“Torture is such a delicate and beautiful thing. It’s easy to break bones, but understanding what would be the most painful thing? It’s an art.”
I start shivering out of fear. He’s the king of Athenians, I have no doubt his knowledge of torture is beyond extensive.
“I’m a master of the art.”
He gazes at my expression, drinking in my fear and reveling in it.
“Before I make you regret ever leaving, there is one thing I’d like to know.”
I can’t seem to shake the fear that has made a home in my chest. So much so that I barely register his words. All I can think of is the pain he’s about to inflict.
Pain.
Gods, no.
“What’s your name?” he finishes. A part of me wants to spit at him, tell him to go f**k himself, but I’m too scared to. So I comply.
“Aphrodite,” I whisper.
“Aphrodite,” he
