Other Books by Staci Hart

Snake in the Grass (Good Gods 2)

What the Heart Wants (Good Gods 2.5 Novella)

Doe Eyes (Good Gods 3) Coming 2014

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Copyright © 2013, 2014 Staci Hart

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Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 11

Day 12

Day 13

Day 14

Day 15

Day 16

Day 17

Day 18

Day 19

Day 20

Day 21

Day 22

Reference

To my grandmother. Your lust for life, grit, and determination made me who I am, and I miss you every day.

'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip

Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted:

Make use of time, let not advantage slip;

Beauty within itself should not be wasted:

Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime

Rot and consume themselves in little time.

—William Shakespeare, Aphrodite and Adonis

SHE FOLLOWED HIM THROUGH the tall grass of an open field, her outstretched fingertips brushing poppy petals as she walked past. The sun broke over the ridge of the mountains before her, bathing the valley in the soft glow of dawn. He looked over his shoulder as he reached for her hand, and she slipped her fingers into his. He pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips into her hair.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of his arms around her.

Dita’s eyes flew open when her iPod alarm blared “Dancing Queen,” and she reached over, blindly slapping at the dock’s off button.

Perry, the dreamcrusher.

Her best friend was the only person who would be demented enough to wake her up with ABBA.

Dita flumped back in bed and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep as she mourned the loss of her dream, knowing she’d never stop missing him. Pain flashed through her chest like a comet, and she hugged the pillow closer, wishing she could drift away again, but it was no use. She was awake. With a sigh, she grabbed a handful of her fluffy comforter and flung it off.

She breathed deep as she slid off the bed, then padded her way into the bathroom, pausing at the counter when she caught her reflection in the mirror.

Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, had lived for thousands of years, had hundreds of lovers, and made millions of love matches. She had seen the world through feast and through famine, through war and through peace. She had loved, and she had lost, but had always endured. From ancient Greece and Rome to castles in France and Britain, she had lived all over the world and seen it all, through corsets and knickers, flapper dresses and polyester, big hair and blue eye shadow. But she’d never enjoyed a time period as much as the one she was in.

She leaned over the sink, fluffed her long, blond hair, and ran her fingers under her bright, blue eyes, giving herself a subconscious duck face as she inspected her reflection. A tiny weight sat on her bare foot, and she looked down to find her mini Pomeranian, Bisoux, with his fluffy, copper head quirked and his dark eyes looking up at her. She smiled as she bent to pick him up, nestling him in her side as she scratched his head, murmuring to him in French as she walked into her living room.

She dropped into a red velvet armchair, flipped her dog onto his back and scratched his tummy until his leg thumped. Bisoux was an automaton made especially for her by her husband, Hephaestus, an inventor. He looked exactly like a living dog, sans excrement and dying, which was perfect for an immortal goddess with no yard.

The elevator dinged, and Dita turned to find Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, walking through her foyer in leggings, a v-neck, and hot pink socks. Her big, hazel eyes peered at Dita over nerdy black glasses, and her long, dark hair was loose around her small face. She gave Dita a smile and plopped down on the couch, propping her neon feet on the arm.

“Morning.”

“Nice alarm, asshole. Hades’ sadism has worn off on you in a way I don’t know that you’ll ever quite shake.” Dita wiggled her fingers in the arch of Perry’s foot.

Perry squealed and tucked in her feet to keep them out of reach. “I aim to please. I know how much you love ABBA.”

“I’ll never forgive Apollo for those Swedish harpies.”

Perry giggled.

“Did you come up just to gloat, or did you need something?”

“So bitter. I’m sure you’ll pay me back.” She held her hands out for Bisoux, and Dita handed him over. Perry kissed his head. “To answer your question, yes, I mostly came up to gloat, but also because I have a feeling something is about to change.”

Dita cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, psychic Perry? Tell me Persephone, mistress of the dark, what do you see when you look into the future?”

Perry threw a throw pillow at her. “Ha, ha. Don’t dog on my title.”

“Will you dress up like Elvira for me? Please?”

“My boobs would never do that. Anyway, focus. You don’t feel it?”

Dita thought about it for a second and felt it, just under her heart, a tug at the thread that connected all of the gods. “Yeah, I feel it. Do you think it’s the end of another competition coming?”

“Maybe. Hephaestus and Ares have been going at it for a long time.”

“Yeah, and that’s not awkward at all.”

“Your husband versus your lover?”

“Estranged, on both counts, thank you very much. Anyway, it’s not like they need a reason to compete against each other. They’ve been fighting for eons, and competitions rarely have anything to do with it.”

“Well, if it is over soon, you realize you’re up next?”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she felt a little giddy. “Yes, and I am so ready. It’s been too long since I’ve had a real challenge. There is nothing I love more than making love matches.”

“And winning.”

“Yes, and winning,” Dita said with a smile.

Perry’s stomach growled so loud that Bisoux jumped. “I’m a little hungry.”

“You’re always a little hungry.” Dita stood, and when Perry joined her, they locked arms and made for the elevator with Bisoux in Perry’s arms.

They stepped into the shiny metal elevator, and Dita hit the lobby button, thanking the stars again that they didn’t still live in medieval times when Olympus had been fashioned after a cold, drafty castle with about a kabillion stairs.

Olympus was in a dimension apart from humans, unreachable by humans, though the gods could visit Earth whenever they liked. For thousands of years, many gods and creatures chose to live on Earth, until it became too difficult to stay hidden. Almost all had moved back.

The gods were obsessed with humans, adopting their style and culture as they influenced it. Both were passionate creatures, and even though humans had worshiped the gods for eons, the gods almost worshiped them more. Olympus was always modeled after the most intriguing architecture and culture of the time, and at that moment was fashioned after a high-rise, luxury apartment building in New York City, a city they loved so much that every window and every patio looked out over Manhattan.

When the elevator dinged, the goddesses strutted into the kitchen where a handful of gods milled around. Zeus sat at the head of the table with a newspaper, clearly trying to ignore everyone. Hera, his wife, shuffled around the kitchen like a zombie with giant pink rollers in her hair, wearing a silk robe printed with peacock feathers. She carried a cup of coffee to the table and sat down, yawning.

Hephaestus leaned over a plate of fried eggs and toast at the large kitchen island, his shoulders broad in a thick, navy blue knit sweater. He looked over at Aphrodite as she walked in and gave her a warm smile. She smiled back, and his cheeks flushed.

Perry sat down next to Hades at the island and planted a kiss on his cheek as she set Bisoux down. He smiled down at her, his eyes dark, his black hair neatly combed, and pushed a heaping plate of cupcakes in front of her. She bounced in her seat, and he smoothed his tie, looking pleased with himself.

Dita walked around the bar to the gigantic stainless steel fridge and pulled the heavy door open. The cool air hit her face, and a comforting hum greeted her as she scanned the shelves for breakfast. Loaves of honey colored glop sat on white dishes, lined up like gooey little soldiers. She grabbed a dish of ambrosia and turned to the door where she picked up a bottle of nectar, the golden liquid so rich that it was almost luminescent. As she turned around, she kicked the door closed with a soft thunk and set her haul down on the counter.

Nectar of the gods. Har har.

Both nectar and ambrosia tasted like greasy ass. It was seriously, absolutely, and completely revolting. None of the gods consumed it in its pure form. Instead, they used their powers to make it look and taste like something more appealing. The only beings that ingested nectar or ambrosia in its natural state were humans who had been granted immortality. It was a running joke with the gods, who found it amusing to watch them try to choke it down while attempting to convince the Olympians that it actually tasted good. Oh gods, thank you for this delectable gift! (gag) No wonder it is only allowed for the gods, for only upon them should such a savory gift be bestowed! (gag) Hilarious.

She reached into the cupboard, pulled out a plate and coffee cup with a heart on it, then poured some nectar into the mug, cut through the ambrosia loaf, and placed the slice on a plate. Her hair stirred as a soft breeze swirled around her, and the scent of roses tickled her nose. Aphrodite blinked. When she opened her eyes, her mug contained steaming coffee, and her plate of nasty-loaf was transformed into a heaping pile of hot bacon.

Dita picked up her breakfast and walked over to the bar where she plopped down next to Perry.

A solitary eyebrow inched up Perry’s forehead. “Your lust for meat never ceases to amaze me.”

“Don’t judge, cupcake whore,” Dita said around a mouthful of bacon, nodding to the pile of cupcakes in front of Perry.

Bisoux trotted across the counter and sat expectantly in front of Dita. She handed him a strip of bacon, and he set it down, holding it with his fuzzy paw to tear a piece off and chew it daintily. He ran on ambrosia, and bacon flavor was his favorite.

“Morning, losers.” Ares swaggered in and snatched a piece of bacon from Dita’s plate, winking at her as he walked around the bar. Bisoux bared his tiny teeth and wrinkled his nose as a growl rumbled through him.

Dita wondered what she’d ever seen in him as her eyes scanned his dark, heavy brow and his deep blue, brooding eyes. His Pantera t-shirt was stretched tight across his broad, muscular chest, and she lingered for a moment where his jeans hung low on his hips.

Oh, right. He was a demon in the sack.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hephaestus tense. Every meal was like an awkward Thanksgiving dinner when the three of them were in the room together.

“Well, hello, Heff.” Ares leaned onto the counter across from Hephaestus with a hot-shot smile plastered all over his jerk face. “I think it’s about time to pay the piper, don’t you?” He tossedthe bacon into his mouth.

“The game isn’t over yet, douchebag. The alarm hasn’t sounded.” Heff gestured to the alarm that stood in the corner of the room. White-hot lava rolled around in the glass column of the device as it had since their competition began.

The gods were eternally bored and constantly bickering, so Zeus came up with a game to apply their antagonism into something constructive. They had been playing for thousands on thousands of years, one god against another, using humans as their game pieces. Heff and Ares had been going at it since the seventies when Heff chose Apple, and Ares picked Microsoft.

“Listen, genius,” Ares said. “There’s no way that Apple can win now that Jobs isn’t in the picture.”

“Too soon, man.” Heff took a bite of egg, grimaced, then put his fork down.

Dita couldn’t understand how Heff could find anything Ares said shocking after living with the asshole for thousands of years. She popped another piece of bacon into her mouth as she watched.

“Just give it up, hairball. My guy won. This challenge has been going on too long. Jobs is gone. Pay up.”

Apollo didn’t look up from the horoscope section of the newspaper as he butted in. “It’s true, Heff. You should call it now and save yourself the trouble of dragging it out. Trust me. They don’t call me the Oracle of Amazing Awesomeness for nothing.” Apollo rarely lied, and his visions of the future were generally bang on.

“No one calls you that,” Artemis, Apollo’s twin sister, said matter-of-factly, then stuck a spoonful of Cheerios into her mouth.

Apollo pouted as he uncrossed and recrossed his legs, then shook his newspaper out.

Heff reluctantly stretched out his leg and reached into his jeans pocket. He pulled out his fist and extended his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal a glass orb the size of a ping pong ball with white magma churning inside. Heff tossed his token across the bar to Ares. “Here you go. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Ares grabbed it mid-air and closed his big fist around it, looking all too satisfied with himself as the lava alarm in the corner disappeared. Their game was over.

“Who’s on deck next?” Ares loved a good competition, preferably of the unfriendly variety.

Hermes, who leaned over the end of the bar, reached into his back pocket and pulled out his slender, white iPhone. “Hang on. I have an app for that.”

“Traitor,” murmured Ares.

“Looks like Dita’s up, and no one has beaten her in … 3,127 years.” Hermes raised his eyebrows at Dita.

Dita gave a smug grin. She never lost. Ever.

The last of the Olympians straggled in and took seats at either the bar or the enormous table, sensing the beginning of a new competition. Zeus even put down his paper, though he still looked spectacularly bored. Vain Hera side-eyed the room as she fiddled with her curlers, hastily pulling them from her golden hair while attempting to look nonchalant.

Hermes, ever the showman, stood up and walked around the kitchen, his long legs pacing him through the crowd in his Chucks, his eyes twinkling in his long face.

“All right, gang, we’re going old school rules, as usual. I’ll go ahead and restate them for Zeus. We all know how he loves the law.” He smiled at Zeus, who glared at him from across the room.

“Aphrodite will go toe-to-toe in a battle of wits against each of the twelve Olympians, starting with Apollo. Dita and her opponent will each choose a human player, and she’ll need to get them together before the clock runs out in four human weeks. Apollo’s task, and a mighty one at that, will be to keep the humans apart.

“The winner will receive a token from the loser, which will grant them any favor, a favor that cannot be refused.”

Whistles and shouts rose from the crowd, and Hermes held up a hand to quiet them. “Settle down, folks. We all know how valuable these little babies are.” He rolled his wrist in a flourish, and a glass orb rested between his thumb and forefinger.

“Now, since the only way to win this glorious little favor is through the competitions, it’s only fair that a token should be played if you want another god to help you. Otherwise, you’re on your own. One of the only times a favor can be refused, other than if a previous oath is in place, is if you’re trying to cash it in to win a competition. For instance, if you asked me to help you, I would politely request that you sod off, because the last thing I want to do is help any of you assholes acquire another token.”

A chuckle rolled through the crowd. Hermes had been slain in his last competition and was still pouting.

“All right, let’s talk about our humans, shall we? Our players need to stay alive, so no gods may kill, maim, inflict disease, or impose any other permanent physical or mental damage on either of them. And, to keep the game fair, neither human can be interfered with directly. This includes, but is not limited to, possession, embodiment, or direct communication. All other humans are fair game.”

A device appeared on the bar, summoned by Heff. A small replica of Dita stood on a seashell in a pool of water, golden hair waving behind her. Waves lapped a small beach ringing the platform where her likeness stood, and tiny mechanical doves flew around her. The iridescent water seemed all colors and none.

Dita pushed her chair back, stepped over to the statue, and ran her finger through the sand. The doves flew to where she had touched the display and pecked around for a moment before taking wing again. She turned to Heff, beaming.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He smiled down at his breakfast and pushed his eggs around his plate. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

She ran her hand across his shoulders as she walked past him and sat down, turning her attention back to Hermes.

Hermes sauntered over to the alarm and gestured to the statue. “You all know what this is,” he said, “though to avoid any legal issues through the course of the competition, let it be stated, for the record.

“This statue is the alarm for the contest. The water will change color, based upon the outcome. If you cheat, the water will turn orange. Green means the couple has chosen to be together. If they’re separated irreparably, the water will turn red, and if the timer runs out, the water will turn black. Once the contest is over, that’s it. No take-backs if the couple gets together or breaks up once the alarm has gone off.”

Turning to the crowd, Hermes asked, “Apollo, since we’re going alphabetically, you’re up first. Are you willing to play?”

“Absolutely.”

Dita swung out of her chair, coffee in hand, and strutted up to Apollo. She slapped him on the shoulder with a cheery smile. “Game on. You think you can win this time?”

The sadness that lined his face surprised her as he looked up at her and said, “Gods, I hope so.”

Apollo had been given a few hours to choose his player, and he had to choose wisely. The chance was rare, to compete with Dita for a token, and it was a chance he had to take full advantage of. It was the only way Dita would give Daphne back to him.

He chewed on his thumbnail as he paced his bright apartment, worrying over which human he should choose in an attempt to narrow down his list to some of his favorites. There were always a few who he felt tied to more than others, humans that shared his traits, his passions. They were the ones who he had the greatest influence on, and always creative types: musicians, artists, actors. The trick to competing with Dita was to find someone who was so damaged that they couldn’t possibly be fixed enough to fall in love in twenty-eight days. Running down the clock was the best chance any of them had against her.

He stopped in front of his wall of windows and looked down into Central Park, considering his options. He could pick Joe, an artist who painted nudes. The guy could never keep it in his pants, since the opportunity was present all day, every day. He was too good-looking, and had far too many naked models around for chastity. Joe could definitely be a formidable player, but if Dita found the right girl … well, anyone could change, for the right girl.

Daphne’s face flashed through his thoughts, and his heart lurched. He had to win, for both of them. It was the only way they could be free.

He took a breath, sat down on his low, white leather couch, and picked up a pen and pad. He listed the names of his potentials, then crossed out a few that would be too easy for Dita to beat. He had two left. Joe, or Dean, the musician.

He stared at the list for a few minutes before deciding. It had to be Dean.

Apollo had watched Dean for years, guiding him through his difficult life to channel his pain into his music. Dean brimmed with cynicism about love and had ever since he was a kid. To say he was jaded was the understatement of the century. He suffered emotional detachment the likes of which Apollo hadn’t seen in ages, and he was sure Dean was the perfect player for the competition. Ace in the hole.

Hopefully.

It was the best he had, and he filled with optimism. He’d waited for the chance to get a token from Dita for so long, and there was no way he would let it go to waste.

Dita walked into the theater room that evening, and excitement rolled over her again when the murmurs and chatter hit her. Perry popped her head over the back of a big, leather chair in the front row and waved. She waved at a few of her friends as she made her way to the front of the room and sat next to Perry.

“Are you excited?” Perry asked.

“I’m ready. There are a handful of people who I think he might pick, and I’ve already got plans in motion for all of them.”

“Poor Apollo. He’s so predictable.”

“I know. He makes it really easy for me, though.”

“Even so, I still love competitions with him. He always picks the dreamiest players.”

“Apollo definitely has style, I’ll give him that. But you know with him and I, it’s never just about the game.”

A few gods cheered and whistled when Hermes walked to the front of the room and the lights dimmed.

“All right, all right. Settle down, everybody. Apollo, come on up.”

Apollo made his way to the front of the room, looking right sexy in tailored gray pants and navy oxfords. His cardigan sleeves were rolled up, the collar of his plaid button-down crisp, and his fedora sat on top of his blond hair like it had been made just for him, which, Dita figured, it probably had.

Style, indeed. Thousand-year-old-feud or not, she couldn’t help but admire his fashion sense.

Hermes handed Apollo the remote, and Apollo pointed it at the ninety-inch screen as he mashed a few buttons.

The screen showed an image of a man sitting in a low, gray armchair bent over his guitar with his fingers to the strings, and a pencil gripped between his teeth. A black shock of hair fell into his face as he looked down at his guitar with quiet, green eyes. A glass of whiskey and a half empty bottle sat on the built-in bookshelves behind him that housed what looked like several hundred records.

“Ladies and gentlemen, meet Dean Monroe.”

Dean strummed his guitar, hearing the chords in his head before his fingers touched the strings. The words came to him, and he took the pencil from his mouth and jotted into his notebook that laid on the coffee table in front of him. His chest ached like it always did when he wrote, like his heart thumped to life during those moments, though it was still heavy in his chest.

A small knock rapped on the door of his apartment, and his brow quirked. He propped his guitar on the couch and walked to the door, and when he opened it, he was surprised to find Jenny standing in the hallway with crazy eyes, a wicked grin, and a bottle of whiskey.

Jenny had been at band practice every day for months, ever since she started dating Elliot, their drummer. She’d never given Dean a second glance, or at least not one that transmitted that she was into him, and he happily complied with her lack of interest. The band had gone through a string of drummers, each one gone after their girlfriends had thrown themselves at Dean, though the real issue was that he never refused.

He smelled roses and booze in Jenny’s wake as she slipped past him and into his apartment. He closed the door and leaned up against it, folding his arms across his chest, watching her as she set the bottle down. She turned to him as she twisted the tie of her coat around her fist, gave it a tug, and dropped the garment to the ground.

The hot pink lace that made up her bra barely contained her overflowing breasts, and her tiny panties showed him exactly what he was about to get. She slinked over to him and ran her hands over his chest, down to his belt, pulling it open as she looked up at him with a scandalous smile and crazy, crazy eyes.

She bit her lip, her big eyes on fire as she popped his button and opened his zipper. She moved her hands down his hips, dropped his pants, and took his hand to lead him to the bedroom as he admired the view from behind.

When they reached the bed, she ran her slender finger across his t-shirt as she walked around him. He turned to follow her, and when he stopped, she put her tiny hands on his muscular chest, pushed him bodily onto the bed, and climbed up after him like a feral cat. Her hands slid under his shirt, and he sat to yank it over his head, then laid back again as she kissed down his chest. He watched her make her way down his stomach behind a curtain of platinum curls.

She flipped her head back and grinned at him, and he knew right then that he would pay for it, if Elliot found out.

Jenny’s head rested on Dean’s shoulder and her fingers traced circles on his chest. He was instantly uncomfortable and squirmed out from underneath her, reaching for her lingerie that lay in a pile on the floor. He tossed it to her as he stood.

Her blond curls hung in disarray around her face, and she tucked the sheet under her arms as she propped herself up on her elbow. "Are you serious?" Her mouth hung open.

Was she serious? He stared back at her, puzzled, and turned to head to the shower. “Just let yourself out, ‘kay?” The bathroom door closed just as her shoe slammed against it.

The gods erupted in noise, some booing, some laughing, along with few “Ooh’s” and one very loud “Pig!”

Perry elbowed Dita with her mouth open. “Did you set that up?”

“Duh,” she said with a giggle as she stood and walked to Apollo. She held her hand out for the remote.

“May I?”

“Be my guest.”

Dita smiled as she turned to the television and mashed a few buttons. On the screen was a gorgeous girl with porcelain skin and dark hair that tumbled over her shoulders as she bent over a counter in a bookshop, writing in a black notebook. Her face was propped on her hand, and her blue-green eyes were on the window where snow fell white against the dark night.

Dita watched Apollo as she hit play, smiling when she saw recognition click behind his eyes.

Lex stared out the window in the quiet shop, watching the snow fall, smiling as a couple walked by with their arms around each other. She dropped her eyes back to her sketchbook, and her pencil flew as she drew them on the soft, cream page.

She laid her pencil down when she was satisfied, and her eyes wandered around the room, appreciating for the zillionth time how much she loved the bookstore where she had worked for almost ten years. Heavy, worn book cases lined the walls, interspersed with inlets of cushy pillows in Indian silks, perfect for cuddling up with a book. Warm light from candles and lamps filled the store, and the scent of Jasmine hung in the room alongside the musk of books and paper.

She glanced back down at her notebook and picked up her blending stump, rubbing the edge of the girl’s coat to shade it a little more, then took a moment to look over it.

The couple was in love. She could see it in the tilt of his head and hers, something small in the way that they touched each other that telegraphed their feelings. It was her own version of a magic trick, cultivated through years of drawing, to be able to read people through their body language. She thought about the couple in her sketch, and her mind wandered to Travis.

They had been living together for some time, almost a year, but as she looked over the sketch, she wondered if they had ever looked like that couple did. She was almost positive they hadn’t.

Something was missing. She cared for him, and he clearly cared for her too, but she didn’t think it was love on either end. Not real love. Not knock-your-socks-off love. It was more of a deep fondness, although, if she was being honest with herself, it was probably the closest she’d gotten to the real thing.

They were the same thoughts that had wormed their way through her mind for days, and every day that passed, the less she could ignore it.

The bell over the door jingled, and she looked up to see Travis, tall and blond in the doorway as he shook the snow off his coat. He stomped his boots on the mat and smiled, his teeth sparkling in his face, tan even in the dead of winter.

“Hey.” She smiled.

“Hey, Lex.” He made his way over and pressed his chilly lips to hers.

“I didn’t expect to see you until after the show.”

“I guess no one’s willing to brave the snow for Italian food. Luke let me off early, so I figured I’d stop by on my way to Helios and walk with you.”

“Great, I hate walking alone. Kara’s meeting us there.”

“Spike will be thrilled. He loves to sing to your bestie.”

Lex laughed. “I’m sure he does.” She turned to the register to close it out. Travis turned his head to look at her sketch.

“This is really good.”

“Thanks,” she said with a small smile as she closed the notebook and stuffed it in her bag, hating when people looked at her unfinished work.

Lex listened while Travis recounted stories from the few tables he’d had as she closed up and pulled on her jacket, scarf, hat, and gloves.

“You warm enough, Lex?”

“Ha, ha. It’s stupid cold out. I don’t know how you never wear gloves or a hat.”

“Why do I need gloves or a hat when I’ve got pockets and hair?”

“I guess I’m just not as tough as you, big man.”

He turned to her and adjusted her knit hat. “Lucky for me, you’re extra cute when you’re all bundled up.” He kissed her nose, and they left the shop and headed for the bar.

Lex spotted Kara as soon as she walked in, sitting at a table just off the dance floor. She sipped her beer as Spike, the lead singer of Travis’ band, laid a skinny arm over her shoulder. Her lip curled on her heart-shaped face, and the second she saw Lex, she shot a 9-1-1 look.

Lex shrugged off her coat and hung it on the back of a chair, eyeballing Spike, who looked like a short, starving Billy Idol.

“Hey, Spike.”

“‘Sup, Lex? Are you ready to witness our set? Try to keep your panties on.”

“Oh, I’ll try. Hey, Kara, come with me to the bathroom?”

“Absolutely,” she said, a little too enthusiastically, and set her beer down with a thunk.

Spike hitched a thumb at her and turned to Travis. “Chicks. Am I right?”

Kara pushed the door open with a sigh. “Why do I agree to come to these things?”

“Because you love me and wouldn’t make me sit in a dive bar all by myself.”

“Every time I have to see that little shit, you owe me dinner and a movie.”

“You think he’ll figure out at some point that you don’t like him?”

“It’s my fault. Clearly I was very, very drunk when I hooked up with Spike.”

“I still can’t believe you hooked up with a guy named Spike.”

“Hilarious, Lex. At least you got Travis out of it, though that has kept me on Spike’s radar all this time, which I will never forgive you for.”

Lex bit her lip, and Kara eyed her in the mirror.

“Oh, no. You’ve got that look.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can’t lie to me, Alexis Greene. You’ve got the itch to ditch, don’t you?”

Lex sighed. “Not here, okay? Let’s go enjoy this wonderful display of musical talent. Come over tomorrow and I’ll spill it.”

Kara snapped the lid on her lipstick and raised an eyebrow. “All right. Let’s go watch Sid Vicious’ wannabe cousin spit all over a microphone, and tomorrow you will tell all.”

“Sid Vicious?” Lex snorted as she pushed the door open. “The least talented, most famous punk rocker to ever exist? Spike has about as much talent as a safety pin in Sid’s cheek.”

“Only in his most productive dreams.”

STEAMING WATER PELTED APOLLO as he scrubbed a bar of soap across his chest, belting out the lyrics to “The Reflex” along with his iPod. He was ecstatic. Dean was perfect.

The Olympian’s reactions to Dean’s slutting around was priceless. He grinned involuntarily, holding back a laugh. He marveled that he would be giddy about the competition, but something felt different from the previous games with Dita. Something was different, though he didn’t know what that meant. He felt good about it, for once.

He thought again about Dean and Jenny, and the fact that everyone agreed that Dean was a little sleazy. Apollo’s smile slipped a little as the thought crossed his mind that Dita had set up the encounter with Jenny, but he shook his head and smiled wider. There was no way she could have known who he would choose.

He scrubbed under his arms as he sang. “Oh the reflex what a game, he’s hiding all the cards. The reflex is in charge of finding treasure in the dark.”

Apollo rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, drying off with a fluffy, white towel, humming to himself as he made his way to his closet, deciding on a lambswool sweater and tailored jeans. He stopped in front of his bathroom mirror and combed his golden hair, whistling along to the music. He ran a hand over his stubble, deciding to keep it for a few days more.

His heart skipped in his chest when he thought about Daphne.

This is it.

He’d waited so long, and if he won he could get her back. They could be together after thousands of years apart. Dita would have to give him anything he asked, if he won her token. He would ask for Daphne, and Dita couldn’t refuse.

Apollo sat on his couch and looked in on Dean, who walked up the sidewalk to the warehouse where his band practiced, wondering if Dean would really be the player to help him win. He’d chosen so many before, and every one had been a bust, despite his best efforts. He really was terrible at the game, there was no doubt about it. He just didn’t have the cut-throat frame of mind that the other gods did, which wasn’t something he was sorry for, but it worked against him when he competed.

But Dean … Dean would do it. Apollo’s smile stretched wide as Dean grabbed the handle to the warehouse door.

Dean pulled open the heavy, metal door of the warehouse and stepped inside. Blinded from the sun, he pulled off his sunglasses and blinked as his eyes adjusted. The second the door slammed shut, he stopped dead.

His bandmates were shouting obscenities at each other, and when they saw him, all hell broke loose.

“You’re dead, Dean.” Elliot screamed and lunged at him from across the room as Roe and Kevin grabbed him and pushed him back. Kevin, the skinny keyboardist, leaned into Elliot with all of his weight, his sneakers scrabbling on the concrete. Roe, the bass player, stood tall and sturdy, holding Elliot in place as he strained furiously against them.

Dean put his hands up, deciding to play dumb. “Whoa, man, what’s all this?”

“Don’t play games with me, asshole. Why Jenny? Of all the millions of girls in this city, why would you fuck my girlfriend?”

“Dude, I don’t—“

“NO,” he growled, “I’m not hearing your bullshit. She fucking told me, you son of a bitch!” Elliot rushed Dean again, who backed up a step as Roe tightened his grip. Elliot screamed wordlessly, baring his teeth as he struggled against Roe and Kevin.

Roe shot Dean a look over his shoulder with his arms full of Elliot, wearing a look that could only be read as Seriously?

Dean didn't feel bad for Jenny, or for Elliot. She showed the kind of woman she was, just like all of them. They threw themselves at whatever they couldn't have, and Elliot needed to know that she was no different.

“Listen,” Dean said, “I didn’t plan it or go after her. She just showed up at my place and asked for it.”

Roe shook his head, and Elliot struggled to break free as Dean kept talking.

“Elliot, you know how these groupies are. You’re better off without her, and at least now you know.”

“Fuck you, Dean. FUCK YOU. Fuck this. All of it. I’m out. I didn’t sign up for this shit.” Elliot stopped struggling, and when Roe and Kevin relaxed their grip, he jerked himself free. He stormed toward the door and past Dean, slamming Dean’s shoulder hard, glaring at him, daring him to make a move.

Dean threw his hands up again and took another step back. "It's not worth the fight, man."

"Maybe not to you," Elliot growled.

The room grew bright as the warehouse door opened, then slipped back into darkness as it closed with a heavy bang. Two pairs of eyes turned to Dean.

Roe moved to sit down on the ratty couch. “What the fuck, man?” He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his blond hair.

Dean shrugged.

“You do realize that we were supposed to start recording next week? We just got signed, and you have to go do some dumbfuck thing like screwing Jenny? Do you have any idea how far this is going to set us back?” Roe machine-gunned his questions, and Dean waited in silence, not sure whether or not Roe expected an answer.

Kevin shifted, his eyes narrow. “I just quit Taco Town, and if I have to go back to asking people if they want mild or hot sauce and wearing a paper hat, I will make you pay somehow. I don't know how yet, but so help me god, I will do something so disturbing that you'll have nightmares about it for years." Kevin looked back and forth between Roe and Dean. "What are we gonna do now?"

“Now I guess we find a new drummer,” Dean said.

Roe rubbed a hand over his mouth as he looked at Dean, his face haggard. “We? You mean you guess I find a new drummer. You’ve done enough damage. Just go home.”

Dean took a long look at Roe, frustrated and fuming on the couch, then at Kevin, whose arms were folded across his scrawny chest, his cheeks blotchy and red from exertion. Dean turned in silence and slid his sunglasses back on as he walked to the door, not sure what else to do but leave.

The winter sun beat down on Dean’s black leather jacket as he stepped off the curb and into the street, not really feeling much of anything as he walked to the subway. He didn't get it. Sure, he felt bad that he'd caused problems, and for upsetting Roe, but Jenny, Elliot … everyone knew. He never hid what he was or who he was, and the fact that anyone expected differently from him annoyed and frustrated him.

He wished that things in his life were simple and straightforward. That people said what they wanted and didn't put expectations on him that weren't realistic. He'd only had two relationships like that in his life: Roe and Audrey.

The first time Dean ever spoke to Audrey, he was at the record store where he and Roe worked in high school. He was behind the counter with his guitar, playing along with “Trampled Under Foot” as Robert Plant wailed from the speakers. Roe had a box of CDs that he was busy stocking, but the music was up so loud that they didn’t hear the bell on the door chime as she walked in. Dean looked up all the same.

Her hair was black as ink, her bangs short like Bettie Page, her lips just as red. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

She made her way to the vinyl, and Dean turned his attention back to his strings. She was gorgeous, the girl that all the guys in school wanted to get with, but she was out of their league. She didn’t seem to have any interest in high school guys, or even high school in general. She could usually be found smoking behind the building during lunch, looking bored with her friends in the hallway, and occasionally in class, when she wasn’t ditching.

Audrey had caught his eye more than a few times, and he’d caught her looking, too. He knew the signals … he got them from most of the girls he knew. But with Audrey, something was different. She lacked the desperation that the other girls had, that same desperation that he saw in his mother. Girls fawned over him, though he had no idea why. He never played the game, never gave them any attention, but it never stopped them.

Rand, the owner, came out of the back room with another box full of CDs and dropped it on the counter with a thunk next to Dean’s Converse.

“Hey, Dean-o. Why don’t you help your buddy out and get to stacking.”

“Sure.” Dean set his guitar down and propped the box on his hip as he made his way to the rows of CDs. He set the box down on the ground and started filing.

Audrey moved to the section next to him and picked up a Jessica Simpson CD. “Hey,” she said as she turned to him, “you work here, right?”

“Last I checked.”

“Have you heard this?”

“I have.”

She looked impressed. “And is it any good?”

“No, it’s garbage.”

She laughed, and he reached past her and pulled out Stereolab’s, Dots and Loops. “This is what you want.”

Her black eyebrow climbed, and her red lips lifted into a sexy smile. “Oh, is it?”

“It is.”

She glanced down at the case as she took it from him. “Thanks. Dean, right?”

“Yeah. Audrey?”

“That’s me. I’ve seen you around, always with your buddy … no girlfriend?”

“No. No girlfriend.”

“You’re not … gay, are you?”

“No. Why do you ask?” He couldn’t keep himself from smiling, knowing she was uncomfortable, and knowing exactly why she’d asked.

“You realize that just about every girl in school wants in your pants, right?”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He turned and leaned against the shelf. “Are you one of these interested girls? Just curious.”

“Maybe.” Her eyes twinkled at him.

“I thought you had a boyfriend.”

“It’s different with college guys. They ‘date,’ which means they fuck whoever they want when they’re at school. Why shouldn’t I?”

He laughed. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I don’t care for games, and you don’t seem like the type to play them.” She tilted her head and inspected him. “You’re not even nervous, are you?”

“Why should I be nervous?”

“Most high school guys practically shit their pants when I talk to them, but if I’m being honest, I’m actually a little intimidated by you, Dean Monroe.” She looked amused and mildly confused.

He looked her over, impressed by her honesty. “You’re different from the other girls.”

“I don’t think you’d still be talking to me if I wasn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“So, can you check me out?” She held up the CD.

“Too late,” he said as he pushed off the shelves and made his way behind the register.

He rang her up and handed her the bag, but before she walked away, she pulled out the receipt and jotted her number on it.

“Call me, okay? Sooner than later,” she said as she handed it to him.

“Count on it.”

She turned and walked away, and Dean watched her hips swing all the way out the door. Roe turned when she passed him, slack jawed.

“Did Audrey Fucking Winston just give you her number?”

Dean held up the receipt.

Roe rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. How the fuck?”

Dean shrugged. “She just gave it to me.”

“Tell me you’re going to call her.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“What do you think she wants?”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“You think?” Roe asked.

“What else could she want? You think she wants a boyfriend?”

“No, probably not. What are you gonna do? I mean, you’re a virgin, and she’s … she’s Audrey Winston.”

“I’m pretty sure I can figure it out.”

“Well, no shit. But you’re not going to impress her, since your skills in the bedroom are a grand total of zero. How are you not freaking out?”

Roe was giving him that look again, the one that reminded him that he didn’t feel what other people did, that he was somehow not normal.

“I don’t know. I’m just not worried about it.”

Roe shook his head. “You’re superhuman,” he said as he made his way back to his box of inventory.

He looked down at Audrey’s number again and smiled, curious about her, and felt a little flutter of excitement in his chest at the prospect of having her.

Dean called her the next night after he got off work, and agreed to meet her at her place after her mom left to work the night shift.

She opened the door with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Come on in.”

He followed her into the living room, and she motioned to the couch.

“Want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“Whiskey okay?”

“All right.”

She poured him a whiskey and Coke and sat down next to him. He took a sip and tried not to cough.

“Can I ask you something, Dean?”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

He shook his head. “I’m not exactly boyfriend material.”

She rested her elbow on the back of the couch. “No? Is there anything I should know?”

Dean shifted in his seat. “I just can’t be what they want. I can’t give them what they need from me.”

“Well, I’m going to make this easy for you. I don’t require very much from you, partly because I need you to not require much from me. Let’s keep this simple. I won’t ask anything of you past whatever we have, whenever we have it. Fuck who you want, and I’ll do the same. We won’t owe each other, no obligation, no strings. The minute you put strings on me, I’m out.”

Dean nodded, relieved. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the only guy I know who I think can handle me, and I think I might be the only one who can handle you.” She took the drink from his hand and set it on the coffee table, then slipped a hand inside his jacket. Her lips were inches from his neck, and his nerves fired with anticipation. “No girlfriends, so I’m assuming you’ve never …”

He turned and looked in her eyes as he gave a slight shake of his head. She smiled, and his heart raced.

“Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” he whispered and slipped a hand into her hair to pull her to him. Their lips met in a way that was natural and easy as they gave each other what they wanted, what they needed. The comfort of touch.

It went on that way for months, until she left for college. They went on a few dates to a couple of shows, and she’d visit him at the record store every once in a while, but they kept their promise to each other, which wasn’t hard. They were both broken, unable to give their hearts away, but they needed each other.

Dean realized pretty soon after he started seeing Audrey that sex healed him, somehow. He could keep everything else he felt, all of his emotions packed down inside, but that release was a small joy, something that made him feel alive. The contact, the touch, was a drug after a life without affection.

He supposed it was as close as he ever came to a girlfriend, even though they were never exclusive. She encouraged him to find other girls, he assumed to keep him at arm’s length, to try to stop him from falling for her. There was no danger of that, though. He was too damaged to care about anyone, not even himself.

The challenge, she told him, would be that the girls would always want more. That he should always be honest with them, just as she’d been with him, so that they knew. They wouldn’t listen, she said, but he should tell them all the same, and he always did. She was right. None of them ever believed him, but he released himself of responsibility because they always knew, even though they thought they would be different, that they could change him.

He was fucked up beyond repair. There was no changing that, and he couldn’t apologize for it.

Roe’s hands clenched in his jacket pockets as he stomped up the stairs to Dean’s apartment, ready for a fight.

Fucking Dean.

It was always the same shit. Dean couldn’t say no, not even when it was important, which was part of the reason that Roe hadn’t had many girlfriends. Dean possessed some strange magic that made girls lose their minds, and Roe didn’t know if any of them were immune to his charms. He didn’t want to test the theory, not with someone he cared about.

Roe didn’t know why he expected Dean to keep his shit together. Their career was on the line, and Dean was as unapologetic as ever. Roe’s temper flared at the thought that Dean wasn’t effected by what happened, especially after he and Kevin spent the afternoon in a scramble to figure out how to fix Dean’s mess.

Roe and Dean had gone to a show the week before, and the opener for the band they wanted to see was some crappy punk band with a ratty lead singer, but their drummer was phenomenal. After some light googling and a few phone calls, he and Kevin had gotten a hold of the guy, who happily accepted their offer. He was even better than Elliot, and Roe was happy not only to have solved the problem, but to have upgraded their talent in the process.

That fact didn’t stop him from being supremely pissed at Dean.

He made it to Dean’s door and walked in without knocking.

Dean sat in an armchair by the window with his guitar in his lap. His black hair fell in his face when he glanced up at Roe in the doorway, then back to his guitar.

“Come on in.”

“What the hell, Dean. I thought we had a deal.” He slammed the door.

Dean put his guitar down and stood, grabbing a whiskey bottle from the shelf as he walked toward the kitchen, his bare feet padding on the hard wood. “You need one of these.” He held the bottle up in display as he reached for a glass out of the cupboard.

He thinks he’s so fucking smooth. “There was a rule in place, or did you forget? No hooking up with bandmate’s girlfriends. How many times is this now? Six? Eleven? I’ve lost count.” Roe narrowed his eyes.

“Four.”

“Your moral compass is way the fuck out of whack, do you even realize that?”

Dean’s face was blank. “Listen, I didn’t come on to her. She showed up here naked and half drunk, and if it hadn’t been me, it would have been somebody else. At least Elliot got away from her when he had the chance.”

“Can’t you say no, man?”

“Why would I say no?” Dean’s face quirked in confusion, and Roe’s fury bubbled over.

“Jesus, Dean. I don’t know, maybe for Elliot’s sake? Do you have empathy for anyone? It’s like you’re dead inside.”

“Fuck you, Roe.”

“No, really. You could have screwed us over. You need to get your shit together, dude, or we’re all in trouble.” Dean extended the glass of whiskey to Roe. “No, thanks. I think I’ve had enough.”

Roe turned to leave. “By the way, I found a drummer. Don’t fuck his girlfriend,” he said as he slammed the door behind him.

Lex was curled up on the couch with a book that afternoon when Travis burst through the front door and immediately started talking a million miles a minute. His face was lit up with excitement, his blue eyes twinkling. She smiled at him, laughing as she laid her book down.

“Whoa there, cowboy. A little fast—slow it down and give it to me again.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “I was saying, you know that band, Paper Fools? Remember? I played that song by them that was all, buh-nuh nuh-nuh buh-waa-waa, right?”

She was stumped. “Uh, right?”

“So, I got a call from Roe, their bass player, today. I guess their drummer left the band this morning, and they’re looking to fill his spot. Roe saw me play and wants me. Lex, this is huge. They just got signed, which means that I’m gonna play on a fucking album.”

“Oh my god, Travis!” She hopped up and reached to wrap her arms around his neck. He spun her around in the living room, and she squealed before he set her down and pressed his lips to hers.

“I told Spike,” he said with a grin.

“How’d he take it?”

“Not well. He had some choice words about having ‘his’ drummer stolen, and I’m half expecting him to show up at a gig and try to pick a fight.”

“He would be that dumb.”

“Well, we are talking about Spike.” Travis pecked her on the cheek, then winked before he strutted into their bedroom to go bang on his electronic drums.

Lex was thankful for his headphones as she made her way into the kitchen to make some tea. She pulled down her old, red teapot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. While she waited for the water to boil, she turned and leaned on the doorframe to watch Travis play. He spun his sticks in the air as he whaled on the rubberized drum pads, and she bit her lip.

He was so hot when he was in drummer mode.

Travis hated to be confined while he went beat-ninja on his set, and she smiled as her eyes roamed across his naked chest. Sweat glistened on his broad, muscular shoulders, and his tan skin gleamed from the light shining in through the window. His faced scrunched in concentration, and small strands of his honey colored hair stuck to his forehead.

On paper, he was the perfect guy. He was kind and loving. Attentive and thoughtful. He was her best friend, besides Kara. She could see being with him for a long time, maybe forever, but she could see walking away too. It was complacence, she supposed, and wondered if that was all she could hope for out of life. Was there more to love? Would her heart ever open up enough to really let someone in, to feel any more than she did with Travis? She found the whole situation extremely confusing.

Lex’s phone rang from the table, and Kara’s face was on the screen making a kissey face.

“Hey,” Lex answered.

“Yo,” Kara said. “You owe me some dirt. I’m downstairs, so you better be here.”

“Yup. Want some tea?”

“Mmm, that sounds good. It’s freezing outside. Be right up.”

Travis walked in, shirtless and sweaty, and stretched his arms over his head, hooking his fingers on the door frame. His jeans hung low on the eye-popping ‘v’ his hips made as he leaned forward.

Her cheeks flushed as she poured hot water into two mugs.

“Roe texted me. We’re going to go get my gear from the garage.”

“Oh, god. Spike won’t be there, will he?”

“He shouldn’t be. I hope he’s not, anyway.”

“Bless his heart,” she said with a mock pout as she ripped open two tea bags and dunked them into the steamy water.

“Two teas?”

“Kara’s on her way over.”

“Well, I’ll be gone a few hours, so carry on with gab-fest as long as you want.”

He turned for their bedroom, stopping in front of the door when a knock rapped.

“I got it,” Travis said and pulled the door open.

“Well, hello, sir.” Kara’s eyebrow reached for her dark hairline as she appraised his goods.

That really should bother me, Lex thought as she dropped a few sugar cubes in and stirred.

“Ma’am.” Travis tipped an imaginary hat and gave her a wink.

Kara headed into the kitchen, curvy hips swaying, her neck craned to watch Travis walk away, and almost ran into the table. She caught herself at the last possible second and hung her bag on the back of a kitchen chair like nothing happened.

“Tea?” Lex smirked as she offered up a steaming cup with a string draped over the side.

“Thanks, friend.” Kara leaned over her cup, and her dark hair fell over her shoulder. She closed her icy blue eyes and breathed deep. “Mmm.”

Lex took a seat across from Kara at her kitschy 50’s diner table, which was one of her favorite vintage finds, complete with turquoise Formica and chrome.

“Bye, girls, have fun,” Travis said as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Toodles.” Kara twiddled her fingers at him.

