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“He’s a coward.” I don’t mean to speak, but the words burst free all the same. “He’s the married one. Why is murder more acceptable than admitting he was wrong and ending the relationship?”
Since then, it’s said that the only time people see Medusa is when she’s the last thing they see.
If she won’t allow me to be her shield, then I’ll just have to take care of her body in the only way she’ll let me. I meant what I said: we have all night and I fully intend to take advantage of every minute before dawn comes, bringing with it several reality checks that I’m not ready to experience.
Medusa falls asleep in my arms. I’m too damn jaded to believe this could be love after a few hours, but I can’t deny the connection I feel with her.
Maybe it’s trauma bonding. Maybe it’s something more. I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not willing to give it up without a fight.
“Yes, it’s what I want. Are you kidding me? I’m warning you now, Calypso, I’m going to fall in love with you. Prepare yourself.”
“Promise me that you won’t bargain anything away for me. That if this person asks for something outrageous or unforgivable, that we’ll leave Olympus. Together.” “I promise,” I lie.
