A Touch of Chaos (39 page)

“And now she begs,” he said as he straddled her, forcing her hands over her head, hooking her bindings to an anchor in the wall.

“Don't,” she breathed. “Don't.”

He paused as she begged, his face inches from hers.

“You could have had a day to adjust,” he said. “But you chose this.”

His words made her fight harder. She jerked beneath him, trying to throw him off, but her efforts were useless. He shifted down until he came to her legs, keeping them bound until he had one secured and then restrained the other.

With her secured and spread before him, he cut away her clothes, and while she cried beneath him, he devoured her body.

When Theseus left Ariadne an hour later, he discovered his son was still crying. The sound had a visceral effect on his body, both because of its keen pitch but also because his wife had failed to subdue him.

All the tension he had managed to release on Ariadne suddenly came back. In a rush of anger, he made his way to Phaedra's quarters, which were down the hall from his own.

“Phaedra!” he shouted. “Shut him up. Do you hear me? Shut him up!”

When he reached the door, he found it was locked.

“Unlock the fucking door!”

He could feel his face burn as he yelled, and still his son cried.

“You bitch,” he said as he stepped back, kicking in the door—and froze.

He had expected to find Phaedra attempting to console Acamas. Instead, he found her sitting slumped on the floor at the end of her four-poster bed, a sheet wrapped tightly around her neck.

She was dead.

Dionysus woke to a burn in his shoulder. He groaned, shifting to relieve the pain, and opened his eyes to see bright blue sky overhead. For a brief moment, he struggled to remember where he was, but the sound of a voice—though unfamiliar—reminded him.

“His highness awakes!” A rugged face appeared over him as he was hauled into a sitting position.

He was on a ship, his hands tied behind his back and his feet bound. Several strangers stared back at him, but they all had one thing in common—a tattoo of a dolphin on their forearm, branding them as Tyrrhenian pirates.

The pirate behind him grabbed a handful of his hair. “His head will fetch a pretty price!” he said. “Look! He wears gold in his braids!”

“There's nothing pretty about it,” said another pirate.

Dionysus remained silent, assessing the crew. There were about fifteen on the deck, and there would be even more below deck. They carried a variety of weapons but mostly
guns. The bullets could not wound him—unless of course they had somehow gotten their hands on Hydra venom.

He shuddered at the thought of feeling that kind of pain again.

When Dionysus looked to his left, he noticed that he was not alone. Another prisoner sat beside him, similarly restrained, though her mouth was gagged.

He knew who she was immediately, though he had never actually seen her before. Her beauty was enough to speak for itself.

Medusa
.

“You should thank us,” said another pirate. “She bites.”

“Is that why she has a black eye?” Dionysus asked.

“Bitch deserved it,” said one.

“I suppose that depends on why she decided to bite you,” said Dionysus. “And given that she has been kidnapped, I imagine she had reason.”

The pirate offered a humorless chuckle.

“You seem to know a lot, prince. Did you intend to be a hero? Because if so, I will warn you, it won't end well for you.”

“Bold of you to think you can fight me.”

“Well, you are the one in chains.”

There was a beat of silence, and then one of the pirates nodded toward him.

“The man is a god.”

A few of the men laughed. “What kind of god gets captured so easily?”

The kind that listened to their oracle.

Dionysus had not decided if he regretted that decision yet.

In truth, he could free himself from these bindings easily, but he had to think about Medusa before he made a move to escape. One of the challenges was that they were in the middle of the ocean. If they were going to run, he'd prefer to be within view of land.

“When we found him, he wore Hermes's sandals,” the pirate explained. “What kind of mortal wears Hermes's sandals?”

“A favored one,” said the pirate. He turned to look at Dionysus. “Are you favored, prince?”

“If I was favored, I would not be here,” said Dionysus.

“See, Leo? Even the prince agrees.”

Again, Dionysus glanced at Medusa. He had expected to see a thin and frail woman, someone whose traumas would make her meek and afraid, but instead she looked fierce and determined. He got the impression that if he had not arrived, she would have escaped on her own.

