Goddess (Starcrossed 3)

“No. I don’t blame you for the lives lost. I bless you for the lives you saved,” she said tenderly, meaning every word and hoping he believed her enough to forgive himself.

“Gwen,” he breathed, and wound his arms around her tightly, his whole body pushing against hers in a wave of need.

He pressed his mouth against hers, startling her. For all the whispered words and longing looks, he had never dared touch her. This was their first kiss—the first time they had crossed this line. Guinevere knew that Lancelot would suffer more for betraying Arthur, his cousin, king, and closest friend, more than she would because Lancelot loved Arthur, and she didn’t. Guinevere pushed against his shoulders for a moment, trying to spare him the guilt she knew he’d feel, before giving in to the swell of desperation she felt rising up in Lancelot.

His hands dug into her hair, sending her hairpins flying and her tresses tumbling down around his calloused fingers in messy locks. His lips nudged hers apart. Guinevere fell back against the flagstones and pulled Lancelot down on top of her. He slid his knee between her thighs, pushing her many-layered skirts up until his hand could reach the bare skin underneath. He ripped her under-shift off, and she cried out as the silken ties burned across her skin. Lancelot stilled and eased back.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, his voice breaking and his eyes vulnerable.

“The only time you ever hurt me is when you leave me,” she replied, wrapping herself around him. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

Her heart still pounding away, Helen quickly dried her hair and half ran to the library to escape the borrowed memory before it got any more graphic. She stopped at the door and fanned the hot flush on her cheeks, reminding herself that in her memory Guinevere was betraying her husband, so she shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much, and in this life, she and Lucas were cousins so she had no business dredging up those old memories to begin with.

She could hear Lucas’s deep voice through the library door, and after such a vivid flashback, even that was enough to make her giddy. She recalled Lancelot taking her to his rooms, untying the laces on her dress, and . . . other things. She blushed furiously.

Stop being such a giant, throbbing hormone and get in there, she chided herself, shaking out her hands. It’s not like everyone will know what you were just thinking about.

She pushed open the door and saw Orion immediately glance down at her chest, look back up at her, and raise an eyebrow as a knowing smile spread across his face. Except maybe Orion, she thought, wishing she could drop dead on the spot.

The men rose to greet Helen, but Cassandra stayed in the giant leather chair that dwarfed her fragile body. Helen bowed to the Oracle respectfully and noticed that Cassandra had her iPad on her lap.

“What’s up?” Helen asked, ignoring the jolt of warmth she felt when she sat down in the only vacant spot—next to Lucas, of course.

“Another attack,” Cassandra replied gravely, handing Helen the iPad.

“A tsunami in Turkey,” Orion said. Helen scrolled through the pictures of flooded land.

“But why here?” she said, looking at the area in Turkey that had been hit. “This isn’t a major city.”

“Not anymore,” Lucas said. “But thirty-three hundred years ago, Troy was there.”

“That’s some grudge,” Helen whispered, closing the iPad.

“The gods are getting bolder.” Cassandra sat back in her giant chair, her brow drawn with worry. “The Scions can’t waste any more time. We have to unite.”

“And to do that, we need to figure out how we’re going to deal with this meeting of the Houses,” Hector said, taking the lead. “The three of you are all Heirs, so you’ll be standing behind your House Heads. Except for Orion, of course, who is the Head of the House of Rome. I guess you’ll have your second in the House standing behind you.”

“No way in hell I’m standing with Phaon at my back,” Orion said with a grimace. He saw the questioning looks on Lucas’s and Hector’s faces and knew he had to explain. “Phaon and his elder brother, Corvus, disputed my succession when I was little.”

“Wait. Corvus?” Lucas asked, leaning forward. “My father killed Corvus before any of us were born.”

“No. Castor thought he killed Corvus. But he survived,” Orion said. His voice dropped. “Believe me, I wish it were otherwise.”

“Orion. You don’t have to explain,” Helen said, trying to spare him.

“It’s okay, Helen. I’d have to tell them about my scars eventually, anyway,” he said, giving her a sad little smile. “My mom’s cousin Corvus officially challenged me when I was eleven. I won.”

“In the Colosseum?” Hector asked. Orion nodded. “Wow. Is it true that if members from the House of Rome kill each other in the Colosseum, they don’t become Outcasts?”

“It’s true. Romans have spilled so much blood into the sands of the Colosseum that the Furies lost track of the blood debts. It’s a cursed place,” Orion said in a subdued voice. Hector’s eyes gleamed enviously like he would give anything to fight in the Colosseum, but the haunted look on Orion’s face kept him from voicing that desire. “When I killed Corvus, Phaon lost his only ally—the man who’d raised him like a son. Phaon’d put a knife in my back as soon as look at me. I’ll never stand with him.”

“Well. That’s something to consider,” Lucas said quietly, and a heavy silence followed.

Helen could see Hector’s heart swell for his friend. Out of all of them, Hector could relate to Orion the most. It was strange for Helen to think about, but both of them were killers. A bright flash from Cassandra’s direction caught Helen’s eye. The silvery orb that hung in her chest rippled like moonlight reflecting off a dark pond.

“And you’re not to go anywhere near Phaon,” Orion said suddenly, following Helen’s eyes and pointing at Cassandra. His tone was uncharacteristically rough. “If he tries to get you alone, you come straight to me. Understand?”

Cassandra nodded cautiously, puzzled by his angry look.