Deer in Headlights (Hearts and Arrows 1) (Good god series) (12 page)

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 laying 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. 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 dirty, bloody hands 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 and leaned forward, placing 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 cheerily 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 handful 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 from Roe on his lock screen.

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 ever been.
 

“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 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.