Lex rolled her eyes, smiling as the door closed behind him. “Shameless.”

“Moi?” Kara feigned surprise.

“Ha. So innocent.”

Kara batted her lashes and stirred her tea. “So, let’s hear it.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Julie Andrews would say the beginning.”

“It is a very nice place to start.” Lex sighed. “That makes it sound so easy.”

“Well, you had the ‘over it’ look last night. Are Mr. Travis’ days numbered? Because my bed has been awfully cold lately, and, well, he’s just so very virile.”

A laugh bubbled out of Lex. “He really is. Virile. Like incredibly virile.”

“What’s the problem?” she asked chastely, eyebrows raised as she sipped her tea.

“Is it love?”

“If you have to ask yourself that question, then the answer is probably no.”

“But we’re obviously compatible. I do love him, but it’s not that starry-eyed love, the self sacrificing, soulmate kind of love. But then I have to ask myself if that even exists.”

“I believe that it does, and I think you do too.”

“But is it real? Or is it just some bullshit line that Hollywood and romance novels feed us? Some impossible standard? I mean, why shouldn’t I be with Travis?”

“If you don’t love him, I’d say that’s probably reason number one.”

“Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough.”

“I’m almost positive that you can’t force yourself to love someone.”

“No, I know, but I do care about him. I want to make him happy, and I want to be there for him.” Lex shook her head. “Maybe I’m just broken. And if I’m broken, then is that fair to Travis? I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t know if I can stay.”

“Well, sister, you never want to leave any of them, not until you have a tangible reason to, at least. And I’m pretty sure you’ve never said you loved any of them, either.”

“It’s true. And to top that off, I’ve been a serial girlfriend for the last ten years.”

“Since David Clark, junior year. He was so cute.”

“Seriously, the longest I think I’ve gone between guys is two weeks, and I cried the entire time that I would be alone forever. How is it possible that I’ve never been in love?”

“Well, the minute they get to be too much, care too much, need too much, you jet.”

“I like to think I live in the moment. That I enjoy what I have when I have it, and move on when it’s over.”

“Is it over with Travis?”

“I don’t know.” Lex took a sip of her tea, and they sat in silence for a moment before she continued. “This is all because of my mom, you realize that, right?”

Kara nodded.

“She’s still not over my dad leaving, and he’s been gone since I was nine. It didn’t matter how she tried to hide it. She cried almost every night for him and probably still does. After he left, she just … fell apart. No child should have to take care of their parents like that before they hit puberty.”

“But her crazy doesn’t have to be your crazy, Lex.”

“I can’t help it. I watched her for all those years as she waited on him to come home, never able to understand how someone she loves so much could just leave her. I don’t want that. If that’s what love is? If that’s what happens when it’s over? I don’t want it. And even though I want to care about someone, I can’t. Not if there’s a chance they’re going to hurt me. I see her face in my mind, and all I can do is be angry at my dad. Men leave. They betray. I can’t really trust them, and I can’t care, because if I don’t care then I can’t get hurt.”

“Do you think Travis is going to hurt you?”

“No, I don’t think he’d do anything to hurt me, not on purpose. But it’s not like I can choose to fall in love, or decide to let someone in. So does it mean redefining love and my expectations? And is that fair to Travis? Is there some girl out there who will love him like Juliet loves Romeo? Like Orpheus and Eurydice? Because if there is, he deserves that.”

Kara reached out to touch her arm. “You’re the only one who can figure that out, and I know you will.”

“I hope so, because right now, I am so confused.”

“You will. And trust me, things could be a lot worse.”

“Don’t you jinx me, Kara.”

“You are so superstitious. Hurry, burn some sage.” Kara said, laughing. “I know you’ve got some around here somewhere.”

“Don’t make fun of me. It works, even though it smells dank.”

“Define ‘works.’”

“If nothing else, it makes me feel better.”

“Well, in that case, burn away.”

Dita lay on her overstuffed red velvet couch, lost in the creases and folds, eyeing Perry, who sat lotus style at the end of the couch, annihilating an enormous chocolate donut.

Dita propped her head up on a bright, hand-woven pillow. “You’re dead meat if you get Bavarian cream on my sofa.”

“Mmmph hmm,” Perry mumbled. Bisoux’s tongue hung out as he panted at Perry’s elbow, his eyes fixed on the donut.

Dita grabbed her cashmere throw off the back of the couch and pulled it onto her lap. “So Dean’s hot, huh?”

“Hubba, hubba.”

“He’s going to be tricky. I kind of did a number on his mom, which screwed him up pretty bad.”

Perry snorted.

“Emotionally, that is, although that pun was totally intended. He’s so damaged. It was a good choice for Apollo.”

“For once.”

“Right? He seems to be on his game, though I doubt it will be enough for him to win.”

“Well, you never lose.”

“Not when it comes to love.” Dita pulled a small pillow into her lap and absently fiddled with the tassels. “Lex is a perfect match for him. She’s never been in love, so when it happens with Dean, it’s going to hit her like a freight train.”

“The love train?”

“Yes, filled up with chocolates, stuffed animals, and bad poetry. If I had to bet, which I realize we are, I’d say they’re perfect for each other.”

“Well,” Perry licked her fingers as she held the donut gingerly in her other hand, “you happen to be the universal expert on the subject, so I can’t say that I’m surprised. Devil’s advocate, since that’s technically what I am, what if Apollo wins?”

“Do I have to think about that?” Dita shifted in her seat.

“I think it would be prudent.”

“Well, I’ve beaten him hundreds of times before, so my track record should speak for itself.”

“You do own the competition pretty fiercely, Dita, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t prepare yourself, just in case.”

“It’s kind of hard to prepare for losing when you haven’t done it in three thousand years.”

“Try.”

Dita sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t forget that look in his eyes. Maybe he’ll give me a run for my money this time. Our little feud has gotten to him, but it’s gotten to me too.”

“You’re not one to forget.”

“No, I’m not. How can I forgive him? He murdered Adonis.” Dita shook her head. “If he wins, I guess I have to give up a token, but I can’t imagine what our lives will be like if I do.”

Perry watched her silently, but Dita didn’t notice. She stared across the room at nothing in particular as her thoughts drifted back in time to the day that forever changed her life.

The day that their feud began, Aphrodite sat under an old, gnarled olive tree in a small clearing in the woods of old Greece, waiting for Adonis. They always met in a valley that seemed to bloom with wildflowers, no matter the season. Poppies dotted the green grass that swayed in the breeze and climbed the walls of the mountains that surrounded the quiet place. The sky was blue and clear, and two fat little pipits landed nearby, chirping their small song.

They flew away together, weaving around each other until she could see them no longer.

“My goddess,” Adonis said, his voice full of awe, “how lovely you are, always, but today especially so.”

Her white robes flowed behind her as she flew into his arms. “My love.”

He leaned back and brushed her hair from her face. “Hello, dearest.”

She smiled up at him and ran a hand through his golden hair that hung in curls around his angular face. It was said that he was the most beautiful man ever created, which was the truth. Her eyes traced his blond brow over ocean blue eyes, then followed the line of his perfect nose to the steep slope of his generous lips as he smiled.

“My goddess,” he said, “what have I ever done to deserve the grace of your affection?”

“Just existing is enough.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, “I will hold you forever.”

“Forever is long for a mortal such as I.”

Aphrodite pulled away, her mood sullen in an instant. She took a seat under the tree again and picked a star-shaped crocus from the grass. “Forever is the blink of an eye, if you would only drink nectar.” She twiddled the stem of the small violet flower between her thumb and forefinger, and it spun around wildly, flying in a blur as she avoided his eyes, trying not to sound impertinent.

Adonis inspected his fingernails. “I will, when I am ready. I have not experienced living enough to settle into eternity.”

That is true enough, she thought. At twenty-three, he had been alive for only a moment in time, and they had only been together for a few short years of that. Humans were fragile creatures, and the thought of losing him so soon after having him for her own was almost too much to bear.

They had argued over the matter dozens of times, never reaching an understanding. In his short existence, he didn’t have the experience to understand mortality, and she found the sentiment that immortality changed what he could, or would, experience ridiculous on the best days and enraging on the worst.

She plucked the petals off the flower one by one and dropped them, watching as they spiraled into her lap in an attempt to bite her tongue, not wanting to say anything to anger him, but she couldn’t help but stew.

“Do you realize that you could be in danger?” She kept her eyes on the flower.

“Hunting is dangerous, and I realize that.”

“Yes, but what is more dangerous is the attention that you’ve called upon yourself. Your hunting prowess is unmatched by any human—“

“And this is a bad thing?’

“No,” she answered, using the patience she reserved for small children and the very old. “Not on its own merit. But if you anger Artemis, you know that she will not forgive. You challenge her as the goddess of the hunt. I’ve seen the jealousy in her eyes and have heard it in her voice. She would not hesitate to bring you harm.”

He laughed, which only frustrated her more. “I do not threaten Artemis, and I never claim to be any more skilled than any other man or god. Why should she wish to punish me?”

She sighed. So sure he is of himself. There was no convincing him as he stood before her, leaning on a tree with his big arms folded across his broad chest, smiling as if he’d live forever without being smart enough to ensure that he would.

Her thoughts drifted to Ares, and her fears burned even brighter. They had been lovers for hundreds of years, and Ares was insanely jealous, particularly of Adonis. She pushed the worry away, hoping that she had secured his safety from Ares, at least.

Aphrodite stood, and the petals fell from her robes and into the grass as she moved to him, threading her arms through his. She laid her cheek against his chest and took a breath.

“Please, be safe,” she said, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“I will.”

After a moment, she unwound herself and pushed up on her toes to cradle his face in her elegant hands. He bent to brush his lips to hers, soft and tender against her own. Her fingers roamed down his chest and over the ridges of his stomach as he leaned into her.

Their kiss burned hot, and he broke away to sweep her off her feet. He carried her to the wide shade of the tree, lying her down in the cool grass, his hand on her thigh as he kissed her neck.

“You are mine,” she breathed into his ear, her arms around his neck as his fingers nimbly loosened the belt that kept her robes in place.

“Yours,” he said into her neck before laying kisses down her collarbone, then along the neckline of her robe. He slipped the fabric off her shoulders. “As you are mine.”

“Always yours,” she whispered back and pulled him close.

He kissed her again, his lips charged with want as he cupped her breast, then pulled away, his eyes hungry as he pulled her robes to the side, exposing her body to him. She reached for his belt, dropped his robes, and wrapped her fingers around his length.

His hands pressed into the grass on either side of her as he tilted his head back and moved into her palms. He bent down to kiss her, and she brought her hand to his lips to slip her thumb into his mouth when he broke from her. She skimmed her hand down his torso and ran her slick thumb over his crown, already beading, rolling it around in circles. He bucked with a soft moan, then pulled away from her to kiss frantically down her chest.

He paused over her breasts to kiss them, squeezing gently with his strong hand as his thumb brushed her nipple. One arm lay under the small of her back, and his free hand moved down her body to her thigh, then trailed back up to touch her. The pads of his fingers rolled in circles, and she gasped. Her hips tilted to him and her head hung back, her golden hair a blanket around her in the spring grass.

A branch snapped nearby, and Aphrodite opened her heavy lids, confused.

“What in Hades?” she said, her voice husky, and then she saw him.

Erymanthus hid in the brush, leering at her with a hand under his robes. It was not the first time she had found Apollo’s son lurking, trying to catch a glimpse of her bathing or with Adonis, but never had she been taken by surprise. And she was so shocked, so caught off guard, that when he sneered with a wicked look in his eye and turned to run, she filled with rage.

She stood and flung out her hand, fingers splayed, eyes glowing blue-white in her wrath as she paced toward him. An angry wind flew through the space between them, kicking up leaves and flowers that danced madly in the currents, whipping her hair around her. He clawed at his eyes, screaming, and he turned and ran.

She let him go with his life, though he would spy no longer.

The wind calmed as her hand dropped to her side, her heart thumping in her chest as she turned to where Adonis lay stunned, his long body stretched out in the grass. He shook his head, but the shock never left him as she stalked to him, her heart racing furiously on the rush of her wrath.

Adonis propped himself up, and when she reached for his face, he leaned out of her reach, emotion warring behind his eyes. “How could you?”

She was dumbstruck, her anger dissipating, her tone soft and pleading. “Truly? He saw me naked, exposed, and this is not the first time he has tried. He was touching himself, Adonis, while watching us. You suggest that I let that go unpunished?”

“What will become of him?”

“He is blind, but he is alive, and lucky to be so. I am a goddess, worshipped and sacred, and my honor must be defended. Surely you understand?”

He looked away and rubbed a hand across his lips. “I sometimes forget that you are not human.”

Her eyes stung at his words. “Have you forgotten who I am? I know that it is impossible for you to grasp immortality and the life of a god, but that does not mean that I am not the one who you love.”

“This is why I do not wish for immortality. You say that all will be the same, but it will not.”

She touched his cheek, and he turned to face her, his eyes sad. “Adonis, please. I have lived so long, and have order to uphold. It is the way of things. It does not change my feelings for you, or who I am.”

His face softened, and he leaned into her hand. “I know. I should not be so shocked, but to see you in wrath reminds me how different we are.”

She pulled him into her chest, filled with cold dread, and he wrapped his arms around her. If he never drank nectar, he would never fully be hers, would never understand, and she wondered how long they could survive together if they couldn’t find common ground.

“I must go,” she said and kissed the top of his head. “Go. Hunt. Call for me when you are ready to speak, and I will come to you.”

She returned to Olympus, thinking over the exchange as she soaked in a steaming bath, trying to relax, though her mind was occupied, searching for a way to bridge the gap between her and Adonis. The room glowed with the soft light of candle flames that lined the edge of the enormous marble bath. She sank into the fragrant water, and her eyes had just closed when he called her, his voice ragged with pain.

Adonis.

She shot up, the force spilling water over the edge, putting the candles out with a hiss, filling the room with the acrid smell of sulfur.

“Gods,” she whispered and when she blinked, she was dressed and by his side.

The horror of what she saw stole the air from her lungs, and she fell to the ground next to him. Blood was everywhere, on the grass around him, on his ashen skin. The flesh on his torso was torn open from groin to sternum, and his entrails lay all around him in the grass. She leaned over him, called his name, shouted and cried as she pushed them back in, her hands splayed to hold him together.

His eyes tracked her, and he reached up to touch her face.

“Please,” she cried. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Forever … was not long, after all.”

“No, please. I love you.”

But he looked away as he breathed his last, and his brilliant eyes stared at the sky, at nothing.

She pulled him into her lap and wept as she rocked him, not knowing how long had passed. The brush rustled, though she barely heard the sound.

“Oh dear, Aphrodite. What a mess,” Apollo said.

She looked up at him, and shock tore through her, hot and angry. “You,” she whispered.

“Yes, me. You blinded my son. I could not let that go unpunished, could I?”

Her throat twisted closed as she realized that she had caused his death. It was all her fault.

The wind stirred around her, and her hair rose, mottled with Adonis’ drying blood. She breathed deeper and deeper as emotion washed over her, her chest rising higher and higher until she took a deep breath, kicked her head back, and screamed, her anguish exploding out of her with such pain that she thought she would shatter.

“I believe we are even now.” Apollo took a last look at her before he turned to walk away.

Aphrodite bent over Adonis and buried her face in his neck as she cried, whispering words of solemn promise. The debt would be repaid.

Dita’s face was tight, and she bit her lip hard to keep herself from crying at the memory. His face in the moment that he died, smeared with his blood, white as snow, the tang of blood in the air, they were all the things of her nightmares, and Apollo was the focus of all of her blame.

“Want to talk about it?” Perry stuffed the last bite of her criminally large donut into her mouth.

She smiled, knowing it was weak, and that Perry wouldn’t buy it. “I’m okay.”

Perry licked residual chocolate from her fingers in earnest, and her black Buddy Holly glasses slipped down her tiny nose. Once her fingers were licked clean, she leaned back to watch Dita over her glasses with sweet, hazel eyes. A streak of chocolate was smeared at the corner of her mouth, and there were crumbs in the ‘v’ of her t-shirt.

“What?” she asked around a mouthful of donut.

“Uh, you’ve got a little schmutz right there.” Dita motioned to her face.

She rolled her eyes, pawing at her face. “Jeeze. Did I get it?”

“No, Perry, right there.” Dita pointed to Perry’s face from across the couch.

Perry wiped the wrong cheek. “Now?”

Dita sighed. “Yup, totally.”

Bisoux hopped into Perry’s lap and licked his chops, then curled up into a tiny ball of fur with eyes. Perry scratched his head and sat quietly, patiently, giving her a few more minutes to work through her thoughts. Dita was a talker and was rarely able to contemplate things internally. Perry was her opposite. She processed almost everything in silence and knew exactly when to keep her thoughts to herself.

The two goddesses had been friends since Persephone was a girl, and had experienced eons together, through good and through bad, as close as sisters, and as sworn enemies. But, when all was said and done, Perry was Dita’s closest friend and always would be.

Perry settled back into the couch as she scratched Bisoux’s ear. “You never really answered me. If Apollo wins, and you have to give him a token, how are you going to feel about that?”

“Well, he’s going to ask me for Daphne, and I’ll have to help him whether I want to or not.”

“No, what I mean is, do you think that you and Apollo will ever forgive each other?”

“I don’t know. It’s been thousands of years. I’m not as mad as I once was about it, and if Apollo wins, I won’t have a choice.”

And she wondered, could she blame Apollo for doing whatever it took to win a token? Because she would do the same, if the tables were turned.

APOLLO LAID HIS HEAD back on the cushions of his lounge chair, closing his eyes against the sun as he stretched out on his patio. It had been ages since he pulled the sun across the sky in a chariot, and he couldn’t say he missed it. Talk about a long day. Heff automated it during the industrial revolution, freeing up Apollo to spend most of his time inspiring music, theater, and films, and he needed the extra time. Hollywood alone was enough to keep him busy.

He smiled, pleased with his choice in player. Dean was a rock star in the truest form: wildly talented, brooding, and damaged. He oozed sex appeal like Jim Morrison sans drug issues. Apollo smiled nostalgically. The Doors were fun while they lasted.

Dean’s band was going places, and soon. Apollo would know, being the god of prophecy and all.

He stretched and sighed, warm and content from the sun’s rays. The bigger Dean’s band got, the more opportunities he would have for getting some ass. Between that possibility and Dean’s track record, Apollo was sure his player wouldn’t give Lex the time of day. Maybe he’d give her a night, but not more than that.

Probably.

It didn’t help his case that Dita had been playing the game before he’d even officially chosen his player. He was certain that Dita had set the whole thing up with Jenny and Dean. The minute that Travis accepted Elliot’s spot, Apollo knew.

He frowned and shifted in his chair.

Dita was impossible to beat. She had a stockpile of tokens to use, since she rarely lost, and no one knew love like she did. She owned it. Of course, how much fun would the challenges be if one was not an expert in the subject matter they defended? But when it was between Apollo and Dita, it was never for fun. Not since the whole mess began, thousands of years before in ancient Greece.

The golden sun lit the tops of the clouds in oranges and yellows as the sun set, and Apollo waited with Eros, their feet hidden in the mist of the cloud, as Artemis aimed her silver arrow down far below. It was a game that the three of them played, Apollo being the patron of archers, his twin Artemis, the virgin goddess of the hunt, and Eros, Aphrodite’s son and wielder of love arrows, to test their skill.

Artemis’ target was a young woman who was locked in an embrace with a man whose hands roamed her body as they kissed in a dark corridor. The girl was a virgin, though she was dangerously close to losing the title. Apollo watched his sister, her hair dark as night with her silver bow drawn, her feet set apart as she aimed, let out a soft breath, and fired.

Her arrow hit the girl in the heart.

“Leodes, wait,” she panted.

“Why, my love?”

“Please, it is too soon. I … I must go.” She turned to go, but trotted back to give him a final kiss before leaving him confounded in the dark.

Apollo and Eros laughed.

“So cruel, Artemis, to leave a man wanting so. A problem which I believe I can rectify,” Eros said, and stepped forward.

His white wings flapped behind him with a lively snap before folding against his naked back, and his tan, muscular arms drew his bow, the dove feathers coming to rest against his cheek. He fired.

The arrow struck true, and Leodes straightened up with a dazed look on his face. He marched off after the girl and caught up to her easily. He pulled her off the street and pressed her up against the side of a building, kissing her with all the love he had in him. She wound herself around him, begging his name when he broke away to kiss down her neck.

Eros tipped his head and gave a slight bow, and Apollo clapped. “Impressive, Eros.”

Artemis threw her bow and arrow down, and a tuft of cloud flew up after them. She scowled and sat down, pouting.

“Dear sister,” Apollo said as he drew his bow, “you must forgive me.”

He loosed the arrow, and it struck Leodes in his poor heart again. He murmured as he kissed her skin.

“Thither I must haste to bring the mysterious early light; Which must witness every rite of the joyous happy night. Let us hasten — let us fly — where lovely meadows lie; Where the living waters flow; Where the roses bloom and blow.”

“Oh, Leodes,” she whispered, and succumbed to him.

Eros clapped and laughed. “Well done, Apollo.”

Artemis appraised Apollo with narrow eyes. “Traitorous brother. Let us up the stakes, shall we?”

“What do you propose?”

“First, no targets in Greece. Distance is key.”

Apollo tsked. “Artemis, you know that I will win this.”

“I have bested you before in distance. Do not be so assured. Another stipulation — each must have a different target, and on a different continent.”

Eros raised a blond eyebrow. “And who shall go first?”

“I will,” she said and looked toward the dark horizon behind her. She drew and loosed, her arrow flying far and fast to a quiet hut on a freezing plain. A small fire burned inside, and a small group of women collected around Artemis’ target, who lay on a straw bed, panting and huffing as she labored. She opened her dark, almond eyes and screamed when the arrow struck, and her child left her body with a whoosh.

Eros and Apollo looked away, groaning.

“So vivid,” Eros said with a curled lip.

“Childbirth often is, you cretin.” Artemis shot at him.

Eros contemplated the dark sky to the east for a moment before his face lit up, and he winked at Artemis. He fired an arrow that flew swiftly to a jungle with golden pyramids that rose from the tops of the trees like shining islands in the morning sun. His arrow struck a man with dark skin and black hair, shaved on the sides. Gold discs hung in his ears, and his eyes went out of focus for a moment before he crouched and made his way around the edge of a building, glancing around before he slipped inside.

A girl waited there alone, crying in a headdress and golden robes. She ran to him when she saw him, and he wiped her tears away.

“They will not take you. I cannot lose you, sacrifice or no,” he said.

“They will kill us both if they find us.”

“Then let us hope that they never do. Come.”

He pulled her away, and they disappeared into the dense jungle.

Apollo’s heart ached as he watched them run. “My, Eros. That was inspired.”

Eros bowed.

Apollo watched the deep blue horizon that faded into purple. How could he win? Distance was the only way, but for him to win, he would need to circle earth almost entirely. And then, he decided. He would go to the Great Pyramids, but by route of the entire globe, which would surpass where he stood over Greece.

He took aim and loosed, and his silver arrow flew around the world, over oceans and deserts, and into the chamber of Strabo, who sat staring at a blank piece of papyrus with a frustrated scowl. When the arrow struck, he dipped his reed brush into the ink pot, and it raced across the page, telling the tale of Rhodopis, the servant granted a pair of rose-gilded slippers from her master. She fell in love with the Pharaoh, though he knew not who she was, only knew her by her shoes. When one slipper was given to him by the god Horus, he searched the kingdom to find his love, the holder of the other gilded shoe.

Eros’ mouth hung open.

“I believe that makes me the victor.” Apollo said, smug and unabashed. “You should also know that that particular tale will be retold in thousands of ways for thousands of years.”

“Distance is a factor,” Eros answered, “and the kingdom of pyramids is not as far as my arrow struck.”

“That arrow traveled tens of thousands of kilometers! I clearly won, Eros.”

“It is a farce. Perhaps I could shoot that far, too, if Zeus made my bow and arrow. This contest is unfair, and I should not have agreed to play with the two of you.”

“Please, Eros. My bow is more than you would know what to do with.”

“What is that supposed to mean, you pretentious ass?”

“What it means, you impudent infant, is that this bow deals wrath and pain, disease and famine. It can inspire, or it can decimate. Your little love arrows are no match for mine.”

Eros’ face went red. “Let us see, shall we?” He knocked a lead arrow, whose intent was to turn love to disdain, then drew and loosed in a swift motion. Apollo watched in horror as the arrow sailed down toward a river below.

Daphne laid by the shore with her eyes on the stars, her red hair lying in the grass around her with a happy smile on her wide lips. The arrow hit her, and the breath left her lungs, her face twisted in pain as her heart broke.

“Daphne,” Apollo whispered. He turned on Eros, who had a small smile on his lips, and a dove arrow pointed at his heart. He loosed.

Apollo looked down at his chest as the arrow dissolved into twinkling dust, his mouth slack as he looked up at Eros. “What have you done?” he whispered, paralyzed for a long moment before he turned and flew to Daphne.

Eros turned to Artemis, confused. “What is he on about?”

Artemis scrambled for her things and slung her quiver across her chest. “He loves her, you idiot.”

“Well, of course he does. I just hit him with an arrow.”

“No, you fool. Before you threw your tantrum.” She shook her head and followed Apollo away.

Apollo appeared by Daphne’s side, and she skittered away from him, clutching at her chest, her green eyes wide, her freckles dark against her pale skin..

“Daphne…” he said with a cautious hand extended.

“No. NO! Get away.”

“Please, Daphne. I will not harm you. It is I, Apollo.”

“I know who you are! You must stay away.”

“But I love you, and you love me.”

Her face twisted. “I could never love you. You disgust me.”

His heart shattered at the words. “I … you cannot mean …”

“Stay back,” she screamed, then stood and turned to run up the bank of the river.

He ran after her, calling her name, and she looked over her shoulder at him, terror written all over her small face, her hair flying around her. She turned and made for the river’s shore, screaming her father’s name.

The water bubbled, and the river god appeared, his barrel chest glistening, his serpentine tail twisting in the water under him.

“Save me, Father,” she shrieked, and he threw out his hand.

She skidded to a halt as the earth moved beneath her. Roots shot out of the ground, whipping at her arms, twisting around her legs as the tree enveloped her. Her screams pierced his ear, and her eyes met his just before they were gone, consumed by bark as it climbed over her skin.

Apollo fell at the base of the tree, and the branches that hung over him shrank away with a rustle.

His fists closed in the grass around her roots. “No,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Please, no.”

Her father sank back into the water with the final words, “You shall not harm her.”

Apollo closed his eyes, and his ribs shuddered as he tried to breathe, his chest burning. When he opened his eyes, he was glowing, the light white and yellow and hot, and when the scream ripped from his throat, the light left him in a pulse, exploding out around him in a ring. He laid a hand on the trunk and tried to stand, touching her face, still clear as if carved into the tree, frozen in horror.

“I am sorry.” His voice was raw and rough, his tears burning tracks down his cheeks. She rustled her branches, and he reached up to pull off a strand of leaves, weaving them into his hair before crumpling to her feet, lost and broken.

That moment would never leave him. He saw it every time he closed his eyes.

Aphrodite bid Eros to leave the arrows where they fell, Apollo’s penance for Adonis. Eros’ powers fell under her domain, and as her son and confidant, he wouldn’t go against her.

And so, winning was imperative for him and for Daphne, because the only way Dita would reverse the curse was if she had no choice.

Dean sat on the arm of the big couch in the warehouse as Roe brought Travis up to speed. He’d been instructed to keep quiet by Roe, who he was in deep shit with, but Dean had no desire to cause any more trouble. The band would be better off with Travis’ talent, and they’d gotten him quickly enough that they hopefully wouldn’t fall into any trouble with their label for dicking around. And, past that, Travis seemed like a good guy, or at least as far as Dean could tell.

He watched as Travis nodded at Roe, smiling amiably as Roe went over their schedule and the situation. Roe’s face was drawn, his shoulders tense, and his eyes occasionally darted to Dean as he spoke.

Dean was in trouble, that was all there was to it. He’d run out of chances. Roe had seen him through almost every fuck up of his life and bailed him out no questions asked. He was always there with a smile and a slap on the back, never judging. Dean owed him everything. Roe was the only family he had.

“Practice is every day at noon, except Saturdays. The first thing we have to do is get you familiarized with the songs we’re scheduled to record, and the sooner the better. Our rep is breathing down my neck, and he’s not happy that Elliot’s gone.” Roe shot Dean a pointed look. “No offense, Travis.”

“None taken,” Travis said.

Kevin turned to Travis and cocked an eyebrow behind his heavy-framed, black glasses. “Speaking of, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” He folded his skinny arms across his t-shirt that said, I can’t. I have gymnastics.

“Yeah, Lex is her name,” Travis answered.

Roe tensed.

Kevin smirked. “Is she hot?”

“As a matter of fact, yeah. She is. Why do you ask?” Travis asked with a hint of confusion in his voice.

Dean sighed. He wasn’t ashamed, and he wasn’t proud, but he was tired of talking about it.

“Full disclosure.” Kevin pushed his glasses up his hawkish nose. “There have been … let’s call them ‘issues’ of the carnal nature between our dear Professor Panty Dropper and girlfriends of drummers past.”

“Oh. I’m not really worried about that.” Travis shrugged.

Kevin’s fingers disappeared into his curly hair as he scratched his head, and his eyebrows arched. “Seriously, man? Because that’s why Elliot bailed. Casanova here gave his girl the business, and it was curtains.”

“Ah. Wow, man.” Travis smiled warmly at Dean, and Dean was caught off guard, only able to smile back. “That’s cold.” He turned back to Roe. “Look, I trust Lex.”

Roe’s lips were a flat line. “It’s not her we’re worried about.”

Travis laughed, and Roe paused for a moment before he shook his head.

“Well, you’ve been warned. Let’s get started.”

Everyone moved for their instruments. Kevin walked by on his way to his keyboard and punched Dean in the shoulder. Dean was pretty sure he was playing.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Kevin said with narrow eyes.

“Don’t worry, man.”

“Yeah, right.” Kevin rolled his eyes, and Dean gave him a crooked smile as he reached for his guitar.

He glanced at Roe, whose head was bent down as he tuned his bass, and knew he had to keep his shit together. He could say no, he just didn’t say no. But as he looked at Roe, he knew things had to be different with Travis. He owed it to all of them, and especially to Roe, who had been there for him always, even when he had no one else.

Dean was eight years old again with his alarm blaring in his ear. He slapped the button and stretched in bed, lying there for a minute, listening for his mom. Everything was quiet, so either she was drunk, asleep, or she still wasn’t back. He hoped she was still gone as he threw the covers off and slipped out of bed in the near-dark.

The living room was quiet when he walked in, his mom’s door open and the room dark. He flipped on the kitchen light and climbed on the counter to get out the Fruit Loops and a bowl. The box was almost gone, and he wondered when she would come back. It had been over a week since she’d been shopping, three days since she’d been home, and they were almost out of everything. He climbed down and took his bowl to the fridge, setting it on the shelf while he opened the milk, but as soon as he took the lid off, he knew it was bad.

Dean sighed and emptied the milk out in the sink, then sat down at the table to eat his cereal plain, not able to hear anything past the crunching. He jumped when the door opened, and his mother almost fell into the room, giggling.

Her black hair fell down her back, her green eyes ringed with shadows, and the man behind her grabbed her arm to stop her from falling.

“Whoa there, Susie. I think you’ve had too much to drink. We should get you to bed.” He smiled down at her and nuzzled his face in her neck. She giggled again and squirmed against him.

When he pulled away, he noticed Dean for the first time, and his smile fell off his face and onto the floor.

“Uh, who’s this?”

She glanced at Dean and rolled her eyes. “That’s just my kid. Don’t mind him, he’s on his way to school in a bit. Aren’t you?” She shot a look at him that let him know exactly where he stood.

“Yeah.” Dean wasn’t hungry anymore and pushed his bowl away.

“Let me just go freshen up, okay Joey?”

“Sure thing, baby.”

She made a face at Dean as she walked by. All he wanted to do was get out of there, and he wished she had just waited a little longer before coming home. His stomach twisted into knots as he picked up the bowl and poured the cereal back into the box. If she didn’t go shopping, he could at least eat it the next day.

Joey leaned up against the wall by the door and watched him with a friendly smile. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey.” Dean put the bowl in the sink and made his way around the kitchen collecting bread and peanut butter for his lunch.

“You need some help?”

“I got it, thanks.”

“You’re pretty good, you get yourself up and everything? How old are you?”

“Eight.”

Joey’s face fell. “Wow. I’m impressed. That’s very grown-up of you. Are you sure you don’t want a hand? I’d like to help.”

Dean looked up at him, wishing Joey really could help. He imagined for a split second living in a world where someone wanted to take care of him. A place where he was tucked in tight by someone who loved him, a world where movies with popcorn or cocoa on cold winter nights existed. But Joey would soon be gone, and his mom would bring a new guy home. Or, she would leave, and he’d be all alone again. Joey couldn’t help him, and his mother didn’t want to.

“I always do it by myself, but thanks anyway.” Dean turned for his room, leaving the bewildered man in the kitchen.

He tried not to listen to what was going on behind his mother’s door as he dressed and brushed his teeth, trying to hurry. He pushed his shaggy hair out of his face as he locked the door, but it wouldn’t stay put, since it hadn’t been cut in months. He considered cutting it himself, but the last time he’d done it, it looked stupid, and he’d been made fun of for weeks at school.

He walked the three blocks to his elementary school and sat on the steps in the chilly morning, waiting for the doors to open with a composition book open in his lap. His teacher gave it to him with permission to keep it and write whatever he wanted in it. He’d had it for a week, and it was almost full. He drew a little, but he wasn’t very good, and he found what he really loved was to write poems. He flipped through the last blank pages. There weren’t many left, and he worried over what would happen when he was out of space. It didn’t feel right to ask for another book, and he didn’t have any money for one. There was no way he could ask his mom for one either, and he chewed on his lip, wondering how he could stretch the pages to last as long as possible.

It was that moment when James McCoy slapped his open notebook, and it fell down the stairs along with Dean’s pencil.

“Hey, Monroe. Are you writing some more stupid girl poems?”

“Hey, McCoy. I saw you munching your mom’s butt earlier. Need a breath mint?”

“Yeah, you got any in your purse?”

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

“You’re such a girl, Monroe. You sure you don’t have boobs under there, dickbreath?” He hooked a finger in Dean’s collar and tugged.

Dean slapped his hand away. “Whatever, fatass.” He stood and took a step toward his notebook, but McCoy pushed him hard enough to land Dean back on the step.

“I don’t have a fat ass, shit for brains.”

Dean stood again, and his fists clenched. “Fuck you, McCoy. Get out of my way.”

“You gonna make me?”

Dean was so focused on keeping himself from hitting James that he didn’t see the blond kid pick up his notebook and pencil until McCoy turned to him.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the kid that’s about to stick my foot in your craphole if you don’t walk away.”

McCoy turned to Dean. “Who’s this, your girlfriend?” He flailed his hands and rolled his eyes.

Dean pulled back his fist, but before he had a chance to throw the punch, the blond kid kicked the back of McCoy’s knee, and he crumpled on the step whimpering.

“I’m telling!” McCoy hobbled off, and the blond kid laughed.

“That guy’s a real winner.” He turned to Dean. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Roe. What’s your name?”

“I’m Dean. Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem. I hate choads like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We just moved here, and I don’t know anybody yet.”

“Well, now you know me.” Dean smiled, and they were inseparable ever after. Roe had given him everything, and Dean would never be able to pay him back, but he could try.

Dita’s radio was up way too loud as the moody sounds of The Dig rolled out of her speakers. She always turned it up until her ears almost hurt, wishing sometimes she could climb inside the music and live there. She almost got up to put on headphones, wanting to shoot the music directly into her brain with as little distance as possible, but she was too lazy.

Her feet were propped on the coffee table, and her head was stuck in between the fluffy cushions of her couch. The competition was moving along, and she had done what she could to get Dean and Lex in the same place. It was only a matter of time until that happened, and when it did, the game would really be on.

Dita thought of Apollo’s face, so full of pain. She’d seen the look before in shades and versions throughout the many years, though that wasn’t nearly the most shattered she’d seen him. That look was on the day Daphne was cursed.

Aphrodite had appeared behind Eros, who looked down from the cloud in horror as Apollo fell to his knees at Daphne’s feet.

Eros turned to her. “I … I did not know. I must set this right.” He pulled a dove arrow from his quiver, but Aphrodite laid a hand on his shoulder before he could knock it.

“Leave him.”

“But—“

“Let him know my pain.”

He looked down at Apollo, his face lined with sadness. “Yes, Aphrodite.”

Looking back on that day always left her heart heavy and cold in her chest. After thousands of years, the feud seemed petty and cruel, no matter how much pain she had been through. She had mended, healed as best she could. But she couldn’t just end the fight with Apollo. It wasn’t that simple.

The elevator dinged, and Dita sighed as she picked herself up and strode toward the foyer.

“Dita?” Heff looked around cautiously as she strolled into the entryway.

“Hello, Husband,” she said, smiling.

“Hello, Wife.” Heff’s dark hair was tousled, his eyes blue and bright. His lips bent in a smile, lined by his thick, dark beard. The white tank that stretched across his wide chest was smudged with grime, and his broad shoulders glinted with sweat, likely from working on gadgets or tinkering with his cars.

“Thanks for coming up. Let me show you the problem with my closet.” She turned with a smile, swinging her arm in invitation for him to follow her. He limped after her, his mangled leg oddly weak, the contrast stark against his strong body.

Hephaestus had always been an outsider, preferring his workshop and automatons to social gatherings. For ages he lived underground with his cyclopes in relative solitude. Some of the gods didn’t take him seriously, though they were happy to use his beautiful mind, when it suited them. He was the only one among them with physical flaws.

Hera conceived him on her own, jealous after Zeus impregnated one of his mistresses, but realized before he was born that it was a mistake. She feared retribution from Zeus, and when Hephaestus was born, she threw him out of Olympus and down to Earth, into the ocean, damaging his leg in the process. Thetis, a nymph, found him and raised him in Poseidon’s domain, where he learned smithing and cultivated his passion for the craft, and years later, he exacted revenge by creating a golden throne for Hera that imprisoned her the second she sat her proud ass on it. From that moment on, he’d earned respect from almost everyone, alongside earning his way back into Olympus.

Dita and Heff walked through her bedroom and to the infinity closet that he made for her. The keypad mounted on the wall outside of the closet door beeped and booped as Dita tapped a series of numbers, then stepped back as the door whirred and clicked. When she opened it, an immense dressing room lay in front of them.

Lights shown down on racks of shoes that lined one wall, all displayed on custom shelves that Heff built. On the back wall hung an ornate mirror the size of a Buick, flanked by drawers of negligee and lingerie below hundreds of shirts, blouses and jackets. A floor-to-ceiling cabinet system displayed her jewelry, scarves, and purses on the other long wall of the room. A round, orange dupioni silk bench sat in the center of the room under clusters of brightly colored paper lanterns in pinks, reds, and oranges.

“It looks okay now,” she said, “but watch this … ” The keypad beeped again as she hit the numbers. “Now, it should pull up 1500 AD, but instead—”

They stepped back as the closet whirred, and rooms spun around behind the portal of the doorway like a cracked out carousel. It came to rest in what was obviously 1500 BC.

The room made her regular closet look like a shoebox. It was at least three times the size, full of a century’s haul of keepsakes and clothes from the time. There were robes of deep purple, royal blue, shining gold. Sandals made of calfskin, embellished in gold, were shelved next to dozens of ornate necklaces and crowns, arm cuffs and rings. Pottery was displayed on shelves throughout the room, as well as ancient tomes, all created for her.

It was an archaeologist’s wet dream.

Heff looked down at the keypad and furrowed his brows. “Seems like there’s a problem with the algorithm. Let me see what I can do.”

“Okay.” She turned to her room of treasures. “Is it safe to go in? It’s been forever since I’ve been in here.”

“Yup,” he said with a sideways smile as he knelt down. “I’ll let you know when I have it fixed.”

Her stomach fluttered as she stepped onto the white marble floor, feeling the cold, gold veined stone under her feet. She made her way across the room, running her hands through her robes as she walked by, pausing at a silk lavender robe embroidered with an intricate pattern of roses in gold thread. Most didn’t know that the thread was actual gold.

Every single piece in the room had a story. She stopped at the turquoise robe she wore when she gave her blessing to Pygmalion. He carved a beautiful statue and fell in love with it, then prayed to Aphrodite, asking that she make his creation real. His face was the picture of love in the moment that she gave the statue life. They fell into each other’s arms, the creator and his creation, perfect for one another.

Dita smiled to herself as she made her way to the palette of black cowhides on the floor, piled with blood red silk pillows. They were a small showing of sacrifices to Aphrodite out of the hundreds of thousands she had received in her hey-day.

She could never throw anything away and loved to come into her secret rooms to remember. Only two others knew her little secret.

Perry knew, since she knew everything about Dita, and didn’t think it was a big deal. If it doesn’t have dust on it, you’re not a hoarder, she’d say. And of course Heff knew, but he would never tell anyone.

She laid down on the pillows and propped her head on her hand as she ran her eyes over her things, coming to rest on Hephaestus as he worked. Heff had always been there for her, even when she was cruel to him. It wasn’t his fault that he had been tapped to marry her, but that hadn’t stopped her from taking it out on him.

Dita didn’t believe in marriage. She was all about the present. Things that required long-term responsibility, like marriage and motherhood, didn’t interest her.

But Zeus thought he knew better, and policed all of them as he saw fit. His word was law, and his decisions were never up for discussion. So when the in-fighting over her became a problem, Zeus forced her to marry Hephaestus, and it was something she never forgave either god for.

Aphrodite tightened the last strap on her high, leather sandals and stood. She smoothed a hand over her sky blue robes and stepped before the looking glass, her gold-lined silk train dragging behind her. She reached for a crown of blush roses on the stand beside the glass and placed it in her golden hair.

Ares had been fighting with Hermes over her again, and that time, Ares succeeded in goading Hermes into a true fight. Fists and blood flew by the time Zeus intervened, and he had not been happy.

Neither had Aphrodite. She was not a toy, not a thing they could fight over, not an object, though every god only thought of her as such.

Well, there is one, she thought as she pushed her long hair behind her shoulder. Hephaestus was one of the only gods who didn’t treat her so, which was a comfort, though they spoke little. There were times when she believed men could only behave as small children, bickering and fighting over things that they believed they owned, though they had no rights at all, but Hephaestus always renewed her faith that perhaps some men were more evolved than the masses.

She hadn’t allowed Ares into her bed since, though that state was temporary, as it always was.

She sighed and left her chambers, making her way through the wide halls into the throne room. A soft breeze blew through the open space, the deep, blue sea sparkling in the distance past the marble columns, and cypress trees swayed, tall and slender all around. She was the last to arrive that day, and all of the Olympians had already taken their thrones. Zeus sat in the tallest throne in the center of the room with his fist propped under his chin, his mouth bent in a frown as he stared off at nothing.

Something is amiss, she realized as she looked around the room. All eyes were on her, and a few gods whispered to each other. Ares’ eyes were dark, his jaw set, and Hera looked pleased, which Aphrodite knew was a bad omen. Her eyes found Hephaestus’, blue and bright in his tan face, and her heart jumped when she realized his expression was one of apology.

Zeus straightened up. “Aphrodite,” he called, his voice echoing in the expansive, marble space.

She walked to Zeus, lifted her chin, and braced herself.

He looked down at her with stern eyes. “As you know, we all grow weary of the hostility between the gods over you. It seems that only a few are immune to your charms, though the ones who are not have caused enough problems for the lot.”

“I am as vexed by the fact as you are, Zeus.”

“I very much doubt that. It cannot continue, and so I have decided that you will marry.”

The gods murmured together, filling the throne room with their echoes. Aphrodite painted her face into a placid mask as her heart fluttered like bird wings in her chest.

Ares stood as if to accept, and all eyes flew to him.

“Sit down, boy. You could not be so foolish as to think that you would be the one I would choose for her husband,” Zeus scoffed.

Ares chest rose, his teeth bared as he said, “You cannot do this, Zeus.”

A cloud passed over Zeus’ gray eyes, and he rose, growing taller, menacing as the room dimmed, and thunder boomed with his voice in the sweeping space. “You dare tell me what I can and cannot do? It is in part because of you that I must do this. You bloodying the eye or nose of any god or mortal who glances at her is tiresome and churlish. The feuding ends, and it ends now. Do not defy me, and do not forget how you have been punished in the past for your arrogance, because this time, not even your mother will save you from me.”

Hera sat in Zeus’ shadow, her brows pinched together, her bottom lip between her teeth as she leaned forward with her eyes on Ares.

Aphrodite watched as the gods stared each other down, tense and taught as a bow string. Ares’ forearms twitched in his leather cuffs as he tightened his fist, then sat slowly, the red plume in his helmet trembling alongside his rage. Once Ares was seated with his eyes locked on her, Zeus sat as well. The room returned to soft daylight as he shifted his attention back to her.

“There is only one god who I would trust to bear the responsibility. He is steady and true, dependable and respectful. He will take care of you.”

“I do not need to be taken care of.”

“Someone must keep you under control.”

“No one can control me.” Her rage twisted around her heart.

