In the brightly lit cave with blue and pink shells lining the wall in swirling patters, Ceto brushed her hair over her shoulder, tilting her head to the side.
Ahh, perfect. No make-up line and her eyeliner wasn’t running. No one wanted to look like trash when they were about to meet the “king” of Atlantis. Except, Ceto never wanted to look like crap. Too many opportunities to suck another helpless mortal into her grasp, and without her little mask and a dib-dab there, no little human would come to her.
She pouted at herself in the mirror, running her hands through her hair. Oh yes, she looked just fine.
The blonde wig was a little scratchy, but that didn’t bother her. Not when the reward was going to be so great. Her dear little pet was going to pay, and in the worst of ways.
She rose from her shell-lined chair languidly, still viewing herself in the mirror. Her hips were full and when she walked, they swayed like a current going back and forth. The long, flowing dress that clung to her every curve like a second skin was exactly what she needed to attract the attention she wanted.
The light blue folds fell down her back in waves, the corset cupping her chest to emphasize the size of her breasts. Ceto cupped them, testing their weight. So beautiful, she thought, a smile tilting her lips.
Yes, it was definitely time to begin the destruction.
Grabbing the shears off the dresser, Ceto took one last, loving look at the dress before cutting through the corset in a long gash over her midsection. The thin material split regretfully, part of the flap folding.
Next her legs.
She lifted her leg onto the stool, holding out the silky expanse of clothing, considering her next course of action. The shears wouldn’t do for this—she liked to switch up her routine, of course. It would look much better with…a knife.
Her lips lifted into a crimson smile and she reached for a knife off of the drawer. She liked to keep all of her essentials in one place. Cluttered next to the shears that she set down were golden coins, diamond blades she’d made with her own hands, and nails. She loved nails.
Not like the fake kind that you glued to your fingers—oh, she did love those, too—but the kind that she could drive into someone’s body and lick the blood from. She made sure she kept them in top shape—rusty nails were unpleasant on her taste buds.
Ceto gripped the handle of the knife tightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder so that it wouldn’t get in her way. The knife made a precise cut as it sliced through the silk. She heard nothing but the slow tear of the silk in the room, and it brought her peace.
She loved planning and getting into character. It’s what had given her all the riches that she had now. Her little cave was flowing with treasures, all taken from helpless mortals who didn’t have the brains to recognize a predator when they saw one.
And Ceto was a predator. She took pride in it. She loved controlling the game, loved having that control. Her eyes narrowed as the she started another tear in her gown. Ambrose had stolen her control, ripped it right out of her perfectly manicured hands.
She had only herself to blame, though. The stupid Council had called a meeting together right as she was getting into the mood and she had assumed he would be too weak to make it through the cave by himself.
Not even a half-hour had she been gone, and he managed to escape. How? she asked herself, her snarl ripping through the air as the silk followed course. The delicate material floated to the ground, almost completely shredded.
How had that bastard managed to free himself? After not having his legs, and no water, he shouldn’t have been able to make it three feet before collapsing. And that damn akrina of his only had one power in that cave. She’d blocked off any of it’s abilities the second she’d put him in there, so unless it had managed to get stronger over time, in a cave where it could do nothing but shine light?
No. It was impossible.
The very fact that Ambrose had escaped her clutches had also seemed impossible. His eyes flashed in her mind, and a shiver ran down her back. They were so dangerous, filled with so much power.
Power that belonged to her. It was hers. And now that he was gone? Where would she get it from? His pain and his abuse was her sole source of energy to keep going. He’d escaped and she had nothing…except revenge.
She had plenty of that planned for him.
Ceto stood to her full height, twirling into a circle and then bending over at her waist, eyeing her make-up. Light brown eyeliner was stroked perfectly along her lower lid, with thick mascara making her eyes look wide and almost frantic. Her eyebrows were arched with a shade that was close to her natural hair color, and she looked permanently worried, innocent, and beautiful. The blonde wig that framed her face also added to her disguise.
The King was so stupid it was almost amazing. For years, his prosperity had come to him by luck, slowly dwindling marginally each century. It was expected, though.
The man in the big chair was too new, too stupid to know this, but Ceto did. Without the rightful heir to the throne, Atlantis was doomed. His power, his energy, was what kept the large, underwater city from dying out completely. Less and less, babies were being born. More and more, there were “accidents” and citizens died.
Ceto didn’t claim responsibility to this, although she liked to think she had a part in it because she had kept Ambrose away for so long. He was still close enough to trickle what was left of his power when she took from him, but what he supplied them was so much less than what they needed that it harmed them rather than helped them.
