His hands moved down and unbuttoned my shirt so they could slide down and cup my breasts, which were just barely covered by the black mesh bra I'd bought with Dana. He kissed me directly now, his mouth pressing against mine. As his tongue delicately slipped between my lips, I tasted a sweetness akin to the ambrosia.

Bottom line: it needs to be self-defense.

So Carter had said, but suddenly I didn't really need much defending—unless it was from myself. My own hands were moving without my conscious knowledge to unfasten his pants, and our bodies were becoming entwined together on the soft cushions.

Self-defense. Self-defense. Why self-defense? What was I forgetting here?

Ah, of course. The dart.

I pushed through the red haze muddling my senses, forcing clarity. The dart. The dart would stop Sol somehow, stop him from continuing to spread the poison of ambrosia. It would stop him from hurting people…like Doug.

I battled through my disorientation and pulled my mouth away from Sol's, attempting to squirm the rest of the way out of his grasp. I won a little room but not much. He was still close.

"No…" I gasped out. "Don't do this. Stop."

Sol, regarding me with surprised amusement, shushed me. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do. Stop."

I wriggled one arm free, one arm that then snaked to the pocket containing Carter's pouch. I needed the other arm free too, but Sol was holding it. Looking down, I suddenly saw that his wrist was bleeding. How had that happened? I hadn't caused it.

"Georgina, you are about to be honored above all mortal women. Lay back. Stop struggling. No harm will come to you. You will enjoy this night, I promise."

He moved his mouth back to mine, and again that blazing euphoria swelled within me. A traitorous moan of pleasure caught in my throat. Taking this as submission, Sol's grip on my restrained arm lessened, and I shifted it away just enough that both of my hands now touched the pouch. Yet, it was a hard battle. My motor control still wasn't all it should be. Kissing him, in that moment, seemed much more important than some silly pouch. My mind didn't want to focus on anything else.

But I forced it to. Through sheer strength of will, I pushed the physical pleasure out of my head and instead replayed every consequence of the ambrosia I'd seen: Casey's devastation, Doug's wild swings from darkly frenetic exuberance to even darker depression, and finally his limp body in the hospital.

Mortals are fragile things.

Very fragile. And Sol played with them as if they were nothing. The smoldering coal of my anger began to burn again.

He's a stronger immortal than you. Preying on you— especially when you belong to Jerome, so to speak— is a big no-no. You would be justified in protecting yourself.

Again, I pulled my mouth away. "Stop," I said again more firmly. "I want you to stop. Stop doing this."

"I'm not going to stop," Sol snapped. Anger marred his honeyed tone. His breath was heavy, and his chest heaved with exertion. He—or I—had removed his shirt, and I had a perfect view of that unprotected skin. "I'm not going to stop, and believe me, once I start, you won't want me to stop either."

My fingers moved to open the pouch; the other hand slowly readied itself to reach inside. The ambrosia in my system dulled my reflexes, but I kept battling through it and sized up where in his chest his heart would be.

"I've asked you three times to stop. Once should have been enough. No means no."

"No means nothing from someone like you." He laughed a little, still not taking me seriously. "What's wrong with you? I thought you wanted to be immortal."

My hand was inside the pouch, pulling the dart out. Sol and I both felt its power at the same time, just as he realized what I was. His eyes widened, but I didn't give him time to react. I didn't think or falter. Just as Carter had ordered, I simply took action—well, with a cheesy punch line, of course.

"Been there, done that," I said, slamming the dart into his heart. For half a beat, Sol froze, unable to believe this was happening.

And that's when things got messy.

 CHAPTER 20

 Striking Sol with that tiny piece of wood was like dropping a nuclear warhead into the room. The blast threw me off the couch, and I hit the floor with a jarring, painful thud. Small objects flew into the walls. Art tumbled to the ground. The windows in the room blew out in a sparkling shower of shards. And it was raining inside. Blood and glitter fell down around me in red, gleaming streaks.

Mine wasn't the only true nature to be revealed. In the instant before Sol had exploded, I had felt him. Really felt him. Yes, he was part of a different system than mine, but he was no minor immortal player looking to stir up a little trouble. He was a god. A bona fide, honest to goodness god. Now, I should point out that gods come and go in the world based on belief. Godly power is directly proportional to the faith of their believers. So, those whose names no one remembers often walk around literally as bums, no different from humans save for their immortality. Sol, however, had had a fair amount of power. Not like Krishna power or God with a capital G power, but a lot. Certainly more than me.

Holy shit. I had just destroyed a god.

I straightened up from my fetal curl and looked around. Everything was still except for a light wind blowing in though the now-open windows. My skin and clothing were spattered with sticky scarlet blood, like I'd been at the wrong end of a paintbrush at the Mortensens’. My heart rate refused to slow.

A moment later, I heard the pounding of footsteps on the stairs. Alec burst into the room, drawn by the noise and the shaking. He looked around, his lower jaw practically dropping to the floor as he came to a screeching stop.

My intoxication had not passed with Sol's destruction. That fucking ambrosia was still in my system, and it was actually getting worse. Still, my anger at Alec was such that I again overcame my befuddled senses and reflexes, and with a speed that came as a surprise even to me, I sprang at him and knocked him to the ground. A moment's shape-shifting, and my short and slim frame suddenly held considerably more muscle and strength than its appearance suggested. I straddled Alec with my legs and arms, and panic blazed on his face when he realized he couldn't budge an inch from my grip. I hit him hard across the face. My coordination might have been off, but it didn't take much to apply brute force.

"Who the hell was he? Sol?"

"I don't know!"

I hit him again.

"Honest, I don't. I don't know," blathered Alec. "He was just this guy…he found me and made me a deal."

"What was the deal? Why'd you bring me to him?"

He swallowed, blinking back tears. "Sex. He wanted sex. Lots of lovers all the time. Didn't matter if they were guys or girls, just as long as they were good-looking. I wasn't supposed to touch them. I just hooked them up with the potion until they wanted to meet Sol. Then he, you know…"

"Fucked them and dumped them," I finished angrily. I thought about Casey and the Abercrombie model guy in the coffee shop. I recalled Alec's desire to get me on the ambrosia but his reluctance to touch me, no matter how much he wanted to. I was meant for Sol. "So that wasn't ambros—er, potion in my cup tonight. That really was some date-rape drug."

"I don't know," Alec whimpered. "Come on, let me go."

I tightened my grip and shook him. It took a moment since my fingers had a little trouble keeping hold. I had to work to maintain the fierceness of my face and voice. " What'd he give you? Did he pay you or something?"

"No. He just…he just gave me more of the potion. All I wanted, so long as I kept the people coming."