“It will be done, and you will not disobey. You will marry Hephaestus.”

The room erupted in noise, and Hephaestus rose, strong and sure, his eyes begging her to understand, but she could not. She would not.

Aphrodite stood alone before the thrones of the gods, still as stone, her fury rolling through her like thunder.

“Do you believe, Zeus, that you could hold me back? That you could strip me of the power that is mine by marrying me off? I am older than you, older than all of you,” she said, sweeping her hand across the room. “You are children, and I am the daughter of Uranus, father of the sky, grandfather of Zeus. Of all of you, I am entitled to the seat of power over Zeus.” Zeus slapped the arm of his throne, and Aphrodite held out a hand to stay him. “I do not want the throne. If I did, it would be mine. But your insolence is insulting.”

The air moved around her, her wrath just under the surface, her white-hot, glowing eyes never breaking from his. The wind stirred the soft waves at her back and the petals of the roses in her crown.

Her eyes were narrow as she continued. “Are you sure that this is what you wish? Because I will not forget. This goes against all that I stand for. I do not love Hephaestus, and he does not love me.”

“You will learn to love each other.”

She fought to hold herself back. “As you have done with Hera?” A few gasps and laughs rolled through the gods, but Zeus was not amused.

“Do you mock me?”

“Why would you ask a question to which you know the answer?”

Zeus stood, and she would have been afraid, had she not been so angry.

“I will do your bidding,” she continued before he could speak, “but not without consequence.”

“Do you threaten me, Aphrodite?”

“I promise.”

His jaw flexed, but his voice was dismissive. “We shall see. Do not dare disobey me. I will not be gentle.”

Aphrodite turned on her heel and flew from the throne room with all eyes on her and Persephone in her wake, her fists so tight that her fingernails bit into her palms. When she reached her heavy door, she pushed it open and slammed it behind her with a savage scream.

She turned to exhibit her fury on everything in her chambers, smashing pots and ripping tapestries from the walls, roaring. She climbed on her bed and tore the curtains down, shredding them before slashing her bedding to ribbons.

Persephone waited until Aphrodite caused sufficient damage and collapsed on the bed crying before silently restoring the destruction. When the room was back in order, she climbed into bed with her friend.

Aphrodite wrapped her arms around Persephone’s waist. “I will never forgive him. Never,” she whispered as Persephone stroked her hair, her tears falling as her rage ebbed, and resentment took its place.

She had kept her promise. Zeus was the original philanderer, the first womanizer, largely due to her influence on him, though the job was made easy by the fact that he was an egomaniacal douche who was married to a vain harpy.

To add insult to injury, Zeus forced her to move to Hephaestus’ workshop to live with him there. As a wife would live with a husband, he had said. Hephaestus gave her a break and made a space for her just above his home, knowing how she hated the confined spaces underground, and knowing how she resented their marriage.

Dita swore before they were married that she would never love Hephaestus, vowing that she would never know him and would never let him know her. She would never give him her body or soul, blaming him for being the catalyst in a situation that objectified her and forced her into a construct that she didn’t subscribe to. So she carried on her love affairs as she wished, and he complied, never forcing her, giving her whatever space she needed. He’d always respected her wishes, even though it went against the sanctity of their marriage, knowing she felt the whole thing was a sham.

Over the ages, she had gotten to know Heff, despite her best efforts. He loved her, she knew, and in her way, she loved him too. He was thoughtful and caring, though strong willed when something mattered to him. He would be whatever she needed whenever she needed it, be it friend, protector, lover, or husband, but she had only called on him to be a friend and liked to think that she had given that back to him, at least.

Dita watched Heff’s big hands as he lifted the keypad by its face and pushed it back into the wall.

She smiled as she laid in one of the many gifts he’d made for her. Her most coveted possession was Bisoux, and second in line was her infinity closet. But the runner up was a corset Heff created that made her irresistible to any man. Not that she needed much help in that department, but it never hurt. She looked amazing in it.

Heff tightened the last screw and stood. “Okay, Dita. Let’s give it a whirl.”

She unfolded herself from the pillows and trotted to the doorway where Heff leaned against the frame. He nearly filled it, and didn’t move when she approached, just smiled down at her as she pressed her body against his to squeeze by. All she could smell was smoke and fire as her cheek brushed against his chest.

“You’re impossible.” She giggled at him, rolling her eyes, though her cheeks went hot.

Heff winked, then turned to the keypad and punched out a sequence of numbers. Dita’s hair stirred as the closet spun around again and landed on 1500 AD. Renaissance gowns hung along every wall, and lavish jewelry and crowns were displayed in cases. He crossed his arms over his chest with a satisfied look on his face.

“Thank you, Heff.” She laid her hands on his wide shoulders and reached up on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. His cheeks flushed hard under his beard.

“No problem. Need anything else while I’m here?” He smiled sideways.

She shook her head. “That was it. Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dita. I’ll see you later.” His eyes lingered on her once more before he turned to leave.

She walked over to the doorframe and leaned against it as she watched Heff limp out. The gods would have all treated him as second-class, if it weren’t for his beautiful mind. None of the gods had any physical flaws, except for Heff, but she had to admit that he was just as exquisite as all the rest.

Travis walked up the steps to his apartment, exhausted, but stoked. He couldn’t believe his luck, getting into the Paper Fools, and he was ecstatic about it. All the guys seemed cool, and he was already familiar with their songs, so picking them up was going quick. He didn’t think it would be long before they were ready to hit the studio.

A smile stretched across his face. He was going to be on an album, something he’d almost given up on after being stuck with Spike for as long as he had been.

He unlocked the door and made his way inside, tossing his keys in the dish on the table. He stretched as he walked into his bedroom, and Lex looked up from their bed with a smile. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and she laid the book she was reading down in her lap.

“Hey. How was practice?”

“It went really well.” He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it into the laundry basket in the closet. “I met Dean, the lead singer today, but he didn’t say much. Kevin, he plays keys, is hilarious. He’s the ultimate nerd, and I’m pretty sure he weighs less than a twelve-year-old girl. Oh, get this—apparently the last drummer left because Dean boned the guy’s girlfriend.”

“What?” Her nose wrinkled. “Man, that is low.”

Travis laughed. “Kevin called him Professor Panty Dropper.”

Lex laughed so loud, Travis figured it was more of a cackle. “Oh, my god. That’s hilarious.”

“Right? They actually told me not to bring you to practice.”

She shook her head and picked up her book. “Like I’d be that weak.”

Travis pulled his jeans off and walked into the bathroom to turn on the shower. He reached in and turned it all the way to hot, then walked back into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed next to Lex. “Yeah, Kevin said the guy’s never had a girlfriend, and that it’s never the same girl twice. I don’t know, though. I can’t get a read on him. He seems like the kind of guy that doesn’t have problems getting chicks, but if he never actually dates any of them, that’s kind of weird, right?”

“I don’t know many good looking guys in their late twenties that have never had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah. But, he writes all their lyrics, and between that and what Kevin told me, it seems like he’s got some serious baggage.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he kind of sounds like a prick.”

“I’m sure he’s not. He’s just got issues. Everybody’s got issues.”

Her brow dropped a bit, and a shadow passed over her face. “It’s true,” she said, then shook herself and smiled. “So, what’s the deal with this band? I mean, are you rich now? Because I could really use a sugar daddy.”

He laughed. “Not quite rich, but Roe gave me an advance from the signing bonus, so I called and quit the restaurant. Can’t say I’m bummed I won’t be waiting tables anymore.”

“Travis, that’s amazing. Sounds like they’re a huge step up from Spike.”

“Uh, yeah. I can’t say I was sad to quit Spike either.”

“Kara will be absolutely crushed.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He rolled off the bed, then walked into the bathroom and slipped into the hot water.

Travis thought about Dean again and felt bad for the guy. There was something about him, something sad and ruined, and he wondered what could have happened to Dean in his life to stop him from ever being with someone. Not only that, but he had thrown the band into tumult multiple times because he couldn’t say no, if what Kevin said was true.

He asked himself what he would do if Lex stepped out on him with Dean. She was his best friend, and he loved her, but he didn’t think he was in love with her. What they had worked, and worked well, but they were both content where things were.

He knew her and trusted her. If she wanted a thing with Dean or anyone else, she’d be honest with him about it, and he would let her go.

LEX WAS A LITTLE wary as she walked with Travis to the warehouse for practice, heavily armed with things to keep her busy, just in case his new band was anything like Spike’s. She’d suffered through enough shows and practices with the old band that she had a system for keeping herself entertained, which largely included a good book and her leather bound sketch book. Both were tucked away in her ridiculously large purse, and though she hoped she wouldn’t have to use them, she wasn’t holding out for a miracle.

She followed Travis into the warehouse, and as soon as the door banged closed behind her, she fell in love.

Her boot heels clicked on the worn, cement floor, and she paused on a rectangle of light let in from the windows that lined the top of the thirty-foot ceilings. She tilted her head to follow the column of light, and her lips parted in awe at the beauty of the space as her eyes traced the concrete beams that arched overhead like the rib bones of some ancient beast.

“Awesome, right?” Travis smiled at her, watching her gape.

“Seriously,” she breathed.

Microphones and amps were set up in the middle of the warehouse on worn Persian rugs, and Travis’ drums stood on a small platform behind the keyboard and guitar stands. Old orange and yellow velvet couches sat in front of the microphone where the lead singer belonged. Lex smiled, still looking around as she headed to the biggest couch and sank into it.

She reached into her bag, digging around in the black hole for her book, but looked up when she sensed someone in front of her. She froze dead when her eyes locked on his.

They were the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, almost shocking in his long face, and his wide lips bent in a crooked smile. He was tall, really tall, and his ebony hair fell forward as he looked down at her. He pushed it back without seeming to think about it, but it still looked perfectly tossed, like he’d just rolled out of bed.

She realized she still hadn’t taken a breath and flushed, then fumbled and almost dropped her book.

“Uh, hi. I’m Lex.” She tossed her hand in a wave, hoping she looked casual.

He paused for a second, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, and as she studied him, it dawned on her that he was amused. She was unnerved, even more so when she realized that it was exactly what he wanted.

“Hey,” he said, the timbre of his voice deep and full. “I’m Dean.”

Lex realized her mouth was open. And that he was smirking. And that he was dead sexy while he was doing it. She closed her mouth and cocked an eyebrow, trying to pull herself together, not wanting to let him know he’d gotten to her.

“Dean, huh? I heard they call you Professor Panty Dropper.”

His smile stretched wider. “Oh, is that what they say?”

“They do.”

A tall blond, who she guessed was Roe, stood at the microphone glaring at them. “Mic check, Dean.”

They stared at each other like idiots for a split second longer before Dean turned to pick up his guitar, and he took his place with the rest of the band. She watched him walk away, then blinked a few times and turned to her bag again, not looking for anything, just needing to keep her hands busy and her eyes off of Dean while she scraped her dignity off the floor.

She picked up her book and leaned back on the couch, glancing at Travis, who was tightening his drum heads. He hadn’t seen their exchange, and she let out a breath.

Why should it matter? Nothing even happened, Lex. Her heart fluttered a Yeah, right at her.

Her eyes wandered back to Dean as he leaned over the microphone with his guitar slung behind his back. His hands slid down the pole to adjust the height, and she bit her lip. His voice rumbled through the speakers, and he glanced at her as he spoke. “One, two. Okay, guys, Glow?”

Travis chopped his sticks together to start the rhythm of a driving, bluesy rock beat, and Dean brought in a steady, tempting riff on his guitar. He leaned up to the microphone, his mouth practically on it, and started to sing.

You already know the answer

That I need to hear

Know baby, know

Glow, baby, glow

Like electricity

Send it through the phone line

And into my ear

Find me in the dark

Got to have you near

You’re the one that takes me there

My sun shines for you

Reflects off a hundred mirrors

To show me the way through

You already know the answer

That I need to hear

So know, baby, know

Glow, baby, glow

Like electricity

Take me where I need to go

Couldn’t find my way

But take my hand so I can see

Your love will make me stay

He closed his eyes and bent his brow, occasionally looking down between verses as he picked the strings, playing with such ease she wondered where he’d learned, who had taught him. It seemed so natural that he would be standing there, playing that guitar, singing that song. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, completely fascinated.

The song ended, and she was surprised, unsure how long it had gone on, disappointed that it was over.

Ho-ly shit.

Lex’s realized her mouth was gaping again, and she snapped it closed.

My god. He might actually have the power to spontaneously drop panties from here to China.

Dean turned around to discuss changes in the pace and his guitar solo, and Lex was thankful she didn’t have to hide her very physical reaction to The Dean Show. She gave herself an inward slap and opened her bag to deposit her book, swapping it with her black leather notebook.

Lex curled up on the couch, and her pencil flew across the page, sketching Dean as he stood before her, his sadness relayed in every note he sang, every bend of his head, every strum of his strings. As he took shape on her page, her heart cracked and chipped as she wondered how someone so beautiful could be so broken.

Dita stretched out flat on top of her Egyptian cotton quilt and traced her fingers along the stitches that bound the floral fabric together. Perry lay on the end of the bed on her back, staring at the domed, tiled ceiling with a sleeping Bisoux rolled up in a tiny ball on her chest.

“Gods, Lex is already a goner.” Perry shook her head.

“I know. Did you see that? She was swooning. I thought for a second there that she was actually going to pass out.”

“I thought I might pass out along with her. Dean’s like a vagina bomb. One look, and BOOM.”

“Oh my gods,” Dita laughed, and Bisoux stirred on Perry’s chest. “It’s so true, though. He’s just got that thing, that charisma. Luckily for the women of the world, he’s not a predator. More of an opportunist.”

“Well, phase one is complete. You got them in the same room, and fireworks exploded in their pants. Congratulations.”

“I’d definitely call that a success. Now the real work begins, because that’s not going to be enough for Lex.”

“No?”

“No. She’s terrified of falling in love, but she’s also terrified of being alone.”

“How exactly does that work?”

Dita rolled over to lie next to Perry and stared at the Moroccan tiles on the ceiling in pinks, reds, oranges and purples. “She has this vault that she’s put her heart into, and it stops anyone from really getting in. She’s so afraid that she’s going to get hurt that she subconsciously shuts her emotions out. She’s not actively thinking about it, and I don’t know if she even knows it, but the second she smells whoever she’s dating pulling away, she splits. On the other end, if she feels like there’s too much pressure on her, or she starts to feel something for them, she runs. And then, her logical self wants to do right by these guys, so once she feels that she’s a problem, she leaves too.”

“So basically if things get complicated, she bolts.”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“But she’s always got a boyfriend?” Perry petted Bisoux head, and he nestled into her chest.

“Always. It’s not always as long term as Travis has been, and this is the first time she’s ever lived with anyone. She’s looking for love, which is what’s really fucked up.”

“Everyone’s looking for love, though.”

“Not everyone. Some have already found it. Like look at you and Hades.”

“True, but it’s not like that was love at first sight.”

Dita laughed. “No, I guess being kidnapped puts a damper on that.”

“The kidnapping was the least of my worries at the time, but it worked out. I love him more than anything, even though he was a prick.”

“I’m glad he did right by you.”

“It was always there. I mean, you try growing up with Zeus and Poseidon as your older brothers and getting thrown into the underworld. None of them wanted that job. Hades got the short straw and was more than a little bitter about it.”

“Ugh, I remember when they made that decision. I would have been so much happier if Zeus had been put in the underworld.”

Perry jacked an eyebrow. “You really want my husband in charge of everyone? Are we talking about the same Hades?”

“Well, at least he wouldn’t have forced me to marry Heff.”

“No, probably not, but that worked out, too.”

“For me, not for Heff. Being forced to marry me is the single most cruel thing ever done to him, and his own mother threw him out of Olympus.”

“He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“You know that’s a lie, Perry. He wants more than I’ll ever give him.”

“I know that, but what I mean is that he seems content.”

“I’m sure that’s what he really wants out of life. An eternity of being ‘content.’”

“Things could be worse for him.”

“Worse than his wife refusing him and constantly banging other gods?” Dita asked.

Perry rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you guys have ever been together like that.”

“That doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty about it.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty for loving Adonis.”

Dita took a breath. “We’ve been apart for so long, though.”

“At least you have each other some of the time, right?”

“Thanks to you,” Dita said and laid her hand on Perry’s, her sadness and gratitude heavy in her chest as her thoughts traveled to the day of Adonis’ funeral.

His eyes were closed, as if asleep or dreaming, but all was wrong. Even in sleep, his face had been full of life and joy, but that was gone, and what remained was only a shell, a shadow of what he once was.

The nymphs preparing his body drew a sheet of muslin over his face, and she wailed, tearing at her hair as they laid anemone flowers, white as snow, all around his body that lay atop a pyre. The bright, white fabric outlined his profile against the purple of the sky as the morning broke, the white harsh against the deep sky, but his eyes and lips soft, shaded and vague underneath.

She leaned forward with shaking hands to touch him as the nymphs watched on, having given up trying to pull her away. One had interfered and paid dearly for it, and the rest valued their lives too much to follow suit. She traced her fingers along his abdomen where the boar had opened him, where Apollo ripped him apart.

Because of her.

Guilt and loss ripped through her, and she cried out, clawing her arms, tearing her flesh to ribbons with bloody, trembling hands, unable to feel anything but the pain in her heart.

The nymphs pushed his pyre into the ocean, and she waded in behind him, and as they lit the wooden frame, she touched his face through the sheer fabric, leaving her bloody mark on the pure white. The current took him, and she watched the flames against the sky, the world on fire as he floated away from her forever.

The sun broke the horizon, and she rose, watching with her heart a stone in her chest, her hair stiff and mottled. She felt nothing as sunlight washed over her, her hands, dirty and bloody, hanging loose by her side, her robes in shambles, billowing around her in the breeze.

His death was her doing, her penance. If only he had listened. If only he had chosen immortality. But he had only made light, not understanding, not believing, and the time for pleas were passed, gone with his body, lost in flames on the surface of the sea.

She closed her eyes and fell to her knees in the surf. The waves washed over her, and she cried, her face to the heavens as she begged Zeus for vengeance, prayed to Hades to return her love, and cursed the fates for keeping them apart.

It was then that Persephone appeared.

She knelt in the surf beside Aphrodite and gathered her in close. “Come, dearest. Come home.”

When Aphrodite woke, she lay in her room with her hands clasped under her breasts. She turned her head and looked through the sheer fabric that hung around her bed to see Hephaestus, bathed in candle light. He stood and brushed the curtains back to kneel beside her, his face tight.

She rolled over to face him, and a tear trailed down her face, onto her pillow. His strong hand cupped her cheek, and he wiped her tear away with his thumb. He tilted his head to look in her eyes, then leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling himself away. Persephone took his place.

She stroked Aphrodite’s hair and tucked it around her ear. “I cannot bring him back, but I can offer another gift.”

Aphrodite lifted up on her elbow, her heart jumping to life in her chest. “I’ll do anything,” she whispered.

Persephone sat back and laid her hands in her lap. Tendrils of black fog climbed up her body, swirling around her as she closed her eyes.

“Aphrodite,” she said, her voice amplified and echoing through the room, “I bestow upon you a blessing. When you should sleep, a portal will open to Elysium, that you may go there to meet your love, and he shall forever be yours, even in death.”

Aphrodite dropped her head back and closed her eyes, smiling as her tears fell, her heart so full of joy, so full of pain. She did not know what it would mean for her, for Adonis, and did not care. She would take every moment with him that she could.

“How can I ever repay you, Persephone?”

“I require no payment,” Persephone said as she embraced Aphrodite, laid her down, and kissed her eyelids. “Sleep now, Aphrodite. Go to him.”

Aphrodite drifted away, and when she awoke, she sat under the olive tree in the valley. She looked down in wonder at her robes, the same that she wore on the day he died. The brush rustled, and her heart stopped when he stepped through, whole and alive.

They rushed each other, and she flew into his arms, spinning from the force as she cried, and all of her pain fell away with her tears.

He was still hers. And she was his, if only in dreams.

Dita looked over at her friend with tears in her eyes. “You didn’t have to help me … help us.”

Perry scooped Bisoux up and laid him on the bed between them. She turned onto her side to curl into Dita.

“I did. Dita, when I saw you on the beach, after he died … I just … I couldn’t let you live like that. Nothing that happened up to that point mattered, not once I saw what he meant to you.”

Dita rolled over to face her and leaned in to touch their foreheads together. “Thank you, my friend.”

“You are forever welcome.” Perry smiled. “So,” she said, cheery even though her voice was still thick, “have you told Adonis that the competition has started with Apollo?”

Dita sighed. “No, and I don’t know how much longer I can avoid it. He’s always extra tense when it’s going on.”

“I know. Just try to remember that time doesn’t pass the same way for him as it does for us. To him, it’s still fresh.”

“Well, it’s not for me. I don’t want Apollo to suffer anymore, if I’m being honest. I hate giving in, you know that better than anyone, but at this point it just seems cruel. But if I grant Apollo’s wish, Adonis will never forgive me.”

Perry shook her head. “Yeah. He’s not ready for that, and there’s no reasoning with him.”

“I hate talking about it with him. There are so few things that we disagree on, but when we don’t see eye to eye, there’s no reasoning with either of us. At least I only have to deal with it once every hand full of decades.”

“Are you going to try to convince Adonis again to let it go?”

“You know, it’s funny because I know what he’s going to say, and I know that we’re going to argue. But yes, I’m going to try to convince him. I have to, don’t I?”

“You’re Aphrodite, my headstrong, confident, and capable friend. If you didn’t argue, I would be worried.” Perry sat up and gave Bisoux another pat before she stood. “Good luck. And congrats again on Lex and Dean.”

“Thanks, Perry. For everything.”

“Any time.”

Dean sat back on his couch and flipped through the pages he’d just written with his forearms on his guitar. He touched the words, crammed on the pages in every free space, and her face took over his mind again, her eyes as clear as if she was standing before him, as it had been all night since he’d parted ways with her.

The feeling was new. He’d had muses in his life before, that part wasn’t new, but Lex was different. She was like a siren, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her, singing to her in practice. He watched her watch him, and the rush was more than he knew what to do with. He knew the effect he had on women and exploited it whenever possible, but he wanted more than that. He actually wanted her, and in a way so intense that it scared him.

When he walked into practice, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her sitting on the couch, her rich, dark hair like a curtain in front of her face as she bent over her bag. Curious, he walked over to get a better look, but didn’t expect to be momentarily stunned when she looked up at him. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, her skin like porcelain, and when her cheeks flushed and her lips parted, he felt his do the same.

He knew the look. He’d gotten it hundreds of times before, though he didn’t know if he’d ever given it. He froze in place like he’d been struck by lightning.

But instead of falling over herself and trying to lick his boots, or anything else, she’d talked shit. She’d knocked him out. If she had been anyone other than Travis’ girlfriend, he would have asked her out right then.

The smile on his face dropped. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t go there. There was no choice to be made.

He was sure that whatever it was he felt would pass. A few days and it would be over, if she stayed out of his way and he stayed out of hers. It was all he could do, and the very least he could do.

Dean picked his phone up off the coffee table to find a text on his lock screen from Roe.

Don’t even think about it.

He shook his head. Roe had seen the exchange and knew, so big brother would be watching. Just one more reason to stay away from her.

Her eyes were on his mind again, and more lines ran through his thoughts. He jotted them down in his book, wishing he could draw, wanting to trace every line that made up her hair, her lips, her long lashes. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but it was more than that, something he didn’t understand, some magic about her that had taken him over, and he hoped his obsession with her would be over soon, because he didn’t know how much he could take.

Apollo looked in on Dean from his couch, more than a little worried after watching him react to Lex earlier that day. Dita always picked ringers, but after seeing the players react to each other, the reality of the fact was upon him. Winning wasn’t going to be easy.

The worst was that in his heart, he was rooting for them. Lex was another favorite of Apollo, and he’d been a major force in her life. Dita knew him well, choosing a match for Dean that Apollo connected with. She was just too good.

Apollo watched as Dean’s pencil flew across his notebook page. Dean had been more inspired in the few short hours than he had been, maybe ever.

“Ugh, what am I doing?” Apollo said aloud in his empty apartment and sat back on his couch, pouting. He wanted to give that inspiration to Dean, and to Lex too, but it cultivated the obsession in both of them. He didn’t know if he should try to have his cake and eat it. It seemed stupid to try, although he didn’t know if he could stop the stream of inspiration even if he wanted to. At that point, it could easily be beyond him. Muses worked that way.

He glanced in on Lex, who sat sketching on her couch as Travis tried to talk to her. She looked up, confused, and he laughed.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“I’m sorry, Trav. What did you ask?”

“It’s okay. I should know better than to try to talk to you while you’re sketching.”

She smiled up at him. “What’s up?”

“I was going to pick up something to eat. I know it’s late, but I’m starving.”

“Ooh, how about Mai’s?”

“Excellent. The usual?”

“Always.”

He kissed her cheek and left the apartment, leaving her alone in the quiet, room. She ripped a strip from her blending stump and went to work on Dean’s jawline. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she told herself to stop swooning like an idiot. It was just that he had to be one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen, though it was more than just that. There was something about him, she thought as she looked over her drawing, something in his eyes, his brow. He was unattainable, closed off, but with a detached sort of confidence. The combination of that and his good looks were like some deadly concoction, and she could see why girls threw themselves at him, past the whole rock star element.

Her cheeks went hot again as she thought of him singing, playing his guitar like one was an extension of the other. The band was better than she thought they would be, even though her expectations were low to start. She loved music. ‘Loved’ probably wasn’t strong enough. She was a zealot, obsessively looking for music, listening to new bands and albums on loops until she knew every note by heart and memory.

With Travis being in a band, they were always at shows, and she knew a lot about the local music scene. Paper Fools were elevated from most of the bands they saw, and she wondered what they could accomplish with a producer and the PR they’d get from their record deal. They appealed to her love of blues and rock from the seventies, and she was ultimately very, very impressed.

She closed her notebook and traded it out for her laptop, popping open YouTube to search for their videos. There was only one that wasn’t a live show, which looked like it was recorded by the guys on a camcorder. They walked around Central Park, messing around. She usually hated those kinds of videos, but that one didn’t bother her, probably because she just watched Dean. When the video was over, she fell into a rabbit hole of Googling, getting lost in the image search for a while, specifically a professional shoot that they did for a local music magazine, before scouring their website and streaming their songs.

When she heard Travis’ key in the door, she jumped and snapped her laptop shut. She laid it on the coffee table and hopped up, making her way into the kitchen to get plates.

Apollo looked away and ran his hand across his lips, feeling more than a little defeated as he realized he could easily be fucked.

IN DITA’S DREAM, SHE stood at a tower window looking out across the gray ocean, watching the waves crash against the rocks below her. She leaned over the ledge, feeling gravity shift with the horizon as she fell, the rocks rushing toward her, her heart pounding. Her arms spread wide, and she closed her eyes, feeling the wind through her hair. As she neared the ocean, her arms turned to wings, and she pushed herself up and away, arching back to fly across the hills, green as emeralds in the fog.

She spotted a lake below and dove, down, down to the surface, breaking through with a jolt. When she opened her eyes, she was in the warm, crystal waters of the Caribbean, swimming alongside the Sirens. Riadne turned and smiled, her long auburn hair like fire in the water, deep and red against the crystalline blue of the sea. Teles swam by like a corkscrew with bubbles in her wake, the sun twinkling from the strings of pearls and gems that lay against her breasts. The iridescent scales of their tails shimmered blue and green in the bright sun, and Teles, with raven hair, reached for her hand.

The moment their fingers touched, Dita found herself sitting in Adonis’ valley with the mountains all around her, the poppy field spread out from where she sat under the olive tree in Elysium. It was heaven, the realm where the souls of heros went when the passed through to the underworld. She closed her eyes and sighed, mourning the end of the fantasy, though glad the dream had brought her to Adonis.

The brush rustled, and he stepped into the clearing, smiling with all of the warmth in his heart.

“Hello, love,” she crooned and opened her arms in invitation.

He laid down next to her and wrapped his bronzed arms around her waist. He rested his head against her chest, and she ran her fingers through his golden hair.

“I have missed you,” he said, and sighed. “Every moment that you are not in my arms seems to stretch forever, as if I am dreaming. As if the only time that I am alive is when you are here.”

The irony that they lived opposite existences was not lost on her, and her chest ached, though she smiled.

She kissed the top of his head. “I have news to share.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes.” She paused, not wanting to tell him, or to endure the argument that would most assuredly follow. “A new challenge has begun.”

“And who is the defending god this round? Not Ares, I trust.” The disdain was heavy in his voice.

“Actually, it is my turn.”

“Ah, well, I am certain you will win. You always do.”

“That isn’t all. The first round is against Apollo.” She felt him tense, and she frowned. “I’m fairly certain I have it in my pocket.”

“In your what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, my love. In the bag.”

“I do hope so,” he said, clearly bothered. “I could not bear that he should be freed from his pain. Not when he has caused so much for us.”

Dita bristled. “Adonis, he has suffered so long. You and I, we have each other. Apollo has no one.”

He pushed himself up to sit and glared at her. “This has been discussed.”

“But we have never agreed. It is cruel to keep them apart. If I were Apollo, and it was you that I could save, I would do anything. Can you not put yourself in his place?”

“Stop,” he said, eyes blazing.

“I cannot understand.” She huffed, and her brows pinched together. “You have heaven in your hand. You even still have me, which goes against all of the rules. And yet, you will not relent.”

“I do not wish to discuss this,” he said through his teeth and turned her face to his, leaning in to kiss her, hot and hard. When he broke away, he trailed heavy kisses from her ear to her neck, then down the neckline of her robe.

She sighed, frustrated, unfazed by Adonis’ lips, which was unusual. Apollo deserved to be liberated eventually, and she’d planned on it for ages, after her hurt and anger burned away, but Adonis wouldn’t let it go.

He sensed her distraction and nipped her breast through her robe. She gasped, her attention turning to him as he threaded his arm under the small of her back and jerked her down so she lay flat on the mossy ground. With his weight on his forearm, his free hand moved to her face and turned it to his. He covered her mouth with his own and trailed his knuckles down her neck, between her breasts, and to the tie of her robe. His fingers wrapped around it, and he pulled, disrobing her with a single, forceful tug.

His lips followed the path that his hand had taken as he kissed her dove white skin down her body. She closed her eyes in anticipation as he kissed her stomach, her breath trembling when he pulled her leg out of his way and slung it roughly over his shoulder. His hand trailed up the outside of her thighs, and he grabbed her hips, pulling hard to tilt her to him.

He dropped his lips between her legs and kissed her urgently, relaying the need to erase the dissonance between them, the want to own her. She reached down and wound her fingers in his hair, turning her head as he sent shocks up her body.

Her heart raced as she reached the edge, but he slowed, not letting her fall. She moaned as he brought her so close again, then away, over and over as her hips rolled against him.

“Please,” she begged, and he broke away.

He hovered over her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, needing him. He bent down to kiss her, and she wound her arms around his neck, flexing her legs to lift her body up to his. His arm slipped under her back, and he lifted her as he stood.

He braced her against the tree, and her mouth hung open as he drove into her. Her legs locked tight around him, her body tensing as she came, and he called out in answer. She laid her head against the tree as her heart raced in her chest, and he slowed, burying his face in her neck as he whispered in her ear, “You will always be mine.”

Dita’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped as she melted into the bed with heavy limbs in the early morning. Her heart slowed, though it broke again, as it always did when she woke alone, without him.

She was aggravated that he’d used sex to shut her up, but relieved that their argument hadn’t gone on for very long, giving them both time apart to get used to the idea of discussing it. The ice was broken, though she wished he would just come around. But that was only a pipe dream, an illusion, and she knew it.

Suddenly, she wasn’t comfortable anymore. She rolled over, and Bisoux lay curled up on the pillow next to her. He cracked an eye at her when she stirred, and Dita pulled the pillow close. She nuzzled his furry head, and he twisted around to lick her ear, which made her feel a smidge better.

The only way she could give Apollo his wish and not anger Adonis was to throw the competition, which was unimaginable under the best of circumstances. But something had to give. Having it all wasn’t an option, and never would be.

Apollo shot up in bed, his heart pounding. He gasped and ran a hand over his face, groaning as he laid back with a thump.

Seeing the future wasn’t always easy.

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the ceiling, waiting for his heart to slow down. He breathed deep before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and made for the bathroom. He rested his hand on the granite countertop and turned on the water, then cupped his hands and splashed the cool water on his face.

He glanced at his bedraggled reflection, noting the worry written across his face. The cold reality of the vision he’d had was crisp in his mind, like snow against bare skin, so cold that the burn seeped into his bones.

Apollo picked up his toothbrush, loaded it, and started scrubbing, trying for something routine to erase the dread.

It was bad news on bad news. Lex and Dean were googly-eyed over each other, and the vision was the nail in the coffin.

It came back to him in a rush. He saw Lex resting her head on Travis’ shoulder as they sat silently on their couch. He felt every emotion in the room, knowing what happened without a single word spoken. Travis cheated on her, and they had most definitely broken up.

This is bad.

His eyebrows pinched together, and he scrubbed with a little more vigor. Travis cheating on Lex could mean a number of things for her, but Apollo guessed her first reaction would be to run. And, if she ran, he didn’t know what would stop her from running straight into Dean’s arms. She could be with Dean guilt free, if Travis was to blame for the breakup. And if she did run to Dean, Apollo was in deep shit.

Real deep, he thought and spit into the sink.

He had to find a way to turn it around, had to come up with some way to use Travis cheating to his advantage.

Apollo ticked through Lex’s personality checklist. She was superstitious. She’d never been in love. Abandonment issues galore. And, with Dean being a player …

His face lit up. A prophecy.

He gave his reflection a sly grin as his mind turned over the beginnings of a plan.

If he could make Lex think that Dean could never be faithful to her, she would avoid him like gonorrhea. Apollo was sure of it. But the trick was that the prophecy had to cover Dean and Travis. Had to be vague enough that it could work for one and both, that it should be misconstrued to implicate Dean, but really be about Travis. That was key, because he couldn’t lie. Lying would ruin his cred as an oracle.

But he knew he could pull it off. Prophets and oracles didn’t always interpret his visions correctly. And when they didn’t, it was because he didn’t want them to.

Apollo rolled through his mental list of standard prophecy tricks. Back in the day, he would use human oracles, but through the last century, his prophecies had been delivered in the form of fortunetellers, tarot card readers, horoscope writers, and less effective methods like Ouija boards and Magic 8 Balls.

Lex was superstitious. Apollo was the god of prophecy. The ruse would be a piece of cake.

He shot finger guns at himself in the mirror and winked. If he played his cards right, he could have the whole competition in the bag.

Dean tried not to stare at Lex as he sang, glad that he knew the lyrics and music so well that he didn’t have to think about it. He wondered absently if it would be weird to ask her to sit in an armchair, because with her sitting straight in front of him, looking like she did, staring at him with those eyes, he was having a hard time concentrating. He had no idea what was wrong with him, and it had gotten worse. He’d never reacted to a woman like she was the only thing in the world, the only thing he could see or think about. He was confused, but more than that, he was frustrated.

The song ended, and Roe turned to Travis, giving him instructions by way of mouth drums. Dean stretched his neck, trying to get his composure.

When he turned back around, Lex was gathering up her things. She stood and pulled her coat on, then waved to Travis before leaving. He couldn’t stop watching her, and got the feeling that she was avoiding making eye contact with him before she turned and left the warehouse.

Dean blinked. What in the actual fuck is wrong with me?

They started the song over again, and Dean tried to get his shit together. Her face was on his mind as he wondered where she went, what she liked to do, where she worked. What did she want? Could he give it to her?

He threw on the brakes. He didn’t even know her. The whole thing was ridiculous. And to top it all, she was off limits.

But he couldn’t stop her from creeping back in, like tendrils of smoke in his thoughts, and he knew if he tried to grab her, she’d slip through his fingers. He’d lose her along with Roe and the band.

Dean had gone through much of his life not feeling, not knowing if he could feel, not sure if he wanted to. Even when his mom died, he was numb. The years of neglect warred with that thing that everyone wants, but Dean never got. Love.

Dean climbed the steps to his mother’s apartment, years before, and dread crept its way into his chest just like it did every time he went home, not knowing if she’d be there. He stayed with Roe most of the time, only going home every few days to sleep and pack a fresh bag, and every time he came back, he hoped she would be gone. They rarely saw each other, and when they did, they only spoke when necessary. She didn’t ask about him, and he didn’t ask about her. They just stayed out of each other’s way, and it suited both of them just fine.

As soon as he opened the door, he smelled the cigarette smoke. She sat on the couch with the television on, and he stared at the back of her head for a minute before closing the door behind him. She turned her head to the sound and gave him a once over, then looked back to the television and took a drag, never saying a word.

He didn’t react, just walked past her and into his room where he packed a fresh bag, wanting to hurry, thankful that he had to go to work at the record store so he had an excuse to leave, somewhere to go. Roe would be there, and they could listen to music all night, then he could just sleep over. Roe’s mom always had dinner for them when they got in, and if he could stay there forever, he would. It was the only place he’d ever been that felt like home, even though he knew he didn’t really belong there.

Once his bag was packed, he headed straight for the door, but she turned to him and something was off. It was her face … she didn’t look right as her expression froze, drooping on one side. She tried to speak, but only made partial sounds, almost grunting.

His brow dropped. “What?”

She tried to speak again, but couldn’t.

“Are you okay?”

Her mouth moved, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

He dropped his bag and knelt in front of her. “Mom?”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it, and he fumbled for his phone.

“I’m calling 9-1-1. Just hang on.” His eyes didn’t leave her as he relayed what happened to the dispatcher and gave the address, but he dropped the phone when her eyes rolled back and she slipped further down on the couch.

“Mom?” He touched her face. “Mom, can you hear me?” His heart hammered in his chest as he frantically looked for his phone. “I think she just had a seizure. She’s not answering me.” He touched her neck just under her jaw and found a heartbeat.

“Does she have a pulse?”

“Yes. Yes, I just checked.”

“Okay, stay on the phone with me. You said your name was Dean?”

“Yes.”

“Paramedics are on their way. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I don’t want you to worry, okay? We’re going to do whatever we can to help your mom.”

He stopped really listening, answering automatically as the dispatcher kept him talking. It wasn’t long before he heard the sirens, but time was a vacuum as he sat with his mother on the couch, not knowing if she would live or die, and not knowing if his life would be better or worse for it. Then the paramedics were there, putting her on a gurney. Then they were in the ambulance, the sirens blaring as he stared at his mother, her head bobbling with every bump, the motion exaggerated by the oxygen mask over her face. And then, Dean sat on an uncomfortable chair in a waiting room in the hospital, staring at a stain on the industrial carpet as he listened to a doctor tell him that they did everything they could, that she had another stroke as they tried to repair her aneurysm, that they were sorry for his loss. But he didn’t know what he had lost, and didn’t know if he ever would.

Dean pushed the memory away as the song ended. He turned to Roe.

“Hey, take five.”

Roe’s brow dropped. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean walked to his bag next to one of the arm chairs and pulled out water and his notebook. His whole life had been empty other than Roe, who was the one good thing that had happened to him. He wondered what his life would have been like without Roe, and there was no scenario with a happy ending. But at that moment in his life, Dean was the closest he’d ever been to one. They had a recording deal, his dream come to life. It was their chance, their break. And he couldn’t fuck that up, not for a muse. That was all she could be, he told himself over and over.

Kara sipped a beer from Lex’s dining room table as she watched Lex zip around her kitchen, making dinner. Her long, white neck and bare shoulder peeked out of the wide collar of her oversized sweater, her hair in a loose bun as she chopped vegetables. She rambled a million miles a minute while attempting to cook, but was failing pretty miserably, by Kara’s estimation.

Lex turned to Kara, and her hand whacked the salt. The shaker skittered across the counter and toppled over, spilling salt over the surface. Her eyes bugged as she grabbed a pinch and tossed it over her shoulder, then swept it off the counter with the meat of her hand into her waiting palm.

Kara laughed and shook her head. “You’re a mess.”

“Whatever. I’d like to avoid all the bad luck I can, thank you very much.” Lex dusted her hands off in the sink. “Anyway, Travis’ new band is fantastic. Dean, the lead singer, is completely mesmerizing.” She rolled her eyes. “God, that sounds so cheesy, but it’s true. Travis said that he’s a super slut, but I could see how he’d get all the ass he’d ever want.”

Kara leaned back in her chair. Oh my god, she likes him. No wonder she’s so amped.

“How much coffee have you had today?” Kara asked, then threw her hands up to avoid getting hit in the face with a dishtowel. “You’re really excited about this band, Lexie.”

“They’re just so good. Travis didn’t even have to convince me to go back to practice today. I actually came from the warehouse to make you dinner a la Lex.”

“Aww, you tore yourself away on account of little old me?”

“I did. Lucky you. Oh, speaking of, did I play that song for you? I keep meaning to.”

“Yeah. You posted it on my Facebook and emailed it to me. Oh, and you sent me a text.”

“Goddammit. I’m sorry.” Lex’s hand touched her flushed cheek.

“It’s okay, I love you anyway. So,” Kara leaned forward with a smirk, “tell me more about this mesmerizing lead singer.”

“Oh, I don’t mean it like that. Travis is fantastic too. I mean, how can you not watch him when he has his shirt off?” They both giggled. “Seriously, Kara, will you please come with me to practice? You have to hear them live.”

“All right, all right. I’ll go. And this lead singer better be as captivating as you say, or you’re going to owe me one. Uh, Lex?” Kara pointed to the stove where a pot boiled over.

“Oh, shit.” Lex spun around and turned the heat down, blowing on the water while she stirred it.

Kara shook her head, confounded. Lex always had the illusion of having her shit together, even in the kitchen. Kara would say Lex was generally cheerful, but giddy? Never. Especially not over a guy. Kara wanted to meet the singer in the band, curious as to how he’d gotten Lex all twisted up over him.

Lex flitted around the kitchen, multitasking noodle cooking and vegetable chopping while Kara pulled out the dishes and silverware to set the table. She set the plates down and folded the napkins, lost in the routine, thinking about her friend.

Alexis Greene had broken hearts throughout the Lower East Side from the minute she turned sixteen and started dating. She’d been through a string of guys over the course of ten years, ranging in seriousness from fling to the occasional long term relationship, confident enough to date nerds or playboys. Lex had no fear, as long as her heart wasn’t involved, and though so many of them tried to break in, she was completely unavailable, which was funny because she almost always had a boyfriend. She was the girl that guys wanted and chicks hated, even though she was never a bitch to anyone. Except Ramona James, but that skank had it coming.

But Lex had never been able to get close to any guys, always running when things got sticky. And it was no big shocker, not after dealing with her mom for so many years. Kara and Lex had walked in to Lex’s apartment many times after school to find her mom sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, staring at the wall, her eyes red and face tear stained and puffy. She was a good mom, and she and Lex were close, but the woman had forever worn her loneliness like a badge.

I’ll never be like her, Kara, Lex would say. I will never give a man that kind of power over me.

So to see Lex infatuated for the very first time was bizarre to witness, but Kara couldn’t help but be a little hopeful. She smiled to herself as she set down the last fork and turned to help Lex salvage dinner.

ROE TUNED HIS BASS, twisting the machine heads and picking the strings automatically as he sat on a stool in the warehouse, waiting for the rest of the band. His mind wandered to Dean, who had been aloof on a whole new level lately. He was distracted and unfocused, which was unlike him, especially when it came to their music.

Dean was a quiet guy, though he and Roe never had a lack of things to talk about, since they had been friends since grade school. Dean had been on his own for pretty much his entire life, but from the minute Roe saw him, he knew they’d be friends. When Roe saw Dean sitting on the steps of their elementary school with that jerk McCoy trying to push him around, his black hair in his face, his green eyes flashing, he knew Dean needed someone. Roe was that someone.

Within a few weeks of meeting, Dean started coming home with him. Roe sensed Dean didn’t want to go home, though it took months before he would hint at why, and years until Roe knew the whole story. Roe’s mom knew and tried to help, though as a night shift nurse, she wasn’t home a lot. But Dean was always welcome, any time. She’d cook special meals when Dean was there, and always got him a few gifts at Christmas, candy at Easter, trying to give him some small joy in his life, some sense of family.

Roe was forever grateful that his mom was on board with Dean living with them after his mom died. If Dean had gotten put into the system, it would have meant a whole extra layer of fucked up on top of his already fucked up self.

They got jobs at a record store in high school, and Dean saved for a month to buy his first guitar. Roe got one too, and they taught themselves how to play, though Dean was much better. It came easy for him, and he could listen to pretty much any song and have it figured out before the song was over. He’d always written, and once he’d learned how to play, his poems turned into songs. Roe picked up the bass, and they hooked up with Kevin, who worked at the record store with them, and the Paper Fools were born. The first show they played had every chick in the bar at the stage, big eyed and ready to throw panties, and in that moment, Roe knew they had something.

They lived at Roe’s until just after they graduated. Since she worked nights they were, for the most part, free to do what they pleased.

Which for Dean mostly meant girls.

Ever since their freshman year in high school, girls had thrown themselves at Dean. It was like they smelled Dean’s damage, and when mingled with his good looks and charm … it was just too much for them to resist.

