West of Want (Hearts of the Anemoi) (10 page)

Boreas’s silver eyes flashed with mirth. “Apparently, there’s no need. You already know. So, instead, tell me what has you so wrapped up in knots.”

He couldn’t restrain the groan. Zeph’s elemental powers might’ve been the strongest among them, but Boreas had intuition a mile wide and twice as long.

“Let me rephrase the question. What did Eurus do that has you so tied up in knots?” Boreas asked, leveling an intense stare at him. Long white hair and a beard framed his unexpectedly young face. As younger gods, they’d actually borne some physical resemblance until Boreas’s hair went white from the shock of his wife’s sudden death. Though he wore his grief in the Father Time getup and deep creases around his eyes, he’d never stopped being a father to his children. Just another thing to admire about the man.

Zeph hesitated for just a moment, then unloaded. “By the gods, Boreas, I can take his misplaced vengeance no longer.”

Boreas paced his chamber, well, more like floated over the surface of it, but the effect was the same—he’d long ago given up any pretense of humanity and now wore the magic of his godhood the way mortals wore their skin. He was the only one of the four of them who really couldn’t pass in the human realm. Finally, he heaved a great breath. “If only Mother had lived.”

“We all lost her.”

“Yes, but he was the only one Father made feel responsible for it.”

Zeph crossed his arms, not wanting to fight with Boreas. And he knew his brother spoke the truth. But Zeph found it damn near impossible to see Eurus as the victim. After everything. Instead, Zeph shared some of his own truth. “I’ve met someone. I care for her.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.

Boreas’s eyebrow flew up. “A human?”

“Yes. Ella.”

He nodded. “Beautiful name.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I have to no censure to offer, brother. I am curious, of course. I cannot recall the last time you interacted with humans with any manner of substance. She must be special.”

“I nearly killed her.”

Boreas whipped around, his fur robes whirling. A blast of cold air shot out from his body. “I do not believe it.”

“It’s true. As if the anniversary party wasn’t hard enough.” He glanced at Boreas. “Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for Owen. But, you know, I don’t really do the whole happy-couple thing very well. Anyway, afterward, Hy tried to summon me back here.”

“Did you go—”

“No, of course not,” Zeph said, hating this.

Boreas’s silver gaze narrowed. “For someone who supposedly made his choice—and chose someone else—he sure keeps close tabs on you. It’s not fair to you, brother.”

The protective tone in the older man’s voice felt like what home and family were all about. Zeph needed such care and concern like mortals needed food and water, but that didn’t make him any more comfortable with it. He shrugged and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Anyway, I just felt suffocated at the party, but couldn’t come back here, and I lost it. And Ella got caught in the crossfire.”

Boreas frowned. “But you saved her.”

“Yes.”

“Then, good gods, Zephyros, give yourself a break.”

Zeph cut his gaze to Boreas.

“I have never known someone who tormented himself as much as you. Everyone makes mistakes, but not everyone shoulders them like Atlas carrying around the weight of the world. Not everyone bleeds for them.”

“That so, brother? And what are your mistakes? You are the most righteous god I know.” Zeph meant that, from down deep. His respect and admiration for Boreas knew no bounds.

“Do not place me on a pedestal. I cannot stand there. No god can.”

“I’m waiting.” He cupped his hand to his ear, knowing he was being a sarcastic asshole.

“Next time you see Owen, you ask him if I’m perfect. Or ask Chione. Oh, wait, she’s off bed-hopping, providing fodder for another round of warfare between Ular and Koli. What a great job I did there. Shall I go on?

“Shit, Boreas.”

“You have a way with words, brother.”

Zeph chuckled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. So, now that we got all of that out of the way, what exactly did Eurus do?”

Zeph inhaled a calming breath before he spoke. “He came to Ella’s house and marked her. Invaded my dreams and restrained my body while I slept.”

Boreas’s expression darkened. “Damn it all to Hades. You must walk away. Or guard her well.”

“I know.” Restlessness shot through him. Talking about Ella made him want to get back to her.

