Chapter 156 Serpent Goddess

Chapter 156 Serpent Goddess
P E R S E U S

I'm drowning. I can't move, I can't see anything but darkness as the water around me turns thick and clouded. A heavy surge of pain rushes through my bones, sharp and unrelenting.

The arrows were poisoned—I can feel the venom spreading through my veins, burning like acid, leaving me paralyzed and weak. I struggle to hold back a groan as water forces its way into my nostrils, stinging the back of my head with a piercing ache. I have to get back to Eleanor. I can't die like this. Not here. Not now.

The current is too strong, dragging me along like a lifeless log, tossing me without mercy. I have no control, no strength left to fight it.

“Ezekiel,” I call out through our mind-link, my thoughts slurred and desperate.

“I can't... Perseus, I'm trying, but I can't reach you,” his voice echoes faintly, strained and fading.

I don’t hear anything else after that. My head slams against a massive boulder near the steep edge leading to a dam waterfall. The impact cracks through my skull, and a deep cut opens, bleeding freely. Gravity pulls me down hard. Shit. No. I can’t die like this.

Eleanor. Her face lingers in my memory, clear and vivid amidst the chaos. I cling to the image of her—her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes light up when she’s trying not to laugh. I remember kissing her, holding her, the sound of her tears. I focus on it all, refusing to let go. I won’t forget her again. I won’t lose her again.

Just before I hit the raging water below, something wraps tightly around my waist—scales, firm and strong, pulling me backward, out of the water’s violent grip. A bright light flashes against my closed eyelids, and everything goes still.



My eyelids flutter open, heavy and uncooperative. The first thing I register is the feel of silk sheets clenched tight in my fists, my knuckles bone-white from the force of my grip. The bed beneath me is too soft, swallowing me whole in a way that feels unnatural, unfamiliar.

My head throbs with a dull, distant ache as my eyes dart around the room, trying to make sense of the shadows and shapes. My gaze catches on the ceiling above, adorned in gilded patterns that shimmer faintly in the low light.

At its center is a serpent crest, meticulously etched into the stone, a symbol that pricks at some buried memory I can’t quite grasp.

Before I can piece anything together, a new sensation cuts through the fog—wet, sloppy kisses trailing up my chest. The feeling is warm and uncomfortably intimate, moving slowly toward my neck. My body goes rigid. My eyes snap open fully, every sense kicking into sharp, painful focus.

A woman is on top of me, completely naked, her skin glowing pale in the dimness. Her hands slide lower, fingers dipping toward the waistband of trousers I don’t remember wearing—rough-spun fabric that scratches against my skin.

My heart hammers against my ribs. Instinct takes over. From the corner of my eye, I catch the glint of steel on a small table nearby—a dagger.

In one swift, brutal motion, my hand shoots out. I fist my hand in her hair, yanking hard as I flip her onto her back beneath me. The movement is fluid, practiced. Now I’m the one on top, pinning her down. I snatch the dagger and press its cold, sharp edge firmly against the vulnerable line of her throat.

She gasps, a sharp intake of air that catches in her chest. But almost instantly, her surprise melts into something else. A slow, playful smirk curls her lips. Her eyes—strange, shifting colors I can’t name, dance with dark amusement.

“I never assumed you’d like it rough,” she purrs, her voice husky and unafraid.

“Shut it,” I snap, my voice low and dangerous. “Where the hell am I? Who are you? How long have I been here?”

“That’s a lot of questions all at once.”

“Then give me a lot of answers.”

“You just woke up. You should rest.”

“Well, pardon me if I don’t want to sleep in a place where I was almost raped.”

“I was trying to wake you. And help you,” she says, sighing as if I’m overreactating. “You were having a wet dream.”

Her voice sends shivers of disgust through me.

“Yes. Of my wife,” I say through gritted teeth. “Now tell me who you are.”

“Wife?” A look of genuine disappointment crosses her face. She shifts suddenly but smoothly, into a large python. I jerk backward in shock as she slithers off the bed and shifts back into human form, now wrapped in a silk robe that does little to hide her slender frame.

“You never told me you were married, Perseus.”

“Why would I? I don’t even know you.”

“You don’t remember me?”

A bitter taste fills my mouth as pieces click into place. The serpent crest. The slithering tone of her voice. The tattoo of a rose spanning her back. Memories from eight years ago surface—a reckless night during my twentieth year. Back when I was still running from myself.

“Athena?”

“Yes. It’s me. Athena. Queen of the serpent shifters.”

She looks different now—older, sharper, more sure of herself. The fiery red hair I remember is now a deep, shimmering green. Her features are more defined, more severe. But her eyes are the same: golden with flecks of green, piercing and knowing.

“You… you look—”

“Different?” she finishes, turning fully toward me. “Serpent puberty. You get used to it.”

“So how did I get here? And how long was I out?”

“About three weeks. You’ve been in and out of consciousness, though… mumbling in your sleep. What was that name again? Elodie?”

“Eleanor,” I correct instantly, my chest tightening.

“Ah. You called for her often.”

“She’s my wife. And I need to get back to her. Now. I’m grateful for your help, truly, but—”

“I waited years for you, Perseus. After that night, you just… disappeared. I’ve never felt as alive as I did with you. Don’t you feel it too?” She crawls closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

I step back, keeping the dagger between us. “Feel what?”

“This connection between us.” She reaches for my chin, but I knock her hand away with the flat of the blade.

All I want is Eleanor. I want her beside me, teasing me, challenging me, loving me. I need to know she’s safe. I need to see her.

“I’m sorry, Athena. I don’t feel anything for you. I’m married. I love my wife. I’m obsessed with her. And I am leaving. Now.”

Her expression hardens, all pretense of warmth vanishing. “You’re not going anywhere, Perseus. Not to her. Not to anyone. You’re mine now. Forever.”