Roe witnessed everything from tears to slaps to flying milk cartons in the lunchroom over Dean, even the occasional cat-fight. Dean never talked about any of the girls he hooked up with, not even Audrey, but the behavior of his conquests indicated the level that it ended on. None of it fazed him.

After high school, they worked their asses off with the band, though they were occasionally set back by Dean’s fucking around. It had been ten years since they’d founded the band, and they’d finally gotten a real record deal. The contract was initially for Dean alone, but he wouldn’t sign without Roe.

And that was really the heart of their relationship. Roe knew Dean would do anything for him, and he would do the same. He forgave Dean for his bullshit on a daily basis, knowing that Dean was doing the best he could with the sad set of tools he was equipped with to deal with his life. But the record deal was their future, and Roe couldn’t just sit back anymore, not with everything on the line.

What Dean didn’t know was just how far their rep was up Roe’s ass about them getting into the studio. When he found out they lost Elliot, he tripped, and all of the pressure was on Roe. He hadn’t even told the guys, deciding instead to just keep pushing them, not wanting to burden them with the stress.

Roe wasn’t quite sure what was going on with Dean recently, but he thought he had a pretty good idea. As entertaining as it was to see Dean lose his cool, he suspected that the behavior had been brought on by the one person that Dean absolutely could not pursue.

The minute Roe saw Travis’ girlfriend walk in, with her long, dark hair, her slender, stacked body, and her shocking blue-green eyes, Roe watched Dean like a hawk. Dean walked up to her, and when she looked up, he looked like he’d been hit by a bus before he quickly recovered and threw on his swagger. Roe only had to watch the two interact for thirty seconds before he knew he had reason to be concerned. Their attraction was visible even from across the room. And Dean’s smile … Roe hadn’t seen that smile in ages.

When he turned to look at Travis tightening his drum heads, he’d shaken his head. They warned him, but Roe didn’t think he understood the pull that Dean had. Girls got sucked into Dean’s gravity like rogue meteors, only to go down in glorious flames.

Dean and Lex couldn’t happen. They couldn’t afford to waste any more time searching for drummers, not to mention the shitstorm it would cause with the label. Roe wasn’t keen on losing Travis, especially over a girl. He’d had enough of that drama.

Light poured in as the door to the warehouse swung open, and Roe turned to see Travis, Lex, and a short, curvy brunette walk in. The girls giggled.

Maybe this chick could distract Dean from Lex, he thought. Until he got a good look at her.

Her hips swung wide in a tight, black skirt as her shapely legs walked a tight line toward him. She flipped her hair, laughing as she set down her bag and shrugged off her jacket, her black, lacy bra showing through her ripped up Slayer tank top. She scanned the room, her gaze falling on him, openly appraising him with cool blue eyes. A slow smile crept onto her full, hot pink lips.

Or not. He smiled back before clearing his throat as Dean and Kevin walked in.

Dean crossed the warehouse, staring at the back of Lex’s head. She straightened in her seat, seeming to feel his eyes on her.

Roe realized his face was screwed up in disapproval as he watched them react to each other. He tried to relax, hoping he looked composed. Dean was trying, he knew.

Dean’s shrouded eyes were locked on her, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his shoulders bent as he walked. But the second that he came into Lex’s eye line, he stood straight, his hands slipped out of his pockets, and his expression dissolved into a mask of indifference.

He dropped his bag next to the amps and pulled off his jacket, then picked up his guitar and began to tune it, appearing to concentrate on his task. Roe knew better.

Just like every day since Lex started coming to practice, Roe stressed throughout the entire session, watching the two of them, worrying over something he knew he couldn’t control. Dean wouldn’t look at Lex, but sang every word to her, and Lex hung on every word like she knew. Occasionally, Roe would look back at Travis, who was either staring intently at his drums or had his eyes pinched shut. He honestly didn’t have a clue.

When Roe wasn’t giving himself a coronary about the hormones flying around the room, he watched Lex’s friend, and she watched him. After practice, Lex brought her up to introduce her.

Dean held his guitar by the neck as the two girls walked up. Lex tucked her hair behind her ear. “Um, Kara, this is Dean.”

“Hey, Kara.” Dean flashed a small smile, and Lex’s brow dropped a hair. So did Roe’s.

“This is Kevin,” she said as she touched his shoulder.

Kara laughed. “Nice t-shirt.”

Kevin looked down and pulled his shirt with his fingers to stretch out the phrase I have six words for you. “I actually have six more for you. Hi, my name is Keys Kevin.”

Lex and Kara giggled, and Kevin looked like he was in heaven as he turned to pack his gear.

“And this,” Lex put a hand on Roe’s arm, “is Roe.”

Travis called over to her. “Lex, can you grab this?”

“Yup.” Lex turned to Kara. “Meet you out front?”

“Okay, sure,” Kara said.

Roe could practically see the pheromones exchanged as he watched Lex walk past Dean, their eyes like lovesick tractor beams on each other. He turned to Kara and caught her staring after Lex as well.

“Man, they’ve got it bad.” Kara raised her eyebrows in mock pity, and Roe couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s an understatement.”

They stood for a moment, and Kara watched him with her head cocked to the side. He smiled and hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “Uh, I have to, uh— “

“Yeah, me too.” Kara gave him a playful smile and turned to walk back to the couch. She bent over to pick up her bag in her short skirt, cunning enough not to show him her goods, but knowing full well what she was doing. She winked over her shoulder at him in parting. “See you around, Roe.”

He grinned as he wound up the amp cord, hoping he would. And soon.

Dita stretched out on the floor of her library and ran her fingers through the silky furs under her. A romance novel about time traveling vampires lay split open in front of her, and a cozy fire crackled at her back. Eros sat across from her in a low-backed, tangerine armchair, preening his wings with his legs crossed, thankfully. He was naked.

“I will never understand why Psyche lets you walk around completely naked.” Dita rested her head on her hand.

“I’m not always naked.” He released his pearly white, impossibly soft wing, and it stretched out long before folding up behind him.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, I’m usually naked. Psyche doesn’t care. In fact, I’m pretty sure it gets me laid three times more frequently than when I’m wearing horribly confining clothes that chafe me.”

Dita rolled her eyes.

“What? I have very sensitive skin. And anyway, I will never understand why it bothers you so much, Mom.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that. I have literally asked you a trillion times. I really will start calling you Cupid if you don’t cut it out.” She pushed herself up to sit.

“Sure you will. So, I saw your player. She’s pretty foxy.” Eros waggled his brows at her.

Dita flipped her hair over her shoulder as she laughed. “That she is. And have you seen Dean? This should be a cinch.”

“Doesn’t really look like a cinch. The girl has a boyfriend, and the guy is a complete slut. It actually looks to me like a challenge. Too bad you can’t use my arrows.”

“Ah, dearest Eros. I don’t need your help.”

“I know you don’t, but it couldn’t hurt.”

“I already have a blur spell on the boyfriend, so he won’t see me work my magic. And the man-slut, well … he’s ready for a woman in his life. He’s been without for far too long. Plus, who do you think got the old drummer’s girlfriend to sleep with Dean, anyway?” She gave him an expectant look.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got this all wrapped up then. I’ll just tell Apollo to give up.”

She laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m sure he’ll just give right in and give up a token.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“How is Psyche?” She had to ask. Eros was sensitive about his wife. Dita and Psyche had never gotten along, but Dita did try.

“Oh, she’s good. She wanted to ask you to have lunch with her, but she was afraid you’d say no.”

“Gods, Eros. She’s so dramatic. Of course I would go.”

“Good. I’ll tell her you’ll be there tomorrow.”

Dita shot him a rude hand gesture, and his laugh filled the room.

His laugh always reminded her of Ares. Her eyes ran over Eros’ features. He had Ares’ brow and jaw, and her golden hair and big eyes. His mouth was a cross between the two, full with a slight pout. He was beautiful.

Luckily, he had her temperament and not his father’s. She and Eros had always been close, unlike her and the twins, Phobos and Deimos. They were more like Ares, mischievous on a good day, terrifying on the rest.

She loved Ares in a way that scared her. They were volatile, explosive. He was jealous in the most extreme way, and before Adonis died, her biggest fear was that Ares would kill Adonis to rid himself of any competition. She had to devise a plan to ensure that Adonis would be safe from Ares, and so she used her greatest power against him.

Aphrodite’s heart pounded as she waited for Ares that day. Her plan was simple, though shrewd, and stealth was crucial. She held up the shackles Hephaestus made for her. They looked ordinary, though she knew that they held a magic that rendered them unbreakable. She slipped them under the pillows piled on her bed, and smoothed her white robes, tracing her fingers on the golden chain wound around her slender waist.

She heard her door open, and Ares called her name. She took a breath and glided into her entryway where she found Ares, towering, tan, and fuming as he waited for her. His golden, plumed helmet sat on a marble table next to a pot painted with a scene of her and Adonis. The look on his face said it all.

He has seen it. The trap is set.

Anger mingled with the want in his eyes as he moved to her, his blood red cloak flying behind him. She waited for him to come to her, to take her in his arms.

He grabbed her tight around her waist, and she could feel his boiled leather arm cuffs through the light fabric of her robes. His eyes lingered on her lips for a moment before he took her mouth with force, his lips hard against hers. She wound her arms around his neck, and he lifted her up, carried her to her bed, and laid her down.

He pressed himself into her, but she wound her leg around his waist and twisted, flipping him over. She sat, her chest heaving, her lips sore, and he reached for the golden chain of her robe. He pulled hard, and it snapped, baring her long, white torso. She ran her hands up the bronze armor he wore, flipped the clasps of his cloak, and slipped her hands under the shoulders to unbuckle the straps. Then, she stretched out, reaching under her pillows for the shackles, gasping as he nipped her breast.

She sat on his lap and held them up, shaking them gently. The links clinked together, and he smiled wickedly as he held his arms above his head in submission. She crawled to the head of the bed and chained him to the marble columns, giving them a tug once they were locked with a devious smile.

She crawled back down his body and pushed his armor off the bed, then untied his sandals and dropped them. With one hand in front of the other, she slinked up the bed like a cat, and when she reached his thighs, she slipped her hands under the robes at his waist to hold him in her hands, running her fingers up and down his length.

He looked down at her, his eyes lust drunk as she yanked his wide belt and pulled it off. His robes fell open, and she slid off the side of the bed, turning to look long over his strong body that lay stretched out on her bed, naked and vulnerable, his skin stark against the deep red of his cloak. His eyes were dark as he watched her slip one strap of her robes down her shoulder, then the other, his lips parting when they fell to the ground. She turned her back to him and bent down slowly, deliberately, to untie her sandals. He drew a sharp breath, and she smiled to herself.

She walked back to the foot of her bed and crawled up between his legs. Her tongue traced a path up his long body, and she exhaled softly as she moved, her long hair trailing his skin, and he shivered. When she reached his neck, she kissed it deep, slowly, up to his ear. His face turned to hers, his lips searching for her, but she moved out of his reach, running lines back down his body.

She stopped when she reached his length, pausing to lick the ridge of his crown, flicking her tongue when she reached the end. He groaned and turned his head as she ran her tongue down his shaft, then up, before flicking her tongue again. She took all of him, again and again, until he squeezed her with his thighs. It was then that she released him, and he looked down at her with burning eyes, confused.

She rose and climbed up his body, straddled his chest, and leaned back, propping her hand on his thigh. Her fingers slipped into her mouth, then trailed down to her breast to her nipple. She rose and fell with his heavy breaths as his heart thumped under her, his neck craned to watch. Her hand moved down her stomach, between her legs to touch herself, running her fingers around and around as her hips rolled, and Ares lost all composure beneath her.

She paused, panting as she moved down his body again. With one hand, she stroked him, and with the other, she propped herself up and spoke, her voice husky. “There is something you must do for me, Ares.”

Startled by the sound of her voice, he bent his neck to look down at her with heavy lids. “Anything,” he breathed.

“I need you to swear. Swear to me that you will not harm Adonis.” His eyes widened as she spoke.

He growled and tugged at the chains, then pulled hard. They did not yield. His eyes were hot, his teeth bared. “You have tricked me.”

“Not tricked, love, but I needed your attention. Nothing needs to change between us … if you do him no harm.” She stroked faster.

He dropped his head, the muscles in his neck tight. “Gods, Aphrodite. Not now … ”

“I will give you all that you want, Ares. And more.” She dropped down to take him with her mouth again, and he bucked into her, groaning.

“Gods … please … ” He strained against the chains.

“Swear it.” She took him again, stopping before his release.

He called out. “I swear! I swear to you. I will do him no harm. I swear.”

Her heart sang as she climbed up to him and laid her hands on his face. “Thank you,” she whispered and kissed him. His lips were hard on hers as she reached back and lifted him upright, backed up to him, and ran the length of him up and down her entrance before sliding him in, again and again, until they both cried out.

She collapsed on him, her heart hammering in her ears in time with his. “Ares, hear me. If you bring him harm, if you cross me, you will never have me again.” She rose with his deep breath.

“I know.”

She believed Ares when he promised, but when Adonis died, her first thought was that it had been Ares. At least, until Apollo appeared and told her the truth. But ever after that day, she had stayed away from him as best she could, though competitions made it almost impossible. She always felt that something was off with the whole thing, but Apollo admitted to killing him, and Ares denied involvement, even after she used a token on him to force the truth. She had no real reason to doubt him, nothing tangible at least, but she couldn’t find a way to give herself fully to him again.

“You’ve got that look in your eye, Dita,” Eros said.

She blinked, realizing she was flushed. “What look?”

Eros rolled his eyes and laughed as he stood to go. “Right. Okay. Did you want me to go find Dad for you?”

“Gods, you are such a shit. Go put some pants on.” She flung her book at him, and it flew across the room, the air whistling through the pages. Bisoux jumped and trotted away as it thumped to the ground at Eros’ feet.

He twiddled his fingers at her, and she rolled her eyes as his perfect, naked ass trotted out the door.

Apollo walked into his office and up to a window, one of the many floor-to-ceiling fixtures in the room. He leaned against the frame and looked down on Central Park.

He was optimistic about his chances, having a plan in place. He wasn’t sure when to invoke the prophecy, but he knew for certain that it wasn’t time. Dita had set the stage, but his play would be a big one. Of that, he was sure.

He pushed off the wall and made his way across the black wood floors to pick up his mandolin. He sat and strummed, staring at one of his favorite Warhols that hung on the wall across the room. He scanned the shelves of books and plays, including original playbills from Shakespeare plays, books of sonnets, first editions of all of the classics, original, handwritten Poe poems, and ancient scrolls from Plato and Homer. The room was sectioned off by music, art, and literature, and the portion where he sat housed instruments from ancient lyres and zithers to electric guitars and a grand piano. Tall, white bookshelves lined the walls, holding records and boxes of sheet music, and a phonograph stood in the corner. His gallery sat in a room off the office, a huge space filled with statues and paintings from Michelangelo, paintings from Rembrandt to Waterhouse to Picasso, photography from Adams, Cartier-Bresson, Liebovitz, and Uelsmann, just a small selection of works from his favorite humans.

On one open shelf was his laurel crown, the very same that he’d fashioned from Daphne’s branches, the one he’d worn for eons as a symbol of his loss, his grief, as a way to carry her with him wherever he went, though she was always in his heart. He could not escape her, and didn’t want to.

The situation was an impossible one. He couldn’t blame Dita for never giving in, not with her believing he killed Adonis. He wished again that he could tell her the truth, and cursed Ares as he remembered back to that day, the day that everything fell apart.

Erymanthus bolted into Apollo’s chambers, screaming, scratching at his eyes as blood rolled down his cheeks. Apollo rushed to his son, and the young man fell into his arms.

“What has happened?” Apollo tried to pull his hands away, but he fought every attempt. “Who has done this to you?”

“Aphrodite, Father,” he wailed.

“Why? Why would she do such a thing to you?”

“I don’t know. I did nothing wrong. You must believe me. I … I was walking alone and happened upon her and Adonis coupling.”

Apollo took a breath, unsure if he should believe his son. The boy was known to be immodest, and was nothing like Apollo, though much like his shrewd mother, who died giving birth to him. Apollo vowed to take care of the child, but he had grown into a deviant, and Apollo was at a loss with him.

But still, as he looked upon his son, blinded and screeching, rage filled his heart. He laid his hand over the boy’s eyes, his palm glowing white, but when he removed it, the boy had not healed. Such was the work of gods, especially one as powerful as Aphrodite.

“She will pay for this. Of that, I promise you.”

He dressed the boys wounds, laid him in bed, and left his chambers, rushing to Ares with shaking hands.

Apollo found Ares on a stool in his room, holding the hilt of his sword as he ran a sharpening stone down its length in long, smooth strokes. He glanced up at Apollo. “Hello, Apollo. Are you all right? You look … murderous.” He grinned evilly, then turned back to his blade and resumed his task. The metallic scrape rang in Apollo’s ears.

“Aphrodite has blinded my son.”

“I would argue that the peculiar boy might have earned such a punishment. What did he do to her?”

“He witnessed her in the throes of passion with Adonis.”

Ares hand froze, the rhythm broken, before he began the long strokes again. “And you tell me this because … ”

“She must pay, and I believe there is a way to deal equal damage.”

“What do you propose?”

Apollo paced, unable to keep still any longer. “I believe we have a common cause. You have a grievance with Adonis, and I with Aphrodite. He is her treasure, and to harm him harms her.”

“Ah, Apollo. You never did care to dirty your hands. But, alas, I cannot assist. I have sworn to her that I would do Adonis no harm.” He laid his sword down and turned to Apollo, leaning his muscular forearm on his knee. “If I am to help you, she can never know.”

Apollo nodded. “So, an oath?” It was the highest power that could bind them, higher than Zeus even had the authority to break.

“I believe that would be the most effective way to approach the matter.”

Apollo took a breath, his mind reeling, too angry to think clearly, though he tried to reason through it as strategically as he was capable of. “He is not to be killed. Only hurt. Can you agree to that?”

“Oh, I believe I can.” He smiled savagely.

Ares rose and held out his hand. Apollo looked at it a moment, hesitating before he found resolve in his outrage, then clasped forearms with Ares. A beam of white, light ran down Apollo’s arm, winding around his bicep, around his forearm, then entwined the hands of the gods. A stream of blood ran down Ares’ in the same fashion, and the threads twisted around each other, binding them together.

Apollo spoke. “I do swear that I shall never speak of the arrangement between Ares and I in the harming of Adonis, that I shall never speak of his connection to the acts that will be committed against the mortal.”

Ares spoke. “I do swear that I shall bring harm to Adonis on Apollo’s behalf, and should any inquire, that I shall never speak of my part of the responsibility.”

The bond threads grew brighter, flashing intense before they languished, forging their oath.

“Now,” Ares said, “it is time to begin.”

Apollo always had been a fool.

Ares ran through the thick woods, the trees whipping by in a blur as adrenaline coursed through him. He was in his favorite animal form, that of an enormous, feral boar. His heart thumped in his barrel chest as he realized that the chance was upon him to rid himself of the nuisance that was Adonis with no fear of retribution.

He skidded to a halt and lifted his snout, searching for Adonis, but found nothing. His nose hit the ground as he stomped about, running his snout through the tall, cool grass until …

Ah, there you are.

He shot into the forest, overwhelmed by his rage and the thrill of the hunt. Ares broke through the underbrush and slammed to a stop in a clearing, dark even in mid-day under the thick canopy of the trees. Fog floated up in curls and tendrils, licking at Ares’ belly as his eyes locked on Adonis before him, crouched in anticipation. Ares dropped his head, swinging it side to side, slashing his tusks through the air like blades.

This ends now, was the thought that consumed him as he stamped his hooves and charged the foolish man, his heart beating so fiercely with triumph and vindication that he felt he could rule the world.

Apollo pushed open the doors of Ares’ chamber with such force that they slammed against the marble walls, shooting a crack up the slab like lightning. Ares stood near the window, wiping blood from his face with wild eyes, his hair mussed and streaked with blood. His skin shone with a sheen of sweat and blood, and he smiled a wicked smile when he saw Apollo.

“He was not to die, Ares. You made a promise, an oath, you traitor.” Apollo’s voice boomed, echoing off the walls, and his skin glowed yellow-white.

Ares had the boldness to smirk. “Yes, well, I could not help myself. I promised I would bring him harm, but I never promised to let him live. I have not broken the oath, only bent it. The opportunity was too sweet to let pass.”

Apollo bared his teeth, screaming as he rushed Ares. Ares caught him when he neared, flipping him around to lock his arms behind his back in a swift, single motion.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Ares said through his teeth as Apollo struggled against him. “Now, remember who you are dealing with. What is done is done, and you can never tell her what part I played.”

He whispered, “I will not forget this, Ares. Never.” Apollo burned brighter and brighter until the light was blinding, then pulsed with a scream, the light shooting out in a ring with a boom.

Ares dropped Apollo, shielding his eyes against the white light as it receded into Apollo, whose chest rose and fell with his heavy breath.

“I do not expect that you will.” Ares folded his arms across his broad chest. “Nor will I. I am indebted to you. You have given me a way to rid myself of a foe who has long been protected from me, and for that, I thank you.”

Apollo stood, dumbfounded and furious, staring at his betrayer for a long moment before turning on his heel and flying through the halls to his chambers.

As he paced his quarters, he tried to sort through it all, marveling at his foolishness. He should never have trusted someone so villainous, so nefarious. No, he should have handled the matter himself, because he was in the most precarious position, all because he had been so rash as to trust a snake.

And now … gods. Poor Aphrodite. I am to blame.

His heart sank as his anger fell away, and guilt pressed down on him as the consequences of what he had done came into focus. She had committed an act against him, against his son, and she deserved to be punished. But so severely? Apollo did not want him dead, only damaged, though at that moment, he wished for no retribution, only wished that he could turn back the clock.

She would never forgive him.

There was little he could do, other than offer her the comfort of blame. He would tell her what he could, which meant he would have to convince her that he killed Adonis. He wondered over how he could persuade her, thanking the gods that he was an actor.

He would act as if he were Ares, haughty and vengeful. Apollo straightened himself as he pushed aside the brush in the clearing where Aphrodite sat in the grass. Adonis laid in her lap, gray and still, and she wailed, her blood stained face wrenched in pain as Apollo began the longest ruse of his immortal life.

LEX FIDDLED WITH HER pencil as she stared at a blank page in her notebook, trying to concentrate. For the fiftieth time that night, she shifted on her stool, comfortable for only a second. Lex laid her pencil down in the crease of her notebook and rested her head on her hand to stare out the window.

It was the first night that she had to work since she’d started going to practice, and she didn’t want to be sitting in the quiet bookstore. Not when she could be curled up on the worn, old couch at the warehouse.

She wondered what he was doing, pictured him as he performed, thought about how she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. And how she should have been watching Travis.

The bell on the door dinged as it opened, and Lex jumped, relaxing when she saw Kara glide in. Kara walked up to the counter and leaned over to rest her forearms on the surface.

“You look absolutely thrilled to be here tonight.”

“Does it show?” Lex inspected herself for clues.

“Like a blinking neon sign. With an arrow.”

Lex’s phone buzzed on the counter with a text from Travis.

Meet at The Crow Bar at 1030? Band is going, text Kara?

She raised an eyebrow and passed her phone to Kara.

“Ooh, yes.” Kara’s face lit up. “I even wore my favorite shirt, see?” She shoved her boobs together with her arms to demonstrate.

“Classy.” Lex looked at her phone. 9:56. Perfect. She texted him back.

Just have to close up, c u there.

Kara plopped her enormous bag on the counter and pulled out her compact mirror. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders as she reapplied her lipstick.

Lex packed up her things and made her way around the store, flicking off lights and putting away books and magazines that were left out. She slung her purse on, grabbed her keys, and locked up, pausing to laugh at Kara making a duck face at her reflection in the shop window as she shimmied her boobs around in her bra. Lex slipped the keys into her bag and buttoned her jacket up against the cold.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kara asked as they headed toward the subway entrance.

“Talk about what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Alexis. Mister Mesmerizing?”

Of course she knows. She sighed. “He’s just so … I mean, you’ve seen him.”

“I have. He’s so pretty, it almost hurts to look at him.”

“Right? It’s practically criminal.”

“Seriously. His panty moistening skills are off the charts.”

“Gross.” Lex side-eyed Kara, deadpan.

“Seriously, Lex, does he light the fire of desire in your lady cave?”

Lex cackled, and both girls broke into giggles. “Oh my god, Kara. I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You’re really shocked?”

“No, actually. You’re right. I’m not.”

They walked in silence for a moment. “He’s a serial manwhore. You know this,” Kara said.

“Can’t a girl lookie no touchie?”

“I don’t know. Can you?” Kara laughed at her. “I saw you stripping him down to the tube socks with your eyes. You want to eat the man candy. With your mouth. On his—“

“Okay, okay. I get it. And yes, I do, but I won’t. Anyway, what are we talking about? I have a boyfriend.”

Kara shoved her hands into the pockets of her military jacket and turned to Lex, amused. “Do you think said ‘boyfriend’ sees your flames of passion for the Panty Wizard?”

Lex snorted. “God, Kara. No, I don’t think he sees it. I just don’t know what to do about me and Travis. I think I might need to leave him, but I’m afraid to hurt him. I mean, clearly it’s over, right? Does that make the decision for me if I’m lusting after a stranger?”

“I don’t know, does it?”

“You’re no help, you know that?”

“Yes, I do. Would you ever date Dean?”

“How would that work? The guy’s never even had a real girlfriend. He’s a quitter. Plus, he’s Travis’ bandmate, the same one that keeps boning drummer’s girlfriends. And anyway, why are we still talking about this?”

“Hey, you started it.”

“No I didn’t, asshole. You did.”

“Come on, let’s go get drunk. That’s sure to breed good decisions.”

Dean leaned on the old saloon bar as he waited for his drink. He loved the Crow Bar, not just because they had some great, little known acts that played there, but because of the creepy circus look they had. He stood next to a taxidermy jackalope, posed on his hind legs, its antlers stretching up into the darkness.

The bartender turned to him, her flapper dress swinging fringe as she slid his drink across the bar to him. The tall, red feather in her beaded headband waved at him as she tipped her head in acknowledgement.

He walked under old, beaded chandeliers and past a long wall of taxidermy crows mounted alongside old sepia photographs of Siamese twins and other carnival oddities. Dean paused at the stage backed by worn, red velvet curtains to watch the blues band that played there.

An old man sat on a stool behind the microphone with a standup bass player and a drummer on a trap set at his back. His coffee-colored skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat under the stage lights, and his gray hair peeked out of his porkpie hat as he crooned into the microphone and played his guitar, his voice gravelly and raw.

A small breeze pushed by, smelling faintly of flowers. Roses? His brow quirked as he turned toward the door.

Lex.

He was rooted to the spot, realizing distantly that he was staring. Lex set her bag down on the bar and pulled off her jacket to hang it on the back of a chair. Her tight jeans hugged her hips and lean legs, and knit socks peeked out of the top of her knee-high motorcycle boots. She looked like she could kick your ass or kiss you or both, and any would be fine. Her shirt was shorter in the front than the back, exposing a sliver of the snowy skin at her navel. He drew a breath.

She was always in his thoughts, in the dark of night as he tossed and turned, trying to sleep, when he was riding the subway or writing. Everything he’d written since he’d met her was inspired by her.

And that was just when they were apart. When they were together he could barely function, his thoughts entirely consumed by her. The closer their proximity, the worse it was. It was baffling, especially given that he didn’t even know her. He’d barely even talked to her. They had only spoken a few times in passing, since it seemed both of them were actively avoiding each other, but every time they spoke, he wanted to know more, and it was getting harder and harder to walk away.

Dean didn’t understand how Travis didn’t see it. Roe definitely did, and Lex’s friend seemed to notice too. He’d even felt a pang of jealousy when he overheard Travis talking to Kevin about Lex, and images of them together flashed through his mind. Dean couldn’t stand the thought of Travis’ hands on her, and couldn’t stand that he couldn’t stand it.

He was in so deep, he felt like he was drowning.

There was something about her. Part of it was probably because she was obviously trying to shut him down, but she was always giving him the look, though he knew she didn’t realize it. But even though he could see that she wanted him, she wasn’t pursuing him. Maybe that was the appeal.

But it wasn’t just that, and he knew it.

Lex smiled at a bartender in a bowler hat and suspenders, and he smiled back, his handlebar mustache quirking as he handed her the drink she ordered. She took a sip and turned to watch the blues band. The singer’s eyes were closed as he poured his heart out into the microphone, and it spilled out of the speakers, into her.

She felt eyes on her and scanned the room to find Dean standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching her. A thatch of black hair had fallen into his eyes that were locked on to hers, and he ran his hand through it to put it back in place. Her heart raced as she gave him a small smile.

Remembering that the whole animal attraction thing they had going on was ridiculous, she tried to push her thoughts away, but she was unused to denying her attractions, even though she admitted that his draw was stronger than she’d ever felt. It took more willpower than she was comfortable with not to walk across the room and kiss him.

She felt spellbound, like she’d been hypnotized. Like Mina and Dracula, as if he’d somehow infected her, and logic and reason no longer applied. Ultimately, she didn’t get it, and was torn because even though she knew she should stay away, she was equally fascinated, dreading and anticipating every chance she had to see him.

Lex had watched him at the warehouse a few days earlier before practice, bent over his black notebook with his long legs slung over the arm of an armchair. His face was bent in concentration as his pen flew across the page. She knew that look. It was the same look she wore when she wrote and sketched.

After the first practice, she downloaded all of their music and had been listening to it in a compulsive loop, finding that she understood his words somewhere in a part of herself that she didn’t speak to very often. Lex kept that little voice tamped down tight, only letting it out to write and draw.

Kara brushed her arm, and Lex shook her head, cursing herself as she broke the laser eyes she and Dean had on each other.

“I see Dean is here.” Kara waggled her eyebrows at Lex, linking their arms to pull her toward the pool tables. As they walked past Dean, Kara cat-called, “Hey there, hot stuff.” She dropped her voice and shimmied her shoulders. “Hubba, hubba.”

Dean didn’t take his eyes off of Lex as he took a drink to hide his smile. Lex’s long eyelashes almost brushed her eyebrows as she looked up at him, her cheeks pink, a smile in the corner of her rosy lips.

A battle of will, indeed, he thought as he took a long pull of his drink.

Lex and Kara set their drinks and bags down at a wobbly bar table near where Roe and Travis played pool. Behind them, Kevin was attempting to play darts with his face screwed up in concentration. He wasn’t having much luck. Mostly, they hit the board sideways, if they even got close. His skinny frame was clad in skinny jeans, Chucks, and a t-shirt that said, Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, hate me because I’ll kick your ass at Street Fighter.

Lex hopped onto the bar stool and swiveled around to face the pool table. Travis caught sight of her and sauntered up as Roe stretched over the table to make a shot, the light shining bright on his face and shoulders, the rest of him disappearing in the darkness.

Travis landed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Good day?”

“Well, I broke up a fight between two middle-aged women over the last copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, so … I guess that would make it a win?”

“That’s one I’d like to hear.” He laughed as he turned back toward the pool table where Roe leaned on his cue, observing them. Lex shuffled in her seat and picked up her drink, pretending not to notice.

Kara grabbed her drink and shot a sly grin at Lex in parting as she slinked over to Kevin. “How about you let a pro show you how it’s done?”

Kevin looked elated. “Uh, please do. I’m considering trying out to be a championship dart competitor. That is, after I kick start my cage fighting career. I may need quite a bit of tutoring.”

Kara grabbed a handful of darts and moved behind Kevin with a crafty look on her face, pushing up against him while she guided his arm to throw. He looked over at the rest of the group with an is-this-really-happening look on his face.

Lex looked around the bar and then at her drink as she realized that she was alone at the table and Dean was unaccounted for.

Awesome.

She glanced around, nervous. He was bound to walk up any minute, and her stomach flipped with anticipation. She wondered what would happen if she got caught in a conversation with him for an extended period of time. Every scenario that crossed her mind did not end well. And by ‘not ending well,’ she meant she ended up lip-locked against a wall with a leg around his waist.

They’d only spoken a few times, but she watched him during practice like a stalker. Dean had all the makings of a man-sized Venus Flytrap. Everything about him called to her, and every other woman in a fifty-foot radius, but she knew that if she got close she would get eaten. Hopefully eaten in the sexy way, but she figured more likely it would be in the kind of way that she would experience a slow and painful death via metaphorical stomach acid.

Who says he would even come to sit next to me anyway, she thought. Which happened to be the exact moment that he walked up.

Dean’s green eyes were bright, and the black stubble on his face pronounced the hard line of his jaw. His legs were long in black jeans, a white v-neck under his black leather jacket. He looked like a rock-and-roll god.

He sidled up next to her and leaned on the edge of the wobbly table, tipping it toward him. Her drink teetered and spilled a bit, and she was entertained as he grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins and mopped up the table.

“Sorry,” he said, and she thought she saw a little pink in his cheeks. She stopped a giggle by biting her lip.

“It’s fine. No harm, see?” She turned her arms, inspecting for spills, then picked up her drink and took a dramatic sip as she peered at him over the rim of her glass.

His eyes met hers, and they sat in silence for a moment. She broke away and looked down at the amber liquid in her glass, spinning it slowly, overly aware of her hands, her face, her hair as she tugged at a lock that tumbled around her face and twisted it with her index finger.

Get a grip, Lex. She never did that. She unwound her hair and threaded her fingers in her lap.

Eager to break the tension, Lex scrambled for something to say, blurting out the first thing that came to her. “This band is great. Have you heard them before?”

“Yeah, George plays here a lot. The guy’s legendary, we’ve jammed together. I actually own the 45’s he put out in the fifties.”

“You collect records?”

“I do. It’s an obsession, really.”

She smiled wide, because of course he did. “Vinyl is a precious, lost medium. What are you into?”

“Everything. There’s not a lot of music I don’t like, and I’ve got samplings from electronic to hip hop to indie albums.”

“It’s becoming a lost art. I mean, how annoying is it to go to a bar with a ‘DJ’ that plays off their iPod? That’s not spinning. That’s making a playlist.” She snorted and took a drink.

Dean laughed, seeming surprised. “What about you? I’m sure I’ve got something in my collection that you’d like.”

She almost choked on her drink, then swallowed hard. There were all kinds of things in his ‘collection’ she was sure she’d enjoy. “I, uh, well, I love music, so I’m sure you’d have a record or two that I’d appreciate.”

He watched her squirm, and she thought he might be amused. “I always see you writing. I write too, ever since I was a kid. I used to fill up composition books full of really bad poetry, though now I mostly write lyrics. Hopefully I’ve improved since then.”

“I think you’re doing all right.” Lex flushed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I mean, you know, I really like your songs.” She flushed deeper as the hole she dug swallowed her up. “Um, anyway, I mostly write poetry, but I sketch too.”

“What do you like to sketch? Animal, vegetable, mineral?”

You, Lex thought. Awkward. “I prefer human subjects,” she said, hoping she sounded blasé. It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t the full truth. She couldn’t exactly tell him she had drawn him every day since she met him.

Her heart pounded, her unease hitting new and painful levels as she slid off her stool and grabbed her drink, needing to get away from him. “I’m, uh, going to go join in on darts. Catch you later.” She gave her hips a little extra sway despite her conscience, feeling his eyes on her as she walked to where Kevin and Kara laughed by the dartboard.

Dean watched her walk away and ran his hand over his mouth. He caught sight of Roe, who shot him red-hot poker eyeballs from across the room, and Dean glanced back at her hips. He raised an eyebrow at Roe in answer.

He didn’t know why he’d sat down next to her, not when he knew he should have kept walking. He should have, but he didn’t want to. In fact, he felt like he had to do it. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch, and every second that passed, it consumed every thought until you would do anything, give anything to scratch it.

He wondered if he scratched the itch, if they did hook up, if it would break the spell. He watched her from across the room, his eyes on her red lips as she laughed, and thought through it. He pictured himself pushing the stool away, marching across the room, kissing her until her lips were swollen and her knees weak. Thought about dragging her from the bar, taking her to his apartment, undressing her in the moonlight.

Dean picked up his glass and drained his drink. One night wouldn’t be enough. He would want more, even though he didn’t know what more was.

It was best if he found a way to forget about her, and considered finding a way to keep her from practice. But the thought of her out of his life wasn’t something he could comprehend. It was an impossible situation, and there was no way out of it, not without someone losing. And then he decided that it had to be him. No one else was prepared to handle it in the way he was.

Kara took a sip of her drink with her eyes on Dean, who was bent over his drink at the table as Lex and Kevin laughed and fumbled through a game of darts. Kara was pretty sure that Dean was attempting to look inconspicuous as he watched Lex, though he was doing a terrible job. Any idiot could see that he was sick over her. Any idiot other than Travis.

Poor guy. She glanced over at Travis, laughing with Roe by the pool table. For a long time, she thought that he might actually be the guy for Lex, even though she never got all gooey about him, but she didn’t for anyone. That was Lex’s modus operandi. But watching Lex react to Dean was like nothing Kara had seen from her before.

She shook her head as she watched Lex, who choreographed every move she made, probably sensing Dean as he stared holes through her from across the room. Kara couldn’t blame her for being hyper-aware. Anyone would swoon under that kind of eyeballing, which somehow wasn’t creepy. It was the kind of look that could explode panties from fifteen feet.

Kara wished things were different for the two of them. If only Dean wasn’t a whore. If only Lex wasn’t dating his drummer. If only they could be together, or at least hook up and let that run its course.

If only I had a million bucks.

If Lex would just break up with Travis and distance herself from him a little, then she could make a move. But Kara shook her head at the thought. The reality was that Lex would never make a move on Dean. Not with his reputation, and not thinking that, if she did actually end up caring about him, that he could hurt her. That was the stuff of Lex’s nightmares.

He didn’t seem like the type of guy to want something fiercely, but he looked at Lex pretty fiercely when he thought no one was watching. Maybe he was a whore because he hadn’t found the right girl. Lex could be that girl. She was a catch, if he could hang on to her.

Kara had no idea why she wanted to see the two of them together, other than that she wanted her friend to be happy and, based on her erratic behavior, she knew he got to her.

She weighed it out, since she knew Lex wasn’t thinking with her whole brain. There was a good possibility that she could get hurt by Dean, but what if she didn’t? Even if it didn’t last, would it be worth it for her to really feel something for someone? It wasn’t something she had any desire to decide for Lex, but …

Kara smiled as she outlined a plan. If she could help to put Lex in a situation where she could see her options, where Lex could get to know Dean so that she could make the decision for herself? That was something Kara could do, guilt free.

She knocked back her drink and set it down with a clink before she walked over to the table and to her huge bag. She dug around its dark maw until she found her lip-gloss and a small mirror, then turned to face an arbitrary direction. Lex was watching, so Kara stared into the mirror, hoping her intentions were hidden enough not to throw Lex’s red flag.

“Listen up, Romeo,” she said, and Dean straightened up. “I’m probably only saying this because I’ve had a few drinks, but she likes you. I’m sure you’ve got spidey-senses for that and all, but I’m just saying it out loud.” She blotted her lips together, made a kissy face into her mirror, and continued as she packed her things back into her purse. “She doesn’t want to cause problems with the band, and she doesn’t want to hurt Travis. But I’ve never seen her like this over anyone, and if I didn’t give you a nudge on her behalf, I’d regret it. So, go get her, son.” She zipped up her bag and turned back toward the dartboards, smiling over her shoulder at Dean as she walked away.

Dean leaned on his forearms and watched the ice melt in his glass, wondering if it was all some cruel test that the universe had put to him to test his mettle, and he was curious as to whether or not the trials in his life would ever end, if he would ever pass, if he would ever be free.

“I’M JUST SAYING, APOLLO. Good luck with that.” Dita sat sideways in an armchair in the common room, her long legs in dark skinny jeans slung over the arm, a grin all over her face. She couldn’t help herself. “There’s a reason why I’ve been undefeated for three millennia. Dean’s got it bad for my girl, and it’s only a matter of time before she caves. I’ve seen it a million times.”

Ares sat in an armchair next to Dita, watching the two needle each other with twinkling eyes. Hermes typed out emails on the couch next to Apollo, his fingers moving so fast on the keyboard that they were a blur. He looked like he wasn’t paying attention, but Dita knew his nosy ass better than that.

Apollo looked good in chinos and a striped button down, his sleeves cuffed to three quarters under a black vest, and a straw fedora cocked on his head. His camel oxford was crossed to rest just outside his knee, his arms hanging off the back of the couch. He looked a little too relaxed.

“You know what they say about counting chickens and eggs and hatching, et cetera.”

He had no reason to be smug, not if he was watching the same players she was, not unless …

She swung her legs around, spinning to cross them where they belonged in the front of the chair. “What do you know that you’re not telling me, Apollo?” she asked with narrow eyes.

“Dita, please. Like I’m going to give you any more of an advantage. You know me better than that.” He rose gracefully and gave her a condescending look as he patted her on the shoulder. “This competition is mine. Just try to hang in there, kid.”

That son of a bitch. Her mouth popped open as he strolled to the elevator, his hands in the pockets of his chinos. Kid? She was older than him by a thousand years.

Ares’ fist was in front of his mouth as he looked at Dita with his eyebrows raised. “He just called you out like a boss.”

“SHUT UP,” she snarled, and punched him in the chest.

He grabbed her forearm and pulled her into his chest. “Fists of fury, hm? I love pissed off Dita,” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss her neck. Goosebumps broke out down her arms, but she was too furious to care, her thoughts fixated on whatever the fuck Apollo was so chipper about.

“Ugh, not now.” She jerked her arm away and picked herself up. Perry would know what to do.

Dita marched into the elevator and slammed B4 with her fist. She folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her goosebumps away, cursing the opposite sex as a whole.

The elevator dinged, and she stepped into the silent black marble foyer of Hades.

Her boots clicked on the shiny, black floor as her eyes roamed the immense paintings that spanned the length of the long hallway. To her right hung a dark and fiery scene, the punished souls forever circling in eternal tasks, their punishment for their wicked lives. Tartarus. It always creeped her out. She saw Sisyphus pushing his rock up the hill, and Tityos screaming, chained to a rock as vultures ate his innards for all eternity. Ixion lay strapped to a flaming wheel, his face wrenched in pain. She shuddered.

The wall to her left held a painting of the same size and fashion, but it was as beautiful as its twin was full of pain. It was illuminated, an expanse of lush, green hills, mountains and waterfalls, with birds flying across the blue sky. The Elysian Fields, Elysium. Every time she came to the underworld, she looked for Adonis, though she was pretty sure that Perry had purposely hidden him. She was simultaneously sad and grateful. Otherwise she may well have ended up like Echo who loved Narcissus, staring at the painting for eternity, wishing for him until she wasted away to nothing.

On a round, mahogany table in the center of the foyer floated a massive glass orb, inside of which suspended a globe covered with bright green grass, dotted with flowers. She could see souls walking, running, sitting together in communion, all lit by an unseen sun. The Asphodel Meadow. Before Persephone married Hades, Asphodel had been a gray, lonely place where souls who fell in between Tartarus and Elysium wandered eternally alone after death. Persephone, heartbroken that those souls should be punished to live in such sadness, persuaded Hades to model Asphodel Meadow after the meadows where she picked flowers as a girl. It was a marked improvement.

Dita ran her hand along the mahogany table as she walked by, her anger dissipated by the sobering room. A warm fire crackled in the living room fireplace tiled in black marble, and Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound, snored in rounds by the fire, heads all piled on each other with tongues lolling. She made her way around the heavy furniture and sat on the couch next to the armchair where Perry was curled up with a book.

Perry looked up and smiled, but her mouth drooped when she saw Dita visibly upset. “What’s got your goat?”

“Psh, please. No one has sacrificed a goat to me in eons.”

Perry snorted.

Cerberus barked softly, lips puffing and legs twitching. Dita’s eyes were on him as she grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest as she sank into the couch.

Perry followed her gaze to the dog. “Ever since Hades devised the paintings, Cerberus hasn’t chased a soul. It’s been ages. It’s the least I can do for him to give him a good run in his dreams.” She turned back to Dita. “So, what happened?”

Dita stuck her lip out. “Apollo. He’s holding out on me.”

“What do you think he’s going to do?”

“I have no idea. He was just a pompous ass upstairs. He actually called me kid.” Her lip curled in disgust.

Perry sucked in her breath, her eyes wide and mouth open in mock surprise, hand to her chest. “He didn’t.”

Dita grabbed the pillow in her lap and chucked it at Perry, who laughed, her hands in front of her to block the blow. “Shut up, Perry. This is serious.” But Dita laughed, too.

When their giggling died down, they sat in silence for a few minutes, gazing into the fire as Dita’s anger burned away with the firewood.

“I’ve got to do something,” Dita said, breaking the silence. “Lex and Dean are a love match, that part is obvious to anyone, but Apollo knows something. He’s going to make a move, but I can stop him before he starts if I can get them together first. There’s got to be an angle to play, I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Well, you’ve been working your ass off to get them in the same room.”

“I know, but there’s so much set up, so many moving parts.”

“Okay, well, let’s think. Lex and Dean are attracted to each other. That’s the easy part. Why did Apollo pick Dean?”

