Page 27 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

‘One night, please, my good man.’

‘Sure thing, beautiful.’ I gave him a tight smile and clenched my jaw.

‘Anywhere to get food around here?’

‘Sure. There’s a mini mart just down the street,’ he said, pointing, then handed me an envelope with 220 scrawled across the front. ‘First staircase, halfway down the veranda.’

‘Veranda?’

‘Yeah, it’s fronted by the decorative green rail.’

‘The exterior walkway, right?’

‘No… veranda.’

‘But a veranda is like an open porch on ground level?’ I muttered, realising I was actually arguing with a man about architectural terms. Tired and grumpy—not my best self. He looked conflicted for a moment. ‘Never mind,’ I said, waving it off. ‘Let’s call it open air access.’ I winked and left the reception.

I grabbed my suitcase and small backpack from the car, along with my business and private phones. The burner from the client I destroyed back at my last stop. As I climbed the steps, I eyed the iron hand railing of the motel balcony—painted a sad dingy green to match the room doors. I trusted the crooked handrail along the edge of the second-story walkway about as much as I trusted the methed-out front desk manager not to steal my credit card number. Luckily, the one I gave him wasn’t mine; it belonged to Drakos.

The room was low-ceilinged, dim, and sparsely furnished—the basics—and so old they would have been antiques if they hadn’t been so cheaply made. There was a musty funk, too, with a hint of dust and mildew. The bed was probably questionable, but after eight hundred miles of running for my life, it’d do.

‘Food later,’ I mumbled, collapsing onto the bed fully clothed.

* * *

I was rudely yanked from sleep by the shrill, incessant ring of my business phone.

‘Shit,’ I grumbled, rolling over and grabbing it from the nightstand.

‘You failed, little flower.’ Drakos’s furious voice thundered in my ear.

No shit, Sherlock. I sat up abruptly. ‘Is Guinn safe?’

‘Yes, we are going to my stronghold in Greece for a while. You need to sort this out.’

‘He was a god, Drakos. A fucking god!’ Anger simmered, prickling under my skin, hot and sharp.

I heard an intake of breath. ‘Shit,’ he whispered. The phone line went quiet for several beats—our link thick with tangy worry and uncertainty.

‘Yeah. And now he’s after me. If he catches me…’ My voice hitched. At the thought, the venom of panic gave me a sharp bite.

‘Come to Greece,’ Drakos said gently. ‘We can fix this, little flower. I promise.’ But his voice sounded hollow. He knew we were up shit creek, and a paddle wouldn’t cut it—we needed a freaking outboard motor.

‘I’ll be there tomorrow.’ I hung up and dropped my head in my hands.

Everyone feared the gods—and rightly so. They might’ve made the world better, but they ruled it with an iron fist. If you displeased them or broke the rules, you were dealt with, swiftly and viciously. And I thought I could outmanoeuvre a demigod. That alone would’ve been a feat.… But a god!

Poseidon… one of the power three.

And me? A twenty-four-year-old nitwit with a knack for killing mortals. Great with badassery on a human level—but against a god? Holy macaroons. They erased people like me for sport, and I was about to join that list of dead.

Fuck my life.

This wasn’t just a train wreck. It was the flaming derailment of my whole damn life.

And yet… thinking about the gods brought him to mind. Si. That imperious, dangerous, sexy-as-sin asshole who wore his arrogance like a mantle… a freaking god. A god I’d really liked. My heart tugged with remorse.

‘I’m sorry I betrayed you, Si,’ I whispered. ‘I had no choice.’ Regret swelled, threatening to suffocate me, but I pushed the thought away and buried it deep within my subconscious. ‘Shower,’ I muttered, slipping from the bed.