She sighed, then frowned and peered closer into the full length mirror.
Something was missing.
Ceto didn’t look anything like an Atlantean who had just been ravaged, raped, and beaten. She could form a glamour for the bruises, but with Ambrose gone, she possessed barely any of her former powers. She felt the heat build in her hands, so much smaller than it used to be.
Pressing her hands to her jaw, neck, leg, and cleavage, she examined herself in the mirror once again.
Still not good enough.
Her eyes ran over the dresser top, looking for anything that might help. Something just wasn’t…there—
The diamond blade. The only thing strong enough to slice through her skin and cause actual blood to form.
A greedy, salacious smile lifted her lips as she picked it up, twirling the sparkling blade in her hands. Oh yes, this was perfect.
She held up her arm, staring at herself in the mirror. Ceto had never gone so far to exact revenge, but it was needed.
Dragging the blade over the inside of her wrist, her teeth grit at the pain. It shot up her arm, attacking her right at the core. Dear sweet fu—
Ceto almost passed out from the first round of pain. But she, like many others, knew that it was the first hit that was the worst. She kept her knees from buckling by locking them, watching in the mirror as the blood welled. When it was flowing freely, she dragged the open wound over the dress, smearing it around.
It still wasn’t enough.
Taking the dagger in both hands, she tried to stop the shaking that was starting up in her arms. If this was what it took to get her story across, then this she was going to do it—Ambrose was going to pay, no matter what.
That thought was the only reason she even thought about what she was going to do next.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Ceto let her head fall back, the blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. Holy shit she couldn’t believe she was actually going to—
Ceto screamed in pain as she forced her shaking hands to slice at the exposed skin of her midsection. Immediately, blood flowed down the front of her dress, washing over her feet like she’d stepped into a bloodbath. When she couldn’t scream anymore, her jaw clenched so hard her teeth began to crack.
Fuck.
Just fuck.
Tears burned her eyes as the pain began to ebb. If this didn’t take care of Ambrose completely, then she was going to strangle him with her bare hands. Maybe killing her himself would be better than watching him die over the pain of his family.
It sounded much more appealing, she admitted, heaving a sigh. Another rush of blood sluiced from her stomach, splattering the dress completely from her waist down.
Even though she was gasping, trying not to cry, and in pain, Ceto couldn’t help but smile. Ambrose was going to regret ever leaving her. And once Ambrose walked into the kings courtyard, she would be in the side-lines, watching, relishing every single roar that came from his throat as he watched the last of his family disappear right before his eyes.
He would have no clue, of course. Her dear, sweet Ambrose wouldn’t know what was happening. He wanted to think he was going to have a warm and welcoming family reunion after being exiled? Well, she thought as her lips curled. That was all on him.
The pain was so great that it was dull, which was fine with her.
Ceto set the blade down, wiping her hands on her neck and jaw, then rubbing her arms. Now that she was coated with blood, it was time to get the show on—
Crack. The loud burst of lightening right next to her had her jumping with a short scream. Then she realized what it meant.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. Of course. It just figures that right when she was about to take care of business the damn gods would—
Crack.
“Oh, for crab’s sake, I’m coming!” Ceto shouted, looking down at herself. If they asked, how was she going to explain? She kicked the thing nearest to her out of frustration, wishing she could take the chair and shove it up each of their asses at one time.
Crack.
“Fuck you,” she muttered, before releasing the glamour on the bruises and following the call.
It took two seconds to travel there. The air blew around her like she was standing in front of a fan, her eyes seeing only black. Shivers wracked her body at the cool air that wrapped around before she was thrown into an all black room.
Black marble. Black curtains. Black candles and black fire. Everything was black except the people standing in the room and the giant, blood-red symbol that was etched into the center of the circular room and the matching pedestals that were just on the outer edge of the ancient markings.
“What are you doing now, Ceto?” one of the ancient gods asked. She looked up at C’Xarion, shrugging.
“None of yours. Now, what do you want? I have a date that I need to make.”
“Dressed like that? Please tell me you aren’t going after one of the cast members of The Walking Dead again. We know how this worked out last time,” C’Xarion’s brother, X’Zaree said.
Ceto shrugged again. The brother’s voices were emotionless, and they always would be. If it had been from any other person in the room, she would have taken it personally. But, seeing as they were unable to feel anything other than rationality, it didn’t matter what they said to her as long as they weren’t zapping her ass into outer space.
“You look…What is that new term the mortals have come up with? Hatchet? Artificial?” D’Marci, one of two females, looked at her sister in question. Their immaculate faces were clear of confusion and emotion, just as their voices.
