The Golden Lie

"Let me go!" I mouthed the words, shoving against his chest.

Julian wasn't hearing me. He was drunk on the bond. The son of War wasn't used to feeling complete. He was used to conflict. Peace, sudden and absolute, was confusing him.

"You can't go," he mumbled, his hands roaming my back, tracing the line of my spine. "It’s dangerous out there. I have to protect you."

The scanner was wailing now.

I had one card left to play.

I grabbed his face with both hands. I looked deep into those golden, bewildered eyes. And I kissed him.

A Siren’s kiss is usually a weapon. We draw the will out of men, leaving them husk-like and compliant.

But this... this was different.

When our lips met, I didn't take. I *gave*. The bond acted as a bridge. My fear, my desperate need for safety, my loneliness—it all poured into him. And his protective instinct, his iron will, poured into me.

It was electric. It was better than singing. It was a symphony of sensation that curled my toes and made me forget, for one second, that I was a monster.

He groaned into my mouth, his arms crushing me to him.

I used the connection. I pushed a suggestion into his mind, riding the wave of the bond. *Trust me. I am harmless. I am yours.*

I broke the kiss, gasping for air.

Julian stared at me, his pupils blown wide. He reached out and silenced the screaming scanner, crushing it in his hand without looking at it.

"Tell me," he commanded, his voice shaking. "What are you? You aren't human. No human feels like this."

I scrambled off his lap, clutching my robe. I backed into the corner of the room.

I raised my hands. I signed, my movements frantic.

* I am cursed.*

Julian frowned, his brow furrowing. He knew combat sign, and he picked up the basics quickly. "Cursed?"

I nodded. I pointed to my throat. Then I mimed beauty, and pain.

* Aphrodite touched me,* I signed. *She gave me a beauty that maddens men, but she took my voice so I could never ask for help. I am a magnet for magic, but I am just a girl.*

It was a good lie. The gods were petty. Aphrodite cursed women all the time for being too pretty. It explained the magical signature (the "curse") and the mute ness.

Julian stood up. He looked at me, the gold fading slightly back to amber, but the intensity remaining.

He believed me. Because the bond wanted him to. Because he needed a reason to keep me that didn't involve killing me.

"A curse," he whispered. "That's why you felt... electric."

I nodded, letting a single tear slip.

He crossed the room. I flinched, expecting a blow.

Instead, he took off his suit jacket. He wrapped it around my shoulders. It was heavy, warm, and smelled of sandalwood and gun oil.

"Get dressed," he said. "You're done dancing."

I stared at him.

"I'm taking you with me," he stated, opening the door. "If you have a curse that attracts magic, then you aren't safe here. Not with a Siren loose in the district."

"I can't," I signed.

"You are my mate," Julian said. The words were heavy, final. "I don't know how, and I don't know why, but the Fates have tied you to me. And Ares takes care of what is his."

He held out his hand.

I looked at it. A hand that had killed hundreds of my kind.

If I took it, I was walking into the lion’s den. I would be living in the headquarters of the enemy, lying every single day.

But if I stayed, he would eventually find the truth.

I took his hand.