“Guys,” I say immediately, pushing open the bedroom door.
And freeze.
Time stands still as pain bombards me from all directions. All I can do is stare in abject horror at the scene unfolding before me.
An unfamiliar goddess with platinum-blonde hair is lying on my bed, naked. Helio fucks her from the front while Avery takes her ass from behind. Tate and Desmond are both caressing her bare breasts and plucking her nipples. Sin hovers near the edge of the bed, a familiar, mischievous smirk on his face as he drizzles hot wax across her bare chest.
Pain.
So much pain.
I release an agonized scream as I watch the loves of my life fuck a different girl.
How could they do this to me? It feels as if someone is repeatedly slashing a whip against my back. My legs are unsteady, almost like Jell-O, and I fall to my knees with another pained cry. None of them even so much as turns towards me as they continue to pleasure the unfamiliar girl. But she…
She smiles, her lush lips curling upwards as her eyes slide in my direction. It’s impossible to miss the satisfied gleam in her emerald gaze.
It’s becoming harder and harder for me to untangle the toxic cocktail of mixed emotions. If I was in sound mind, I would realize that it’s virtually impossible for Desmond to have beat me to the bedroom from where he was at previously. I would remember that Tate was still chasing me through the halls.
But I’m lost to the pain.
“You can drop the illusion now,” a sly, albeit familiar, voice says. I don’t bother to lift my head as heels clank across the wooden floorboards.
“But—” a whiny voice protests, but she’s cut off by what sounds like someone slapping her.
“Drop it.”
The moans, grunts, and cries of pleasure dissipate as quickly as they appear, but I’m unable to move. Unable to breathe.
You see, pain works differently for me. I feel everything more intensely than an average god or goddess. Take a papercut, for example. On some, it’s a minor inconvenience, if that. On me, it’s a blistering stab of pain that fuels my fire. I can’t be the Goddess of Pain without experiencing it tenfold.
The girl’s words filter to me, as if being heard through a long tunnel.
Illusion?
What?
Rough hands grab beneath my shoulders and haul me into a chair. I feel the distinct press of rope tighten around both of my wrists and my ankles.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” the shrill voice questions warily.
Blinking through my tears, I see two women standing before me. The one on the right, with a red handprint across her cheek, is the same fucker I saw just seconds ago in bed with my men. Only now, she’s dressed in a gorgeous emerald gown that heightens the green in her eyes. Those eyes tug at something in my memory, something important…
Beside her, adopting her usual haughty air and smug smirk, is Athena herself.
“Of course this is going to work,” Athena huffs, procuring a blue cloth bag from inside her dress pocket. “I wouldn’t have called you if it wouldn’t.” From the bag, she removes a gorgeous gemstone that glimmers in the candlelight. It appears to be a combination of a variety of colors—stripes of garnet red, topaz, and even jaundiced yellow.
“But—”
“You want the power, don’t you?” Athena snaps. When the other girl blanches, Athena softens her tone. “Mandy, I promise you this is going to work. Your illusion was absolutely perfect.”
“I just don’t understand. Doesn’t she gain more power from being in pain?” the girl—Mandy—inquires.
It’s only then that my awareness begins to trickle back to me. First, it’s slow, like water rushing from a faucet. And then, it consumes me like a waterfall.
“What the fuck is happening?” I demand, thrashing. My eyes flicker to the empty bed, and Athena’s words from before plays on repeat.
Illusion.
It was nothing but an illusion.
But why?
What does Athena have to gain from making me feel emotional pain? She, more than anyone, knows that my powers only increase when I feel any type of pain, emotional or physical.
Athena smiles slowly, gracefully gliding forward with the gemstone extended. She rests it against my forehead, only exacerbating my confusion.
“You’re powerful, Emily,” she whispers as her free hand travels to my cheek, cupping it gently. I attempt to twist away from her, but she only tightens her grip, forcing me to maintain eye contact. “Almost too powerful. And I can’t have that.”
“Fuck off, you jealous bitch,” I seethe.
“But there’s a way to change that,” she continues, her hand tightening on my cheek to the point of pain. I allow it to flow through me, replenishing my power reserve, as blood drips down my cheeks from her fingernails. “You have Tate.” For a brief moment, pure anguish reflects in her gaze before she quickly smooths over her expression. “You have all of them. And I have…no one.”
“So you’re fucking jealous of my boyfriends?” I demand, irritation lacing my voice.
Abruptly, she wrenches her hand away, and the pain from her nails diminishes as if it had never been there in the first place. Fuck. I need that pain. I need it.
Resisting the urge to growl, I begin to twist my wrists in the tight confines. Each tug causes the ropes to scratch at my skin, eliciting tiny stabs of pain. But I need more if I’m going to escape.
How did I not realize this was a trap?
“So who are you?” I query, turning towards the Mandy chick. I’m hoping that if I stall for time, I’ll be able to come up with a way to escape this mess.
Mandy pushes out her chest and fluffs her sleek hair. “Mandy. Goddess of Manipulation.”
Yup. Never heard of her in my life.
“Athena needed my help,” she
