"What's wrong?" she asked, her still-rising panic evident.

"Nothing's wrong," he lied. "Just a little farther and we'll hit. Landing will jar you, but I'll absorb most of the impact." He moved one of his hands up and onto the base of her neck. Offering comfort, he told himself. He'd tried not to touch her, had fought it, but there'd been no other way to protect her inside the pit.

What was the harm in adjusting a single hand?

"But you stiffened."

More so than she probably realized, he thought dryly. I must stop craving her. Her skin was soft, so soft, and he felt little bumps rise under his palm as he gently massaged.

To his delight, her muscles relaxed under his ministrations. "Tell me what's wrong," she said. "You're hiding something, I can tell. I know this pit is made for souls, not breathing, flesh and blood bodies. Are we going to—"

"No. I swear it. We will live." The conversation seemed to calm her, so he said, "Tell me about you. About your childhood."

"I—all right. But there's not much to tell. I was not allowed out of my home as a child. For the greater good," she added, as though the line had been fed to her many times before.

He hugged her tight, understanding. Because of her nature, she'd been as much an outcast as he was. "Goddess, I—" The air was thickening around them, the flames spraying what looked to be molten teardrops. He recognized the signs; the end was near. "Drop your legs from me, but do not let them touch the ground."

"All rig—"

"Now!"

Boom. They smacked into the ground and Geryon planted his feet as the impact vibrated through him. He tried to remain upright to keep the goddess from the ground, but his knees soon gave out and he collapsed backward.