Hour of Mischief (13 page)

When I finished, he studied his lap for a long while, stroking his chin thoughtfully. That’s funny, I didn’t know Meroquio often engaged in long periods of concentrated thought.

“You do make a good argument, love, even though I don’t know how you found about this little issue of ours.” Meroquio finally said, tipping back his head and draining the rest of his glass.

“It’ll be a shame if we lose humans. They’re just so much fun.” He winked and once again, I found myself torn between wanting to swoon and vomit. “I have a lot of worshipers among humans. The young, love-struck maidens, swooning bachelors who just can’t win over their favorite girl . . . or don’t want a girl at all. Anyone who wears my sign over their doorway and on their hearts.”

My shoulders tensed, and I couldn’t help but recall my mother, sleeping in a bed she had shared with too many men to count. I could
see
Meroquio’s symbol carved into the pendant around her neck and into the doorframe over her bedroom. The red stone. The mark of a harlot’s quarters and my last name.

Memories of my mother enabled me to keep my senses, even in the midst of Meroquio’s charming smile, sparkling eyes, and intoxicating scent.

“Nonetheless,” Meroquio continued. “This does sound like awfully grim stuff. I’m just not the one to spread bad news. I’m more of a fun-loving kind of god. You’d be better off trying one of the others.”

“Yeah, like who?” I’d veered into pissed off territory, a surprisingly helpful emotion for keeping my head clear of wanton thoughts. “You’re the most logical option. You’re the one who needs humans to fuel your little love games. The others don’t care as much. The others would rather see us rot. I’ve already talked with Laetatia. You’re the next best pick.”

“Next best, I’m hurt.” Meroquio rested his cheek against his hand. “But panic, death, fear . . . not much fun at all.” He studied me. “I guess what I really mean is what’s in it for me?”

I stared at him as his question echoed through my mind like the beat of a drum echoing through the caverns of the Fortuna mines. After a mining accident, they played that drum six times for each person who had died. The number of Axira. They said it could be heard all throughout the mines.

“What’s in it for me?”

I knew the answer he wanted. I
knew
what he was looking for, and most girls would have agreed in a heartbeat. Maybe if I was normal, I would too.

But my thoughts were clouded with images of my mother, tangled in soiled sheets at home, whimpering in her sleep.

“Tell you what,” Meroquio said when I didn’t reply. He stood and took a few slow steps toward me.

I should have found his smooth demeanor seductive, but now it reminded me more of a beast stalking prey. I held my ground, though I desperately wanted to take a step back.

“Why don’t we agree to one hour? Perhaps getting to know you a bit better might convince me to do as you ask.”

“So that’s what you want, huh?” My voice came out cold but shakier than I would have liked.

“I’m the God of Love after all.” Meroquio shrugged. “It’s what I’m best at. It’s what I do.”

He was only a few feet from me now. His scent wafted over me again, as if in an attempt to lull me into submission.

“Quite a few people would love to be in this position.”

“Yes, I’m sure you have quite a selection of admirers,” I muttered. “So, why would you want me?” I hoped he might consider my undesirable qualities. My scarred shoulder. My flat chest. But he didn’t seem to care about any of that.

I had interested him. Just as Laetatia said I should. I had hooked him in and now I couldn’t pry him off.

“I don’t really need a reason,” Meroquio said. “And I figure, as long as you’re asking me to take such a risk, I might as well ask for a little something in return.” He raised his hand and traced his fingertips along my jawline in a way that sent tingling through my whole body. “But you’ll enjoy it. I hear I’m quite good at what I do. It would be unfortunate if I wasn’t.”

Now he was right in front of me, looking down on me with lustful eyes. I still, miraculously, stood my ground, though my fists clenched so tight, I feared for the gears in my left hand. Gods, my legs were shaking. My chest was so tight I thought it might burst. Why? I wasn’t afraid of this god. I hated him, but I was not afraid. I’d faced so much worse than this. I’d faced prison for gods’ sake! I couldn’t be. . . .

“So,” Meroquio crooned, snapping me from my thoughts. “Shall we?”

Then he kissed me.

A few days ago, if someone had told me my first kiss would be with the God of Love, I would have laughed in their face. Or I might have punched them. Either way, I wouldn’t have believed it. And yet here I stood, wide eyed and frozen, caught in the embrace of Meroquio himself.

The kiss was raw. Passionate. Absolutely unlike anything I have ever experienced before, or ever
expected
to experience. He claimed my mouth with an expertise I’m sure no one else in the world would match. He didn’t kiss too roughly, or too softly. It was just . . . right.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go along with what he wanted. It couldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And besides, wasn’t I doing all this to save my friends? If I didn’t manage to convince another god to help me, then the human race might never find out about the apocalypse and I would never see my friends released from jail. I had landed them in that god-forsaken prison. I had to get them out, no matter what the cost. If I had to give myself to Meroquio . . . well maybe I deserved to pay that price.