“I fear some of this is my fault, Zephyros.”

Zeph frowned. “How do you figure?”

“Last year, I didn’t invite Eurus or his sons to Owen’s wedding, nor to his anniversary party last week.”

Holy shit
. He gaped. Not that he really blamed him. Nothing like the Supreme God of the evil and unlucky East Wind to throw a damper on a happy celebration. And his sons hadn’t fallen too far from the old evil tree. “And he knows?”

“He does. I couldn’t do it, not with a new grandchild growing in Megan’s womb. I just couldn’t risk it.”

“She’s pregnant again?”

His brother’s eyes crinkled in mirth. “She is.”

“That’s good. Real good.” Zeph smiled and ignored the empty ache that took root in the center of his chest. He’d always liked Owen, and the guy deserved this happiness, but damn if it didn’t highlight everything Zeph lacked. He clasped Boreas’s shoulder. “I certainly don’t blame you for being cautious. No one would.”

“Eurus does.”

“He’s the only one. And he earned it, fair and square.”

Boreas grunted.

Cracking his neck, competing thoughts rose up for attention in Zeph’s head. Only one thing he knew for sure. “I should go. I want to get back.”

“I’m glad. Don’t give Eurus the power to choose for you, Zephyros.”

Zeph nodded, but didn’t know what to say. If he was going to give this a real shot with Ella, it wasn’t only him he had to worry about getting hurt.

“Thank you, Boreas. I’m glad you summoned me here.”

The god chuckled. “Don’t stay away so long next time.”

“I’ll try.” Zeph closed his eyes and focused, saw
his
compass rose in his mind’s eye. Just as he dematerialized, Boreas offered a last parting thought:

“Sometimes what you want
is
what you need, Zephyros. Don’t forget it.”

His brother’s calm, casual repose was more disturbing than if Zeph had found him petulant and ranting. Because it meant he was planning. “What the fuck are you playing at, Eurus?”

He sprung to his feet and tugged the lapels of his leather coat. “You see? I offer civility, and what do I get in return?”

Zeph squared off and braced, ready for anything. “You don’t have a civil bone in your body.”

Eurus pinched the bridge of his nose, shifting the wraparounds up the smallest bit. Though not enough, Zeph was relieved to see, to reveal his dead black irises. “If what you say is true, brother, whose fault exactly would that be?”

“Not. Mine.” It was a fruitless conversation, but it was their little dance, and Zeph’s own special corner of hell.

“Of course not yours. Not perfect Zephyros. Not the god of life and renewal. Gods forbid.”

Zeph ignored the barb. Perfection was the last thing he believed of himself. Eurus was jealous of a figment of his imagination. “What do you want?” he finally bit out, hoping to defuse the other man, to delay the confrontation long brewing between them.

Eurus whipped off his glasses and drilled his disturbing, blank gaze into Zeph’s very soul. “Leave the woman alone.”

Rage filled Zeph’s chest with white-hot pressure. “Why the fuck do you even care? It’s nothing to you—”

“Ah!” He chuckled and held out his hands. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. It
is
something to me. Because it’s something to you.” He jabbed his long, elegant finger in the air.

Warm wind whipped around him and rain pattered down in heavy drops, alleviating the smallest amount of the volcanic build-up within Zeph’s human manifestation. Prudence dictated he maintain a façade of calm. The more he revealed his interest in Ella, the more Eurus would latch on to the idea of her. “You know what? I’m not doing this with you anymore. You’ve built up this list of imagined offenses and there’s no reasoning with you.” He slashed his hand in the air. “Be gone.”

Eurus’s body stumbled back, like an invisible hand shoved at his chest. He went elemental as his body flew off the edge of the pier. A short moment later, his caustic voice came from behind. Zeph whirled as Eurus ranted. “I did not imagine you insinuating yourself into Chloris’s life. I did not imagine you taking her away, joining your godhood with hers.” Thunder rumbled around them, shaking the boards beneath their feet.

“For the thousandth time, she did not love you—”

“Because you interfered and never gave her the chance!”

