“Yes, yes.” I waved a hand. “You still love me. You just need to wander. And that will never change, Hermes. I want more than being with you a week, then living alone for months at a time.”
“You don't have to be alone. I'm all right with you taking lovers.”
“I want more than a lover. I want a partner. What we once were. And if you can't give me that, you need to let me go.”
“No.”
“Hermes, you say you love me. If you did, you'd want me to be happy.”
“I want you to be happywith me.”
“You aren't around long enough to make me happy.”
His face tightened. “You couldn't even give me a single day to convince you.”
“I did give you a day. I'll give you several days if that's what you want. But it won't make a difference. All you're doing is drawing this out and making me suffer. Is that what you want? You want me to suffer for daring to love someone else?”
“Maybe I do,” Hermes whispered.
I nodded. It was what I suspected all along. Maybe it wasn't his priority, but I knew that somewhere in his head, Hermes wanted to punish me.
“I gave you eternal life,” Hermes said. “I showed you the world. I protected you. I provided for you. I bought that damn gallery for you.”
“I know, and I have shown my gratitude for nearly four hundred years, Hermes. Four lifetimes. How many more do you need me to sacrifice to you?”
Hermes finished his dessert silently, then paid the bill. I kept silent too, waiting for him to process. At last, he stood up and escorted me out of the restaurant. The elevator was empty, so he used the opportunity to take us back to Fira. Right into one of his guest rooms. My new prison cell.
“You said you'd give me longer,” Hermes said. “I want longer. Goodnight, Lomasi.”
“Goodnight, Hermes.”
He walked out and shut the door behind him. Just a normal, unlocked door, but it might as well have been made of steel and bound with magic. I wasn't going anywhere.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
A week passed in Greece. We slept in Fira but Hermes transported us to different places daily. We ate in a new country for every meal. America for breakfast (they did breakfast best), Italy for lunch, and Istanbul for dinner. He kept us moving as if afraid that if we stopped for too long, he might be forced to admit that there was no going backward. We would never be what we once were. And Hermes didn't want that either. He just wanted me to stay his, waiting around for him to see me on his terms. This farce about trying to make me forget the hounds was just his way of holding onto me without guilt.
The thing was, when Hermes did accept that I wouldn't forget the others, I wasn't sure how he'd react. He could get violent, force me to stay, or maybe he'd surprise me and let me go. I wasn't holding out a lot of hope for that last one.
“Come in the water,” Hermes called to me.
I was on a blanket on the beach while Hermes was in the water. What beach? I had no idea. It was on one of the Greek islands. I didn't recognize it since it wasn't one of the touristy spots. This was a private beach, secured by the staff of the Sea Nymph—Hermes's private yacht. Their boats were pulled up on the sand, but Hermes had brought me there with magic. Some of the staff guarded the tree line, only fifteen feet or so from thewater, and others brought us refreshments whenever Hermes so much as crooked a finger.
“I don't feel like swimming,” I said petulantly.
This strange captivity had gone on for too long. I worried about my guys. Were they still in Spokane? Had they continued their search for Michael? They'd have to go back to Seattle soon. They couldn't leave such a large metropolitan area unguarded for long. Souls other than Michael could be causing problems.
“Don't make me swim alone.” The steel in Hermes's voice had been sliding in more regularly as patience had been fading from mine.
I got up with a sigh and pulled off my cover-up. Beneath it, I was wearing a string bikini—something I never would have purchased for myself. Hermes had picked it out. As he had been choosing all of my clothes lately. After that first shopping spree, where he had merely made some suggestions, our shopping trips had become all about him. What he wanted to buy for himself and me. It was a glaring sign that he was done trying to woo me.
Now, Hermes was turning up the heat. Slowly making me his belonging again. His slave. Gone was the sweetness and tears. The sweet words and romance. Every day brought more commands. Small commands, but orders nonetheless. Like this one, veiled as a request. I knew what he was working up to.
One of these nights, Hermes would command me to make love to him.
It would be such a subtle shift, such a small step from what he was doing, that he'd be able to convince himself that it wasn't force. That's right, it had stopped being about convincing me and started being about convincing himself. It shouldn'thave surprised me. It was always about Hermes. Even when he said those sweet things to me, it had been about him. I'm not saying they were lies. In fact, I was certain they weren't. But when Hermes wanted something, he used everything in his power to get it. Even his true emotions. Every good conman will tell you a con works better with a little truth woven in.
I walked across the warm sand, the sun bright overhead. Even the water was a pleasant temperature—not too cold, just cool enough to be refreshing. I waded in slowly, watching Hermes watch me. Skin gleaming, hair slicked back, and water dripping from him, he was stunning. But I only saw my hounds when I looked at him. Or rather, I saw the ways in which they were better than him. Every feature got compared to theirs and even his perfection couldn't assure him a win. I didn't want perfection anymore. I wanted the perfect imperfection of the Hounds of Hades. I wanted the rough angles of their jaws, the jewels of their eyes, the varied feel of their hands on me, and the beautiful buffet of their bodies. Three was better than one, even when the one was a god.
