Deer in Headlights (Hearts and Arrows 1) (Good god series) (13 page)

With Travis being in a band, they were always at shows, and she knew a lot about the local music scene. Paper Fools was 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. Leucosia 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 heroes 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 lay 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.

He’d used sex to shut her up, and as aggravated as she was about it, she was relieved their argument hadn’t gone on for very long. They’d need a minute to get used to the idea of discussing it again. At least 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 it never would be.

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

Seeing the future wasn’t always easy.

Apollo rubbed his eyes and stared at the ceiling, breathing deep. Once his heart slowed down, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and made for the bathroom, resting his hand on the granite countertop as he turned on the water. He 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 off to the side, 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.
 

Dean had no idea what was wrong with him, but whatever it was, it had gotten worse. It was the first time 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.