Rain slashed down in stinging, jagged lines, chasing away the last of the daylight. “Don’t you ever tire of this merry-go-round? I didn’t know you felt something for her. And whatever wrong I might have done, you inflicted your vigilante justice several times over. She
left
me, remember? You blackened something good and true until she broke under the weight of it.”

Eurus had accused Zeph of abducting Chloris from him, raping her, keeping her hostage in their new home. He’d run right to their father, Aeolus, and when the powerful storm god wouldn’t take the charge seriously, Eurus spread the lies to any god who would listen. After a time, Chloris couldn’t stand the whispers and furtive glances, and she’d left in tears, unintentionally giving credence to the rumors. Zeph didn’t blame her, and still couldn’t bear the memory of her pain. Muscles rigid, he shook the rain from his face. “Truth be told, at the time I didn’t even know you to be capable of love. The way you treated her proved I was right.”

The wind howled around them, dueling cold and warm drafts driving the rain sideways. “Any goddess who would stand between two brothers was not worthy of either,” Eurus spat.

“Do not speak as if you ever felt the least fraternal affection toward me. I blame Father for much of that. But what you do—what you’ve always done—serves you and you alone.”

“You will not mention
him
in my presence.”

Zeph shook his head and swore under his breath. All gods excelled in stubborn righteousness, but perhaps none more than their father. Grieving over his beloved’s death in childbirth, Aeolus had blamed Eurus for her loss and refused to show him the least parental affection ever after. As much as anyone or anything, Aeolus’s treatment had seeded the resentment, bitterness, and hair-trigger rage so central to Eurus’s godhood. And he’d rubbed salt in the wounds by showering his new wife’s youngest son, the Anemoi Chrysander, with love and acceptance.

Zeph got it. He did. But none of it was his fault, and he was tired of paying for it. “He did you wrong, Eurus. There’s no questioning that—”

Eurus scoffed, a black light flashing from his inhuman eyes. “I don’t want your false pity.”

“And I’m not offering it.” Zeph tugged his hand through his wet hair. “Enough of this. It’s the same shit, different century. Nothing I say or do makes any difference. You will not dictate my life to me. You will not dictate who I love.”

The buffeting wind caught the length of Eurus’s coat, furling and unfurling it around him, giving it the appearance of a live being struggling to break free. “Perhaps if you didn’t spread your love”—his fingers curled into air quotes as he sneered the word—“around so indiscriminately, I wouldn’t have to step in. For the love of the gods, first Owen cavorts with human vermin, and now you. At least his indiscretion can be excused by his lack of true pure Anemoi blood. You, however—there’s no excuse for your dalliance here. Humans are beneath even you. Do not sully our godhoods with any more of this nonsense.”

“Your view of humans is an abomination.”

He released a sigh, like he was unjustly tormented by Zeph’s defense of humanity. “No, my view upholds the natural order of things. Fuck her and get your rocks off if you must, then leave her.”

Lightning slashed across the sky, highlighting in stark relief the roiling clouds their confrontation had unleashed. Zephyros’s hands curled into claws and he nearly vibrated with the ancient need to put his brother out of his misery, out of all of their miseries. But Eurus
was
his brother and that connection—however damaged and distorted it had become—was hardwired into him. It meant something, something very hard to give up on. Moreover, killing an Anemoi would upset the balance of nature, and who knew what disasters would befall the human realm should that happen.

But it was truly difficult to keep all those rational, logical reasons in mind when he talked about Ella that way.

Ella. Lovely, sweet, and strong Ella. Filled with passion and life. Someone to be cherished, protected.

The old fear rose up. Urged caution. Demanded self-preservation. Memories barraged him. Maia’s face in the mask of death. Hyacinthus walking away, choosing another. The easy, careless way Dion would roll out of bed, the sweat not even dried on their sated bodies, and treat Zeph like what they’d shared meant nothing at all. The expression Andreus wore as he left, refusing to say why he ended their still-new relationship…The list went on and on. Did he really want to add Ella to it? For his memory of her to be tainted by melancholy?