Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X #1)(98)
Author: Richelle Mead

Prætorians joked about ripping each other’s clothes off, but Mae had never had it literally happen. It had occurred to her that there’d probably be no repercussions either. The fast and furious nature of prætorian sex danced on such a dangerous line that it’d be hard to differentiate between that and rape. It was entirely possible that she’d be accused of using makeup sex as some sort of revenge. As he struggled to get his own pants off while still restraining her, she saw none of the amped-up desire that usually characterized prætorian men. Sure, there was lust, but it wasn’t born of affection or even friendly attraction. There was rage in it, a need to punish and possess.

She’d used every weapon she had to fight what he wanted to do—kicking, clawing, screaming. It shouldn’t have worked. It shouldn’t have. Even now she believed that. But somehow, she’d managed a burst of strength that threw him off enough for her to crawl toward her coffee table. He’d caught hold of her leg, but not before she grabbed her gun.

Even while churning with chemicals, Porfirio wasn’t so far gone that he would foolishly challenge that. He’d scrambled back as she stood up and screamed at him to leave. He’d tried to stammer out something that sounded more like an excuse than an apology as he fumbled with his pants. Mae wouldn’t listen to any of it and had advanced on him with enough confidence that he’d finally taken off. She’d never seen him again.

She’d never told anyone what happened, though Val and Dag had noticed the bruises on her wrists. They probably hadn’t believed the story she’d given them, but they had no way to argue against it. If they’d had proof of what he’d tried to do, Porfirio wouldn’t have lived long enough to die in an explosion.

As she stood there in Kavi’s room, holding on to that strained smile, Mae had a startling revelation. She’d never focused too much on what she’d been thinking during the attack, mostly because there hadn’t been a lot of coherent thought. She’d been all instinct and reaction, her only goal being escape. But now, she realized there had been more than just fear and the need to fight back.

With brilliant clarity, she now remembered another set of feelings that she’d buried with everything else. Outrage. Indignation. Even a sense of sacrilege. Who was he to think he could force her into submission? She was no man’s possession. Her body was a gift she bestowed on those who earned her desire. It could not be taken.

Maybe those weren’t such weird sentiments. Not wanting to be possessed was certainly a valid response. But there had been something more to her haughty reaction, a sense that she was glorious and sacred, making his attempted violation that much more shocking. At the time, she hadn’t recognized it as anything more than out-of-control emotions. She’d always assumed that burst of strength came from her implant’s response to fear being greater than his implant’s response to rage.

But no. She knew now that she’d thrown him off her because of that dark otherness that kept seizing her. That same powerful presence had fueled her thoughts of holiness and profanity. And thinking back to his terrified face as he’d backed away, she wasn’t sure if he’d been afraid of the gun or the divine power that had surrounded her. Had he seen what Justin claimed was with her in moments of action and violence? A deity trying to possess her? It was absurd.

To Kavi, Mae simply said, “I should go.”

Kavi nodded, still with that dreamy smile. “Of course. I hope you’ll visit again. I’d like for us to be friends. I’m sure Porfirio would’ve wanted that.”

“Yes,” murmured Mae, turning toward the door. “I’m sure he would have.”

CHAPTER 26

EVERYONE’S SO BLOND

Exerzol and caffeine had let Justin put on a good face for Mae, but by the time he arrived home, his skull felt like it was going to explode out of his head. At least no one was around. He wasn’t ready for Cynthia’s chastisement or noise of any kind. Hoping they’d all stay gone for a very long time, he staggered to his bedroom and dug out a bottle of potent painkillers. At first, he automatically emptied out as many pills as he could take without putting himself into a coma. Several seconds later, he reconsidered and only kept the number of pills actually needed to dull the hangover’s legacy. The memory of Windsor still weighed heavily upon him.

Great restraint, said Horatio. Of course, with as much tolerance as you’ve built up, they probably won’t do anything.

Quiet, Justin told him. Voices inside my head are just as grating as ones outside.

His clothes were already a lost cause, so he just left them on and collapsed into the bed. It felt like he’d closed his eyes for only a few seconds, but when his ego woke him with a call, he saw he’d been out for two straight hours. Cornelia’s name was on the display, and he almost considered ignoring her until a hopeful part of him said maybe she was calling to tell him they’d found the murderer and the case was closed. He answered in voice only.

“Do you realize,” she said coldly, “that you are down to a week until the next full moon?”

“I’m very aware of that,” he told her.

“Then why do I have nothing more to show from your work than massive receipts? Your food bills alone are ridiculous. There’s no way you and Prætorian Koskinen eat that much, so I’m guessing SCI is paying for an extended cocktail hour.”

“Prætorians need a lot of food,” he countered.

“Well, I don’t need an extra servitor, so you should think a bit more seriously about earning your keep.” Mae had told him about Lucian’s findings in servitor hiring, and Justin nearly considered pointing out that Cornelia apparently needed lots of extra servitors. “You’re only here by Director Kyle’s good graces, and if your incompetence lets another murder slip by, you’d better hope your Panamanian friends will take you back. Now. Tell me you have something.”

Justin hesitated. Although he had gathered a fair amount of information, he hated to share it now because a lot of it didn’t make sense. He hadn’t found the pattern yet, and it was hard to admit to others that he didn’t know something.

But if she was talking about Panama, it might be worth sharing his good-faith efforts. So, he told her as much as he could, starting with all the theories about a geneticist going after his creations and then expanding to how the many plebeian deaths might also have been part of some larger sacrifice. He made sure not to mention Callista but hinted at “connections” that might help him to track down the guilty group if they could only make a positive ID.