“Well, his mom was … let’s say she played fast and loose. I was having a bad day, and she was just sort of at the wrong place at the wrong time. I cursed her with an insatiable appetite for sex.” Dita nibbled her thumbnail.

“Oh, Dita.” Perry’s voice was thick with disappointment.

Dita had been known to, when having an exceptionally bad day, walk through crowded streets on earth and zap people with curses. She wasn’t proud. It was a closet habit she’d been trying to shake for eons.

“I know, I know. So, she got knocked up with Dean and never bonded with him. She wasn’t what you would call a maternal woman, and she neglected him. Different guy every night, and sometimes, she’d leave him home for days at a time. He basically raised himself.”

“Good gods, that is so sad. Sounds like Apollo picked a winner. So Dean’s a musician …”

“Yup, a musician who thinks women are walking sperm banks who can’t be trusted.“

“And Lex is his match because … ”

“Well, Dita’s curse strikes again. Her dad left when she was a girl, and her mom never could, or will, recover.” Perry looked at Dita with her arms folded, and Dita sank a little deeper into the couch. “What? I know. I’m a horrible, cruel goddess. Though some would argue that’s part of my job. I sometimes have to break love that I’ve made. Not everyone gets a happy ending.”

Perry shook her head. “Lex has abandonment issues, and Dean can’t commit. Damaged, party of two.”

“Right? Lex has Apollo’s blessing, obviously, as a poet and artist. And she has my blessing as well. She’s good at relationships, even when she’s not invested. Lex has the potential to get it together, but she just needs the right guy to unlock it all for her.”

“Okay, so Lex writes, and Dean writes too?”

“Yeah, Lex never goes anywhere without her notebook and neither does—“ Dita sat straight. “PERRY. You are a freaking genius.” She hopped out of her seat and pounced on Persephone to kiss her on the cheek.

“What?” Perry cried as Dita bounded into the elevator. “What in Hades did I say?”

Hades appeared behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You rang?”

She turned, lighting up. “Well, speak of the devil.” A smile spread across her face. “It’s just Dita. You know how she is when a competition is on.”

His bright teeth flashed in his sly, boyish face as he smiled. “That, I do.” He leaned down and kissed her head, and his carefully groomed, inky black hair didn’t move an inch.

Perry folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not helping you when you’re up against her, not this time.”

He gave her a look.

“What?” She raised her chin defiantly. “I’m not. Don’t look at me like that.” She giggled, and he scooped her up and hauled her off, squealing.

The doors to the elevator closed as Apollo stepped into his living room and fell onto his white leather couch. He slid down the low back and rested his head on the cushion, gazing out his long wall of windows at Central Park, content for the first time in ages.

When daylight broke that morning, his eyes flew open, his back arching off the bed in a snap, gasping as the vision left him. He struggled for breath, not believing what he’d seen.

The sky was red and gold outside his windows, and Daphne stood in his apartment, her hair red as flames, full of light as the sun broke the horizon.

He was going to win. After so long, so much pain and loss, she would be his again. She would be free. Waiting a few more days for that moment was nothing, not after waiting an eternity for her.

Practice was over, and everyone lounged on the couches in the warehouse. Kevin groaned.

“Man, I’m starving. Can we please order some grub?”

Kara pulled out her phone. “Yes, please. You guys down?”

Nods and affirmations went around the room.

“Ooh,” Kevin said, “I vote Shanghai Palace.”

Roe shook his head. “They don’t deliver.”

“So? They’re like two blocks away. Don’t be an eggroll blocker.”

Kara laughed. “Come on, Roe. Kev wants to put his eggroll in the dumplings. Give him that.”

“Fine. Get the boy some extra duck sauce.”

Lex made a list of what everyone wanted, and Kara placed the order, trying not to laugh as Kevin did his best to distract her by making up a song at the keyboard about King Kung Pao that involved a lot of giggling from the peanut gallery and Kevin wailing like James Brown.

Dean pulled on his leather jacket and stood. “I’ll pick it up.”

Kara hopped up and grabbed her jacket. “I’ll go with you.”

Lex’s brow dropped, and she bit her lip.

“Uh, sure,” he answered, and his eyes darted to Lex.

Kara held out her hand to Lex. “Come with.”

Lex’s eyes narrowed. “M’kay.” She pulled on her jacket and caught Roe and Kara eyeballing each other. Lex half expected him to get up and come with them, but he stayed where he was and folded his arms across his chest.

What is going on with those two?

Kara looked a little too innocent, and Lex shook her head as they walked to the door and out into the cool night. The street was still a little busy, even as late as it was. They hadn’t made it a half block before Kara stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to pat her back pockets and dig around in her bag.

“Shit, guys. I forgot my phone.”

“We can wait for you.”

“Forget it, just go on without me. We wouldn’t want to keep Kevin waiting. I’m still convinced that if he eats after midnight he’ll turn into a monster.”

Kara was already walking away with a smile, and Lex hesitated with one foot ready to run with Kara and the other aching to follow Dean. She stood there stupidly for a moment, warring with what to do, and before very long, the choice was made for her.

She looked up at Dean, whose face was shrouded in shadows, and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “You realize she did that on purpose, right?”

He chuckled as they turned and started walking again. “Yeah, but it took me a second to figure out.”

“Me too. I thought for a minute that she wanted to be alone with you.”

“Oh?” He looked down at her, thinking how pissed Roe would be if he knew how much Dean enjoyed watching her squirm.

“I mean, not that it wouldn’t be okay, or whatever. I just mean—“

“It’s okay. I know what you mean.”

She sighed, sounding a little defeated. “Yeah, I’m sure you do. But I guess you get that all the time, right Panty Dropper?”

His hands were in his pockets, and he watched his feet as he walked. “I kind of do, yeah. But it’s different with you.”

“Oh?” It was her turn to be amused, her eyebrow up with a smile as she baited him.

“Most girls don’t handle themselves like you do.”

“And how’s that?”

“Oh, I think you know.”

“Do I?”

He smirked. “You do. You know exactly what I mean.”

She took a deep breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“What? We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“This. The flirting. The eyes. The staring. We have to stop. I’m with Travis.”

“I know.”

“You and me, we can’t happen. You realize that, don’t you?”

His heart sank. He did know. He knew well. “Yeah. I mean, of course.”

Dita giggled as she wiggled her fingers, and Lex’s shoelaces came untied and hooked under her boot.

“Okay.” Lex said, sounding sure and resolved enough that she almost believed herself. “I actually feel a lot better having gotten that into the—whoamagod!” she said as she tripped and flew forward.

He caught her as she fell into his chest, and she looked up at him, her cheeks red, her hair across her face. He smiled down at her and moved her hair so he could see her eyes, smoothing it with his fingers as he tucked it behind her ear. She was so beautiful, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down as she lifted her chin and closed her eyes. Their lips were about to brush when her eyes snapped open, and she pulled herself away.

“God, I’m such a klutz,” she breathed, but her mind was exploding with thoughts. Tie your shoe, idiot. Look at the ground, don’t look at him. Oh my god. OH MY GOD. He almost kissed me. I wanted him to kiss me. What the fuck am I doing?

She stood and started walking a little more briskly than before and with a few extra feet of space between them.

“So,” she said, ready to change the subject and just pretend like none of that had just happened. “You write poetry, but do you read poetry? What do you like?”

“Poe, Cummings—“

“Wait, saying you like Cummings is like saying you’re into breathing, or you love Stevie Wonder.”

He laughed so loud that a passerby gave him a dirty look. “I still maintain that the most impressive thing Stevie Wonder ever did was learn to play the drums.”

Dean pulled open the door, and she paused. “Wait, are you saying you don’t love Stevie Wonder?”

He smiled crooked. “I actually do love him. Who doesn’t love Stevie Wonder? He’s a goddamned national treasure.”

“Well, that’s a relief. That would have been a dealbreaker,” she said absently as she walked past him.

“Not your boyfriend?”

She froze, and her mouth hung open in an ‘o.’ She blushed again and snapped it shut. “No, I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine, Lex,” he said with a smile, and she died a thousand deaths of shame and torture at the counter of the Shanghai Palace.

They carried the bags of takeout back to the warehouse, chatting easily, and Lex was relieved that it was all out in the open and that they’d come to some sort of arrangement, no matter how fragile it seemed.

DITA PACED IN ELYSIUM, too wired to sit as she waited for Adonis. It had been days since she had been back to see him, still annoyed that he had used sex to shut her up. She’d needed a few days to calm down and collect herself so she could force some sort of resolution.

He pushed through the underbrush smiling, though when he saw her wound up, his expression dissolved into placidity. He approached slowly, as if she were a wild thing, smiling in jest, and she rolled her eyes, annoyed that she was amused.

“Oh, do come here,” she said, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“I am sorry, are you very angry with me?” he asked with his chin on her head.

“I am, yet here I stand.” She sighed, sated for the moment, her head against his chest. “Could we please speak? No diversions.”

“Yes, I promise.” He knew her well, and moved to sit, knowing she would need to talk at him until she’d said what she needed to say.

She paced less vigorously and began her argument.

“I know that you cannot fathom forgiveness. I do understand this, as one who has troubles of my own with such matters, but I beg you to consider his perspective.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. His mouth closed, and he slouched, sullen.

“Just consider it. It has been thousands of years. He has been alone, Adonis. So alone. I feel for him, because when I am not with you, when I am not here, I live the long hours of life without you. If there was anything that could be done, Adonis … anything … I would do it for you. Apollo’s sacrifice has been long and lonely. Should it stretch on for eternity, all because you cannot be compassionate?”

His jaw set, and his brow dropped.. “He murdered me. Can you not consider my perspective? He is a criminal who gutted me over a feud I had no part of. He stole my life, ripped it from my hands, and I have been banished to this world of dreams. My dreams are happy ones, but I still mourn the life that I lost. How can I forgive him after so much has been taken from me?”

“Yes, but you are not the only one who has lost.”

“Of course you do not understand. How could you comprehend the loss of your life? You are immortal.”

Her temper flared. “You had every chance to be immortal, yet you believed yourself to be above us. Have you ever realized what your choice meant for you? For me?”

Adonis took a breath, relaxing as he calmed and stood to walk to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you more than the moon loves the stars. I never wish to quarrel, and never wish to hurt you. You play a game with Apollo, and should he win, the decision would be made for us. Let us wait and see what comes to pass.”

She sighed, the pressure in her chest lessened, her anger dissipated by his touch, his words. “All right. We shall see.”

He cupped her cheek and kissed her lovingly, and she was reassured, though she knew they had only prolonged the fight and wondered whether or not they would ever find a middle ground.

Lex pulled open the heavy warehouse door and stepped in as it swung closed behind her. Practice hadn’t started yet, and it dawned on her as she looked around her bangles at her big gold watch that Travis wasn’t there yet.

Crap.

The hour before her shift ended at the bookstore had ticked by, but her replacement had come in early. Lex was so psyched to get out of there that she didn’t even think she’d get to the warehouse before Travis, or that as her footfalls echoed in the open space, she would spot Dean bent over his notebook on the couch.

They were alone.

She paused. He hadn’t moved, and she considered trying to back out and wait outside for Travis. She shook her head, knowing it would be more awkward if she was standing outside in the cold. She tugged the hem of her leather jacket down and twisted the end of her high ponytail as she steeled herself, preparing to resist him, but secretly hoping he would persist.

Lex rounded the couch, and he jumped, eyes bugging. He popped his earbuds out with a harried smile. “Jesus Christ. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” she smiled back. She wasn’t sorry.

Lex took off her bag and sat down next to him. “What are you working on?” She peeked over into his book. “Lyrics? May I?” Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t believe she asked him for something so personal. She prepared herself for a big, fat, No.

“Yeah, sure.” He placed the notebook in her open palm. His hands went numb as he realized that he hadn’t even hesitated.

Of course girls had asked to see Dean’s work before, and he’d never shared, but he handed his book over to Lex without a thought, wondering what secrets her notebook held, wondering if he’d ever know.

She flipped through the pages, pausing on one as she ran her index finger down the seam, and he marveled that she could make something so mundane so hot.

“Dean, this is extraordinary.” She looked up at him earnestly, her eyes big and bright, and he felt her pull again as their faces came together like magnets.

Dean stopped, shaking himself, breaking the connection. He looked down as he took his book from her hands. “I, uh, I think we have the same notebook.” He held it up.

“I noticed that, too.” Lex’s hands shook as she turned to rummage in her bag for her notebook. Oh, shit. She’d almost kissed him again. Alarms rang in her ears with her heartbeat, telling her to run. The problem was, she wanted to run toward them instead of away like she was supposed to.

She held her notebook up, which was exactly the same as his, and they smiled at each other.

“I showed you mine, so technically it’s your turn,” he said.

She extended her notebook, and he took it, setting his down between them in the same motion. Lex watched as he opened it, her eyes trailing from his brow, down the ridge of his nose, across his lips. Her heart fluttered in her chest as her gaze moved to his bicep that rippled under the tight sleeve of his t-shirt. She noticed his tattoo, not for the first time, a half sleeve that extended to his elbow. She’d never seen it up close, and leaned forward to get a good look.

A pinup mermaid floated in the moving ocean, the sea and fish wrapped around her as she sang, and her red hair swirled in a current around her. Lex almost reached out to push his shirt sleeve up so that she could see the rest, but remembered herself and clasped her hands in her lap.

Dean leaned back into the couch, lingering over one of her poems written around a sketch of a girl lying on a chaise in a profile. Her arm and hair hung down, and a tear spilled down her cheek. The poem looked like her breath leaving her body.

Up and down

Heaving breast

Emotion pulls

Like lily white thighs

Lying still sometimes

Motionless, beautiful.

Running hard sometimes

Tired, burning.

Dancing sometimes

Release of joy.

Always there

Like the beating of my heart

Strong, rhythmic

Pushes me onward

Her words written on the page were alive in his heart, and he knew them. Somehow, he knew.

“Wow,” he breathed.

The metal warehouse door clanged shut, and Dean jumped, dropping her book onto the couch as Roe and Travis walked in. Lex noticed his cheeks were flushed as he headed to where his guitar waited. He slung it on and turned his focus to his tuning gears. Lex couldn’t take her eyes off of him, not paying attention as she picked up her notebook and stuffed it back in her bag. She leaned back into the couch and shuffled a little to get comfortable, settling in to get her fix.

Hours later, after practice was over, Lex stepped into the darkness of her apartment, clicked on the light, and dropped her keys into the bowl by the door with a jangle. Travis followed her into the living room and stretched, leaning back as he yawned.

“I’m beat. You staying up?”

Lex was already on the couch, digging around in her bag for her notebook. “For a bit.”

He scooped up her keys and rolled her tiny Magic 8 Ball keychain between his palms as he closed his eyes and asked, “Am I getting laid tonight?” He opened his hands. “My sources say, No. Well, shit.”

“Sounds like fate’s just not on your side,” she said, amused. “Sleep tight.”

“All right. Night.” Travis kissed her forehead before he turned for the bedroom.

Her fingers closed around her notebook, and she pulled it out of her bag. Her brow gathered in confusion as she flipped it over. It looked wrong. She opened it.

Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.

She had Dean’s notebook. Which meant …

Lex grabbed her bag and felt around frantically before dumping the contents on the couch. She stared at the pile with her mouth open and her face blank.

He had hers.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and squinched her eyes closed. Okay, pull yourself together. Maybe he won’t read it. But what if he does?

Dean was smart enough to figure out which poems in her notebook were about him, she was certain. Not to mention that she’d sketched him. Like, a lot.

Fuck. She touched her lips.

She looked back at Dean’s notebook as it lay on the couch. Cautiously, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. He had invited her to read it, but that was with him sitting there watching. Could she justify reading without his permission? Was he reading hers?

Lex chewed her lip as she flipped through the pages mindlessly, pausing on a page crammed with lyrics. Once she started reading, she couldn’t tear herself away, and she sat back into the couch with wide eyes, where she stayed until the small hours of the morning.

Apollo sat on the couch, stunned, though he was sure he looked relaxed, like he didn’t care, his face an apathetic mask. Inside, he was dumbfounded as he watched Dita fist pump and jump out of her chair. She trotted over to him and bent into his face with pink cheeks and twinkling eyes.

“YES! Yes! BOOM muthafucka.” Dita bounced around the room crowing with her blond hair swaying behind her. She stopped only to do the cabbage patch around the living room, likely the only being in the universe who looked sexy doing it. “That’s right, I did it, I did it.”

She started pacing as she yammered. “Oh man, that was so awesome. Did you see that? I mean, I kick so much ass at this game that I don’t know why you dum dums keep challenging me. Do you realize I’m owning you?”

She looked at Apollo, but kept talking, and he sat there repeating in his head, I’m going to win. Let her go, I’m going win. It wasn’t like she actually expected an answer, which was good because he couldn’t give one without blowing up on her.

“Seriously, you realize I got the girl who took over Lex’s shift to the bookstore early? I even had the train operator blowing through stops, holding doors for like three seconds before he took off because he had a hot date to get to. And then when Lex got there, and oh man, did you see when they almost kissed? And right when Lex was about to look at what book she grabbed, BOOM. His sex appeal caught her like a bug in a spiderweb. I own sex appeal.”

Fuck my life. She set the whole thing up. Again.

She paused to face him, legs apart, hand on her hip, and took in his outward calm. Her eyes narrowed. “How are you not freaking out right now?” She shook herself. “No, you know what?” Dita waggled her finger at him. “You’re not going to ruin this for me. Suck it, son!” She crotch chopped WWE style, slamming her arms across her waist in an ‘x’ formation. She spun around and marched to the elevator, her hair swinging in time with her hips.

Once she was out of sight, his face fell, and he leaned forward, his head in his hands, his mind rolling over one single thought.

I suck at this.

DEAN WALKED DOWN THE sidewalk in the bright winter sun with two cups of coffee in hand. He had no fucking clue what he was doing as he approached the bookstore where Lex worked, and his nerves twisted in his stomach as he hoped he wasn’t about to make an ass out of himself.

As she walked out of the warehouse the night before with Travis, Dean looked at the notebook sitting on the couch and knew she had his. He trotted over to it, picked it up, and took a step toward the door, but paused. He turned it over in his hands.

I could probably catch her, he thought, but it was then that he realized with certainty that he wanted her to read it and decided to take the opportunity to give her the chance to. He hoped that she would.

He shoved her book in his bag, grappling on his way home with whether or not to call her or take the notebook by her apartment, or if he should just let the whole thing ride. It felt like contraband, even though he’d decided not to read it, wanting to respect her privacy, which was funny enough, since he hoped that she wouldn’t do the same. He didn’t sleep all night, almost feeling it in the other room, worrying over her reaction if she’d read his, worrying over his own if she hadn’t.

Dean realized as he lay staring at his ceiling that it was more than just infatuation. He wanted to know her, needed to know her, but he had no idea how to go about it. Not only did they have the serious obstacle of her having a boyfriend and the thin state of contentment that the band was in, but he lacked experience in getting to know people, especially getting to know women.

So instead of sleeping, he worked on a plan.

Dean knew he would see her at practice, but he needed to talk to her before they were in a room with Roe and Travis. He didn’t want to have what was certain to be an awkward conversation with her in front of everyone, including her boyfriend. The only solution was to talk to her before practice, which meant going to the bookstore. So he devised a plan that included coffee, admissions, and hopefully a resolution, one way or another.

He turned and pushed the bookstore door open with his back, stepping into the warmth of the little shop with his heart jackhammering his ribs.

Lex looked up when the bell on the door chimed and almost fell off her stool when she saw Dean, in the doorway.

She scrambled to close his notebook and throw some papers on top of it. Her stress levels had been off the charts, worrying over the time when she had to return it to him, hoping they would get a moment alone. She couldn’t have imagined giving it to him in front of everyone, in front of Travis. Not after she’d read what was in it.

One problem solved, and a new one walks in, she thought as he walked toward her. His jet black hair was in perfect disarray, and dark Ray Bans sat comfortably on his elegant nose. He wore a gray hoodie under his black leather jacket, his boots were half untied, and he looked absolutely, shockingly handsome. And dangerous. With coffee.

He cocked a bashful half smile at her as he set the coffee down and leaned over the counter, taking off his sunglasses. “So … read any good books lately?”

Oh, my god. I’m going to die.

She blushed so hard that she was sure her face was steaming. Okay, Okay. Keep your cool, Alexis. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Lex’s heart skipped a beat as Dean reached into his bag and pulled out her notebook. He pushed it across the counter to her, then opened his palm expectantly for his own. She reached under the inventory sheet that she had thrown on top of his notebook and handed it to him.

Their eyes met, and she knew. He hadn’t read it. Some foreign look colored his face. Innocence? She looked down at her hands that rested on her returned notebook, feeling like a voyeur.

“I read yours,” she blurted out, her eyes on her fingers.

“I was kind of hoping you would.”

She looked back up at him, surprised and confused. Maybe he really did want her to read it. Or maybe it was all just an elaborate plan to get into her pants.

The bell on the door rang again as an elderly woman shuffled in with a street cart. Lex hadn’t noticed that two teenage girls had walked up behind Dean and were whispering to each other. Dean slid over so they could approach the counter with his hands resting around his cup and his cool, green eyes on Lex.

Overly aware of his eyes on her, she rang up the girls on the antique cash register that dominated a large portion of the counter. She had to count their change twice, nearly dropping it on the counter as she handed it to them. The girls almost ran into the door as they turned their heads to get a last look at Dean.

He glanced up at her, then back down at his hands.  “No one has ever read them. I’ve never wanted anyone to, before you.” Dean said as he spun the cardboard ring around his cup.

She was stunned. “You’re not mad?”

“No, I’m definitely not mad. And I have a confession to make.” He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back as it almost instantly began to fall forward again. “I realized you had it just after you’d left.”

“So you let me keep it on purpose, hoping I would read it?”

“I wanted you to know what the pages held.”

Her breath caught. “I do. Every page, every word.”

It was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Why didn’t you read mine?”

“Because I had a feeling that you wouldn’t have appreciated me reading your private thoughts.”

She bit her lip. Normally, that would have been true. She couldn’t stand when anyone would try to peek in her sketchbooks and notebooks where her heart lived, but she wanted to know what Dean thought of her work, and for him to know part of her as she did him. In fact, Lex didn’t sleep, not only nervous about Dean’s reaction to her reading his notebook, but also considering how he would react to having read hers.

Dean’s eyes were on her lip as she nibbled it, until someone cleared their throat behind him. The little old ladies’ face was stern behind her cat eye glasses, and a peacock feather stuck out of her gray bun. He turned back to Lex, feeling a crooked smile on his face.

Lex’s hair curled loose around her face, and she tucked a strand behind her ear as she pinched her lips together to stifle a smile. Her fair skin looked like porcelain in her black sweater, and her pink cheeks were flushed hard. Dean momentarily forgot that they were in public and realized that he wanted to be alone with Lex very, very badly.

He turned, full of nervous energy. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” he said to the woman, and turned to walk through the store, trying to calm down, thumbing the books on the shelves while Lex rang her up. In an inlet between book cases sat a very large man with a very tiny dog on some oversized pillows, reading a romance novel titled Wined and Dined with what looked like an illustration of Fabio on the front. His shirt was too small, and his shiny, bald head caught the sunlight from the window as he looked up at Dean with a twinkle in his eye and smiled. Dean smiled in return before he wandered back to Lex, who looked like a doll behind the enormous counter.

He swallowed hard, drawing on his reserve confidence to say what he was about to say. “Lex … ”

She held her breath, frozen as she watched him. Dean looked both confident and unsure, the combination heartbreakingly sexy. She wound her fingers together tight. Here it comes.

“The band is off on Saturday. Spend the day with me.”

The temptation was almost too much. “Dean, I—”

“I know what you’re going to say. I’m sure you know about me, especially now that you’ve had a chance to study my innermost thoughts.” She felt like an asshole at that, but he smiled, though it fell almost immediately as he continued. “I don’t do this. What we’re doing. But I want to try, pretty much for the first time ever. I don’t want to deny it, and I have a feeling you feel the same way. Will you just give me one day?”

Deer in headlights—she was paralyzed as her mind went a zillion miles in a split second. Did she want to? Yes. Very much so. But could she?

She’d have to lie to Travis. Her stomach twisted. What would he say if he found out? How could she do that to him? But what if they just went as friends? No promises, no kissing, nothing more than talking, getting to know each other. That wouldn’t be wrong, would it?

But what if she did find that she cared about him? It seemed like a sure thing that she would. She didn’t want to get hurt, and Dean was dangerous. Although, she could tell he’d been through a lot from what she read in his notebook. Could she trust him? Could they trust each other when they hadn’t trusted anyone before?

Could she let the chance walk out the door?

“Okay. One day.”

His face softened. “Saturday. Nine in the morning. Meet you at the coffee shop?” He held up his coffee cup.

“Nine on Saturday. I’ll be there. And wait—take this.” She handed him her notebook. “You showed me yours, so technically … ”

“Thanks. I’ll see you,” he said, smiling as he took the book and sauntered out the door, taking one last look over his shoulder while he put on his sunglasses to face the day, lighter than he’d ever been.

“I couldn’t say no, Kara.”

Lex rubbed her lips with the pads of her fingers as she sat on the coffee table, long legs bent, her toes in her ankle boots turned to each other. She’d come to Kara’s straight after work, completely frazzled. Kara sat on her couch, pleasantly flabbergasted.

“So. A date. He brought you coffee and asked you on a date. Which you agreed to.”

Lex laid a hand on her forehead. “Yeah, it’s looking that way.”

“And you’re not telling Travis?”

“No, I need to see what happens first. I mean, I’d basically have to break up with him, figure out where to go, move out, and then there would be the repercussions with the band. Like, what if the date is a flop? And then everyone would be flipping out over nothing.” She shook her head. “It would hurt everybody to blow the lid off it until we were sure.”

“Okay, say it’s a flop. What happens then?”

“I have to leave Travis. That’s all there is to it. I can just tell him that it wasn’t working out and we can part ways, and no one would be the wiser. No band drama. Just a clean break.”

“I’m a little concerned that you’re not going to make it out of this with a clean conscience.”

“Obviously this is wrong on so many levels, but I’m determined to play it cool. No kissing, no hanky panky. We can just see if whatever we think is there between us is actually there, and if it is, then we’ll figure it out.”

“And how are you feeling about Travis?”

“God, that’s the worst.” She shook her head. “He’s not my forever guy. I guess I’ve known that deep down, but I care about him, Kara. I just didn’t want him to get hurt, but that seems like it’s pretty much impossible at this point.”

“Okay. What kind of outcome are you looking for here?” Kara said.

“Well, in my dreams, Dean sweeps me off my feet and we ride off into the sunset together. In my nightmare, he’s a sleazebag, and I bail as soon as I can. It could be any situation. I have absolutely no idea what I’m walking into.” She slumped with her arms on her knees.

“I think it’s important to note that you just said that in your nightmare, he’s a jerk.” Kara looked over Lex and shook her head. “Lex, you’re kind of freaking out. And, in effect, you’re freaking me out.”

Lex tilted her head, confused.

“You’re positively smitten. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in such a state of emotional disarray.” Kara gave her a sideways smile.

Lex rolled her eyes and sighed. “I know, and what the fuck? Could it be with a more inappropriate guy?”

Kara laughed. “Actually Lex, no. It could not.”

Roe leaned into the corner of Dean’s low-backed, gray couch with his lips pinched together, trying to shut down the smirk that threatened to fight its way out onto his face. He was a terrible poker player, and he knew it.

“Hey, so, uh, let’s hang on Saturday,” Roe said.

Dean’s head shot up, and his hand stilled mid-air as he placed a Muddy Waters record on the deck of his record player. His mouth opened, and his eyes went wide for a split second before he caught himself, replacing the look with one of mild interest.

“Ah, I’ve got plans.” He set the record down and placed the needle on it, and a bluesy guitar riff flowed out of the speakers.

“Plans, huh? You don’t want to go out?”

“No.” Dean sat in an armchair, tense and guarded.

“Really? I mean, have you been with anyone since Jenny?”

“No.”

“That’s got to be some sort of record for you.”

“Funny.”

“So, who are your big plans with?

“Someone.”

“Someone, like the someone that you’ve been watching like a stalker at practice, who just happens to be dating our drummer?” Roe tried to look accusing, and judging by the look on Dean’s face, he thought it might actually be working.

“Who told you?”

“No one had to tell me, Dean. It’s pretty obvious.”

Dean slumped into the armchair, and his hand moved through his hair. “Give me a break Roe. This is kind of a big deal.”

“Oh, I realize that.”

“Are you going to try to stop me?”

“Depends.” Roe shuffled in his seat like he was bored and picked a piece of lint off the front of his shirt.

“On … ?”

“How this conversation goes down.”

Dean’s pointed stare softened marginally. “All right, let’s hear it.”

“What are your intentions?”

“Jesus, what are you, her dad?”

“No, but I do seem to be the only one who’s interested in keeping the band together.”

“Roe, I don’t know. I have no idea how to do this. I’m kind of flying blind here.”

“Okay, more specifically, since you can’t take a hint, are you going to one-and-done her?”

“That’s not my plan,” Dean said.

“And what is your plan? Dude, you are so much work.”

“I asked her to spend the day with me to see what happens. We can’t get more than five minutes together to talk, and I want to talk to her.”

“Well, if you decide to go after her, you’d sure as hell better have a plan in place to keep the band from imploding.”

Dean let out a breath and sat back in his chair. “Thanks for not pushing this, because I didn’t want to fight you on it.”

“But you would have?”

“Yeah, I would have.”

Roe raised an eyebrow at Dean’s confession and ran his hand over his mouth. He knew Dean was into Lex in a way he hadn’t seen before, which was why he’d already decided not to press it, but Dean’s compliance was surprising, even if Roe did have to drag the information out of him. “Well, I hope it rounds out like you want it to.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Hang on, why the change of heart? After all the flack, why are you all of a sudden cool with this?”

Roe shrugged. “I just have a new perspective, that’s all. So, where are you taking her?”

Leaning forward, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not sure yet. I’ve been freaking out ever since I asked her out.”

“All right, grab a pad and pen and prepare to get schooled.”

Dean snorted. “Oh? Since when are you an expert?”

“I’ve got skills like you’ve never seen, son.”

Techno music bumped from Apollo’s colossal stereo system as he ran on his treadmill that sat on his patio. The sun gleamed on his tan, built body as his feet flew, his arms pumped, and his mind raced.

He had one move to play: the prophecy.

The plan to implement was already laid out and ready to deploy. The real question was when to use it.

He only had one bullet, one shot, and if he got trigger happy, he could ruin everything. If he dropped the prophecy on Lex too soon, it wouldn’t have as much impact as it would if he waited. The stronger her feelings were for Dean, the harder she would take the news that he wouldn’t be faithful to her. Although, the circumstances of her getting a prophecy would freak her out regardless, which could potentially stop the date and shut the relationship down before it even got started.

If she took the bait. She could just disregard it and go out with Dean anyway.

Apollo wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, then clicked the treadmill up faster and ran his thoughts down.

If he waited a little bit longer to use the prophecy, they would go on their date. The risk was that the date could forge their bond in a way he couldn’t break. There was a good chance that her feelings would still be fragile enough that the prophecy could shatter them, scare her off in a way that was irreparable.

There was a threshold, a point of no return. Once her feelings for him reached a certain point, she would willingly ignore the prophecy. Apollo just didn’t know when she would reach terminal velocity.

Using it before their date would be low risk, low reward. Waiting until after was a huge risk, high reward. He had everything to lose, but he would get Daphne in the end. So, he decided. He would let the doom-date happen and risk losing big. In his gut, he knew it was the right choice, but his nerves never left him. He wouldn’t rest easy until Daphne was in his arms.

“Gods, Dita. I am so glad you keep everything.” Perry inspected herself in the gilded mirror that hung on the wall of Dita’s closet from the fifteenth century. The houppelande that Perry wore was blood red, the deep ‘v’ lined with black velvet, and her embroidered, gold kirtle covered her chest underneath. The sleeves were tight, trailing ribbons at the open elbows where her chemise showed underneath, and the shoulders were slashed to display gold fabric inside.

“Tie me up,” Dita said, and pulled her hair over her shoulder. Perry pulled the gold ribbons tight and tied a bow.

“I always loved this gown on you.”

Dita moved to the mirror and turned, the iridescent fabric shining in shades of blues and greens. Her long, dagged sleeves were lined in gold along the hem. “Me too. This one is probably top twenty-five.”

“Ooh, let’s do jewelry.” Perry clapped and made her way to Dita’s jewelry cases. “This was my favorite period of dress. No corsets, no annoying layers of fabric on fabric. Just simple elegance with beautiful craftsmanship.” She pulled out a chain with a massive ruby pendant and held it up to her neck. “I liked humans better then, too. At least compared to Georgian or Edwardian times. Their obsession with rules and society were so obnoxious.”

“I know, so uptight.” Dita picked up a gold netted snood, dotted with small diamonds where the threads connected. She twisted her hair up and slipped it into the opulent hair net as second nature, having done it for hundreds of years, though hundreds of years before. “I was so sad when these went out of style. And now people only associate them with lunch ladies. So depressing.”

“You know though, I think one of the freakiest fashion trends in all of humanity was when renaissance women shaved their eyebrows and hairlines to make their foreheads like nine inches long.”

“Oh my gods, I know. They looked like freaky alien babies with horned hats on. So bizarre.”

“Oh,” Perry said, “congrats again. Lex said yes!”

“Many thanks,” Dita said with a curtsey. “I knew she would. I’m glad she doesn’t have long to think on it. I’ve got to keep Travis away for a full day, but that shouldn’t be too crazy hard.”

“I can’t believe Travis doesn’t see what’s going on with the two of them.”

“You doubt my work? I’ve got him blurred, hard. He’s always looking in the other direction or busy with something when the hormones fly, and what he does see, he doesn’t see for what it is.”

“It’s brilliant, Dita.”

Dita bowed.

“I seriously love that dress,” Perry said, shaking her head. “Thou art most beauteous, dearest Aphrodite.”

“As thou art, My Lady Persephone.”

“Dost thou wish we might return to the castles of old?”

“Nay. Methinks not. By my troth, I could not bear to lose elevators and plumbing.”

Perry giggled.

“We have been through so many ages together, Perry.” Dita looked at their reflection as days long past flashed through her memories.

“It’s true. I wouldn’t want to have traveled it with anyone but you.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the day you gave me your blessing. When you gave me Adonis to have in my dreams.”

“Dita … ”

“I know, I know. I don’t need to thank you, and I know we’ve gone over it for thousands of years, but it makes me feel better to say it every once in a while.”

Perry’s eyes went soft as she silently watched Dita in the mirror.

“After everything that we went through, I couldn’t imagine that you would have given him to me. After all the pain I caused you …”

“Dita, don’t.” Perry reached for Dita’s hand as she remembered back. In some ways, she was very thankful that Adonis’ mortal life had been so short.

Aphrodite stormed into the wide throne room of Hades with blazing eyes, her robes flying behind her, the ends frayed and smoldering. Her face and arms were smudged with soot, and her singed hair bounced as she marched into the wide hall, her footfalls echoing against the stone, cold even amongst flames. The gold chain Hephaestus made to protect her through her trials in the underworld was wound around her head like a crown, and she was grateful for it. Without it, she never would have made it so far.

The slate floors were rough under Aphrodite’s feet, and she could feel their coolness through the holes burned into her sandals. She approached the black marble thrones, carved into tree branches wound around skulls and bones. Red flames burned behind jagged black columns of obsidian that ringed the throne room, shining and shimmering as the flames licked wildly behind them.

Hades sat tall on his throne, his cool, blue eyes following her as she entered the room. He laid his hand on Persephone’s, and her lip pinched into a thin line, her chin high, though she would not lay eyes on Aphrodite. Adonis slumped in his seat next to Persephone, and Aphrodite’s eyes locked on his. He moved to stand, but when Persephone turned her wounded gaze to him, he sat back down and watched Aphrodite with yearning.

She stopped at the base of the black marble steps that led up to the thrones in front of Persephone with narrow eyes, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. Persephone’s black hair fell down to her waist, dark and rich against her red robes, a sparkling gold chain woven around her hips. She turned her dark eyes to Aphrodite, but it was Hades who spoke.

“Aphrodite, you are looking … well, you are looking quite a mess.”

She directed her attention to him, her lips twisted into a scowl. “Yes, well, your tricks and traps cannot keep me away. I have come to reclaim what is mine.”

“Yours?” Persephone rose, her robes sweeping the black ground. “You gave him to me when he was but a babe. He has been with me his entire life, and now you wish to claim him?”

Aphrodite’s brow dropped as she stalked toward Persephone. “I did not give him to you, for he is not a thing. I entrusted him to you, but he is not yours. It was I who saved him after his mother died.”

“Died? Yes, died, after you cursed her. Made her sleep with her own father, or have you forgotten? It was only by Zeus’ blessing that she was able to live long enough to bear Adonis. You were responsible for her death.”

Adonis’ anguished eyes bounced between the two fuming goddesses. His mother’s death was no secret, and they had spoken of her before. He held nothing against Aphrodite, and was grateful that he had been able to live life among the gods. Persephone had been an ideal mother, though Aphrodite thought she had been an abysmal friend. Her eyes snapped back to Persephone.

“Do not provoke me, Persephone, or you will pay dearly. My patience has been exhausted, and I will no longer hide as if I am ashamed, as if I could not have him. Release Adonis. He does not want you, not as he wants me. Yet, you deny him what he wants, he whom you call your son, although he is not your own. He will never be yours.” Wind spun around her, whipping the tatters of her robes against her legs.

“He is mine, Aphrodite. I did what you could not. The love I gave him you could never understand, being … what you are.”

“What I am? And what am I?” The air rushed faster as her voice rose, echoing against the stone as her hair lashed her face.

“You are nothing but a whore,” Persephone sneered.

Aphrodite screamed as she charged up the steps and slammed into Persephone. They hit the ground and tumbled down the stairs, clawing at each other. Aphrodite rolled her over and pinned Persephone with her thighs, reaching for her neck, her fingers straining as Persephone pushed against her shoulders, holding Aphrodite just out of reach. Her nails were a hair from Persephone’s long neck when she was lifted away, shrieking and thrashing until she realized that she was in Adonis’ arms. She sank into them, sobbing quietly, calmed by his proximity.

Persephone screamed, flailing hysterically in Hades’ arms. Her teeth gnashed, and her long hair stuck to her bleeding lips as she strained against his grip. Hades bent his head down, his face soft as he whispered in her ear.

The room grew dark, and thunder echoed as Zeus marched in, tall in his golden armor, his white cloak whipping behind him. He stopped between the goddesses and folded his arms across his chest, assessing the scene with stern eyes. “I loathe to come to this place, and yet, here we are. My mood is not a forgiving one.” He turned to Persephone. “This ends now. Adonis will be freed. He is no longer a child, but a man who should be among his own kind, not held prisoner in the underworld.”

“NO! You cannot, Zeus. He is mine, she gave him to me. She abandoned him, left him here, and I have cared for him as if he were my own son. Please, please do not take him from me!” She pulled against Hades frantically, her eyes wild with panic.

Zeus turned his gaze back to Aphrodite, cradled in Adonis’ arms. “It is clear that Adonis loves her, and thus, he is hers.”

Persephone’s wail stretched long before fading into soft weeping.

Zeus eyed Adonis, whose face was torn between love for Aphrodite as he held her close, and pain as he watched the only mother he had ever known as she unraveled in Hades arms. “He cares for you as well, Persephone, perhaps equally. I have a solution.” He looked down his nose at them all. “Adonis will spend a third of his time with Persephone, and a third with Aphrodite. As for the final third, he may choose for himself where he shall go. The decision has been made, and the two of you will not speak of it again, or he will be banished from you both.”

And with that, he turned from the room and stormed away, leaving misery and elation behind him, like fire and ashes.

“I didn’t know if we’d ever be all right, Per.”

“I knew we would be. Don’t cry, please. Not over me. It’s long passed.”

“But sometimes it feels like it was only a moment ago.”

“Prithee, My Lady,” Perry said with a dramatic swoop of her hand, “naught shall keep us apart, not man nor beast nor spoiled man-child.”

Dita laughed. “The Renaissance was so dramatic.”

Perry scooped her into a hug. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

THE EARLY MORNING SUN beamed in through the window, bathing Kara’s living room in soft light. She was stretched out on her couch, cup of coffee in hand, musing about Lex. Unreal that Lex would find someone she was willing to take a leap of faith for, especially given that, by all appearances at least, he was not to be trusted.

Kara did, however, trust Roe.

He walked into the room smiling, his blond hair shining, with waffles in hand. Toaster waffles, but still. She set her coffee down before reaching for the offered plate.

“Mmm, Eggo. My favorite.”

Roe leaned down and gave her a soft kiss, then sat and pulled her feet into his lap, resting his hands on her legs as she dug in.

The night at the Crow Bar, Lex and Travis left early, since Lex had to work the next morning, or so she said. Kevin and Dean disappeared shortly after, and only she and Roe were left. From there … well, the rest just sort of fell into place.

They’d been carrying on in secret ever since. They’d talked through the whole Lex and Dean situation, but it had taken some convincing to get Roe on board entirely. Even at that point, and even though he was playing along, she couldn’t help but get the feeling that he didn’t quite get it. He recognized that Dean hadn’t been himself, and believed Kara when she explained Travis and Lex’s relationship, but she wasn’t sure he really saw the value in getting Lex and Dean together. It seemed that Roe saw it first and foremost as a potential problem for the band, and only after that came everyone’s feelings on the situation.

Roe, in turn, reassured her Dean was a good guy, aside from his inability to care for any of the women he’d been with, and Kara believed him. She saw Dean resisting Lex every day for Roe’s sake, for the band’s sake, and somehow knew that he was serious about Lex. Roe cared for Dean like Kara did for Lex, which fortified their trust in each other on the matter of their smitten friends.

“You should have seen his face when I asked him to hang out on Saturday, Kara. It was all I could do not to bust out laughing.”

She smiled, having seen Roe try to lie. His face had screwed up like he was having some kind of episode. “Why didn’t he just lie to you?”

“I’m not sure he could lie to me. I mean, we’ve been like brothers since we were kids and lived together for years. I know when he’s lying, and he knows I know. I’m pretty sure I know him better than he knows himself.” Roe ran his hands down her calf and over her feet, traced her toes, then trailed his fingers back up her leg, distracting her. She smiled as she set her plate on the coffee table and pulled her feet out of his lap.

“I say the same thing about Lex.” She crawled to Roe, climbed onto his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned in and nuzzled her ear.

“Well, then it’s a good thing they have us to play Cupid for them,” he said as he ran his nose down her neck.

She closed her eyes and sighed as goosebumps broke out up and down her arms. He shifted and laid her down on the couch, his lips millimeters from her own when a knock tapped at the door.

Kara sat up fast, and Roe hit the ground with a thump.

“Uh, who is it?”

“It’s Lex. Are you okay? Did you just fall?”

Her eyes flew wide, and she motioned for Roe to move. “I’m fine! Hang on!” She pointed to her bedroom. “Go,” she whispered, and he nodded and trotted into the other room. Her eyes scanned the room for any signs of him, and she spotted his shoes next to the couch. She grabbed them, ran to her bedroom door, and chucked them in.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Kara,” he hissed.

“Shit! I’m sorry. Sorry!” she hissed back.

“Kara? Any day now.”

“Coming!” Kara closed the door but for a crack and hoped to god that Lex didn’t want to borrow any shoes.

She pulled open the door, and Lex blew in.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s early, but I’m kind of freaking out.” Lex stopped in the middle of the room and looked around like something smelled. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

Her suspicion melted when she remembered why she was there. “Yes, I’m fine. I mean, no, not really, but maybe this isn’t as big of a deal as I think it is? Or maybe I’m just being stupid about the whole thing, I don’t know.”

“Okay, slow down. You’re unglued. I would offer you coffee, but I’m pretty sure you do not need caffeine right now.”

Lex dropped her bag next to the couch and sat down. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just break it down for me.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m just freaking out about Dean. It’s happening tomorrow, like, in twenty-four hours. I know I had a plan, just friends, right? Well, what if I can’t do that? Or what if we run into Travis? Or what if you run into him? Because I’m supposed to be with you.”

“I think Travis and Roe are spending the day together tomorrow.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Oh, I just heard them talking at practice about it,” she said flippantly, then sat down next to Lex. “I can hang at home tomorrow, if it would make you feel better. I wanted to re-watch Game of Thrones anyway.”

“The books are better.”

“Don’t be that girl, book snob. Anyway I don’t have three months to read the seven thousand pages required to get through that epicness, so I’ll just watch. Anyway, don’t change the subject. What are you scared of?”

“Everything?”

“Ok, give me the bullet points.”

Lex took a deep breath and verbally exploded. “I’m afraid I’ll like Dean. I’m afraid that I won’t. I don’t want to lie to Travis, but I know it’s the only way to do this. I’m afraid of getting hurt, and I’m afraid of being alone, and I swear to god if tomorrow doesn’t get here fast, I’m going to have a fucking nervous breakdown.” She blew out a breath.

“Feel better?”

“A little.”

Kara put an arm around her friend. “Lex, it’s going to be okay. You hear me? By tomorrow night, you’ll know what’s next.”

“How can I even sleep in the same bed as Travis tonight? Last night, I thought the sheets were going to catch on fire, or that I was going to get sucked into the bed like Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm Street. The guilt is too much. I’m going to break.”