Dionysus waited until the pirates seemed distracted before turning to whisper to Medusa.

“Can you swim?” Dionysus asked.

She stared at him, her strange eyes assessing. They were like yellow starbursts—both beautiful and unnerving. She did not trust him, but he did not blame her.

Finally, she nodded.

“Good,” he said.

He was quiet after that, waiting. He listened to the pirates' conversations and learned that they were crossing into the Aegean. Dionysus felt a little relief at that news, though he wondered why, and if they were heading to New Athens specifically to trade Medusa to Theseus. While it would be nice to have the pirates take him right to the shores of his home, facing him and his demigods would not.

As the sun set, Dionysus noticed clouds gathering on the horizon, and it wasn't long before it was dark, and the sky was filled with lightning.

Dread filled his stomach. This was not a normal storm.

“Those clouds came up quick,” said one of the pirates, a note of fear in his voice. Normally, a seafarer would try to outrun a storm, but there were some—those that were divine in nature—that were impossible to outrun, and this one was supernatural. It meant they had caught the attention of some kind of sea deity. Dionysus just hoped it wasn't Poseidon.

When the ship began to rock and the waves grew tall, to the point that the water came up over the rails, he knew it was time to move.

A flood of crewmen were suddenly on deck, racing to bring the sails down, secure hatches, and stow loose goods.

Then it started to rain. It came down in a sheet, almost as though someone were dumping a continuous stream of water into the ocean. It was so thick, Dionysus could barely see. The only thing that helped was the lightning, which cracked across the sky, almost like frost on glass. It was beautiful but also terrifying.

“I told you!” Leo said. “I told you he was a god!”

“You're a fucking idiot, Leo!” another pirate called.

But Leo was the only one who wasn't an idiot.

“We are moving fast,” one of the pirates cried. “It's almost like this storm is dragging us to the coastline!”

A few heads turned toward Dionysus, suspicious.

“Unless the water is wine, it's not me,” he said, but he decided it was time to make their escape. As much as
he wanted to be on land, he did not want to be on this ship when it crashed.

Normally, while he was in Poseidon's territory, he would not dare use his magic, because he did not wish to draw his attention, but if the storm was the work of the God of the Sea, then it was already too late. So he turned his bindings into vines, breaking them with ease. He did the same with the ones around his legs. When he looked at Medusa, he nodded to her wrists, and the ropes turned to vines. She tore them easily and then ripped the gag from her mouth.

“Stay down,” he said. “Wait for my orders.”

The pirates were so busy with the storm, they did not see him rise to his feet. Not that it would have done them any good. By the time they did notice, he had transformed into a jaguar and attacked his first victim.

He launched himself at the pirate, grabbing him by the nape of his neck before taking him down. He only had enough time to utter one scream before he was silent. It was enough of a disturbance to catch the attention of the rest of the crew and suddenly, Dionysus found himself under a spray of bullets. He was relieved to find they were not in possession of Hydra venom, and just as the bullets pierced his skin, they were quickly pushed out of his body as he healed.

Dionysus roared and turned, leaping toward his next victim, biting into his arm before tossing him off the ship. Two pirates raced forward with knives. Dionysus leapt on one while the other drove his blade into his side. The pain was sharp but more annoying than anything. He turned and tore into the man before throwing him across the ship, his body hitting the mast and sliding to the deck.

It was then Dionysus noticed that Medusa was gone.

“Fuck,” he said as he returned to his human form.

“She went overboard.”

Dionysus turned to see Leo, who had crouched behind a group of wooden boxes.

“You are certain?” he asked. His first thought was that one of the pirates had taken her below deck.

The mortal nodded.

Gods-fucking-dammit. Why didn't anyone ever listen to him?

Dionysus took a step toward him. He expected him to cower, but he didn't.

“You are smart, Leo,” he said, and then he raced to the side of the ship.

Though the rain had ceased, everything was still dark, and the sea raged. The only time Dionysus could see was when lightning flashed in the sky. That was when he saw Medusa in the water. She was struggling to stay above water, but she was also surrounded by dolphins—the pirates.