“I believe the correct term is ‘ratchet’.” Ceto’s heart stopped.
It had been years since she had heard, or even seen the face to match the voice. Her eyes closed as she worked to school her features. Slowly turning around, she met the eyes of Maxroy.
There were few people that could affect her. There were very few people that could make her regret things. And right now, standing in front of her, was probably the only person that could make her actually feel.
His dark, intoxicating eyes were tender as they met hers. “You look like you’re going to a party I wouldn’t mind seeing; not ratchet.” He cast an admonishing glance at the two female gods who sat there with their perfectly arched brows.
Maxroy must have come in right behind her, because she hadn’t noticed his arrival. She was about to open her mouth when another figure stepped up from behind him.
His wife.
Her throat closed up.
“Thank you,” she said, barely able to choke the words out. The small, petite woman standing beside him gave her a gentle smile as she slipped her arm through her husband’s.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Ceto. Although,” she said in that soft, lilting voice she was known for, lips pursing, “I think you should have splattered some blood on your forehead. It would have finished the effect off perfectly.”
Ceto wanted to hate the woman. She really wanted to tear her to pieces and throw her into the darkest pit of the sea and watch her slowly die.
But even she knew she was lying to herself. Aixya was one of the nicest, most kind hearted females that Ceto had ever met in her entire existence. To hate her would be like hating a puppy. And while Ceto hated many things, she didn’t hate puppies.
Aixya’s hair curled around her face in soft, red locks, emphasizing her large bright eyes and the kindness that constantly shone in them. Compared to the tall, dark man that was her husband, their looks were complete opposites while their personalities were completely similar.
Just staring at them made her want to puke.
Just staring at Maxroy made her want to cry.
She swallowed thickly, nodding at them both. “It’s lovely to see you again, Aixya. And thank you for the tip, I will keep it in mind.”
“Oh, no problem at all. This must be some important meeting, right? I mean, it’s not every day that we’re all called together like this,” the innocent woman murmured, looking around the room.
Slowly, more and more people were popping up, all over the room. They went to their respective groups, conversing in quiet voices, waiting till everyone who was invited arrived.
“It must be,” Ceto said evenly, forcing herself to look away from the couple. Maxroy had put his arm around his wife’s shoulders with such ease that it made her heart pound. They were perfect together. They always had been, even when Ceto had first met Maxroy. So happy and just…perfect.
“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Maxroy commented, his voice washing over her. Ceto had to close her eyes to not feel the pain that she felt creeping up on her.
All she could manage was a nod.
“So,” he said, “what are you dressed up like that for?”
Ceto froze. He just had to ask that question, didn’t he? “Nothing. It’s a thing I’m trying to start.” She wished her voice wasn’t so clipped, so ragged. His wife cast her a curious glance before shrugging, leaning into his thick arm.
God, why were they so perfect together?
One last person popped into the room, and a silence fell over the room. Ceto turned away from the couple completely, grateful. The thundering of her heart was enough to make an elephant stomp proud.
“Some news has come to our attention,” X’Zaree said, his voice as emotionless as the water they were standing in.
“What could be so important as to call every minor god and goddess to this meeting?” someone from the back called out. Ceto didn’t bother looking behind her; picking out the exact voice out of the hundreds that were all crowded in the room would have been pointless.
“Quiet,” D’Rai, D’Marci’s sister, intoned. Even though she was unfeeling, and had remained so since the beginning of time, the gods still tried to learn facial expressions and impressions of people’s emotions. Right now, her brows were dropped over her eyes and her shoulders were stick-straight. Her sister’s were the same.
C’Xarion dipped his head at his sister before facing the room, completely silent. His dead eyes scanned the room, and Ceto shivered with unease. She had an idea what this was about, and she didn’t like it. The gods had called every minor god to the meeting, which had only been done once.
When deciding if Ambrose should be exiled or not.
“Now,” D’Marci said after several moments of tense silence. “News has come to our attention that the exiled king—“
Instantly, the room erupted into chaos. The sister god didn’t even get a chance to speak before men were roaring with outrage, woman were screeching, and any other creature in attendance was beginning to have cardiac arrest at just the mention of Ambrose.
The only people to stay silent were Ceto, Maxroy, and Aixya.
The chaos lasted seconds, because the next moment, X’Zaree roared, “Silence! All of you.”
“You cannot mean that—“
“The Exiled One is not the heir any longer—“
“He is alive?”
“My brother said to be silent, and we expect you to honor his wish after all he has done for you,” D’Marcee whispered, catching each eye of those who had spoken. The room was brought back to silence, but Ceto could feel the unease. Shit, it was wrapping around her chest like a vice, how could she not feel it?