“Well, you could tell him the truth now.”

“I cannot tell him I’m going on a date with Dean. Are you mental?”

“You could just tell him you want to break up.”

“Yeah, and then when he finds out why?”

“What’s worse? Break up with him now and lie to him about why, or break up with him later and go on a date with someone behind his back?”

“Honestly? I don’t even know if I can lie to him about why, not as worked up as I am about this date. I’m so jumpy. I mean, look at me.” She motioned to herself.

“Do you really think you’re going to be more chill after the date?”

“I have no idea. This whole thing is a mess.” Lex dropped her head to her hands. “I just … it’s complicated. I don’t want to lie to him if I don’t have to. I don’t want to tell him it’s not working out, and then show up to practice dating Dean. If I’m going to be with him, Travis needs to know the truth, but I won’t know for sure until after tomorrow.”

“That is reasonable.” Kara gave her a squeeze. “Stay here tonight. Tell Trav that we’re going out. We’ll watch Sixteen Candles and pick out your outfit for tomorrow.”

“You had me at Jake Ryan. Okay, let’s do it. I’ll go home and get my stuff and come back this afternoon, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Now, get out.”

Lex giggled. “God, you act like you’re hiding a boy in here or something.”

“No, I just really need to poop. Now, seriously, go.”

The friends embraced in the doorway before Kara shoved her out and threw the chain on the door. When she turned around, Roe was standing behind her looking worried. She jumped out of her skin.

“Jesus, Roe!” She whacked him on the chest.

“Sorry, sorry.” He threw his hands up in surrender. “Is she okay?”

“She’s taking her neurosis next level, but yeah, she’ll be ok. Do you get it now? She’s nuts about him. Like, literally, he’s driving her crazy.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to understand,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, the bad news is that we’re off for tonight.”

He picked her up, and she squealed. “Better make the most of right now, then.”

Dita watched the trees sway in the wind as she lay on Adonis’ chest in Elysium, relaxed for the first time in days. She sighed as he wound his fingers through her hair.

Apollo had been too calm, considering that Lex and Dean were hours away from realizing they were meant for each other, and Dita had suspicions that something major was about to go down. But she was confident that once their date was done, the deal would be sealed. If she hadn’t won by then, victory would be eminent.

She was relieved that she and Adonis had come to a truce. They didn’t have much time together, so to waste it arguing was frustrating and obnoxious.

“How goes the competition?” Adonis asked, reading her mind as he stared up into the tree.

“Actually, I am unsure. I am ahead, but he has something planned.”

Her face rose and fell as he sighed. “He generally does have something planned, does he not?”

She pushed herself up on an elbow, and her hair spilled across his chest. He pushed it over her shoulder with his finger, and it fell like a curtain behind her. “Yes, he generally does.” She laid her chin on his chest, and Adonis resumed playing with her long, golden curls, running his fingers through the waves.

After eons of living together, Apollo knew well enough how to push her buttons. They had always ribbed each other, especially during competitions. They had too much baggage, and the stakes were too high. But she had never seen him so determined, not even during the Shakespeare competitions. Those got ugly.

“I suppose there’s nothing to do but wait,” Dita said. “I hope that their meeting tomorrow goes as well as I believe that it will. There’s little else I can do. But I will admit that I’m losing sleep over this.”

Adonis chuckled as he cupped her face in his big hand and pulled her to him. “Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

LEX TURNED AROUND AND scrutinized her reflection in Kara’s bathroom mirror again. She dipped her chin down, moving her head side to side as she finger combed her long waves. She nibbled her lip as she fiddled with her scarf, then turned to inspect her backside clad in tight jeans that hugged her hips down the long line of her legs to her motorcycle boots.

Her nerves were on high as she fussed over her reflection, wondering if she’d picked out the right thing to wear, worrying over what would happen in the hours to come. Basically, she was doing the same thing she’d done for two straight days since he asked her out: freaking out. She hadn’t seen Dean, and had barely seen Travis, having avoided band practice like the plague. All she’d done was work and hide at Kara’s, anticipating the date. The moment was finally upon her, and all she wanted to do was run in the other direction.

She pulled on Kara’s military jacket and turned toward the bed. Lex held out her arms, elbows bent, palms up, and did a little twirl. “Are you sure it’s not too casual?”

“You look fine.” Kara smiled a crafty smile. “I’m pretty sure you’d knock his socks off even if you wore a muumuu.”

Lex slung on her bag and took a breath, then turned to Kara, who looked at her with lively blue eyes. She grabbed Lex’s shoulders.

“You can do this, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t freak out.”

“Okay.”

“Text me if you need me to bail you out. And, Lex?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to have fun. You look like you’re about to walk the plank.”

Lex tried to smile, hoping she wasn’t going to puke. “I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Lex made her way to the coffee shop as her train of thought ran away from her. She wondered again if her outfit was okay, since she had no idea what they were doing, though she didn’t suppose they’d hit up the ballet. She shoved her hands into her pockets, her palms sweaty even in the chill, and she absently hoped she wouldn’t have to shake his hand.

You really think he’s going to shake your hand? Get a grip, Lex.

Her stomach flipped as she pulled open the coffee shop door, her eyes immediately finding Dean, who smiled at her from a table. She fought to keep her wits as he stood and walked to her.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she answered. They waited in silence, taking each other in for a moment before Dean cleared his throat.

“Oh, I have this for you …” He reached into his bag and pulled out her notebook.

Her heart lurched as she reached for it, and when her fingers brushed his, she drew in a breath. She fumbled to put the book in her bag, stammering. “Thanks, um, so … you read it, then?”

“Every page, every word.” His voice was soft, and when she looked up at him, everything else fell away. His wide lips parted, begging a kiss, and her eyes began to close, her chin lifting as he leaned down.

She remembered herself and took a deep breath as she stepped back, willing her nerves to calm.

Animal magnetism, touché. “Where to first?” she asked with a smile as she tried not to pass out, and he smiled back as he laid a hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the shop.

They fell into easy conversation as they walked to the subway, and Dean relaxed. Eye contact seemed to be the thing that threw their hormones out of control, because when he looked into her eyes, time seemed to stop. But Lex was so easy to talk to, and as they made their way to Central Park, they didn’t stop chatting, covering music and books, and she continued to surprise him. He hadn’t laughed so much in ages, but he couldn’t help himself. She surprised him, and in the best way.

The day was crisp and cool, the sun high and bright, though it seemed farther away than usual in the winter sky as they walked through the park. They stopped at Bethesda Fountain and sat shoulder to shoulder on a stone bench that outlined the courtyard. Dean paused to watch Lex sketch a little boy who walked the wall of the fountain with a look of concentration glued on his face, his arms out like a tightrope walker. She nailed it.

After a while, they wandered to the far side of the courtyard to the ornate Terrace bridge and through the wide columns of the lower passage. Lex tipped her head to take in the beautiful tiles on the ceiling and walls that shone like gold. It always felt like walking through a portal into a fairy tale ballroom, right in the middle of Central Park.

They stopped to watch a street performer, dressed as if from some ancient time, dreadlocks piled high on his head and a red feather plume flying proudly from the top. His jewelry was made of chains and wound across his naked chest to his back. A silver cuff wrapped around his bicep, and his ankles were clad in bells that chimed as he danced. His beautiful face held his violin in place as he sang a haunting prayer with the weight of ages pouring out of him. A large crowd gathered, everyone silent, experiencing his pain, his joy, his madness with him as he moved, possessed, around the circle.

Lex leaned into Dean, and he wrapped his arm around her, the two so absorbed in his song that it seemed their natural state.

When they pulled themselves out of the wild, hypnotic performance, they headed to the Met with street dogs in hand, eating and talking. As they walked up the steps of the museum, Lex’s hands were shoved in her pockets. She was afraid that if she took them out she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from holding his arm, or hand, or worse.

They walked up to the door, and Dean ran his hand through his hair again. Looking down at her so much, it wouldn’t stay put. They waited in line and bought her ticket, and he pulled his pass out of his pocket as they walked up to the attendant.

“Hey, Lou.” Dean smiled at Lou, who raised an eyebrow as he looked at Dean, then at Lex, then back at Dean again.

“Hey there, son. And how are you, Miss?” Lou took her ticket, tore it, and handed her the stub.

“Good, thank you,” Lex wondered just how often Dean came to the museum. Apparently it was pretty often, and she figured it was safe to assume by Lou’s reaction that he generally came alone.

“You kids enjoy yourselves, now.” Lou tipped his hat over his shoulder as they walked away.

“This is one of my favorite places in all of the city,” Dean said as they climbed the stairs to the exhibits.

She looked over at at him as he stared at his worn combat boots, avoiding her eyes. Even though his hair was cropped on the sides, the top was a little long and always mussed. The collar of his black leather jacket was slightly flipped, and his army green thermal stretched tight across his chest.

“I’ve been coming here since I was a kid,” he said, not sure why he wanted to divulge anything about his life, but he did. “My home life wasn’t … well, I guess you could say it wasn’t stable, so when I needed to get away I’d come here, or go to Central Park, or the library. But the Met was where I came most often. I used to spend hours walking through the exhibits and writing. I skimmed out of my mom’s wallet for months to get my first membership.”

She didn’t answer, and he had to steal a glance at her, worrying over her reaction, but when his eyes met hers, they were soft and open. It wasn’t pity that he found there, but compassion. They paused at the top of the stairs, and she dropped her hands. He reached for one, and they wound their fingers together.

“Come on,” he said, “let me show you my favorite exhibit.”

They stopped in a room filled with heavy silence, and she complied with it as she moved around the works displayed there. Dean sat down on a bench in the center of the room and watched her take it all in.

The first painting Lex came to was of three sisters in white dresses who sat on a sofa. One sister sat with perfect posture on the back of the couch, looking toward an unseen window with an opulent wrap of tulle around her shoulders and pearls around her neck. Another sister sat to the left on the sofa, leaning forward, not looking at the artist either with her palm gently open in her lap, the satin of her dress shining. But the sister that caught Lex’s eye was the sister in between. Her slender figure leaned back, curved into the sofa with her arms open, hanging on the back in invitation, looking almost improper compared to the poise of her sisters. The use of light against all of the white fabrics, in so many varying textures, illuminated the painting in a way that was so real it was almost impossible.

She smiled as she came to another painting, one of a woman in an impeccably detailed black dress, hand on hip, rose in hand. Her face, set in an expression of pure boredom, was juxtaposed to the poise of her elegant hand holding the flower. It looked like she thought the artist was only painting her hand and the rose, but instead he painted all of her, maybe just to spite her.

Another painting struck her: a woman with lily white skin, stark against the low cut of her dark gown and dark hair, her long nose proud and elegant, a high contrast to the brown wall behind her. She was the epitome of quiet sexuality and power.

And then Lex came to one that she couldn’t move herself away from of a woman with dark hair and soft, sad eyes. One hand rested on the hip of her black dress, the other on a table with a peach rose laying a few inches away from her poised fingers. Lex leaned forward, seeing every stroke, every layer that made up the whole. Her fingers itched to run across the woman’s face, to feel the marks of the brush that told the story of her sadness.

After a while, she turned and took a seat next to Dean on the bench. She took a heavy breath.

“I can see how this place would be an escape for you.”

Dean nodded. “You stopped in front of my favorite painting.” His hands were clasped, hanging between his thighs. “As a kid, I was pretty much on my own. That painting … there’s something about it that always called me here.”

On his own? Questions rolled through her mind, and she thought carefully about whether or not she should ask, not wanting to push him to tell her anything he wasn’t ready to, but sensing that he wanted to tell her.

She paused before asking, “Why were you on your own?”

“As long as I can remember, there were men around. Sometimes my mom would leave me for days with nothing but a stack of peanut butter sandwiches in the fridge and the TV to keep me company. When she wasn’t with them, she was at work. We weren’t very close.” He stared at the painting of the woman in her black dress, looking through it as he spoke.

Lex’s heart was a rock in her chest. “You were just a boy.”

Dean nodded. “I took care of myself, and she took care of herself. She died when I was sixteen.”

His life made hers look charmed. “Dean, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugged. “Things got better after that. I moved in with Roe. He and I … well, we’ve been friends for a very long time.”

“I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. I’ve always been close with my mother, but my dad left when I was a kid. My mom, she’s a little crazy.” Lex chuckled, the sound wrong in her ears in such a somber place, in such a somber conversation. “When he left, the life went out of her, like all of the color left her world, and she was left with only gray. She can’t move on, like she’s been waiting all this time for him to come home. I don’t ever want to hurt like that.”

His sad, green eyes looked down at her, and he slipped his arm around her waist. Lex laid her head on his chest, and he rested his cheek in her hair as they watched the woman in black.

They spent hours wandering around the Met, and though Lex had been to the museum plenty of times, she’d never seen it like she had through his eyes. He knew about the artists and told her stories behind so much of the work there, but the real pleasure had been in seeing the joy on his face, the light in his eyes when he talked about each piece. She was impressed by how much he knew, feeling like she’d gotten a private tour as they walked through the expansive museum.

They descended the steps of the Met after dusk and made their way to a restaurant a few blocks away, chatting amiably. Every time they touched, like when he laid his hand on her back to guide her into the restaurant, she was aware of every nerve effected and wished she could hold his hand, kiss him, wanting his arm over her shoulder, to be tucked into his chest.

She realized at that point that getting out of the date without kissing Dean would probably be impossible. What she’d learned about him in those few hours, the solidification of everything that she felt for him, all of it added up to leaving Travis. In her mind, it was over, and only a matter of telling him. The only other decision left to be made was between her and Dean.

Lex knew as she sat across from him in the small, crowded restaurant that she wanted to know him. She wanted to trust him after the hours they’d had together, even if part of her didn’t think she should. A bigger part of her already did trust him, and the way that she felt was so new, so intense, that she knew it couldn’t be denied.

Her nerves fluttered, anxious to talk about them, to figure out if he felt the same, and what they would do about it.

Dean watched her as she talked, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the restaurant and the wine in her glass. He felt a smile on his lips, the same smile that he had been wearing since he’d met her at the coffee shop.

He’d told her more, felt more, wanted more in the few hours they had spent together than he ever had in his life. He wanted her to know him, wanted to know her. He wanted to give her everything, to protect her, and though he had always doubted that he’d ever be able to be faithful, as if infidelity was a disease he’d been cursed with, he believed that he’d found someone who he could cherish, worship.

When she ordered a rack of ribs for dinner with a grin, he’d smiled and ordered the same, and the two of them laughed as they ate, their faces and fingers covered in barbecue sauce, gnawing on their dinner like animals. The waiter brought them hot towels and swept away the piles of bones they’d cleaned.

Lex sat back in her seat and laid her towel on the small plate. “Whew, man. I am so full.” She laid her hands on her belly.

“Then I’ve done my job.” Dean leaned on the table and took a drink to fortify himself, ready to tell her how he felt, though he was terrified of her reaction. “Lex …”

She straightened up too and leaned forward, her eyes full of hope, which made him feel better and scared him, all at once. She laid her hands on the table, and he reached for one, slipping his fingers around hers, his thumb grazing her knuckles.

“Today … this day has been more than I ever thought it could be. I didn’t know … I mean, I didn’t realize it could be like this, and I want to try. We have to try, because I don’t think I can walk away from you, Lex. Not unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to walk away, and I don’t want to, either.” Her eyes shone, brimming with tears, and his fears left him with his breath.

All he wanted was to hold her, to kiss her, to give it all to her, along with his heart that beat like a drum in his chest. They both leaned forward, but the table between them held them apart.

“You’re too far away from me right now, Lex.”

She laughed, the sound tight as she held back a sob. “Well, then maybe we should get out of here.”

They paid their check and left, and he pulled her into his side, pressing a kiss into her hair as they hurried to the subway and made their way to his apartment.

Lex walked into Dean’s place, and her eyes went straight to his wall-to-wall bookshelves, packed with records. Her mouth hung open as she absently shrugged off her jacket and scarf, tossed them in an armchair, and dropped down to sit on the hardwood floor.

As she flipped through the albums, she found some of her favorites, like The Smashing Pumpkins’ Siamese Dream. She found Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors, and George’s 45’s in the singles. She pulled one out and trailed her finger across the words on the old label before sliding it back where it belonged. The next treasure she found was The Smith’s single, “How Soon is Now,” and she dropped her hand into her lap.

Her eyes ran across the hundreds of records on his shelves in awe before she turned to Dean. His legs were open as he leaned back on the couch, his hands in his lap, watching her with shrouded eyes. His black hair begged her to run her hands through it, her fingers tingling as she wondered if the black stubble on his jaw was soft or scratchy, wondered what it would feel like against her neck. And then she decided she would find out.

Lex stood and laid the 45 on the record player, set the needle on, and Morrissey crooned from the speakers. She turned to Dean, and their eyes locked. Nothing existed, except his eyes.

Her breath was shallow as she walked to the couch and slid her knee outside his thigh, reaching for the back of the couch as she slid the other in, dropping down to sit softly in his lap. He lifted his face to hers, and she cupped it in her hands, looking into his eyes for a long moment before slipping her fingers into his hair with a sigh. Her lips moved closer and closer to his until they were almost touching, and she lingered, but he wouldn’t wait. His hands moved up her thighs to her hips, and he pulled her to him, their lips pressing together, hot and hungry, and the world fell away.

He held her close as his hands roamed up her back and down again, breaking away to kiss her jaw and down her long neck. She laid her palms on his chest, ran them over his shoulders, down to his stomach, and her fingers hooked under the hem of his shirt, sending a shock up his body when her fingertips touched his skin. He broke away, and she pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it behind her. His hands moved up her waist, under her sweater, and she smiled as she stretched her arms over her head. He lifted it off and threw it, then buried his face in her breasts with his hands splayed across her back as she twisted his hair in her fists. He thumbed her nipples, kissing them through the lace of her bra, and she hung her head back with her lips parted, her eyes closed, and her hair hanging behind her in a dark sheet.

He grabbed her around the waist with one arm and flipped her onto the couch as he pressed his lips to hers. She reached for his belt, their lips never breaking as she fumbled to open it. Once loosed, she popped his button and slipped her hands down the soft skin of his stomach, his back arching when her fingers trailed his length. He pressed himself into her until she let him go and wound her arms around his neck, pulling her body up to his, and his hand moved to cup her neck, holding her face to his as they kissed. He laid her down, his fingertips skimming her skin down to the hem of her pants. He unzipped them and slid his hand into her panties, never breaking their kiss. He found her wanting, and she kicked her chin back, gasping when he touched her.

She closed her eyes, every thought consumed by him. She moaned his name, but at the sound of it, another flashed in her mind.

Travis.

Her heart skipped as she lifted her head and her lids popped open. “Wait,” she breathed.

He slowed his hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked against her breast.

She looked down at his hot, green eyes, and her body betrayed her, rolling against his hand. How could she possibly stop? She pulled his face to hers and kissed him long as she lost herself again.

“Wait!” She pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she panted.

She scooted back and sat, laying her hands on his chest. “We can’t do this … not yet, not until I’ve told Travis. It’s just … we’re already doing something wrong, and I don’t think we should make it any worse.” She looked up at him, wishing everything was behind her instead of in front of her. “Give me tomorrow to end things, and tomorrow night, I’m yours.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, then looked back at Lex. Her eyes were heavy lidded and smoldering, her lips red and swollen, her fingers on his skin like fire. It wasn’t any easier for her than for him, he realized, so he pulled her against his chest and kissed her hair.

“Promise?”

She kissed his chest and promised.

The theater room broke into chatter, and Dita accepted a few congratulations from some of the gods.

Eros leaned over the back of her chair. “Did the alarm go off? Did you just win?”

“No,” she answered, “they can’t really be together until Travis is entirely out of their way, so it looks like Apollo is down to a matter of hours before it’s over.” Dita spoke loudly enough that most everyone heard, including Apollo. A few of the gods’ eyes darted between the two of them, but Apollo was unfazed, only sat calmly in his seat with a small smile on his lips.

“It’s not over until the fat lady sings, and Hera’s been mostly silent, so it seems I still have time.”

Everyone laughed except Hera, who exploded the room with her eyes.

“Well, Apollo, I hope you’ve got a good play to make, because this game is mine.”

“You’re always so sure of yourself, even when you’re wrong.” Apollo looked almost cheery as he stood, winking at her before he left the room.

Dita’s eyes narrowed as she watched him leave. “He’s bluffing.”

Perry eyeballed her. “Maybe.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, dummy. But it would be stupid to count him out.”

“I just have to hold them together for a few more hours. What could he possibly do between now and then?” Dita shook her head. “No, he’s definitely bluffing.”

“Okay, denial.” Perry clearly wasn’t buying it.

“Look, there’s an infinitesimal possibility that he could stop what I’ve got in motion, but the force at which they’re moving is so great that I can’t imagine what he could do to stop it. I just don’t know if he’s got it in him.” But Dita was unsure, nibbling on her lip at the thought, knowing that she’d need to be on her game until it was over.

Apollo’s face fell the second the elevator doors closed. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and rubbed his brow. Watching Lex and Dean on their date was torture. He’d sat throughout the day with his chest in a vice from the stress of it all, his prophecy in the back of his mind as he worried over whether or not he’d made the right choice. But there was no going back, and he prayed to the stars that his plan would work. It had to work.

LEX’S ALARM BLARED AT her from the coffee table in her living room, and she almost fell off the couch from the surprise as she fumbled for the device to shut it up. Her heart beat fast from the shock, and she looked around, mildly confused as to why she had been sleeping on the couch. The day before came back to her in a rush.

She’d floated home the night before after leaving Dean’s, sobering on the way as she steeled herself to talk to Travis, hoping he’d still be awake. She and Dean agreed that the first step was for her to tell Travis the truth. She was sure he would understand, somehow. He had to. Dean hadn’t been so sure.

Phase two was that she needed to come up with a plan with Travis to tell the band. Everything hinged on his reaction, and though she felt confident he’d understand, there was a part of her that wasn’t convinced. She knew that if the tables were turned, she would be hurt. She would understand, but she would be hurt. And then to throw in the whole band layer on top of that?

There was no waiting. Travis needed to know, and she and Dean had to deal with the repercussions of that.

She’d unlocked her door and stepped into their dark apartment, her heart sinking as she realized he was asleep. She walked into their room, whispered his name, just in case, but he hadn’t stirred. Her guilt burned fresh as she watched him, his chest rising and falling in the soft, blue light.

When she sat down on the couch to take off her shoes, exhaustion hit her like a ton of bricks. The last thing she remembered was pulling her boots off and leaning back on the couch with a sigh.

Lex rubbed her eyes and cursed when she felt the crunch of mascara under her fingers. She hauled herself off the couch and walked softly to the bedroom. Travis’ arm hung off the side of the bed, and his lips parted as he snored lightly. Lex chewed her lip, knowing she didn’t have time to talk to him before she left, so she snuck into the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth, and twisted her hair up. She smelled Dean on her sweater as she pulled it over her head and breathed him in for a moment before she stripped down and threw on her New Order t-shirt, jeans, and Chuck Taylor’s before tiptoeing out.

She texted Dean on her way to the subway.

Hey, you up?

A few seconds later, her phone rang. Her heart skipped as she answered.

“Hey,” she said, smiling.

“Hey, Lex. How did it go?”

“Well, it didn’t. He was asleep when I got home, and I didn’t want to wake him up. I passed out on the couch and didn’t think it was fair to wake him up this early just to break up with him.”

He sighed on the other end of the line.

“I know. I’ll have to talk to him tonight. You guys are off early, right?”

“Yeah. But that means I’ve got to play it cool at practice.”

“I’m sorry. God, this is horrible.”

“Don’t be sorry. And this is a world away from horrible.”

She smiled down at her shoes, pausing at the stairs to the subway. “So, I’ve figured out how to tell him, and then … well, we have to see what he wants to do, how he wants to tell the band. I … I just want to handle it as delicately and respectfully as possible, which is already damaged by the fact that I’m leaving him for you.”

“I wish this was easier on you. I should have just left you alone, but I couldn’t. You know that, right? I couldn’t walk away, as selfish as it was.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. You have no idea how glad.” She took a breath. “It will be okay, we’ve just got to get through this next part, and then? We can be together.”

“I’m ready.”

“Me too.” Lex glanced at her watch. “Listen, I have to catch the train. I’ll come over tonight after I talk to Travis. It might be late, though.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll wait for you.”

Her heart skipped. “Okay. Good luck today.”

“You too. I’ll see you then.”

She made her way into the subway, her head light as she descended and swiped her card to pass through the turnstile. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to find a text from Kara.

OMG how have I not heard from you? I need details before I explode.

Lex smiled as she tapped out a reply.

It was everything.

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

What are you going to do? Did you hook up with him? I’m freaking the fuck out right now.

Calm your tits! No, but almost. And I have to break up with Travis. Was going to last night, but he was asleep.

My tits will not be calmed! Call me later from work because I need to know everything.

K love you.

U too. HURRY UP.

Lex’s mood fluctuated through the course of the day from blissed out to flipping out. She talked to Kara, who momentarily lost her mind, squealing and giggling. She went over her plan for the eleventy billionth time, then watched the clock as it ticked with her thoughts leading her in circles, around and around the things to come as she helplessly waited for the time when she could move forward, wondering if she and Travis would be okay, and how she could expect them to be. Could they still be friends? Lex’s heart clenched, hoping they could.

Kara extended the invitation for Lex to come stay with her for as long as she needed, so Lex would break up with him that night, then head to Dean’s and pick up some of her things the next day to start the move to Kara’s. She thought about Dean, remembering his lips on hers, and looked at the clock again, ready for the day and its responsibilities to be over so they could pick up where they left off.

Only five minutes had passed, and she decided she needed a distraction. She looked around the desk for something to occupy her and spotted a pile of books to be returned to the shelves. Lex scooped them up and made her way around the store with the stack in the crook of her arm, filing them back where they belonged.

As she rounded a corner with her eyes on a book spine, she slammed full force into someone, and papers flew into the air as books thumped to the ground. The woman, who was about Lex’s age with short, fiery red hair, had been carrying a deck of tarot cards that fluttered down around them like feathers.

Lex touched her arm. “My god, are you okay? I’m so sorry.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I think so.”

“Let me help you. I’m Lex by the way,” she said as she knelt down, grabbing papers.

“I’m Mari.” She smiled at Lex, her brown eyes soft in her fair face.

Lex picked up a piece of paper, and Mari’s hand flew to her mouth when she saw what laid under it. Six tarot cards were face up, arranged in an almost perfect row in front of where Lex knelt, the other cards face down in a ring around them.

The hairs raised on Lex’s arms and the back of her neck.

Mari looked up at her. “What the hell?” she said, her eyes wide. “This … this is crazy. Are you seeing this?”

Lex sat down slowly and took in a breath. “Yeah, I see it.”

“I think I’m supposed to read these for you.”

“I think you are, too.”

Mari took a deep breath and sat down in front of Lex before touching the first card. The card pictured a happy man who walked the edge of a cliff in a green flowered smock. He carried a parcel on a stick and a flower in his hand with a little white dog at his heel. “The Fool,” she said.

“You’re starting a new journey, an experience. The Fool is a wanderer, and your first card represents beginnings. But your journey is risky. The fool walks the edge of a cliff, but look at how happy he is. It could go either way. He could be happy, or he could fall.”

Lex’s mind raced. Paper Fools? Coincidence? She was about to start on a new journey, that was for sure. Lex had known from the beginning that Dean was risky and that pursuing him would likely only end with her heart splattered on the ground, but she could be happy too, if she was understanding Mari right.

Mari touched the second card. The sun smiled serenely, large and dominant on the card, casting wide rays over a blond child with a flower crown who rode a white horse in the foreground. He held a red banner that flapped in the wind, and sunflowers stood in rows behind him.

“You’re looking for something constant, reliable. The second card represents your desires, and this card is The Sun. The Sun is always there for you. He greets you every morning to chase away the darkness of night. When the sky is filled with the blackest storm, The Sun is there to warm you when it breaks.”

Of course she wanted reliability, and who didn’t? She wanted Dean to be her sun, but how could she know for certain that she could depend on him? Her lips pinched shut as she stared at the cards in front of her.

Mari continued on as she touched the third card. “The Moon.” A moon lay in a night sky over jagged mountains. A road wound off into the distance between two towers, and dogs howled wild-eyed around the path.

“You’re afraid because you don’t want to travel alone, and worried you’ll be deceived, but you must travel alone in the darkness to find The Sun. The third card represents your fears and obstacles. The Moon represents deceit and confusion. When The Moon shows his face, something isn’t what it seems.” She peered at Lex. “Don’t let the moonlight fool you.”

Her stomach dropped. How could he promise her anything? He could deceive her, just as he’d deceived all the others, and as for her fears? Being lied to, being hurt was what she feared the most.

Mari’s fingers came to rest on the fourth card, which was upside down. The sun shone at the top of the card where an angel sat with red wings in a tuft of clouds. A man and woman stood in front of two trees, and a mountain rose in the distance.

“The Lovers Reversed. When upright, The Lovers card represents a connection. In reverse, it means a connection is broken, and the fourth card represents things in your life that are positive. Something will break The Lovers’ connection, and, in my experience, infidelity is usually the reason. But whatever the cause, the break will lead you to something positive.”

That had Dean written all over it. Her heart sank, realizing that he couldn’t be faithful. He had never been faithful to anyone, hadn’t even tried to be. The card was supposed to be about something good happening to her, though she had no idea how the fuck getting cheated on was a good thing.

Mari laid her fingers on the fifth card. A tower raised up into the black of night, and lightning struck the crown on top, cracking it, as fire licked at the windows. Two men fell from the sky, grasping for purchase.

“The Tower. The fifth card represents what is working against you, the negative. There is a truth inside of The Tower, but a storm is coming that will knock it down, exposing the truth hidden inside. The Tower is not just destructive, though. It’s regenerative. You can regain control, but you have to choose to push The Tower down yourself instead of waiting for fate to play out, which will turn this negative into a positive. Fate may reward you if you take the initiative.”

Was the truth inside that he didn’t care for her like she thought he did? Or that he couldn’t change? She would find out, whether she wanted to or not. So, she could wait and throw her heart into Dean and let the tower crumble, or she could just end it. Push it down and save herself from the destruction that the storm would bring.

Mari picked up the final card and held it up in presentation as she looked into Lex’s eyes. Lex leaned forward to inspect the card. A wheel in the sky in the center of the card was marked with symbols, spokes connecting them across the wheel. In the top left sat an angel, in the right an eagle, the bottom right a lion, and the bottom left what looked like a cow, all with wings, all gold, and all reading. The sphinx on the top of the wheel held a sword, a snake was in the sky to the left of the wheel, and a devil slithered up the right.

“Wheel of Fortune. The sixth card represents outcomes, and the Wheel of Fortune is fate. This card shows how destiny and fate are connected in a cycle, that it’s constantly moving and changing, but predetermined. The outcome of these cards is not only likely, it’s certain. You can’t change fate, but you can prepare for it if you recognize the signs.”

Lex’s voice was raw. “If that reading wasn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.”

Mari’s hand fell, and her mouth was a tight line. “I’m sorry. This doesn’t seem like welcome news.”

Lex managed a pained smile. “It’s okay. None of this was news to me, however unwelcome it is.” She helped Mari pick up the remaining cards and papers in silence, then stood and wiped her sweaty palms on the thighs of her jeans as she walked back to her stool with shaky knees.

Her mind raced as she tried to process what had just happened. Calm down and think about this, Alexis. She took a deep breath, trying to convince her heart to slow down.

Lex felt like she’d been shoved into an icy river, the shock of the experience bringing her painful clarity. How could she have been so stupid? Of course he would hurt her. She thought back on who he was: a womanizer. A user. Abuser. How could she think he would ever, could ever, want to be with her in the way that mattered?

She had to end it.

Lex leaned on the counter and cradled her head in her hands, breathing deep through her nose, trying not to vomit, trying to reason with herself. She’d dodged a bullet, she told herself, over and over, but it hurt like she had taken it in the heart.

Dean paced around his apartment, picking things up and putting them back down again as he waited for Lex to come over. Practice had been long and tense for him. Roe had asked, but Dean only answered, “I can’t. Not now. Not yet.” It took everything he had just to concentrate to get through practice.

Travis was a good guy, and Dean felt for him. He knew what he was taking from Travis, and hoped that Lex was right, that he wasn’t in love with her, that he would be okay. Dean had obsessed over how she would tell Travis, what he would say, what he would do, and how she would react.

And as he walked the length of the room, he wondered most about when she would get there, because of everything else, that was the thing he anticipated the most. He had replayed every moment of the day before on a loop since he’d watched her walk away.

His heart skipped when he heard the knock on the door, and he smiled as he opened it, until he saw her face. She stood, small and dejected in his hallway, and his hopes fell hard and fast.

“What’s wrong?” He stepped toward her, and she stepped back. “What did Travis do?”

“Nothing.” She looked up at him, her eyes brimming. “I didn’t tell him.”

She dropped her gaze to the ground and walked into his apartment, hands in her pockets, shoulders bent. She wouldn’t look at him, as much as he wanted her to.

He closed the door and turned to her with his heart in his stomach and his stomach in his throat.

“Dean, I … I’ve been thinking all day about us, and this afternoon, I realized something. I can’t trust you. I can’t give my heart to you when you don’t know how to take care of it. I can’t be the guinea pig for your love life, and I can’t walk into a death trap, because I know if I do give myself to you, and you hurt me, I will never recover. I can’t risk you, Dean.”

Lex’s heart thumped in her ears through the silence as she begged him to argue, to tell her she was wrong, that he could never hurt her. Say something. Anything.

Dean’s body was a shell, his lack of experience holding him still, unable to even contemplate a response. She was right. He didn’t know how to care for her, and couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t hurt her, though he believed he could, that he would. No woman he had ever been with would describe him as ‘trustworthy’. He wanted to be, for her, but his word didn’t mean anything, not when his track record clearly said otherwise.

He looked at her long. “Okay. Whatever you want, Lex.”

I want you, her mind screamed as she breathed deep, her chin quivering. “I have to go,” she said. Her heart shattered as she turned and bolted out the door, wishing he had argued and glad that he hadn’t.

Dean stood rooted to the ground, his throat in a vice. He wanted to stop her, call out to her, but he didn’t deserve her, and knew that the kindest thing he could do for her was to watch her walk away.

Dita’s eyes blazed as she stormed into the common living room. She stopped in front of Apollo with her legs wide and her hands in fists, her wrath boiling under her skin. “What the fuck was that?”

Apollo didn’t appear fazed. He put his hands up in front of his chest in a surrender gesture, but spoke stern. “All’s fair, Dita.”

“You’re going to pay for that cheap ass parlor trick.”

Apollo rose and looked her in the eye, the calm facade fading as he circled her. “Am I? What exactly did I do wrong? If you’re so sure you’re going to win, why are you worked up, hmm? How do you know for sure that I’m not the end of your winning streak? Last time I checked, I had the gift of prophecy, and you, Dita, did not.”

“You can’t win. CANNOT.”

Apollo stopped in front of her, his body tense. “Why not? Might your boy-toy be unhappy?”

“Don’t speak of him, Apollo. Don’t even utter his name,” she growled, her rage threatening to push her over the edge. Her hair lifted as wind, sprinkled with rose petals, swirled around her in a glorious tornado.

Apollo’s face bent in vengeful anguish, and his voice boomed as he began to glow. “Do you think I don’t know, Dita? DO YOU? Because I do. You could give her back to me, but you won’t. Instead, you torture me.”

“You killed him. Killed him because of your shitheaded creep of a son. He had to be punished, Apollo, and then? You killed Adonis. Your revenge on me far outweighed the price you paid.” Her words shot out of her like white hot knives.

Apollo’s shoulders fell as her words sliced through his heart, through his rage, through his pain, and he was suddenly very tired. His anger drained out of him, leaving only regret for things he could not change as he wished for the thousandth time that he could tell her the truth.

“Dita, I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. I was wrong to do what I did, but it doesn’t matter, because words mean nothing. I don’t know what else I can do but try to win, and you would do the same, if you were me.”

The air around Aphrodite stilled as her wrath ebbed, and his words sank in. He was right. He was doing exactly what she would do.

Her face softened, and she reached for his arm. “Apollo, I—“

He shrugged her off as he turned for the elevator. “Just don’t. You’re not the only one who’s been in pain all this time.”

And in that moment, as she watched Apollo walk away, she felt the truth in his words more deeply than ever.

LEX’S EYES WERE CLOSED as she lay in bed, feigning sleep, feeling Travis watch her. She wasn’t ready to talk to him.

Not yet.

She was certain he heard her crying the night before, since she hadn’t stopped all night, and her drippy nose was impossible to keep quiet. She’d drifted in and out of sleep, but Dean always made his way back into her mind, and every thought broke her heart fresh.

But she needed time before she could talk to Travis and didn’t want to break up with him before he left for practice where Dean was, so she breathed slow, keeping as still as she could until she heard Travis sigh and leave the room. His keys rattled as he scooped them up, and the door closed. The click of the lock sliding home was the only sound in the quiet apartment.

Lex rolled over and watched the tops of the trees sway out the window for a long while before crawling out of bed to make coffee. While the pot dripped and sputtered, she walked into the living room, pulled a throw blanket off the couch, and wrapped herself in it as she curled up in the window seat.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass and looked down into the street. People were going to work, walking their dogs, shopping for groceries, and though her world had stopped spinning, all the rest of the world carried on.

She’d wanted to let herself go for the first time. She understood what she had been missing, what she’d never been able to feel or give. She understood what she’d lost. But it was better to stop before it started and avoid the pain of sacrificing any more of her heart.

A hot, fat tear slipped down her cheek.

She had to stop. Stop thinking about him. She knew she couldn’t risk him, not when everything she knew about his past told her he would only hurt her. The fact that a stranger told her during the freakiest tarot reading ever was only the catalyst to bring her back to reality, although the circumstances of that alone had her one hundred percent spooked. Really, she had been fooling herself to think that Dean was someone who she could trust enough to let in, even though she wanted to.

The coffee pot pinged, and she wiped her cheek with the corner of her blanket as she carried herself into the kitchen to try to figure out how to move on.

Dean sat up and immediately regretted it. The heel of his hand flew to his eye socket, and he pressed hard as his head exploded in pain. The sweet, heavy scent of whiskey hit his nose. He smelled like the bottom of a bottle.

When the room stopped spinning, he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and staggered into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He swigged it down like he had been stranded in the desert. Dean set the empty glass down, gripped the counter with his shoulders bent, and hung his head.

Dean had earned himself a massive karma dump, and was sitting in the middle of it. He figured that someday his fucking around would catch up with him, but he didn’t know it would hurt like it did. He didn’t get it before, didn’t understand what it would be like to care, how much pain he would endure when he lost. The pain was so great, so deep, that he thought he might break apart from the force of his emotions that held his heart like an iron maiden.

There was no way to convince her, and no matter how much he wanted her back, he wasn’t worthy of her, and he never would be.

His hands fell like weights from the counter, and he stumbled back to his bed, lost in the dark.

Dita sank into her clawfoot tub until the steaming water reached her chin.

She was totally fucked.

Dean was literally going to screw Lex over, and Dita was shocked that she’d been so wrong about him. The minute that tarot reader said the word ‘infidelity,’ Dita had known. Game over. Damn Apollo and his prophecies. No wonder he had been so sure of himself.

She shook herself. She still had time. But, what if she lost? Apollo had never come so close to winning before.

Her thoughts drifted to Adonis. He would be angry if Apollo won, but he couldn’t blame her, not unless he suspected that she threw it. But that would be ridiculous. She’d never forfeited anything.

Apollo was one of only a few situations in thousands of years that had ever come between her and Adonis. Everything about their relationship had been cherished because they had only ever been kept apart. Every meeting was a rush, exciting because it was forbidden, and had always been limited.

When she found him as a baby at the foot of a tree, the tree that had once been his mother, she was taken. He was a golden child with bronze skin and wide, blue eyes the color of the sky. His plump little fingers wound through her hair, and he cooed at her, melting her heart, and she knew she had to save him. His mortal mother died in the transformation, and he had no one to care for him, so Aphrodite swaddled him and sent him to the underworld to be raised by Persephone.

And raise him she did. She loved him as her own son, but as he grew into a man, Aphrodite took notice. The gods always spoke of him, impressed with his skills as a hunter, and would gather to watch him hunt, wagering on how long it would take, or how he would take the kill. She was enamored. He was so skilled, so lovely, easily the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and she wanted him.

Persephone kept Adonis locked away in the underworld, to keep him safe she said, only releasing him to hunt. When it came time to give him up, free him to live on Earth, Persephone refused, and their feud began.

And so, Aphrodite devised a plan to win his heart. She had watched him for so long, and one day, she waited in a valley, one of his favorite resting places after a hunt.

Adonis held back the brush and stepped into the clearing where Aphrodite waited. He froze, watching her as she moved toward him, her red robes flowing behind her as she glided to him, her bosom spilling out of her enchanted corset.

“Do not be afraid. I am Aphrodite, the Lady of Cyprus, Goddess of Love. When you were only a babe, I happened upon you and saved you. Did Persephone tell you?”

He shook his head.

“No, I suppose not. We in Olympus have watched you grow so fair and brave, and I wished to meet you, to know you.”

His sea blue eyes were wide as he took a step toward her. “Are you real?”

She laughed, and the sound was music. “I am real. I am flesh, just as you.”

Aphrodite reached for his hand and pressed it to her cheek as her eyes roamed his face, holding on to every detail. He took a step toward her, the space between them gone, and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her to him until their lips met, and her heart rang out.

Persephone would never stop her. Not as long as she had breath.

They met in that way for several years, and each time it became more and more difficult to part. He always chose Persephone, always wanted to return to the underworld, stoking the flames of her jealousy with bitter wind. Aphrodite knew that if Persephone found out, there would be Hades to pay, so she and Adonis only had their small time together, which made it more thrilling, and more dangerous.

Only a few years after Zeus released Adonis from the underworld, he was killed. They had never been together in a real, true way, but still she was fiercely possessive over him. They had gone through so much to be together, even through death and eternity.

Her heart sat heavy in her chest. He was ripped from her when they were still new, and it crushed her. He was hers, in all ways. And he was the one that she chose, that she wanted, although they were not the same. In fact, they had little in common, but the regret of responsibility for his death weighed on her for thousands of years, and the fates seemed bent on keeping them apart, which angered her to no end. And because of that, she had never, ever been able to let him go.

She loved him, how could she not, after all they had been through? But Adonis’ love had always been conditional. She realized for the first time, having never questioned it before, that he had never chosen her, not when it mattered. He chose Persephone over being with her. Chose mortality over her. He wanted everything, but gave nothing.

Dita slipped under the surface, her hair floating around her, her tears mingling with the water as she began to understand that her life, her love, was not what she believed it was.

Apollo leaned against the rail of the elevator with his hands in the pockets of his slacks and his feet in oxfords crossed in front of him. When the door opened, it opened into a copse of trees. He stepped out into the lush grass and made his way down the trail to the pond where Artemis and her band of merry feminists were usually to be found.

Artemis sat high above him on a rock that hung over the pond, clad in short, blue robes, her fair skin glowing like moonlight, her dark hair pulled back in the old fashion with her silver crescent diadem placed on top. Zeus, their father, had frozen her in time at her request, and she was forever a maiden at sixteen. Her legs in doeskin boots were tucked in next to her, and he could see her quiver of silver arrows on her back, the leather strap lying between her small breasts. A fawn lay asleep next to her with its head in her lap. She smiled when she saw Apollo, and he could only smile back.

His twin was the night to his day, the moon to his sun, and his closest ally.

“Hello, Brother.”

Apollo climbed up the boulder gingerly, conscious of his expensive pants. “Hello, Sister.” He dusted the knee of his slacks and ran his hand down the baby deer’s spotted torso, over its soft, tan fur, before sitting shoulder to shoulder with Artemis.

He hooked his arms around his bent knees and looked out into the vastness of her domain. They sat in a wide valley surrounded by lush, green mountains, stretching up into the sky. In the distance, he heard the rush of a tall waterfall as it streamed from a break in the face of a cliff, and a clamor of harpies screeched from some distance away. A unicorn drank from the pond below, and a pack of centaurs thundered behind them, then off into the thicket.

He leaned forward to look into the dark pool, the edges dotted with lily pads. “Where are your little nymphs?”

“They have gone on a hunt.”

“Without their goddess? Needed a little time alone?”

Artemis was as solitary as he was social. “You know me well, brother.” Her palm ran between the fawn’s ears. “How goes the competition? I witnessed your prophecy. It seems you may have found a way to beat Aphrodite.”

“And wouldn’t you be elated?”

“Yes, frankly. Thrilled. I cannot stand that she constantly wins at her ridiculous games of love.”

“Well, Sister, I’m fairly certain she feels the same way about your games and wants.”

“This is true,” she said.

“The competition goes well, and yes, I hope that I have found a way to finally get my wish.”

“And how do you think that Adonis will take this news?”

Apollo sighed. “He will likely be less than pleased.”

“Fortunately for you, he is in Elysium and cannot reach you. And, fortunately for me. When he was alive, he was always stealing my glory. What is the modern phrase that you use?”

