“Hey,”Erebos snapped, foolishly reaching for her to finish what had beenstarted. “We were busy.”
Scowling,Atlas kicked him in the chest. The smaller man flew backward,slamming into his fellow prisoners. He jumped to his feet to attack,saw who had rendered the blow and stilled, nostrils flaring.
“Touchher again,” Atlas said, “and I’ll remove yourcollar-right along with your head.”
Thegod paled, perhaps even whimpered.
“Shewasn’t worth it, anyway.” Atlas might kill him for hiswords, as well.
“Whatthe hell do you think you’re doing?” Nike demanded,suddenly coming to life and drawing his attention. She whirled onhim, glaring up at him. “I can sleep with whoever I want. Andhey, I might even pick one of your friends.”
Despiteher heated words, she wasn’t breathless as she would have beenif Atlas had been the one kissing her, and her cheeks weren’tflushed. Her nipples weren’t even hard. Finally, somethingcooled the hottest flames of his rage.
“Justzip your mouth.” He latched on to Nike’s upper arm anddragged her out of the cell with him. Automatically, the bars closedbehind him.
“Whatthe hell do you think you’re doing?” she said again,tugging against his hold. She’d never been one to obey him.
“Whatthe hell did you think you were doing?” he countered. When hereached the bottom of the steps, he stopped.
Theblonde, who just happened to be the goddess of memory-damn it, whatwas her name? Mini? No, but close. M and M? Minisong? Closer.Mnemosyne. Yes, that was it-Mnemosyne, as well as the three otherwarriors chosen to guard Tartarus today, were gaping at him.