D’Rai looked right at Ceto when she spoke next, making her inch backwards. The blood seeping out of her stomach had fallen into a puddle, one that she accidentally slipped in.
Hands automatically correct her slip, and she looked back—to find Maxroy. His face, unlike earlier, was no longer kind and tender. Hard lines of grief were now etched into his face like he’d been made out of granite.
Ceto swallowed. “Thank you…”
The gods spoke over her, and she focused once again on them, almost nervous to hear what they were going to say.
“He has been banned past his due. Atlantis is feeling the effects of his absence and he has matured into a strong, compassionate man. It is time he return to the throne—“
“No!”
“What the fuck!”
“You can’t be serious!”
“He ruined your subjects lives by what he did, and you want to restore him to power?”
D’Rai lifted a regal hand, silencing all again. Ceto couldn’t meet the ancient in the eye. “We are not to blame him for what happened thousands of years ago. Our people have adapted, become stronger, more advanced—and they are, in fact, protected by his actions.”
“Protected? What he did killed my whole family!”
“Ask yourselves,” C’Xarion cut in. “Do you have concrete proof that The Destruction was his fault? Someone else could have tampered with the Book of the Sea. There were many times when we thought our home was peaceful. Have none of you thought that there might have been another person, using him as a scapegoat? It was never proven. You were all driven by your emotions to place the blame on the young heir so you could cope with your losses better.”
People shifted on their feet uneasily. Ceto knew for a fact that no one had thought it could be anyone other than Ambrose to sink Atlantis. Otherwise, they would have realized who had really done it. Did the gods have any idea? They were so wrapped up with trying to retain peace that they she had to wonder if they suspected anything of her.
Which was stupid.
Of course they did.
D’Rai hadn’t taken her eyes off of Ceto the whole entire time.
Ceto paled.
Were they going to take care of her now? Or had Ambrose’s punishment been enough? She doubted D’Rai knew what Ceto had done to him, and what she still planned on doing. The gods were all-knowing, but they weren’t that all-knowing. Right?
Her stomach started to churn, and she almost screamed with a soft hand touched her shoulder lightly.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Aixya whispered. The hope shining in her eyes made Ceto feel like…she had no clue. But she didn’t like it. The ache in her chest only grew worse when she saw Maxroy’s face.
“He’s finally coming back.” The reverence there—it almost brought her to her knees. There had been a time where she would have felt that same reverence to have him come back. She knew what Maxroy and Aixya were thinking.
Ambrose would come back, and everything would go back to normal. He would rule, he would give Atlantis and it’s people what they needed. They would finally have their friend back with them.
Ceto had never planned for this to happen. He was not meant to come back and take over the throne. He was not meant to be anywhere except in her cave, and yet this was happening.
It was actually happening.
“It’ll be just like old times,” Aixya said at her ear. Ceto wanted to deny it, but a second later, a thin pair of arms were wrapping around her tightly, squeezing her. Confusion rolled through her, and then torment.
The last time she had seen Maxroy, it had been at Ambrose’s trial. The look on his face…had killed her. It had torn her a part from the inside out, ripped at her soul, and even now? Just thinking about it? The image made her want to sob.
And it made her want to kill Ambrose.
Maxroy had always liked Ambrose better. The four of them, Aixya, Ambrose, Maxroy, and Ceto, had been friends since the very beginning. At first, it had been Aixya and Ambrose flirting and trying their hand at “dating,” leaving Maxroy to Ceto.
She’d fallen headfirst in love with him. Everything about him, everything he did, everything he was. Two children from completely different families, and the fates had made her fall in love with him—a man who didn’t return her love, who wanted Aixya more than anything in the ocean.
But of course, Maxroy had wanted his friend, the king, to be happy. He’d watched from the sidelines as Ambrose slowly wooed the innocent Aixya, and Ceto had watched from the proverbial ditch as everyone loved everyone else…except her.
Unwanted by her father, unwanted by her mother, and unwanted by her aunt, Ceto had to go through the pain of watching Ambrose get all the attention. Had to watch the spoiled king take her friends and bend them to his way.
When she was younger and a lot less…malicious, she had known he didn’t do it on purpose. Ambrose cared—about everyone and everything. He was as charming as the moon, and as charismatic as anything could have been.
Ceto had grown older hating them. Ambrose had realized Maxroy loved Aixya, and had set her off. In tears, of course, but into the arms of his best friend. Ceto had been left to herself at that point. Ambrose was too busy trying to keep their city hidden from the mortals, and Maxroy and Aixya were learning each other in ways that Ceto had been jealous of.
