling her shirt over her head. “I killed a freaking Myrmidon. How bad can a shark be?”

“That’s ma girl,” he said, shucking off his jeans. Helen did the same and immediately started shivering in the cold air.

“Am I going to die of hypothermia in there?”

“Not with me. That water will feel like a warm bath,” he promised, taking her hand. “Ready?”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this!” Helen screamed joyfully, and they ran toward the dark ocean. Right before Helen met the first wave she stopped dead, nearly yanking Orion’s arm out of its socket. She danced up and down on her tiptoes. “Nope. I can’t do this!” she screamed.

The wave parted and went around her and Orion, like Moses and the Red Sea.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him with relief. “I totally chickened out.” She noticed that his face was frozen and his eyes were wide.

“I didn’t do this,” he said, watching the water flow back around them without touching their skin. “You’re doing it.”

Helen stopped mentally shoving the water away and instead imagined the water touching her. The invisible envelope that held back the water collapsed and a wave rushed in, covering Helen and Orion up to their waists. She looked up at Orion with an apologetic face.