“Stealing your thunder. Zeus loves that one.”

“Yes, I suspect that he would.” Artemis’ eyes twinkled.

“I find it forever ironic that Aphrodite, who is the goddess of love, has held on to Daphne for all of these centuries over Adonis. She’s throwing a tantrum over a man whom she does not even truly love.” He released his knees and leaned back on his elbows as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

“You know that she cannot stand to lose. Letting go is not something in which she is well versed.”

“She will have to learn this skill, and very soon.”

Artemis turned her deep blue eyes to him. “Have you had a vision?”

“I have, and I will win. I saw Daphne, in my apartment.” His lips stretched wide in a smile.

“Brother, you have waited so long. I am pleased,” she said reverently with a smile.

“Dearest, a smile? For me? So rare.” He placed a soft kiss on her flushed cheek. “Thank you.”

“You have earned this, Apollo.”

“I don’t know about earned, though I have paid my penance. I do feel for the humans, though. They are suffering. But I’m rewarding them with a little extra nudge in the creativity department. I hope that it helps to ease their pain.”

“All that comes from love is pain.” Her dark brow dropped, and she looked away.

“That is not all that comes of love, and you know it.”

Artemis turned her gaze back to him. “Has it been worth the pain that you have been through over Daphne?”

“Artemis, the moment she is in my arms, all will be worth the price I have paid.”

She sighed and moved the small deer’s head from her lap, then rose and ran her hand through Apollo’s hair. “I do hope so, Apollo.”

Artemis turned and climbed lithely down the boulder. She trotted to the unicorn and grabbed its mane as she jumped and swung her leg over its back. She turned to wave, her face serene as she gave the animal a small kick and flew into the woods, a pearly streak through the dense green of the forest.

DITA DUCKED UNDER A branch as she ran through Elysium after Adonis. His bow and arrow were drawn as he chased a stag through the brush, never faltering as he cleared a fallen tree in their path. Her muscles burned as she bolted through the woods, her sandaled feet flying, her blond hair streaking behind her as the tension left her with the sweat that rolled down her body.

She burst into a clearing and found him strapping and hot blooded, panting over the deer whose tall antlers reached her waist. He loved to hunt deer, and Dita suspected it had something to do with the fact that they were sacred to Apollo. She sat down on a felled tree and rested her elbows on her knees to catch her breath. Adonis gave her a wild eyed grin as he pulled his knife from his belt and turned to clean his kill.

They hadn’t hunted together in ages. Dita watched the sweat roll down his back as he worked, pausing occasionally to rub his brow with the back of his forearm.

Hunting was not Dita’s favorite pastime, not by a long shot, but when Adonis lived he would not be separated from it. So, to spend more time with him, she donned short robes and hunting gear to learn the art that gave him so much joy. It was another difference between them, a sacrifice she willingly made because she wanted to understand him, wanted to be a part of his life, even though he’d never expressed any interest in hers.

When her heart stopped racing, she moved onto the grass and leaned against the log as she watched Adonis. She could stare at him through eternity, and practically had. His hands were covered in the buck’s blood, and her breath hitched at the memory of his death. It had been thousands of years, but she still felt the loss. She would never wish her pain and regret on another soul, not even Apollo for killing him.

Her relationship with Adonis had never been easy, always complex, heavy with the many years that had passed, through betrayal and murder, love and lust, lies and deceit. She felt them all in that moment, pressing on her from all directions as she watched the man before her, the man who she loved, who she had fought through heaven and hell to be with, the man who she wasn’t sure truly loved her in return.

But was her love true? Her heart was wrapped in so much pain and loss, had she mistaken that for love for so long? They had never been able to be together, never without the fear, or knowing, that they would be torn apart.

Her thoughts circled like vultures over her sick, aching heart.

She found a way to brush them away, though she knew they would be back, and turned her mind to Lex and Dean, aching to find a way to fix the damage that Apollo caused, knowing they were each other’s best chance at happiness. She didn’t know if she could repair her own love, but she could salvage theirs.

Apollo looked in on Dean, who sat on the floor of his apartment with his head bent over his notebook. He’d filled up an entire book and moved on to a new one, all of his hurt bleeding onto the pages as he tried to get through every minute, every hour, every day. His pen flew across the page, and Lex was in every word he wrote.

Inspiration was the least Apollo could do, having ripped the boy’s chest open and thrown his heart into Hades. Dean set his book down next to a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and reached for his guitar.

He looks like hell, Apollo thought, and looked away. He understood in a very intimate way how it felt to want what you couldn’t have, and he hoped that something good would come from the whole affair. The humans had earned that much.

But, at the end of the day, their pain was a means to an end.

He laid back and closed his eyes.

This is it.

In his mind, he was thousands of years before and thousands of miles away, stretched out on the spring grass next to Daphne in old Greece.

Her face was turned up to the sun, his sun, and he bathed her in warmth. She sighed, eyes closed, her copper hair shining, spread out on the grass around her. Apollo rolled over to his side and propped his head on his hand, and she turned to the movement, opening her green eyes.

“Play me a song,” she asked sweetly.

“That, my dear, is my specialty.” He sat gracefully and produced a lyre out of the air, then strummed a melancholy song with a mock somber face. She propped herself up and threw a handful of grass at him, giggling.

“Do not jest, Apollo. It is a beautiful day, not a day for weeping. It is a day for love. Play me a song for love.” Her eyes shone with hope and devotion, and he knew he would deny her nothing, as long as he could give it to her, as long as he should live.

“And now, beloved, you have guessed my second specialty—songs for love.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, then strummed and sang, the song so sweet, so full of the love in his heart that tears rolled down her freckled cheek, her face alight with her joy.

When he stopped playing, he could do nothing but move to her to kiss her tenderly, completing the circle of what he could not tell her with words, imparting his love through his touch. She twined her arms around his neck, and he held her small waist as he laid down and pulled her on top of him. Her red curls fell around them like a curtain, the light beaming through as the sun flashed with the beat of his heart.

Apollo gazed at the space where she stood in his vision, there in his apartment. In flesh. His. For the first time in eons, he allowed himself to believe, truly believe that it would be, and he soared.

Kara made her way into Lex’s building with a furrowed brow. She was worried about her friend since every time they’d spoken, Lex had cried so hard she was barely intelligible. She’d officially reached hot mess status, and it was unnerving, to say the least.

The band had started recording the day before, and they’d all slept for a few hours at the warehouse before getting up to do it again. Travis hadn’t been home, though Kara figured at some point the guys would cave and take a legit break. And when Travis did make it back, he’d be in for a serious surprise, one she had a feeling that none of them were ready for.

She opened Lex’s door to find her molded into the window seat, writing in her notebook. Her hair was dirty, and she was in her pajamas. It was two in the afternoon.

“Wow, look at you.” Kara shut the door behind her and made her way across the room. She sniffed dramatically. “Lex, you smell like a subway bathroom on a Saturday night.”

“How would you know? No one goes into subway bathrooms.”

“Just a hunch.” Kara dropped her bag and sat in the chair across from the window seat. “I’m guessing you’re not feeling any better?”

Lex dropped her pencil in the crease of her notebook. “Not really. I thought I’d be at least functioning by now.” Her eyes misted up.

“Do you need to have an ugly cry? I wore a t-shirt, so mascara is no prob.”

Lex chuckled as a tear fell down her cheek, and she sniffled. “I guess I just need more time.”

Kara seriously doubted that time would make the situation better. She spotted a Hershey’s bar next to Lex. “Share.” She stuck out her hand and wiggled her fingers.

“God, you’re so demanding.” Lex broke a piece off and handed the chocolate over.

Kara popped off a piece and put it in her mouth. “I’m sort of in uncharted waters here. This,” she motioned to all of Lex, “is new.”

“I just … I thought … I thought I could trust him. I mean, Kara … he’s fucked up. But we connect on levels of fuckedupedness.”

“Is that in the dictionary?”

“It is, right next to bitchass and your picture.”

Kara paused as the little rectangle of chocolate melted in her mouth. “You should talk to him.”

“I said what I needed to say, and honestly, if I see him again I don’t even know if I can walk away a second time. And I have to walk away. How can I not? How can he possibly prove that he’s not a user? That he’s not going to hump and dump me?”

Kara uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, forearms on her thighs. “I don’t know, Lex. Are you going to let something pass you by because you’re afraid to take a chance?”

Lex looked down at her hands and picked at her nails, then sniffled and looked out the window as she wiped a tear away.

After waiting for a response for a minute, Kara realized that Lex didn’t have an answer, at least not one that she was willing to share.

She stood up. “Come on, pretty. Pack a bag. Moping around here isn’t helping you, so you’re coming with me to a magical land full of showers and pants without elastic waists.”

“What about Travis? I need to talk to him.”

“Do you feel like you’re in the proper state of mind to deal with Travis? What would you tell him if he walked in right now?”

“I … I don’t know. Probably everything.”

“Is that what you want? Do you want him to know about Dean?”

“No, but he deserves to, doesn’t he? Don’t I have to tell him?”

“Well, right now there’s no way, but wasn’t that the whole point of not breaking up with him before the date?”

Lex sighed. “Yeah.”

“And if you told him right now about you and Dean, while they’re in the middle of recording an album together, what do you think might happen?”

Lex buried her face in her hands.

“I’m just saying, Lex, I don’t think you should talk to him until you calm down.”

“What am I going to tell him? I can’t just leave.”

“Just tell him you’re coming to stay with me for a few days, since he’s not going to be home. Easy.”

Lex took a heavy breath and let it go. “Okay.” She peeled herself out of the seat, and Kara pulled her in for a hug.

“It’s gonna be all right.”

Lex’s chest hitched, and she nodded against Kara’s shoulder before she pulled away and shuffled into her room.

While Lex packed her things, Kara sat at the window seat and stared at her phone. Lex cared enough about Dean that she had turned into a teary lump of sadface, which was something that, in the twenty sum-odd years that they’d been friends, Kara had never seen. For Lex to feel like she did about Dean and not let him know was ludicrous, especially over something so stupid as tarot cards.

Kara smiled as a plan formed in the back of her mind, and she wondered if there wasn’t a way she could help make it right, after all.

Roe paused before he knocked on Dean’s door and braced himself, afraid of what he would find inside. He had almost made it home after practice when Kara texted him to ask if he would scope out Dean, and he couldn’t say no. His shower and bed could wait for Dean and Kara.

He hadn’t been able to talk to Dean, not really, not since after Lex ended things. Dean was trying to hold it together, Roe could tell. It was painful to watch him around Travis over those few days, and he couldn’t imagine what Dean was actually going through. They were finally recording and had been working nonstop, so it was, essentially, the worst timing ever.

A rumpled Dean answered with eyes framed by dark circles and heavy stubble working into a beard. He didn’t say anything, just turned to walk back into the dark apartment, leaving the door hanging open behind him.

Roe walked in and closed the door as Dean sat back down amid stacks of records, broken and lost in a sea of vinyl.

“Re-organizing your records, huh?” It was worse than he thought.

“Chronologically, by genre.”

“And before they were … ” Roe stepped around piles of records as he made his way toward the couch.

“By genre, chronologically.”

“Right.” Roe threw his jacket over the back of the couch and sat, then asked a question he already knew the answer to. “What happened?”

Dean slumped on the floor, his hand on a stack beside him. He looked up at Roe. “You really want to know?”

“You need to tell somebody.”

“It didn’t go well.”

“Obviously. Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Roe waited for Dean to continue. He didn’t. “So, are you going to tell me, or are we going to play Twenty Questions?”

“Okay, okay.” Dean’s forearms rested on his knees, and he bent his head down to run his hand through his hair. “I don’t even know how to talk about it.” He paused. “It’s bigger than me being interested in her, Roe, it’s more than that. She’s … I … I care about her. I want her, all of her. I want to make her laugh, and kiss away her pain. I want to love her. But I’ll only ruin her.”

Roe sat back, arms crossed on his chest as he took it all in. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. She made it clear how she feels.”

“Which is? God, I hate being your shrink.”

“She blew me off. And that’s the end,” Dean said simply.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t try to talk to her? I mean, if she means that much to you—”

“Roe, she said she couldn’t trust me. How would you suggest that I prove to her that I want to be trustworthy? That I want to give her everything I am? That I would rather walk away from her forever than risk hurting her?” His face twisted in pain, and at that moment Roe was certain he was about to cry.

“Dean … I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice ragged, “me too.”

Kara found Roe leaning on the doorframe when she answered the knock at her door. He stood up straight and clicked his heels together. “Captain Snitch, reporting for duty.”

She rolled her eyes as he gave her a salute. “Get in here, Captain, before I discharge you dishonorably.”

He sauntered over to her couch and sat, and she curled up next to him.

“How’d yours go?” she asked.

“Well, Dean smells like shit, looks like a lumberjack, and has a horrible case of sad, lonely eyes. Yours?”

“Also smelly, though she looked less like a lumberjack and more like a hobo. I brought her home with me.” She felt Roe stiffen and his head turn. “Don’t worry, she’s at work.”

He relaxed under her. “Dean is a mess, Kara. I swear to god, I thought he was going to cry, and I was going to have a heart attack from shock.”

“Lex too. I have never, ever seen her get so worked up over a guy.”

“Did she explain why? I mean, you said the date was … what did you call it?

“The Niagara Falls of emotional awakening.”

He snorted. “Yes, that.”

“Well, what you need to know about Lex is that she has serious abandonment issues. And that she’s superstitious. I guess she had a run in with a tarot card reader who did a reading for her. Lex’s interpretation was that Dean wouldn’t be faithful to her, and that she had to break down the tower now instead of waiting for it to fall, or something crazy like that. I’m pretty sure she was just scared shitless and looking for a way out of the relationship before she could get hurt.”

“Hmm. I’m guessing Travis doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s been a little quiet but hasn’t done anything to indicate he knows what’s up.”

“No, she hasn’t even seen him, since you guys have been so busy. She’s planning on breaking up with him as soon as she does.”

“What are we going to do with them?”

Kara sighed. “I don’t know, but we have to do something. Lex is a wreck. She cares about Dean way more than she’ll admit to.”

“Honestly? Dean never talks about the girls he’s with, like, not even in high school where guys are supposed to talk about that sort of thing. And? He never gets emotional, and I would know. I have been there for some of the hardest things he’s gone through, and he’s been through a lot. So, to see him like this over Lex is shocking. I have no idea how to handle it.”

“We’ve got to set something up, because they’ll never make a move on their own. I think they’re supposed to be together. The only thing that we have to work out is Travis.”

Roe ran his hand up and down her back. “Well, you said she was going to break up with him, right?”

“Yeah, she said she was. She said she needs to be alone, which is crazy coming from her. She hasn’t been alone since she’s been out of a training bra.”

Roe laughed. “Let’s figure it out once they break up. At least then we won’t have to worry so much about him wigging out about Dean.” He squeezed her a little tighter. “So, have you told her yet? About us?”

She twisted to look at him with her eyebrow cocked. “Did you tell Dean?”

“Okay, okay. I get it. We’ll wait.”

Kara snuggled back into him, then wrinkled her nose. “Why aren’t you guys working, anyway? And, by the way, you don’t smell so great yourself.”

“Yeah, four dudes sleeping on three couches in a warehouse will do that. You should have seen Kevin on the pull out bed, cuddled up with Dean. It was worth the stink just for that. We broke for the night, since everyone was exhausted, and we weren’t getting anywhere.”

“Well, smelly boy, perhaps we should get you cleaned up?” She flipped around to lay in his arms and tilted her face up to his.

“That sounds like a great idea.” He scooped her up and carried her to the shower.

TRAVIS STUFFED HIS DRUMSTICKS into his bag and slung it on late that night, ready to get home. It had been a long few days in the studio, and everybody was exhausted and on edge. Every day, Dean came to practice with a handful of songs, but he looked like hell. Something was going on with him, but Travis didn’t know what. He was still focused, but looked ragged, and was almost silent. Every new song was good, so good that they were considering putting them on the album, but they were angsty and heartbroken. The confident Dean that he’d come to know was nowhere to be found.

The band had a gig coming up to test drive the new stuff on a crowd, and Travis was ready for his first show. They’d been working their asses off, but they were getting somewhere, and their label rep was pleased, which took some of the pressure off. No one was resting easy, though, because they weren’t out from under the gun.

At that point, he just wanted to sleep in his own bed. His heart fell when he remembered that Lex wasn’t there, and his brow dropped as he wondered what was going on with her. They’d texted briefly, and she’d said she was just staying with Kara to keep her company while he was gone, but he didn’t buy it. He’d been too busy to call, though, and hadn’t heard from her. He had a feeling that it was over and found some comfort in reasoning, but it didn’t stop him from worrying about her.

Travis clapped Dean on the shoulder as he passed by. “See you tomorrow, man.”

Miserable eyes turned to him. “Yeah, sure.”

Travis shook his head as he caught up to Roe. “Is Dean all right? He hasn’t really been himself.”

Roe looked back over his shoulder at Dean. “Yeah, he will be. I hope, at least.”

They walked out into the New York night, and the heavy warehouse door banged closed behind them.

Perry sat sideways on Dita’s couch with a pint of ice cream, making out with her spoon.

Dita paced her apartment to the sound of her speakers blaring house music, which was her best and most favorite thinking music.

She looked over at Perry, who bobbed her head. “Wan thum?” She asked with a spoon in her mouth.

“That’s all you.”

Perry wiggled in her seat, couch dancing. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I have to do something. I can’t stand them hurting like this.”

“Who knew Lex’s fatal flaw would be superstition? Of all the stupid things.”

Dita snorted. “Put that in the record book.”

She turned on the plush carpet to walk back across her apartment, Bisoux at her heels.

Think, Dita.

“So,” Dita said, half to Perry, half to herself, “Apollo’s prophecy said Dean would be unfaithful, or at least that’s what the cards implied. And that if Lex pushed the tower down, she would avoid some of the pain because she took control instead of letting fate push it over for her. The tower must be her and Dean’s relationship, and the truth inside is his true nature.”

Perry dug her spoon in the carton. “Well, she pushed the tower down all right.”

“I mean, if we’re just talking about Lex, the tower would be around her heart …” Dita turned again, and Bisoux hopped over her foot. She stopped dead in the middle of the room. “Oh my gods, Perry. What if that’s not it at all?”

“Huh?”

“What if the prophecy isn’t about Dean? What if it’s about Travis?”

She thought back over the cards. What if …

“Okay, so the infidelity … what if I could make it about Travis instead of Dean?”

“I’m not following, Dita.”

“What if the moon, the deceit, was the reading? And what if the lovers, the breakup … what if that’s Travis? What if he is the one who’s unfaithful? And that the truth in the tower was Lex’s truth, that she’s built a wall to protect her feelings for Dean?”

“Do you think you can pull that off?”

“Hell yes, I can.” Dita dance-paced for a minute, and the two goddesses giggled.

“Gods, Dita. You must do the sexiest robot in the history of the world.”

Dita paused to pop and lock, and Perry laughed from the couch as Dita moonwalked over. She flopped down next to Perry, giddy as she looked down into the city.

“Watch this,” she said with a grin.

Dita found the bus stop at the subway entrance by Travis’ apartment with an ad of a magnificent, life sized model on one wall. Dita closed her eyes, and the wind began to blow past the glass walls as rose petals spun in the air.

A newspaper flew into the face of a bum asleep on the bus stop bench. He sat up, his eyes bugging when the supermodel in the ad blinked. She pulled away from the flat surface, taking shape as she stepped out, and her stilettos hit the sidewalk with a click. She stood, motionless, and looked down in wonderment at her arms before she ran her hands down her tight, black dress to shimmy it down her thighs. Her chin lifted as she strutted with purpose toward the subway entrance with her short, dark hair bouncing in time to the clip of her high, high heels.

Travis walked out of the subway entrance by his apartment and plowed into a terminally beautiful woman in a tiny black dress. She grabbed his chest as she fell into him, and he leaned back from the force, grabbing her waist to hang on to her.

“Oh gods,” she said, “I’m so sorry! These shoes are killing me.”

“Are you okay?”

He looked down at the top of her head. The big curls of her short hair shielded her face from him as she bent down, still hanging on to his shoulder with one hand while she popped her heels off. She wiggled her toes on the sidewalk, then tilted her face up to the sky with her eyes closed. “Ahh, that feels amazing. I’ve had those shoes on forever.”

She opened her eyes, and he was gone, unwilling and unable to stop himself as he dropped his lips to hers, and the moment they touched was the moment when he forgot everything, his mind in a fog as he lost himself in her.

THE PHONE BLARED IN Lex’s ear, snapping her from sleep. She rolled over and slit her eyes against the morning sun as she picked up her phone. Travis’ picture smiled at her from the screen, and her stomach flipped as she hit the accept button.

“Hey, Travis.”

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s okay. Everything all right?”

“No. Lex, I need you to come home. We need to talk.”

She pushed herself up on an elbow, suddenly very much awake. “All right, yeah. Yeah. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

Lex hung up and laid back down, and Kara yawned. “What’s going on?”

“Travis wants to talk. Do you think … do you think he knows about Dean?”

Kara rolled over to face Lex, her eyes clear and blue in the morning light. “I don’t know. Are you going to tell him if he doesn’t know?”

“If I’m not going to be with Dean, does it matter? Would I be hurting him to clear my own conscience?”

“I don’t know, Lexie. I just don’t know.”

“Me neither. I just have to see how it goes. If it feels right, I’ll tell him. Either way, this is it.”

Kara watched her for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lex answered, knowing it was true. “It’s time.”

A few hours later, Lex opened the door to find Travis sitting on the couch with his hands clasped in front of him, his expression unreadable. She dropped her keys in the bowl and closed the door quietly as she set her bag down, then moved to sit next to him, twisting her fingers together in her lap as they sat in silence.

“Travis I—”

“Hang on, me first.” His eyes were on his hands, and he paused to take a deep breath before he began. “I don’t even know how to tell you this, Lex. I’ve loved being with you, and you’ve become my best friend. But I’m not in love with you, and I think you feel the same way about me. Am I right?”

Her heart ached, and she nodded. “I …”

“It’s okay, Lex.”

“Where did this come from?” she asked, dreading his response.

“I …” He turned to face her. “I met someone last night and brought her home with me.”

Her face fell, only slightly hurt. After what she’d almost done with Dean, she didn’t have any room to judge, or to be upset. At least he cared enough to be honest with her. Guilt welled up inside her.

“Lex, things have been crazy around here. You’re not talking to me. You’ve been going through something and keeping it from me. And I’ve must be checked out of the relationship if I brought someone to the place where we live together. I think … I think it’s over.”

Her mind raced. Now, she thought. Tell him now. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Instead, she weighed it out again, should she tell him or not?

How hurt and angry would Travis be that she’d lied to him about her date with Dean? If he knew what she’d done? She wasn’t sure anymore, not after his confession that he’d cheated on her. But, then again, she was going to break up with him anyway. Not that she had any right to be angry, even though Travis didn’t know their breakup was coming before he screwed someone else.

What happened between her and Dean was so much worse than Travis’ cheating. Dean was a part of Travis’ life, of his success. Travis may not go on a rampage if he found out, but could he go through every day at practice knowing she had been with Dean? Because it was cheating on her end too, even though she and Dean hadn’t gone all the way. In fact, she felt like out of the two of them, she was the criminal because she hadn’t planned on it being a fling. She’d planned on it being much, much more.

But she wasn’t going to be with Dean, not anymore. Was it worth hurting Travis and potentially damaging his career for nothing? Because exactly nothing came out of her and Dean but pain.

There was enough hurt going around without putting any more on Travis. If she and Dean had ended up together, well … that would have been different.

It was in that moment that she wondered if the tarot reading had been about Travis. Infidelity, the breakups, the deception, the sun, the fool … they all made sense. But it was all realized distantly, because the truth was that Dean wasn’t someone she could put her faith in or give her heart to. She had already ripped off the band aid, and there was no point in putting it back on, not for someone that she was convinced would hurt her.

“Travis, it’s okay. I’m not angry. I care about you, too … so much, but it’s never been love for me, either.” She paused as she took in the guilt on his face, feeling it mirrored on her own. “I’ll get my stuff together and go to Kara’s.”

“Lex, I don’t want to put you out with nowhere to go. You can stay until you figure things out. I’ll crash on the couch. All your stuff is here. It would be a huge pain in the ass to drag it all to Kara’s and then to another apartment. Just stay … unless you don’t want to. But don’t leave because you think that’s what I want. You’re my best friend, Lexie. I want to keep that.”

She looked at Travis long, then looked away. “Me too,” she said as she leaned over to lay her head on his shoulder. He moved his arm around her as they sat in the silent room, together and apart.

“Oh my gods, I fucking did it.” Dita’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and Perry grinned at her.

“Brilliant. I can’t believe you turned the prophecy around. I mean, I can believe it because you’re smart as fuck, but that really was genius. What are you going to do now?”

Dita’s smile fell a smidge, and her eyes dropped. “I don’t know, exactly. She’s not going to run straight to Dean, not as sure as she is that he’s wrong for her.”

“Well, you’ve got eleven days to figure it out. I have faith in you.”

“I just want them to be happy.” Dita said quietly. “There’s so much hate and hurt in the world and so much unnecessary pain for Lex and Dean right now. They need each other. She can heal him, and he deserves something real and true and good in his life. He deserves to find home.”

Perry’s eyes were wet. “Stop it, you big softy. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make it happen for them. I just hope I can pull it off.”

“Well, if anyone can, it’s you.”

LEX POURED A CUP of tea with her phone in the crook of her shoulder. “It’s not that weird, Kara.”

“It’s kind of weird. Just come stay with me.”

“All my stuff is here, and I’m staying until I can get out on my own. Travis and I are friends. We don’t have to be sleeping together to share space.”

“If you say so. You guys are bizarro.” Kara chuckled.

Lex giggled back. Relieved didn’t even begin to cover how she felt about Travis. She didn’t have to hurt him, and they were going to stay friends. Win, win. And then, there was the big lose.

Dean hadn’t left her mind, but her heart was dead in her chest. She’d poured her pain into her art, and she had to admit that the finished product was good. At least it made her feel a little better to focus her hurt into something constructive. ‘Tortured artist’ wasn’t just a cliché. That shit worked.

“So,” Kara whined, “can we please go out tomorrow night? You need an excuse to take a shower, and I need an excuse to dance.”

“God, that’s like the fourth time you’ve asked today. Okay, okay. I give. Uncle. You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Peer pressure works. I need a t-shirt that says that. I’ll pick you up at nine. Maybe I’ll even bring you flowers.”

“Overachiever.”

“She’s in.” Kara set her phone down and twiddled a pen in the air, gnawing on her lip as she peered at Travis and Roe, who sat at her kitchen table.

“Good,” Travis said.

“Are you sure about this?” Kara asked. “Because if it doesn’t work, she’s going to kill me.” She raised an eyebrow as she looked at the two of them. “She’ll probably kill both of you too, so don’t look so satisfied with yourselves. I’m talking full on crime scene. Chalk outline. Redrum.”

Travis leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “It’s going to work. It has to. I honestly don’t know how I didn’t see what was going on between them. She’d been avoiding me, staying with you, and wouldn’t go to practice when she’d been every day before. Dean’s been drunk and unwashed with all these new moody songs, looking like someone ran over his dog. Yesterday after … well, after we broke up I was at practice, and we were playing one of the new songs, and I heard it, really heard it for the first time. Whatever she did to Dean, I don’t envy him.” He shook his head. “I wish you guys would stop feeling guilty for filling in the details. I’m a Grade-A dumbshit for not figuring it out on my own.”

“Trav, it’s good you came to us. You’re right … we’ll make tomorrow night work. I can at least get her to the club. Hopefully, when she sees Dean, the rest will take care of itself. I told you, she can’t deny me.”

Travis snorted. “This I know.”

Roe shredded off another strip of paper napkin and dropped it onto the pile in front of him. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, man. None of us knew for sure how you would react. I mean, you seemed cool about it, but no one thought you actually meant it. And, so far it’s been pretty harmless, aside from all of the lost love drama.”

“It’s all right. You couldn’t have known,” he said with a shake of his head. “Lex and I should have been honest about our relationship from the beginning. I won’t say it didn’t hurt to find out that she had a thing for Dean and went out with him behind my back, but we both knew our relationship wasn’t going anywhere. On the other hand, I can’t say I blame her for not telling me. If I were in her place, and I thought that telling her something could hurt her chance at happiness, there’s no way I would drop it on her.”

Kara put her hand on his arm, her eyes misty. “We should have trusted that you could handle it.” She shook her head when her voice cracked. “Now, stop being such a puss, and let’s get ready for tomorrow night. It’s game time.”

Dita plopped down on an oversized recliner in the front row of the theater room and tucked her legs in. “Popcorn, please,” Dita said as she reached into Perry’s giant bucket.

“Hey.” Perry frowned with a mouth full of popcorn.

“Oh, don’t be greedy.” Dita picked up the remote and powered the massive television on. Kara was on the screen, flipping her hair, and Kevin’s mouth was doing something weird.

“So, what am I looking at here?”

“My secret weapons. You didn’t get to watch the night that Kara and Roe got together.”

“Ooh,” Perry’s face lit up. “I was super bummed to miss that.”

“Well, now you don’t have to.” Dita hit play, and Kara’s hair swung into motion.

“—and that is why you never, ever taunt a Koala,” Kevin said.

Kara laughed, her eyes sparkling as she took a sip of her drink. Lex walked up with her bag on her shoulder.

Kara pouted. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”

“I have to work in the morning,” Lex said, lamely.

Kara looked over at Dean, who watched them from the table. She looked back at Lex and took another sip of her drink. “Mmmhmmm.”

Lex jumped when Travis walked up behind her and asked, “You ready?”

“Yup.” She flushed and hugged Kara, pressing their cheeks together. “Much love.”

“Bye, guys.” Kara watched the two walk out. Dean’s eyes followed Lex as they walked by.

“Did you see that?” Dita whispered to Perry.

“Uh-huh. Puppy dog eyes. Big time.” Perry stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Kara sighed and turned back to Kevin. “You up for another game, Kev-O? You’re getting better. You’ll be a world class dart champion in no time, at this rate.”

“It’s all in the wrist. I was going to go check up on Dean. Look how lonely he looks.”

They both looked over at Dean and laughed. “Good luck with that.”

Kevin walked away, and Kara looked down at her mostly full drink. Kevin and Dean laughed, and she considered hanging with them, until she caught sight of Roe chalking a cue, watching her. He raised an eyebrow and motioned to the table. She took another pull of her drink, and sauntered her way over to him.

Dita grabbed the remote and hit fast forward. “Blah, blah, blah. They flirt. They play pool. This part’s boring.” She hit play, and Kara’s laughter filled the room.

“Oh, my god. He didn’t!” Kara said.

“He totally did.” Roe laughed and took a swig of his beer while Kara laughed some more.

“Where did Dean go, anyway?”

Roe looked over to their table. “And where’s Kevin?”

“I think we’ve been ditched.”

Dita whispered to Perry, “Actually, that was me.”

“Duh.” Perry took a long sip of her gigantic soda.

Roe shuffled. “Well … another game, then?”

Kara set her cue down and moved to him. “Sure, we could do that.” She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. “Or, I can think of a few other things we could do.” She stretched up on her tip-toes, and he leaned down to brush his lips to hers. They wound together, kissing for a long moment before she broke away and grabbed his hand. “Come on, I live close.”

Perry grabbed the remote from Dita and fast-forwarded again. “Man, this is getting good.”

When she hit play, Kara was sitting on Roe’s lap as they made out on her couch. She slipped her hands under his jacket and peeled it off. He tossed it, and his hand moved to cup her cheek as he kissed her. She dropped her legs off the couch, grabbed him by the t-shirt, and pulled him up as she stood.

She giggled as she trotted off to her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind her. He laughed as he pulled his belt loose and dropped his jeans, then yanked his shirt over his head and followed her.

She lay stretched out on the bed on her back with her dark hair like satin fanned out around her. He climbed onto the bed, and she smiled invitingly as she looked over him, laughing when she reached his feet.

“Oh my god, Roe. Take off your socks.”

Roe blushed, smiling as he sat and pulled his socks off and threw them at her. She squealed.

“Gross! That has to be the least sexy thing ever, mood killer.”

Perry threw popcorn at the screen. “Boooooooo.”

He laid next to her and kissed her laughing mouth, and their teeth bumped together. They laughed even harder, their bodies shaking until their touching skin couldn’t be ignored. He kissed her hard, and she wrapped herself around him as she wound her fingers through his golden hair. His hands ran down her waist, cupped her backside, and she bit his lip as he hoisted her up.

She shifted her weight to roll him over, and they did roll … straight off the bed. Their arms and legs flailed as they landed on the floor with a solid thump and a burst of laughter.

Perry couldn’t catch her breath. “He … gods … he’s … whew. Oh, my gods. That is the best ever.”

Dita wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, gods. So awesome.”

“I can’t believe I almost missed seeing that. I haven’t laughed like that in forever.”

“I know.” She picked up the remote and turned the television off. “From here the rest of it is pretty standard.”

Perry let out a satisfied breath, her cheeks pink. “They’re a fantastic secret weapon.”

Dita leaned back in her chair. “I’m cautiously optimistic. Roe and Kara have been busting their asses to try to figure out how to get Lex and Dean in the same room again. If they can pull it off, I think I’ve got this.”

“Do you think Apollo has any more tricks up his sleeve?”

“I don’t know. But if I lose here in the last leg, I’m going to go primordial.”

“You could always use one of your stockpiled tokens.”

“No way. Not until I’m out of options. I’ll never hear the end of it if I call in a favor, but I’m not going to sacrifice Lex and Dean.”

“Aww, Dita. You’re such a mush.”

“Perry, they’re meant for each other. And I should know. How can I deny them? I’ll do what I have to do.” She looked back in on Lex and hoped that the pieces would all fall into place.

Apollo sat on the floor of his bathroom, digging through the trash can.

He rummaged through toilet paper and Q-tips, looking for a token. It was the last room to search in his apartment, and he was desperate, because he was out of options.

Apollo’s plan hinged on Dita not figuring out that Travis was the object of the prophecy until it was too late, never even considering that she would make the prophecy come true. He wondered how she managed to turn it all around on him, and how he could have been so dumb to let it happen.

All he had left was a Hail Mary.

He needed a favor, but tokens weren’t easy to come by. Not only was it was decades between his turns, but he just wasn’t deceitful enough to pull it off when it was his turn. He took most things at face value, because that’s what he gave, which was why he lost. A lot. And almost all the tokens he did earn, he’d spent, though he knew he had a few spares, if he could find them.

So far, he found two.

The first he found in his couch cushions. He grimaced as he reached between the cushions, and crumbs stuck under his nails. When his fingertips brushed a token, “Aha!” bubbled out of his mouth, and he grinned. Until he saw it.

Glowing, white molten lava swirled inside. Apollo rolled his eyes. So much for that. Heff would never help him beat Dita, no way. Apollo stuffed the useless thing into his pocket.

He found the second token when he dumped out the magazine rack in his bathroom. The glass sphere rolled across the floor and hit the floorboard with a clink. Black fog swirled inside, and his lips pressed into a flat line as he reached for it. Hades. He closed his fist around it, resisting the urge to throw it at the wall. With Perry being Dita’s best friend, and Hades being Perry’s bitch, there was no way that he would help, either.

He reached the bottom of the trash can, then glanced around the bathroom. He’d checked everywhere, so he hastily cleaned up the garbage and stood to make his way back to his bedroom. Apollo’s mind was muddled as he tried to remember exactly where he had already searched. He scanned the bed and the white sheets and pillows, deconstructed and lying in a heap on the floor.

On a whim, he knelt down and pressed his cheek against the cool, hardwood floors to peer under his bed. An orb rested amongst dust bunnies and feathers from his bedding. He reached out and inched his way under the bed with his hand outstretched, mildly appalled by the dust getting all over his clothes.

Inside the glass orb floated an ornate set of flapping golden wings. Hermes. Apollo slinked out from under the bed and stood. As he looked at the token in his hand, he realized it was never going to work, but he had to try. He dusted off his sweater as he made for the elevator.

Hermes sat in the kitchen with his Chucks propped up on the bar, texting. He didn’t look up as Apollo approached, but when he placed the token on the granite bar, Hermes’ flying fingers froze. He turned to Apollo and raised an eyebrow.

“And what would this be?”

“This would be a favor. That I need. From you.”

“Are you trying to cash this in for help in the game? Because you know how I feel about that.”

“Hermes, come on.”

Hermes slapped his phone down on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “Listen. The heist challenge was it for me. You assholes all helped Heff, almost every single one of you. None of you refused, so none of you get my help.”

“You have to admit that you play dirty. It was only a matter of time until we retaliated.”

“Well, then I guess it’s my turn to deliver paybacks.” Hermes turned back to the phone to bang out messages with his fingers flying. There was no messing with Hermes when it came to games, since he ran them, and not with him being the patron of thieves and wit. Once he decided something, that was it. They’d all have to wait until his tantrum was over to get any help from him.

Apollo picked up Hermes’ token and put it in his pocket as he turned for the elevator. Heff was next on the list of long shots.

As he waited in the elevator, he caught his reflection in the shiny wall. He still had dust smudged on the front of his white sweater, and his blue checkered collar poked crookedly out of the neck. He smoothed his mussed hair down as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Apollo stepped into Heff’s foyer. His heels clicked on the concrete floors and echoed off the walls as he walked by the dark leather furniture. Heff came out to greet him with a greasy rag in his hand.

“What can I do for you, Apollo?” Heff wore a pleasant smile as he wiped his hands off on the towel, but Apollo knew right then that it was a lost cause, despite the warm welcome.

Heff gave Apollo a sideways look when he held up the warm, glowing token between his fingers.

He chuckled. “I don’t suppose you want to use that against Dita, do you?”

“I do.” He put on the most depressed face he could muster, which wasn’t hard.

“You know I can’t help you.”

Apollo closed his fist and dropped it to his side. “I know. Had to ask.”

Heff inspected his fingernails as he ran the rag under them. “She’s not unbeatable, you know. But it’s not easy, and I most definitely will not stand against her. Do you have any other tokens?”

“One more. I’m on my way there now. Hades.”

“Ah … well. Good luck with that, Apollo. You know Perry is his kryptonite, and Dita is Perry’s.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Apollo crammed the token back in his pocket and turned for the elevator.

“Good luck,” Hephaestus called after him.

When Apollo reached Hades, he stepped off the elevator and walked the long, black marble hallway of the underworld to the living room. Apollo looked around for Cerberus. The three headed dog’s excessive drool was murder on his clothes.

Hades sat reading in a chair by the fire with his legs crossed in a black pinstriped suit. He looked charming, which was part of the reason he was so dangerous. You never saw Hades coming, even when you knew he was coming.

“Apollo,” Hades said.

“Hades.” Apollo sat down in a chair opposite him. “I have a favor to ask.”

Hades set his book down in his lap. “Let’s hear it. I love to strike a bargain.”

Apollo pulled the token from his pocket. The black smoke swirled fiercely within such close proximity to its master.

“Ah, my token. I suppose you are looking to earn a favor for the contest? What do you have in mind?”

“Waters of Lethe.”

“Clever boy.” Hades’ fingers steepled as he leaned forward in his seat, his blue eyes attentive. “But, one problem. Waters of Lethe erase the memories of a dead soul’s life on earth, and will work on living humans, but the effect is usually only temporary. In some humans it only lasts a matter of hours. For others it is permanent. Are you sure you wish to use your token on something so unsure?”

“It’s my last shot.”

“All right. I will give Dean the Waters of Lethe tonight.” The orb disappeared from Apollo’s hand, and Hades smiled slyly. “Anything else?”

“Thank you, Hades.”

“Mmhmm.” Hades had already picked up his book.

As the doors closed on Apollo, Perry stomped in. “You did not just agree to help him, did you? Because if so, this,” she gestured to her hips, “is off limits. Indefinitely.”

Hades rose from his chair and cupped her face, leaning down to look into her eyes with a smile. “Don’t worry. You know me better than to think I would ever do anything to upset you, don’t you?”

She looked confused, then lit up as realization dawned on her. “Oh, you are good.”

Dean leaned under the jackalope at the Crow Bar, wishing he were at home. Roe dragged him out, promising that a little drink and music was what he needed. All Dean wanted to do, though, was get back to his quiet apartment and his guitar.

The last time he had been to the bar was with Lex. He’d stood in that spot, and so had she. He replayed it over again, the promise of what could have been, what would never be.

A bartender Dean hadn’t seen before took his order. The tall, devilishly handsome man wore a pinstriped shirt and suspenders, and his black hair was parted down the middle. He turned to pick through the liquor bottles on the wall, then poured behind his back.

When he turned around, he wore an odd smile. “Your drink, sir.” His words almost slid out, unnerving Dean, who reached for the offered drink.

“Uh, thanks, man.” He turned and took a sip as he walked toward the pool table, then set the glass down at the same wobbly table where he’d sat with Lex. He dropped into a chair, sagging.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked over at a blond guy in a t-shirt who gave him a sympathetic look. “Still annoyed that I made you come out?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, “do I know you?”

DEAN WOKE THE NEXT morning, unsure of how he’d gotten in bed. In fact, he didn’t remember anything after getting a drink from that creepy bartender, but he didn’t feel hung over, and he wondered what the fuck had happened. He sat up fast, and his brows shot up to his hairline.

Oh my fuck, I got roofied.

He flipped up the covers to see if he had clothes on. Check. He breathed a sigh, but was still cautious as he slid out of bed and crept into the living room, looking around his apartment for any clues. What he found was Roe stretched out on the couch, snoring.

Dean shook Roe’s shoulder, and he snapped to with a start. “Christ on a bike, Dean.” He rubbed his eyes and forehead. Then, remembering the night before, he sat up fast. “Do … do you know who I am?”

“We’ve been friends since we were eight. So yeah, I hope so.”

“Oh, thank god.” Roe sat up and rubbed his face again. “Dude, you were wigging out last night. You kept saying that you didn’t know who any of us were and that you couldn’t remember anything. I brought you back here, hoping it would snap you out of your trance, or whatever that was. I was scared shitless. I almost took you to the hospital. Spent half the night googling spontaneous amnesia. It doesn’t exist, by the way.”

“What the fuck?” Dean sat down heavily in the armchair. “That bartender freaked me out last night. You know, the one with his hair parted down the middle?”

“I didn’t see him. Do you think he dosed you?”

“Was I acting dosed?”

“No, you were acting like you’d been brained with a baseball bat and couldn’t remember how to find your ass. Man, I’m glad you’re all right, because that would have put a damper on our show tonight. Do you feel okay?”

“Fine, actually. Like I got the best night of sleep I’ve had in ages.”

“Well, you still look like shit. Would you at least take a shower today?”

“I guess I owe you that much.”

Roe stood and grabbed his jacket, then clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Yup, you do. I’ll see you tonight.”

Apollo cradled his head in his hands as he sat on his couch, wondering what the fuck he was going to do. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his stubbled face, then blinked, trying to keep himself awake. He hadn’t slept at all.

When Dean’s memory came back, Apollo stormed Hades, demanding to know why the Lethe had only lasted a few hours. And Hades replied, Because I didn’t want it to last any longer.

Apollo could very well lose. His confidence drained out of him.

It wouldn’t be the first time a vision had been wrong. Not wrong, but he’d misread them before to be something they weren’t. Visions of dreams of visions, like two mirrors standing across from each other, their reflections creating an infinite corridor.

He had come so close. He’d even allowed himself to daydream. There was still a chance that the seed he planted in Lex’s mind would root, but with Dita’s skills, and his lack of cards to play, he wasn’t sure he could pull it off. The competition was probably lost, and Daphne along with it.

Kara let herself into Lex’s apartment and walked through the living room, hoping like hell that their plan was going to work.

“Hey, I’m in here,” Lex called from the bathroom.

Kara found her leaning over the sink as she put on red lipstick with a big bun on top of her head. She wore high heel black wedge booties, and her long legs disappeared up into a short, flirty black skirt.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice. Such a nice change from the hobo look you’ve been working lately.”

Lex turned to Kara and raised an eyebrow, giving her an appraising look. “Well, you’re looking mighty fine yourself.”

Kara did a little twirl. “Yeah? Not too shabby, eh?” Her sheer tank showed her lacy, black bra underneath, and her high-waisted skinny leather pants ended in black platform heels with tiny gold studs all over them.

“Those shoes are killer. For real. You could do some major damage with those things,” Lex said. Kara laughed, and Lex turned back to her reflection. She tilted her head to put her earrings in and asked, “So, where to?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Lex’s eyes narrowed as she walked out of the bathroom with her hands on her hips. “Hmmm. Fishy.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Kara threaded her arm through Lex’s. “Come on, sister. This is going to be just what the doctor ordered.”

Lex and Kara walked through the door of the club and had just passed the bar when Lex stopped dead in her tracks.

Kara slammed into her.  “Jesus, Lex! Oh—”

Dean was on stage.

His eyes were squeezed shut as he leaned into the mic, his faced wrenched in pain as he stood, hanging onto his guitar like it was keeping him standing. The heartbreaking song was for her, she knew with every word he sang, every note he played, and she was rooted to the spot, her hands to her lips as a tear slipped down her cheek, her face the picture of a hundred emotions in one stunned look.