But the love he felt for Aixya…Ceto had seen it in his eyes. Could still see it now. Could still feel the ripping of her soul from that day when he’d made it clear, as gently as possible, that he didn’t want her. Just like everyone else.
Aixya was too innocent and too sweet to be bothered with Ceto’s pain. The two of them had been best friends, even when Aixya had started her relationship with Maxroy. The girl was too kind, too gentle, and everything that Ceto wasn’t. Maybe that was why Ceto couldn’t bring herself to hate her, even to this day.
Aixya only wanted the best for everyone. Everyone should be happy, safe, and healthy. One little rift in her life and it would crash and burn—and even an evil thing like Ceto realized that Aixya was a rarity in the world.
So Ceto had waited. The hate, the pain—it had all grown inside of her until it was festering like a disease. Ambrose had gone away on a trip, alone. No one knew where but no one had known either way. He liked to take time to himself, just as long as he never went too far. Atlantis was well-protected and nothing could harm their king, because not only were they invisible, he was also one of the best warriors to have ever been witnessed.
That was when she realized that she could ruin him. Tear him a part. Strip him of his cushioned life and make him realize that nothing was given freely. His time of leisure cost him the city he adored and protected with his life.
She could still remember sneaking into the room where the Book of the Sea was. The guards hadn’t been around, for whatever reason. She’d counted it as a stroke of luck for herself.
The book… It had felt heavy. Like the world rested within it—which it had.
Ceto had done the only thing that she could think of—she tore the book away from the Soul of the Sea, and dropped it to the floor.
The second it had touched the ground….she would never forget the way the earth cried out with pain, or the way the people around her began to panic. Where was the king? Why wasn’t he saving them? What was going to happen? Why was this happening?
As soon as she’d dropped the book, she also taken out the blade he had given each of his closest friends. They were all identical to his—a symbol of how much he trusted them. It was a warrior’s greatest honor to bestow a friend the same blade as his own.
In the wreck, his own had been lost…and never found. Ceto had taken it from his quarters before the final collapse of the ocean’s plating brought them under the water.
That had been the end to him. His knife had been found at the Book of Sea’s room, and Ceto had been nowhere in sight. No one had doubted her when Ceto said she’d seen him going to the ancient room. No one had seen the look of utter destruction and betrayal break him right in half as he stood in the exact same place that she stood now—at the center of the blood red symbol in the gods’ royal room.
And standing right where they had been on that same day as well were Maxroy and Aixya. Their arms were still around each other, and they were both crying just like they had the last time she’d seen them. Except this time, they weren’t crying from heartbreak. Maxroy was crying because his best friend was coming back.
Maxroy had never been one to sob in his life. But when his friend since childhood was dragged in, bound, bloodied, and confused…he’d broken down. And that was when Ceto’s heart finally took the final break.
She could feel the coldness seeping through her again just at the memory. Aixya and Maxroy had been wrapping in each other, and Ceto had been left alone.
That was all there was to it. They still cared about their friend more than her; they still wanted him to rule, and they still wanted him. After all the years apart, they could have said something, anything to her. But they hadn’t. For whatever reason, they had never tried talking to her again.
And she’d made it her personal goal to make Ambrose’s life worse than it already was. She used him, abused him, fucked him, stole from him. There were no ties between them that didn’t involve pain, sex, and blood.
The second he’d been exiled, no one wanted to escort him out.
So what had Ceto done?
Taken him for herself. If no one wanted her, and no one wanted him, they should be perfect together—or he should be perfect to use.
D’Rai’s voice broke into her thoughts just then.
“Anyone who attempts to deter him from taking the throne will be punished severely, either indirectly or directly. Anyone who attempts to aid him in taking the throne back will also be punished. It’s the true heir’s right to gain back his throne and that is exactly what he will do.”
Ceto stared at the perfect little bitch-god, her fury renewed. No one was allowed to deter him?
Well, she was just going to see how much she could play the gods, because Ambrose was not going to make it back to Atlantis.
She was just forming a slow, confident smirk while staring D’Rai straight in the eyes when she realized what she’d done. The message to Ambrose, to whoever saw him, telling him that he was needed at Atlantis immediately.
The only reason she had sent for him was to have him ambushed by the guards. Her elaborate story of Ambrose raping and beating, and then stalking her to the throne, was down the drain now, since he was already meant to be on his way, and expected…
Unless…
Ceto grinned.
The present king wasn’t going to be too happy having his throne stolen from him, was he?
Oh no. Definitely not.