I had to make myself do this. Accept this.

Meroquio had backed me up against the wall during the kiss, completely without my knowledge, and just as my lungs were about to explode from lack of oxygen, he broke the kiss. I gasped for air, tilting my head to the side so I didn’t have to look into the entrancing green eyes of the God of Love again. To my dismay, my whole body now trembled with emotions I couldn’t properly discern.

“There’s no need for you to be nervous, little human,” Meroquio murmured in my ear. “I am the God of Love after all. Love and pleasure.” My eyes widened as his soft lips grazed my jaw, just below my ear. I involuntarily shivered again. “I promise you have no reason to fear me. I’ll take good care of you tonight. Just relax.”

His words washed over me like a soothing lullaby and my body
did
want to relax. I wanted to melt in his arms and let him carry me into a cloud of bliss. I wanted to give in to him. His touch, his lips, his voice, which ran smoother than silk through my ears. I wanted to surrender.

Meroquio seemed to sense my teetering on the edge and he grasped my chin and turned my face to his directing my stare toward his captivating eyes. “Trust me, little human.” He smiled gently. Then he kissed me again with the same raw yet tender passion. And it felt
so. Damn. Good.
His lips on mine, his tongue, the way he held me in his arms. Everything he did brought me to a state of near euphoria, to the point I barely noticed him starting to guide me forward, toward the couch. At that moment, I could have surrendered myself without regrets.

But my memories swooped in to save me. Memories of those men who came knocking on our door, men who took my mother over and over again. They kissed her. They held her. Sometimes they said they loved her. Yet at the end of the night, they were gone all the same. At least until they needed another night of relief. Then they would be back. And all the while, the symbol of Meroquio looked down on them.

In the end, Meroquio was the same as these men, no matter how skilled. How many women and men had he taken? Did they mean anything to him? No. They were instruments of pleasure. When the morning came, he moved on to the next lover and left a string of swooning worshipers in his wake.

He was no different from those other men. No better.

Pulling away from him may have been the hardest thing I had ever done, and I don’t say that lightly. I had gone through artificial limb attachment without a drop of anesthesia. And yet
this
was the hardest thing.

I reached up, placed my hands on Meroquio’s shoulders, and pushed hard before I could change my mind. Our connection broke and I stumbled backward, hitting the wall behind me. Anger clogged my throat and desperation clung to each of my ragged breaths.

Meroquio stared at me as if he’d never been turned down after the first kiss. Maybe he hadn’t. I didn’t care. He could get angry if he wanted and I wouldn’t flinch. As long as he didn’t kiss me.

But after a long moment of silence, he recovered his default smarmy expression. “You are an interesting one.”

“If you kiss me again,” I hissed. “I will hurt you. I know gods don’t bruise easily but I think I can manage some damage.”

Meroquio shrugged, looking unperturbed by this comment. “I don’t work for free, little human. No one in this world does. So if you want humanity saved, you’re not really going to have a choice.”

“I’ll go to other gods.”

“You said yourself, I’m the most logical option,” Meroquio said. His smile had twisted into a mocking smirk. “Good luck with that though. I don’t think you’ll be successful but,” he shrugged. “Who knows?” He turned and headed toward the door, scooping up his empty glass on the way. Just before he left he looked back over his shoulder. “Oh, but if you ever get desperate, come back. I’ll be glad to . . . entertain your request again.” He winked and stepped out of the room. The door closed with a resounding click.

“What did I just do?” I whispered, my heart sinking into my stomach as the weight of what just happened settled over me. I . . . had failed. “Damn it!” I drove my fist into the wall, ripping past the disgusting purple wallpaper with ease. The room seemed to shake upon impact.

I was selfish.
So
selfish. I put myself before my friends. Before all of humankind. Any decent person would march after Meroquio and give in to his demands.

But apparently, I wasn’t. So I stayed there, fist lodged in the wall, cursing myself a hundred times over.

Itazura would be pissed if he found out what happened.

Truth be told, I just didn’t care.

left the building through the window. I couldn’t bring myself to walk all the way back through the party, past the attendants in their unnatural, gaudy clothes and the young hopefuls who fell at the feet of the God of Love. So, I slipped into the dark alleyway like the thief I was.

It was raining outside, not too hard, but still enough to plaster my hair to my forehead within a few minutes. I slid out of the uncomfortable heels Laetatia had lent me and trod barefoot through the puddles on the ground. The cool water soothed my blisters, but did little else to calm me.

I walked slowly, because where was I going anyway? Not back home. Not back to Itazura. Maybe I would just go back to prison. Lock myself in with my friends and accept my fate. The vigilant squad would surely welcome me with open arms, and possibly a few bullets to the head.

So what? Maybe that would be easier.

“Too good for the front door?” an unwelcome voice asked. I turned to see Itazura, hovering in midair, the usual smug expression plastered on his face. Anger boiled within me, but I kept silent in attempt to squelch it.