“Fuckers,” Dionysus muttered.

He jumped from the ship and shifted into the form of a shark as he made for the dolphins, biting down on one of their fins. They scattered quickly, but then he felt a sharp blow to his face. Medusa had punched him.

He shifted into his true form again as he surfaced, sputtering.

“It's me, for fuck's sake! I am trying to
help
you!” It was hard to hear over the noise of the storm.

“How can I trust you?” she asked.

It was the first time she had spoken, and her voice was just as beautiful as her ethereal face. It had a sensual, silky quality to it—like that of a siren.

“I don't expect you to,” Dionysus said. “But if I leave you out here alone, you will find yourself back in Poseidon's hands.”

At the mention of the god, her face changed, and fear flooded her strange eyes.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Land,” said Dionysus. “And after that, we'll figure something out.”

She was quiet, studying him—like they weren't floating in the middle of the Aegean Sea.

“Fine,” she said.

“Yeah?” Dionysus asked. “You won't punch me again if I turn into a shark?”

“I think that's up to you,” she said. “Don't do anything that will make me want to punch you.”

“Let's hope swimming doesn't set you off,” he said as he transformed again.

Medusa held on to him as he swam.

As it turned out, the pirates weren't wrong about how close they were to land. If Dionysus had not begun his attack when he did, they would have likely crashed within the hour. As he and Medusa made their way onto the sandy shore, he only wished he knew exactly where that was.

Dionysus squeezed the water from his braids.

“How did you know about Poseidon?” Medusa asked.

“He told me,” Dionysus said.

Medusa's eyes widened, and she took a step back, immediately defensive. Dionysus realized that his comment made it seem like he was Poseidon's buddy.

“Not in a friend way!” Dionysus said quickly. “He told me in an enemy way!”

Medusa's brows lowered. “But you talk to Poseidon?”

“Because I was looking for you!”

“Why were you looking for me?”

“There is a bounty on your head.”

She took another step back, her fist tightening.

“But that isn't why
I'm
looking for you,” Dionysus said quickly. “You're not worth anything to me.”

Medusa's fists faltered.

“That is to say I'm not interested in the money,” he said. “I'm interested in your safety.”

“You are really bad at this,” said Medusa.

“Really fucking bad,” said Dionysus. “I'm a little nervous you are going to punch me again.”

“It isn't like it hurts,” she said. “Aren't you a god?”

“Yeah, but I still don't like to be punched.”

There was silence for a moment. “If you are a god, then promises are binding, right?”

Dionysus narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Yes.”

“Then can you promise me all you intend is to keep me safe?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

She seemed to relax a little. “And if I wish to leave, will you promise to let me?”

“No,” said Dionysus.

What little headway they had made was gone.

“What about ‘you aren't safe and there is a bounty on your head' don't you understand?”

“I understand it all perfectly well,” she said. “I have
lived
it. I have also been held against my will. The freedom to come and go as I please is important to me.”

Dionysus swallowed hard. “Fine,” he said. “But will you promise me something?”

She stared.

“I won't stop you if you want to leave,” he said. “I promise. Just…tell me when you do.”

She was quiet for a moment, and finally, she nodded. She didn't speak the words, but he imagined that after being betrayed so often, promising anything was more trust than she could offer, and he didn't blame her.

“Now that that's out of the way,” he said, gazing into the darkness. It was nearly impossible to see, but Dionysus thought he could make out a line of trees. “Let's build a fire or something. I hate being wet.”

“You're not going to teleport?”

“Can't,” he said. Picking a spot in the middle of the beach, he dug a small hole where he grew a few vines, letting them wither into nothing but dried remains.

“What do you mean you can't teleport?” Medusa asked.

“For someone who didn't want my help, you sure sound judgmental,” he said, sparking a fire with a shock of energy that came from the palm of his hand.

“I didn't say I didn't want your help. I wanted you to promise me you meant it,” she said.

Dionysus sighed. “I can't teleport because I have tried,” he said and sat. “Which must mean we are still in Poseidon's territory. As much as I hate that, the only thing we can do now is wait for daylight.”