Page 17 of Kronos’ Consort

That’s the point. The explanation flitted through her head. He doesn’t want me to resist him.

She edged closer, using her hands to draw her through the water in his direction. He smiled at her approach, the gesture confirming her suspicions.

“Here,” he reiterated, once again pointing to his thighs.

“But, Master,” she started, “I thought you were going to tell me about yourself.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to fuck him again. Being around someone as aesthetically pleasing as him meant there was a part of her that always craved the outcome, but carnality hadn’t been what she’d expected. She wanted to talk.

“I am.” He reached for her hand and drew her closer, and there was little choice but to oblige him, the arm snaking around her middle insisting that she settle over his lap. She found herself only inches from his chest, her knees straddling either side of his muscular legs.

“There.” He looked unreasonably pleased with himself. “That’s much better.”

She bit back on the retort that wanted to rise at his conceited tone, ignoring the way the excited butterflies in her tummy all stretched their wings at the same time when her thighs brushed over his. Of course, in the new position, it wasn’t only their legs that brushed against each other, and her sex clenched at the prospect of what might be to come. She wanted to hear what he had to say, but damn, he was distracting.

“You look even better wet.” He leaned back against the side of the enormous tub, one of his eyebrows cocking at his quip.

She pressed her lips together, once again pushing down any smart-ass comments that would have potentially landed her in trouble. She didn’t need to give him any more reasons to penalize her.

“So.” His arm around her tightened, instructing all of those butterflies to simultaneously fly in different directions. “Where were we, little one?”

The seductive, dark purple gleam in his eyes conveyed that he knew precisely where they were and that he realized the effect he was having on her.

She expected that was the point.

“You were telling me about yourself, Master.” She squirmed over him, willing herself to remain still, yet apparently incapable of enacting the simple task.

“Mmmm.” His free hand rose from the water, sending a waterfall of the bath’s contents streaming after it. “You have seen the things I have done, Kristina. You must know by now that I am no mortal man.”

She frowned, frustratingly unable to argue with his twisted logic.

“And I think perhaps that you have heard of me?” That dark eyebrow cocked again. “There were once scholars of Greek mythology who were well-versed in my legend.”

She paused, considering his words. “I haven’t studied mythology, Master, but yes, I have heard of the Kronos from those old stories.”

“The Kronos?” His lips twitched at her explanation. “Do you think there are two of us?”

“I…” She searched his face, looking for any sign that he was speaking in jest, but his expression remained passive, giving little away except his eagerness to hear her reply. “You’re saying that you’re that Kronos?”

Even after the things she’d seen him do, she struggled to believe the Goliath she was straddling was actually a Greek god. That was an utterly insane notion.

For a start, Kronos was a purely fictitious soul, penned by those Greek scholars he referred to, she assumed, to create characters for the stories they wished to tell. He had never been a real being. Then were the pure logistics. Such a being would have been hundreds and hundreds of years old; an achievement that no one, however mighty, could have possibly accomplished.

“Is it so difficult to believe?” His question was a sigh, one of his hands rising to tug his mop of dark hair away from his eyes. “Do I not amaze you with the things I do?”

She blinked at him, dumbfounded. It was true he’d done some incredible things since she’d been there, few so impressive as materializing out of thin air, but that didn’t mean she’d deduced he was a god.

He was an illusionist, a great performer, and a self-assured fighter. That was how he’d been able to blindside her with theatrics and keep her safe, and aside from not being able to leave the confines of her prison, she was thankful for everything he’d done for her.

“But I don’t believe in gods, Master.” Her hands gripped her thighs, attempting to steady herself as the water lapped rhythmically around them. “I don’t know exactly how you’ve done all the things you’ve done, but—”

“You don’t think it’s because I’m a god.” His tone was wry as he concluded her answer.

“Precisely.”

She didn’t want to offend him, but she also prided herself on her honesty. However persuasive the relentless chemistry simmering between them was, she wasn’t going to lie to his face.

“Still the scientist, eh?”