So close, reach out

And then you disappear

The ghost in my mind

I no longer fear

I see you, feel you

Still can’t touch

So real, so far

Want you so much

So far away

But I see you shine

I know you, you know me

Just reach out, you’re mine

I see you, feel you

But still can’t touch

So real, so far

Need you so much

The stone around her heart split open, cracked and crumbled, her truth flying free as she realized that she’d rather have Dean for a moment, even if she couldn’t keep him, than to never have him at all.

When the song ended, his eyes opened and found her, like he’d imagined her standing there. He was a haunted man as he set his guitar down and jumped off the stage to run to her, to cradle her face in his hands, to tilt it to his own reverently.

“Are you real?” he whispered, his voice trembling, his thumb stroking her cheek.

She nodded, and the world stopped turning when his lips touched hers, every moment of pain, every second of loss erased by that single act as she closed her eyes and gave herself up to him.

He broke away and pulled her into his chest, holding her so tight that she knew he would never let her go. He looked down at her, smiling as he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out of the bar.

Half of the crowd cheered, and the other half realized the show was over and booed, heckling Roe when he stepped up to the mic with his bass hanging around his back.

“Uh, listen up, folks. The powers of love can’t be contained. Head to the desk and leave your name and email to get free tickets to our next show. Let’s give the happy couple a hand, yeah?” He ducked as someone threw a shoe. “Hey, better than a beer. Let’s get Gary’s Curse back on the stage for another set.”

Kevin high-fived Travis over the drum set, then did the running man off the stage as the crowd dispersed and the overhead music came on.

Roe set his bass down and hopped off the stage to where Kara stood. He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her.

“I think we did it,” he smiled, his face buried in her hair.

She leaned into him and closed her eyes. “I think we did, too.”

As they hurried down the sidewalk, Dean was grateful that he lived a few blocks from the bar. She was tucked into his side, her arm around his waist under his jacket. He bent down to kiss her at every crosswalk, every chance he got, and he didn’t care who saw.

When they reached his door, Dean pushed her against it to kiss her, and she wound her arms around his neck. He fumbled blindly with the keys, and they fell to the ground with a clink. Dean took advantage of his free hands to run them all over her, breaking only to mumble a curse as he bent down to snatch them off the floor and unlock the door. He stooped to kiss her again, not wanting to let her go, and when he turned the knob, they fell into the room.

He kicked the door shut with his arms around her waist, and hoisted her up to carry her into the bedroom, kicking his shoes off on the way. He laid her down on the bed, kissing her as he moved his hips against hers, wanting all of her.

He ran his hands down her waist, down her hips, down her long white thighs, then back up to slip them under her skirt. She wound her legs around his waist and flexed, pulling him closer, and he moved his hands up to her hips to the strings of her panties and followed the line around back to her behind. Her skin was so soft, her mouth hot on his, her hands on his neck as she kissed him fervently.

His hands followed the swell around to the backs of her thighs, trailing his fingers on her skin, and she shivered. His finger slipped under the hem of her panties, and he traced it up to her hip, then back down to her slowly. He ran his finger down to touch the tip of her gently, then traced back up her hip again. She bit his lip with urgency, and he slid her panties over to touch her softly with his index finger. He rubbed in circles, then slipped his finger in, again and again until she dropped her head back, panting. He pulled his hand back and pushed her into the bed with his body, and she twisted, rolling them over.

Her legs were on either side of him, and she leaned down, her lips meeting his in a kiss full of ownership. His hands moved up and down her waist, then under the hem of her skirt. She pulled away from him with a pop and sat up with heavy lids. He pulled her hips down into him, and she reached into her hair to pull out a few bobby pins, then yanked out her bun and shook her wavy hair out.

Her arms crossed her body as she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, her eyes hot when she bent to run her hands under his shirt, kissing her way up his body. He curled to pull his shirt off, and she kissed his abs before he lay back down. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up to him, not wanting to wait another moment for her lips, and when she reached him, he kissed her as he ran his hands through her hair that licked at his shoulders and chest.

She broke away again, giving him a smile as she sat up and reached behind her to unclasp her bra. She pulled the straps off her shoulders and let them fall down her long, white arms.

She moved down to his belt and pulled it loose with a tug, then opened his button and crawled off the end of the bed. She grabbed his jeans and pulled until they were a heap on the floor. Her eyes were on fire as she reached back again to unzip her skirt, which dropped to the ground. Her hands slid under the straps of her panties and pushed them down.

His breath caught as he stared in awe at the woman before him, a white column in the dark. Her ivory skin glowed in the moonlight, and her dark hair painted negative space like midnight over her chest and shoulders.

She crawled up the bed, kissing up the length of his thigh. She moved her hand to cup him as she ran her tongue up his shaft, then took his crown, pausing to roll her tongue around before trailing back down his length again and again. His heart hammered, his ears ringing when she let him go to kiss up his stomach again. He felt her breasts all around him as she gently pushed them together, and his hands grasped her shoulders again, holding her still as he moved into her.

He wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. His hands moved down to her arms, and he squeezed, urging her to come to him, and she did. She slinked up his torso, and he kissed her with such force her whole body responded as she wrapped herself around him. He broke away and stretched out to reach into his nightstand. She sat up, chest heaving, her hair tumbling around her face as he rummaged around and pulled out a condom.

She smiled. Her hands covered it as she took it from him and ripped it open. She rolled it onto his crown as she dropped down, closed her mouth around him, and pushed the condom down with her lips. His hands twisted in the sheets as he moaned, bucking into her as she took him deep.

She released him slowly and crawled up his body. As soon as he could reach her, he grabbed her face with both hands, bringing her up to his mouth, and rolled them over again.

He kissed her, moving to her ear, down her neck, to her breasts. He held them and took her into his mouth, sucking hard. She arched her back, offering herself to him with her head kicked back into the bed, her dark hair a blanket around her. She ground her hips, and he could feel her, slick against him. He wanted her so much, more than anything.

He rose to her, and their eyes locked as she held him, guiding him home.

Neither of them breathed as he rocked into her. Her hands flew to his face as they moved together. He buried his nose in her neck, and his hands moved down the backs of her thighs. Her arms twined around his neck as she rolled her hips around, until they let go of all the fear they kept inside as they came together.

He collapsed on her, and she ran her hands down his back, as his heart beat so hard that he couldn’t hear. Her chest rose and fell against him, and he looked down at her and smiled. She smiled back, and they both knew that they were where they were meant to be.

THE OLYMPIANS WERE SILENT as they watched, all packed into the theater room. In the kitchen, the alarm dinged, and the water turned green as the tiny mechanical birds flew fast in a cluster like starlings all around the statue of Aphrodite.

The room erupted in noise, some laughing, some exclaiming. A few were quiet, their eyes on Apollo, having all sensed the shift in him, so different from competitions before.

Dita and Perry jumped up and down, screaming hysterically, relieved for Lex and Dean that it was over. They could be together.

The initial adrenaline rush left her, and she collected herself, remembering Apollo. Her eyes found him, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward with his head in his hands. Dita made her way through the crowd and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off and stood, the anguish written in every line, every plane of his face. “Don’t. Please,” he whispered, and turned for the elevator.

Dita’s stomach twisted. It doesn’t have to be this way.

Adonis may never forgive her for what she was about to do, but she had to. There was only one thing left to do.

She turned to Eros, who had shown up for the show down.

“Come on. We have some explaining to do.”

Eros and Aphrodite stepped out of the elevator and into Artemis’ domain, bathed in moonlight. Dita’s canvas shoes padded up dust, and Eros’ wings beat softly as he flew beside her, and they made their way hastily down the trail to Artemis’ pond.

“I hope this works, Dita. Peneus has always been a dick.”

She laughed, despite herself. “I know. This isn’t going to be easy. We have to get past Artemis, then try to convince Daphne’s douchelord father to let her go.”

“Say it, Dita. Peneus. Come on.”

“Peneus,” she said, and he laughed. “This is serious, Eros. And can you not make penis jokes at him? Because that’s not really going to help our cause.”

Eros rolled his eyes. “Gods, sometimes you’re no fun.”

They wound their way down to find Artemis standing on the large boulder that bordered the water. Thirty Oceanids, young and beautiful nymphs, had bows drawn and aimed at them, lit from below by their crackling campfires.

Artemis called to them. “You are not welcome here, Aphrodite.”

Dita put her hands up, then slapped Eros in the arm. He threw his hands up, too. “Hear me out, Artemis.”

Artemis drew her silver bow up to her cheek and closed one eye as she pulled the string taught. “Leave this place.”

“Wait! Artemis, I am here to free Daphne. Please, grant me passage.”

Artemis opened her eye and lowered her arrow a hair. The Oceanids looked a little too eager for Dita’s taste, and she hoped no one got trigger happy. Not that they could do much real damage, but it would hurt like a motherfucker.

“If I grant you passage, you must agree that I will accompany you.”

Dita relaxed. “Of course, Artemis. I believe you can help our cause. You know Peneus isn’t generally forthcoming.” Eros snickered, and she shot him a look.

Artemis lowered her bow and slipped her arrow into her quiver in one fluid motion. The Oceanids lowered their arrows in unison and dispersed, and Dita and Eros moved through the nymphs’ camp under their cautious gaze as they fletched arrows and worked on stretched hides.

Artemis climbed down from the rock and walked to meet them.

“Come,” she said as she turned for her unicorn. She jumped on its back and extended an arm to Dita to pull her up with swift strength.

“H’ya!” Artemis shouted as she dug in her heels. They shot into the thicket, and Eros flew behind them as they bolted through the forest, the trees whipping by them in a blur.

They followed a river that brought them to a black lake that shimmered in the moonlight. Artemis jumped down, and Dita grasped her hand, sliding off after her. They walked over to the mouth of the tributary, and Artemis knelt down to lay her palms on the surface of the water.

“Peneus, rise,” she called, her voice amplified, the leaves on the trees around them rustling. “Rise to meet us from the dark, wet abyss of your domain.”

Eros snorted, and Dita coughed as she swatted him in the arm. “Shut the fuck up and pull yourself together,” she hissed.

The water bubbled, and Peneus emerged. His flat face was covered by his beard, his dark, sopping hair hung lank around his face, and his small horns protruded from the top of his head. His hairy, barrel chest ended in a serpentine tail that coiled under him as he rested on the surface of the water. He folded his arms across his chest with his mouth twisted in a scowl.

“Artemis, what is this?” His big voice thundered, gravelly and low. “You have brought these tricksters here? These deceivers? And you, whom I trusted … surely you are not in league with these miscreants who ruined my daughter?”

Eros flew forward a few feet, a condescending smile on his lips as he spoke with a flourish. “Dearest, most grand and mighty Peneus, we have come to free Daphne from the spell of the arrows. If we do so, would you free her from her prison?”

Peneus’ brow furrowed, and he slithered around. “How can I be certain that this is not a trick? Apollo will capture her and rape her. I cannot be sure that your words are truth. I do not understand the games that you of Olympus play, and have no desire to.” He shook his head as he decided. “No, no … I believe she is safe where she is. Safely locked in my wood.”

Eros coughed. “Uh, ahem. If we forge an oath that we will release the spell, would you agree? Apollo will not lay chase. We can assure you of that.” Dita was grateful Eros didn’t mention that Daphne would likely run straight to Apollo, whether he chased her or not.

Peneus stroked his beard, his ugly face bent in a frown. He turned to Artemis. “Do you believe that these gods speak true?”

Artemis assessed them with deep, dark eyes, then back to Peneus. “I do, but you should ask for an oath. It would protect you and give you comfort.”

Peneus’ posture shifted in decision. “If you have Artemis’ blessing, then you have my word. Let us oath, for good measure.”

His tail uncurled, and he sank into the water. He glided to where Dita stood at the shore, and they clasped forearms. Her hand could barely curve around the expanse of his arm, and her forearm hung loosely between his thumb and forefinger. His wet, cold skin was slightly slimy, like the skin of an eel. Dita masked her disgust, and she held her chin up high to meet his gaze.

A stream of blue water wound its way around Peneus’ arm, and another, a white stream of water like diamonds, down Dita’s. They wound together, sparkling, moving in a current.

“I swear to free Apollo and Daphne from the curse of Eros’ arrows.”

“I swear to free Daphne from the tree of the laurel.” Peneus’ voice boomed deep.

The currents shimmered, then splashed away in a twinkle as their bond sealed. He released Dita’s arm, and it took all of her will not to shiver, wipe it off on her pants, and hop around with her face twisted. She moved her hands behind her back and tried to wipe the slime off her arm as inconspicuously as possible.

“Come, she is this way,” he said as he turned and slithered up the river.

They followed him up the shore to the most tremendous laurel that Dita had ever seen. Daphne’s body was visible in the trunk, the bark twisting around her, her face frozen in terror. Her arms wrapped across her torso and wound around the tree in thick strands, and her hair flew around her, curling to form the branches of the tree.

Peneus slithered up to the banks where Daphne’s branches hung over the river and reached up, closing his eyes as he touched a wide branch. It began to recede, as if growing backwards, branches turning into twigs, leaves turning into sprouts that turned into buds. The trunk began to untwist, revealing Daphne, who fell out into the grass, small and trembling.

They ran to her, and Dita caught the nymph as she collapsed. Daphne turned her sweet face up, her green eyes shining as she cried, and Dita pulled her close, smoothing her copper curls.

“Shh, child. All is well. All is well.”

“Please, Aphrodite … please, take me to him.”

Dita’s eyes found Eros, whose hand rested on Daphne’s back, and they smiled, having finally made things right.

The sky burned red outside Apollo’s windows as the sun creeped up toward the horizon, and he sank to his knees in front of his speakers that crooned a haunting, solemn song. His pain ripped through him, and he dropped his head back, closing his eyes tight against it as the music washed over him.

He lost. And she was lost to him still.

The pain was so great, he thought he might split, shatter, and he felt heat radiate from his skin as he began to glow. He had let himself believe. But he had lost her again, and the agony was almost as great as on the day he’d lost her first.

“Apollo?”

Her voice was some magic, some sorcery. It could not be real, he thought, his heart still and quiet as he slowly turned.

Daphne’s hair was wild around her small face, her green eyes wide and sparkling. Apollo closed his eyes, pausing for a moment, certain that he would open them to find the room empty, but when he did, she was still there. He stood and staggered, and then he ran to her.

He pulled her into his arms, and they collapsed in tears.

“Is this a dream?” he asked, his voice but a whisper as he looked into her eyes from where she laid in his arms like a child.

“No, my love. I am here. I am yours.”

His hand moved to her cheek, and he wiped a tear away with his thumb. She closed her eyes at his touch and sighed, and he pressed his lips to hers as the sun broke the horizon, wrapping them in golden light.

Aphrodite twisted her robe in her sweaty hands as she waited for Adonis, nervous for the first time in their thousands of years together, not knowing just how much pain they were about to endure.

He walked out of the underbrush cheerily, but his face fell when he saw her. He rushed to her side and knelt to cup her cheek, turning her face to his. “What is wrong?”

She looked down at her hands. How could she explain?

“The contest is over.”

Adonis turned and sat heavily beside her, stricken. “Gods. You lost.”

“Actually, I didn’t lose.”

His face relaxed, and he covered her hand with his. “Then all is well, love. What has upset you?”

She turned and looked into his indigo eyes.

“I couldn’t let him suffer anymore.”

His faced morphed from comfort to confusion, then to realization, ultimately falling in dismay. He pulled his hand back.

“You say that as if it were easy for you.” He rose and turned to walk away.

“Adonis, please, I—”

“I will not hear this, Aphrodite. I will not.” He shouted, his face wrenched in fury. “What of my suffering? How can I forgive this? And forgive you? I cannot believe you have betrayed me. After everything that has passed, I cannot understand how you could do this.”

Her heart ached at the sorrow and anger on his face. He gave her one last piercing look, then turned, moved the underbrush aside, and disappeared into Elysium.

DITA CURLED UP ON her couch, snuggled in her cashmere blanket, reading. There wasn’t much better in the world than being manhandled by a stubborn, kilted, red-headed Scotsman, she had decided. The elevator pinged, and Bisoux hopped off her lap to run into the foyer, barking as his nails clicked on the hardwood.

She turned to look over her shoulder and found Apollo sauntering into the room with Bisoux in his arm. She could swear Apollo was glowing.

He sat in the armchair nearest her. “Dita, I’m sorry I haven’t been by, I—”

She held up her hand to stop him. “I’m fully aware of what you’ve been doing.” She gave him a sideways smile, and he flushed.

“I wanted to thank you. I … I can’t even find the words. You’ve done something for me that I never imagined you would do, something I’ve wished for that I thought was lost to me forever.” He took a breath, his emotion clear in his voice, his face bright and open. “I also wanted to give you this. I would have paid a million of them to get what you have given me.” He held out his hand, extending his token to her.

Dita nodded as she accepted the token and held it to her eye-line in awe. Apollo’s token was her favorite of all the gods. The sphere glowed like a star, radiating yellow-white and warm to the touch, and if you put it to your ear, it played a song so beautiful that it would break your heart, or heal it, or both if you listened long enough. She reverently held it to her ear, and a tear fell from the corner of her eye. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and sighed heavily as she turned to him.

“You are welcome, Apollo. I couldn’t let it go on. I never intended to keep her from you forever, and I’m sorry that it went on for so long, that I have caused you so much pain.”

“And Adonis?”

“Adonis and I … disagree on the matter.”

“Dita, I’m sorry,” he said, earnestly. “I’m surprised that you would go against his wishes for my happiness.”

She pursed her lips and gave him a pointed look. “I make my own decisions.”

He tipped his head down and put a hand up with a small smile. “Noted.” Bisoux leaned into Apollo’s other hand as he scratched the dog’s head. “I’m certainly not complaining. I hope that he comes around.”

“Thanks, Apollo. So do I.”

Apollo stood and plopped Bisoux in her lap. “Nice move, by the way, using the music that I had Dean make against me there in the end. No one can quite make an asshole out of me the way you do.”

Dita laughed. “But you make it so easy.”

Lex woke entwined with Dean, their arms and legs wrapped around each other as they lay in his bed. She breathed deep, and he mumbled, squeezing her tighter. The soft, morning light shone through the filter of the white curtains, and Lex smiled, her heart aching at the beauty of the moment as she committed every detail to her memory.

Dean’s grip loosened enough that she leaned back to see his face, to trace the line of his jaw with her fingers. His eyes blinked open, and he smiled as he pulled her back into him, laying his cheek on her chest as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Everything she had wanted, everything she had hoped for in Dean, he was. She was free. She had found him, and she was free.

Dean sighed as she wound her fingers in his hair, and he nuzzled against her chest, reveling in her soft skin, warm and comforting. Holding Lex was like coming home. He understood the word for the first time, in her arms.

He thought he’d lost her forever, and every minute that he had her was like magic, as if she would just disappear, that he would wake to find it had all been a dream.

He pulled her closer and closed his eyes, his heart beating hard in his aching chest as he tilted his face to hers and kissed her lips, then her cheek, her neck. And then, he whispered in her ear, “I’ll never leave you.”

A tear squeezed from her eyes, pinned shut. “I know,” she whispered back. And she did.

Dita lay in her bed with her covers pulled up around her face and Bisoux curled up on her pillow next to her cheek, a warm little comfort against the cold emptiness in her chest. “Are you ever not eating junk food? I’m curious,” she asked Perry who sat next to her, eating a chocolate bar.

“No, actually. I even eat it in the bathtub.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Wanna piece?” Perry extended a little rectangle to her.

“Yes, please.” Dita slipped it into her mouth, and it melted on her tongue. “Mmmm. That actually makes me feel a little better.”

Perry sat for a moment in silence. “So, he’s super pissed, huh?”

Dita snorted, then kissed the dog and pushed herself up to lean against her fluffy pillows. “Uh, yeah. Super pissed. He’s currently being a magnificent baby about it.”

“Well, Dita, Apollo killed him. Literally gored him to death. I’d say he has a right to be pissed.”

“But, gods, Perry. It’s been eons.”

“Not for him. Time passes differently for him. He experiences things in a linear way, but he doesn’t perceive time like you and I do.”

“I know. But time has passed for me, and I’m not going to keep punishing Apollo. Especially because the more I think about it, through everything we’ve been through, I can’t believe Apollo acted alone.” She tucked the covers under her arms. “Anyway, I don’t know if Adonis is going to get over this. I mean, right now, he’s not speaking to me at all. When I dream, I just wait for him.”

“You’ve had fights before.”

“Yeah, but not like this.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do?”

Perry pushed her glasses up her nose. “I’ll talk to him.”

“And in the meantime, I’ll just keep waiting,” she said, though she could only wonder how long he would punish her, how long she would have to wait before he would forgive her, if he would ever forgive her at all.

DITA WALKED IN TO the game room to find Ares playing Call of Duty. She plopped down and picked up a controller. “Want to play online?” She grabbed the remote and turned on the second television.

“I don’t know, Dita, are you prepared to get your ass kicked? You don’t handle losing very well.”

She turned to him, admiring his profile, from his strong jaw, smattered with stubble, to his heavy brow. She traced the angle of his full lips with her eyes and sighed.

They had what Dita would call a volatile relationship, by which she meant they had booty-called for eternity between their constant arguing. Fucking and fighting, that pretty much summed it up. She supposed that was why he was so appealing. No commitment, and super hot make-up sex.

He turned to her, feeling her eyes on him, and he cocked a smile when he saw a look that he recognized. He touched her face.

“Come here,” he said, and she leaned toward him, catching herself before their lips met.

She leaned back, huffing as she slapped his hand away. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He smirked and sat back on the couch, turning his attention back to the television. “Are you ready for the next challenge? Just a few days before we start. My favorite challenges are the ones where you and I go at it.”

Fighting and fucking. “You’ve never beaten me before. I don’t expect you’ll start now.”

“First time for everything.” He jacked an eyebrow at her.

“You’re impossible,” she mumbled as she stood up. But before she could walk away, he grabbed her arm and yanked her down into his chest, catching her off guard. They paused for a moment, neither moving, neither breathing before he kissed her hard. She pushed against his grip, but his lips on hers dissolved her restraint, and she relaxed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. As soon as he loosened his hold, she stood briskly, and wiped the corner of her mouth.

“That one was a freebie. The next one, you’ll earn.”

He laughed, the sound arrogant and knowing, and she strutted out of the room, smiling to herself, knowing that he wouldn’t be laughing for long.

OTHER BOOKS BY STACI HART

Snake in the Grass (Good Gods 2)

What the Heart Wants (Good Gods 2.5 Novella)

Doe Eyes (Good Gods 3) Coming 2014

Want a free ebook copy of the next book in the series? Write a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads of this book and message me via my website (stacihartnovels.com) or Facebook (facebook.com/stacihartnovels.com) with a link to your review to receive the next copy for free.

Snake in the Grass

Good Gods, Book 2

Ares strolled into the crowded theater room and rolled his eyes at Hermes, who stood in front of the screen checking his watch. He scanned the room, and his eyes came to rest on Dita, who sat in a big theater chair. Her legs were bent in front of her, disappearing under her oversized sweater. Her blond, wavy hair fell softly around her face as she looked him over coolly. But even though she tried to look tough, her sapphire eyes twinkled, and he saw a smile just at the edge of her lips. It matched his own.

Hermes huffed, making a show of it. “Ares, have you finally chosen your player? We’ve been waiting all day, and the natives are restless.” He motioned to the seats where the Olympians sat, eyeballing Ares. “I’m not sure why it took you all day, since you had all of last month while Dita competed with Apollo. Though, perhaps the God of War should just forfeit when it comes to matters of love?”

Ares scowled as his blood boiled, and his mouth landed on the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve chosen, Herpes—I mean, Hermes.”

The gods laughed, and Hermes glared at him with a sardonic smile on his lips. “Well, I’m so glad we haven’t inconvenienced you. You didn’t strain anything, did you?”

Ares stalked up to Hermes and snatched the remote from him. “I’m good.” He pointed the remote at the screen and turned the massive television on. Two bloodied men were frozen on the screen with bright lights glaring off their bare, sweaty chests. They stood in a makeshift ring inside a warehouse packed with people cheering and yelling with their fists in the air.

One man’s lip curled in fury with his taped fist extended, inches away from connecting with the face of a blond.

Dita snorted. “Please tell me your player is the guy about to get punched in the face.”

He scowled at her and hit play, and the entire room flinched at the smack of skin on skin.

Dillon saw stars.

Tiny bursts flashed in Dillon’s vision, and he shook his head with his fists up. Patrick bounced around him, but Dillon couldn’t focus as his sight dimmed and brightened with his pulse. He blinked and shook his head again, his other senses on alert as he waited for his vision to come back to him.

He felt the movement when Patrick swung. Dillon ducked instinctively, and a big arm swept over his head in a whoosh. Dillon raised up and slammed his opponent in the ribs, going purely by feel. Patrick let out an ‘oof’, and spit sprayed Dillon’s face.

His vision came back, and everything slowed down when he hooked Patrick in the jaw. He felt the power shift and took advantage, pummeling his stunned opponent with a left, then a right, then another left. His fists flew in quick succession, the percussive smacks fueling him as he laid into the other man.

Patrick staggered and fell to the ground onto his back. He rolled over to his side and spit out a gob of blood, hanging his head. He tried to lift himself up, but his arm gave out, and he laid out flat.

He didn’t get back up.

Dillon walked around the ring with his eyes on the man on the ground, unable to break the connection, waiting to put him back down if he should get up. The noise of the spectators slowly made its way into the quiet of his mind as Brian, ducked under the ropes with a towel and water. Dillon was barely aware when he took the water from Brian and poured it on his face and into his mouth.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and spat a mouthful of blood-tinged water onto the floor. The ref grabbed Dillon’s hand and lifted it up in the air.

The crowd lost it.

Dillon climbed out of the ring and made his way to the back of the warehouse. People clapped him on the back as he walked by, calling to him as he passed, but they could have been a million miles away. His body hummed like an engine, and the faceless mob pressed in around him.

When they left the people behind, Dillon sat down on a stack of pallets. Brian chattered around Dillon as he unwound the wraps on his hands and wrists, and stuffed them into his bag.

“Did you hear me, man?” Brian held Dillon’s shirt out. His heavy brow raised, and he hung his hand on his hip.

“Sorry, what?” Dillon took the shirt and pulled it on.

“We’ll meet at MacLennan’s. You’ll be there, right?” Brian side-eyed him.

Dillon picked up his bag and hung it over his shoulder as he headed for the back door. He didn’t want to go. He never wanted to go. All eyes would be on him, which always made him uncomfortable outside of the ring. In the ring, he didn’t even know they were there.

“Do I have a choice?” Dillon stuffed a hand in his pocket and leaned against the door.

“Not really.” Brian smirked with his meaty arms folded over his broad chest.

He pushed the door open with his back. “Then I’ll be there.”

Brian’s shoulders relaxed. “I’ll handle the cash, and I’ll see you at the bar.”

Dillon nodded, and as the door closed behind him, the cool winter air sharpened his senses another notch.

He popped the trunk of his shiny, black GTO parked in the alley between warehouses that stretched up around him. He tossed his bag inside and closed the trunk with a soft thump, then slipped into the driver’s seat. The deep red leather creaked underneath him as he leaned forward and turned the keys in the ignition. His car thundered all around him.

Dillon gripped the wheel with his bloodied, swollen hands. He was going to feel like shit in a few hours, but until then, he wanted to drive.

He took off through the streets of Brooklyn, appreciating every moment that a red light turned green and he could hear his engine climb. When he pulled into the alley behind his brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, the sound of his car echoed off the buildings around him. He parked in his stupidly expensive garage and closed the door, shutting the evening out behind him.

Dillon climbed the stairs to the main floor and found his brother, Owen, on their L-shaped, black leather couch, reading a book. His flash of dark hair was swept back, and his dark eyebrows rose as he took in Dillon. Judging by his expression, Dillon figured he looked like shit.

“You look like shit,” Owen said, and Dillon laughed.

“Yeah, I figured.” Dillon dropped his bag by the stairs.

“How’d it go?”

Dillon stretched. “Long. I won though.”

“Well, I figured that. When was the last time you lost? Three years ago?”

“Four.”

“Such a bad motherfucker.” Owen snapped his book closed. “Want some help from the doctor?”

Dillon cocked a half smile. “If you wouldn’t mind. Though, let’s put doctor in quotations. You haven’t graduated yet.”

Owen shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t had plenty of practice, seeing as how you’ve been getting your ass kicked regularly since you were ten.” Owen gave Dillon a sad smile as he set his book down and stood. His long legs spanned the space between them easily, and when he approached, he leaned forward to give Dillon’s face a once over. “You may need a stitch or two, but we’ve seen worse, eh? Any broken ribs?”

“Not sure, I’m still amping. I don’t think so, though.”

“Take a deep breath.”

Dillon inhaled deep. “No pain.”

“All right. I’m convinced.” Owen stepped around him and walked toward the bathroom. “Come on, meathead. Let’s get you camera ready.” He asked Dillon over his shoulder, “Where’s the party?”

“MacLennan’s. I’m sure Brian is already there buying rounds with my money,” Dillon said with a smirk and followed.

“Don’t act like you mind,” Owen said as he opened the cabinet and pulled out a box of supplies.

Dillon got a good look at himself in the wide mirror as Owen lined up bottles, scissors, and bandages in a row on the granite countertop.

His blond hair was wild from sweat and the fight, and the light threw shadows across his eyes. He turned his head to the side and rubbed his bruised jaw. A cut bled under his eye, and his lip was cracked open and swollen. He yanked his shirt over his head and assessed his torso. His sore muscles rippled as he twisted from side to side, then turned all the way around to look at the bruises on his back.

Dillon leaned down to the sink and rinsed his face, wincing when the cold water hit his cuts. He sat on the edge of the tub and waited for his brother.

Owen ran a washcloth under the cold water and rang it out. He folded it into a neat rectangle and walked over to Dillon to press it to the cut under his eye. “Hold this,” he said, and turned back to his supplies. He dipped a cotton swab in adrenaline-chloride and leaned in to dab it on the seeping cut. “That should stop the bleeding.” He leaned in a little closer. “No stitches after all.” Owen motioned for Dillon to stand. He got up, and Owen circled him, mashing his ribs and kidneys. “Anything?”

Dillon winced. “Just tender.”

“Let’s see the money makers.”

Dillon held out his hands, palms down. His knuckles were split and bleeding, his hands swollen. Owen flipped on the faucet and pulled Dillon’s hands under the stream to scrub them clean. He patted them dry with a fresh towel and inspected them, one at a time, digit by digit. “You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

Dillon snorted. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Go put some ice on those, before they get ugly.” Owen turned to pack his supplies up.

“Shower first, then ice.”

Owen raised an eyebrow and sniffed. “Yeah, that’s probably a better idea.”

Dita unfolded herself from her seat and slinked across the room, very aware of Ares’ eyes on her. She took the remote from him, and when her fingers brushed his palm, she felt it all the way up her arm.

“I think I’ve seen enough to choose my defender. Meet Katsumi.” She smiled playfully at Ares, who smoldered back at her. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Dammit. She wasn’t going to be able to stay away from him. No way.

A small shiver ran down her back at the thought.

She pointed the remote at the screen and mashed a few buttons. The image flickered from the brothers to an olive skinned, almond eyed, Japanese beauty in a 1969 gunmetal gray Camaro, her face the picture of calm concentration as she gripped the steering wheel white knuckle. Dita hit play, and the low rumble of the engine filled the room.

Kat glanced over at the red Corvette next to her and she revved her engine. The guy inside leered at her, his hair in douchey spikes, his lips curled between his overly manicured goatee. He licked his lips suggestively before he flicked his tongue at her.

She rolled her eyes and pumped her accelerator with one foot on the brake, then turned her attention to her tachometer, watching it redline as she waited for the light to turn green. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her Camaro rumbled under her. She squeezed the wheel with one hand, her stick shift with the other, and stared at the light in anticipation.

Green.

She let her foot off the brake, and her wheels smoked, the force pushing her body back in her seat. The Corvette fell behind her.

Kat sensed the need to shift and threw the car into second. Out of her periphery, she saw him nose up. Her foot pushed into the floor, and she scanned the streets for traffic as the engine climbed. She slammed it into third. He inched up enough that she could see him glowering at her through the window.

She glared right back. None of them could handle getting their asses beat by a chick. Ever.

Her engine hit the sweet spot, and she smiled when she shifted to fourth and pulled away. She sped under the light just as she redlined. Her heart cranked in her chest, and her hands were numb from adrenaline as she downshifted, then again, then pulled over at the meet spot a block from the finish.

Kat killed the engine and sat back in her black leather seat. She ran her hands over her steering wheel, content for the first time in over a month. It felt like it had been forever.

She popped open her door and stepped out of her car, trailing her fingertips down the length of shiny metal as her combat boots thumped on the pavement. Oh, Sheila. Her car was her baby.

The Goatee stepped out of his car and slammed the door. He marched toward her, red faced. “No fucking way. No way some bitch just beat me.” He stopped a few feet away from her and pointed at her. “You don’t have any business being here.”

Kat folded her arms across her chest, and a cynical smile passed her lips. It was the same bullshit, every time. “Don’t I? Seems I have plenty business here. But, what did you want? An apology?” She shifted her hips, and her long legs in black skinnies formed a brazen ‘v’. “Fine. I’m sorry that you’re a misogynistic fucktard who wildly underestimated my skills and equipment. Both of which are clearly superior to your own.”

His lip curled. “Fuck you, bitch.”

“In your dreams, asshole. You can go fuck yourself. It’ll be just like a regular Saturday night for you.”

The small crowd watching them argue broke out laughing, and the promoter, Charlie, stepped forward with an envelope. He handed it to Kat. “Damn, girl. You’re good.” He rubbed the back of his neck when he saw Kat’s eyes dart over to The Goatee. “Don’t mind him. He thinks he’s hot shit.”

“Nothing I’m not used to.” She chuckled and she took the envelope. “Thanks, Charlie. Keep me in the loop on races, okay?”

“Sure thing, Kat.”

She headed back to her car as The Goatee shouted insults at her. Kat flipped her long, black hair and swung her hips a little wider as she walked away, turning to waggle her fingers at him before she got in the car. She laughed and watched him go berserk.

When she turned the keys in the ignition, Sheila came to life all around her, and as Kat’s heart slowed down, it flashed with guilt. She shouldn’t have raced. It was a stupid thing to do.

But I’m so glad I did.

She smiled as she peeled out and flew down the street, away from her high and back to reality.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

THERE ARE SO MANY people to thank for love, support, and their generous time. Hopefully I remember everyone!

To my husband, Jeff — Thank you, thank you, thank you. You know what for. If I listed it here, it would be another 50K words.

Joshua Brillhart, you have done so much for this book, it’s kind of ridiculous. From brainstorming to library research to watching the kids so I could write with my headphones on, you were a integral part of this book’s inception. Without you, I don’t know that I would have followed through with it. You kept me pumped on the story, you helped immensely. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for your enthusiasm on mythology, tarot cards, and most importantly, koala bears.

Brandy Ribeira, without your advice, support, critiques, and drunken edits, this book wouldn’t be what it is today. I hope we never get tired of using our fingers to try to recreate sexual positions.

Lori Riggs, my life twin (hopefully one day complete with spandex suits and a theme song), I can’t believe that we’ve gone through yet another career together. Thank you so much for everything — Beyonce memes at the top of the list, then on down to geeking out on video games, movies, and Star Trek. I’m so happy to have shared this experience with you.

Parrish Walsh, my sister from another mister. Thank you for being there for me through another life changing event. At least it wasn’t as gory as cutting umbilical cords.

To all of my beta readers: your reading, edits, and comments helped shape this book. Specifically, thanks to Denise Malone, Tiffany Estrada, Sarah Venegas, Summer Hartshorn, Parrish Hirasaki for the time and energy that you spent reading, re-reading, and marking up manuscripts for me.

Mom and Dad, thank you so much for your support, even when we disagree. You gave me the gift of gab, the gift of imagination, and the sheer will and determination that made the herculean task of writing a novel achievable for me. Also, I’m sorry I said the F-word so many times in the book. Please don’t get the bar of soap.

And to my fans, thank you for reading. Thank you for your support. I hope that this book brought you a few hours of entertainment, and that you’ll be back for more when the next book comes out.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

STACI has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom to three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, even though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey, and her favorite word starts with f, ends with k.

From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she’s not writing, she’s sleeping, cleaning, or designing graphics.

Follow Staci Hart:

Website: Stacihartnovels.com

Facebook: Facebook.com/stacihartnovels

Twitter: Twitter.com/imaquirkybird

Pinterest: pinterest.com/imaquirkybird

OLYMPIANS

APHRODITE

NICKNAME: DITA (DEE-ta)

Animals: Dove

Symbols: Seashell, Apple, Roses, Mirror

Goddess of: Love

Relationships

Mother: None

Father: Uranus (the sky)

Siblings: Cronus (Zeus’ father)

Spouse: Hephaestus (estranged)

Lovers: Adonis (human), Ares

Friends: Persephone

Enemies: Hera

Children: Eros, Phobos, Deimos

Apollo

Animals: Roe Deer, Raven

Symbols: Laurel, Lyre, Bow and Arrow

God of: Music, Art, Sun, Health, Archery, Prophecy

Relationships

Mother: Leto

Father: Zeus

Siblings: Athena, Eris, Hephaestus, Ares, Artemis (twin), Persephone, Dionysus, Hermes

Spouse: None

Lovers: Daphne

Friends: Just about everyone

Enemies: Hera, Ares

Ares

Animals: Snake, Boar, Hound

Symbols: Spear, Helmet, Chariot

God of: War, Bloodlust

Relationships

Mother: Hera

Father: Zeus

Siblings: Athena, Eris, Hephaestus, Apollo, Artemis, Persephone, Dionysus, Hermes

Spouse: None

Lovers: Aphrodite

Friends: Hera, Eris, Phobos, Deimos

Enemies: Everyone else

Children: Eros, Phobos, Deimos

Artemis

Animals: Deer

Symbols: Golden Bow and Arrow

Goddess of: Hunt

Relationships

Mother: Leto

Father: Zeus

Siblings: Athena, Eris, Hephaestus, Ares, Apollo (twin), Persephone, Dionysus, Hermes

Spouse: None

Lovers: None

Friends: Apollo

Enemies: Aphrodite

Children: None

Athena

Animals: Owl

Symbols: Olive Tree

Goddess of: Wisdom, Warfare, Architecture

Relationships

Mother: Metis

Father: Zeus

Siblings: Eris, Hephaestus, Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Persephone, Dionysus, Hermes

Spouse: None

Lovers: None

Children: None

Demeter

Nickname: None

Animals: Pig

Symbols: Wheat, Torch

Goddess of: Harvest

Relationships

Mother: Rhea

Father: Chronos

Siblings: Zeus, Hades, Poseidon,

Spouse: None

Lovers: Zeus

Friends: Hera

Enemies: Hades

Children: Persephone

Dionysus

Nickname: Di

Animals: Panther, Tiger, Leopard

Symbols: Grape, Vine

God of: Wine, Ecstasy, Ritual Madness

Relationships

Mother: Semele

Father: Zeus

Siblings: Athena, Eris, Hephaestus, Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Persephone, Hermes

Spouse: Ariadne

Lovers: None

Friends: Most everyone

Enemies: None

Hephaestus

Nickname: Heff

Symbols: Hammer, Anvil

God of: Fire, Smithing, Invention

Relationships

Mother: Hera

Father: Zeus

Siblings: Athena, Eris, Ares, Artemis, Apollo, Dionysus, Hermes, Persephone

Spouse: Aphrodite (estranged)

Lovers: None

Friends: Almost everyone

Enemies: Ares, Hera

Children: None

Hades

Animals: Cerberus

Symbols: Key

God of: the Underworld, Death, Wealth

Relationships

Mother: Rhea

Father: Chronos

Siblings: Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Demeter, the Titans

Spouse: Persephone

Lovers: None

Children: None

Hera

Animals: Peacock

Symbols: Peacock feather, Cow, Lily

Goddess of: Matrimony, Fertility

Relationships

Mother: Rhea

Father: Chronos

Siblings: Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Demeter, the Titans

Spouse: Zeus

Lovers: None

Friends: Ares

Enemies: Almost everyone

Children: Ares, Eris, Hephaestus

Hermes

Animals: Rooster

Symbols: Caduceus,

God of: Communication, Thieves, Wit, Travelers

Relationships

Mother: Zeus

Father: Maia

Siblings: Athena, Eris, Hephaestus, Ares, Artemis, Apollo, Dionysus, Persephone

Spouse: None

Lovers: Many

Poseidon

Nickname: Sy

Animals: Dolphin, Horse, Bull, Fish

Symbols: Trident

God of: the Sea

Relationships

Mother: Rhea

Father: Cronos

Siblings: Hera, Hades, Zues, Demeter

Spouse: Amphitrite

Zeus

Nickname: None

Animals: Eagle

Symbols: Lightening bolt

God of: Law, Justice, Lightening

Relationships

Mother: Rhea

Father: Chronos

Siblings: Hera, Hades, Poseidon, Demeter

Spouse: Hera

Lovers: Almost everyone

Friends:

Enemies: Ares

Children: Athena, Eris, Hephaestus, Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Persephone, Dionysus, Hermes

Lesser gods

Persephone

Nickname: Perry

Animals: Bat, Ram

Symbols: Pomegranate,

Goddess of: Underworld, Dreams, Mysticism, Spiritual Realm

Relationships

Mother: Demeter

Father: Zeus

Siblings: Athena, Eris, Hephaestus, Ares, Artemis, Apollo, Dionysus, Hermes

Spouse: Hades

Lovers: None

Friends: Aphrodite

Enemies: None

Children: None

Daphne

Apollo’s love, a water nymph. Cursed by Cupid’s arrow to be revolted by Apollo. Her father turned her into a giant tree to protect her from Apollo. Aphrodite freed her in Deer in Headlights, against Adonis’ wishes.

Adonis

Aphrodite’s human love. Killed by Ares in disguise as a giant boar. Apollo and Ares conspired to hurt Adonis after Aphrodite blinded Apollo’s son, who caught them in ‘the act’. Aphrodite thinks that Apollo killed him. He is in Elysium, and is accessible to Aphrodite when she dreams through Persephone’s blessing.

Mnemosyne

Goddess of memories. Mother of the nine Muses.

Bisoux

Dita’s automaton Pomeranian that Hephaestus made for her. No pooping or dying. He runs on Ambrosia and Nectar.

Cerberus

Three headed hellhound of the underworld. Perry’s pet, slobbers a lot.

Eros

Son of Dita and Ares. Also known as Cupid in Roman mythology. Has wings, is generally naked, and has arrows that he can shoot people with to make them fall in love, or out of love.

Phobos

Son of Ares and Dita. Rode into battle with Ares. Phobos is the God of Fear. His twin brother is Deimos.

Deimos

Son of Ares and Dita. Rode into battle with Ares. Deimos is the God of Terror. His twin brother is Phobos.

Eris

Sister of Ares. Goddess of Discord. Started Trojan war. After being turned away from a wedding, she threw a golden apple into the party, inscribed with the words ‘To the Fairest’. The goddesses Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite fought over the apple, and Zeus tasked Paris, a human shepherd, and unknowing heir to Troy, to choose who would get it. He chose Aphrodite, who had promised him Helen of Troy. When he kidnapped Helen from Sparta, her husband stormed Troy and a nine year battle ensued, ultimately ending in the fall of Troy.

Terminology

Oath - An oath made between two gods is the strongest bond that can be made. It transcends even Zeus’ powers.

Ambrosia - Food of the gods. Grants immortality. Tastes like ass, so the gods transform it into something appealing. Like bacon, or brownies. Gods can eat human food, but can’t be sustained on it.

Nectar - Drink of the gods. Grants immortality. Also tastes like shit, so the gods transform it into coffee, beer, anything but the natural state.

Olympus - Domain of the gods, location: an alternate dimension. Over the centuries, it has been fashioned after whatever is popular in the world. The gods love humans, and anything to do with pop culture, slang, fashion, architecture, or any other human trends, the gods are all over. Currently, Olympus is fashioned after a luxury New York City high rise.

Token - A Token is the prize for the competitions that the gods play. Each god has a token that represents them, and if they lose a competition they pay one to the winner. The holder of a token can redeem it for a favor of their choosing, and the god cannot refuse, UNLESS the token holder tries to use it to help them win a competition.

Tartarus - Tartarus is the hell of the underworld. The primordial gods are trapped there (Cronus, Rhea, many of the Titans) as well as mortals who are to be punished in the afterlife. Tartarus is held in a very large painting in the Underworld (Hades’ apartment B4).

Elysium - Elysium is heaven of the underworld. All heros go there when they die, to live their perfect world for eternity. Elysium is held in a very large painting in the underworld (Hades’ apartment, B4)

Asphodel Fields - Asphodel fields is where all other souls go when they die. It is a large sphere covered in grass in a massive orb in the foyer of Hades.

Waters of Lethe - Water from the river Lethe in the underworld. Human souls who want to be reincarnated drink from this water to forget their mortal lives. If a human drinks it, they will suffer an unknown degree of memory loss.

Table of Contents

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 11

Day 12

Day 13

Day 14

Day 15

Day 16

Day 17

Day 18

Day 19

Day 20

Day 21

Day 22

Reference