Her heart swelled and broke in seconds, as another lifetime flooded inside. Falling in love with Icarus. Seeing his world. Watching him try to ignore how much losing Actaeon had hurt him.
This was going to take a lot longer to explain than sharing a few memories with Cerberus. Did she want to go into any of it?
“Lexi?” Cerberus watched her with concern.
She might let him in once she’d had a chance to process.
“Are you all right?” Actaeon rested a hand on her arm.
And him. It wasn’t her place to share how Icarus felt, but she needed to find a balance with Actaeon. “Four for four.”
“What?” Actaeon asked at the same time Cerberus said, “Where?”
“Why and how?” Lexi was so sick of not having answers. “Mysteries of the universe.” She knew one thing though. She was whole.
She took their hands and transported them to Icarus’s shop.
A siren blared, beating against her eardrums.
Actaeon covered his ears. “What the...?”
“I hate that sound,” Cerberus said.
“Proximity alarm,” Lexi said at the same time Icarus did.
She spun to find him standing a few feet away, and the gnawing pain in her chest lessened.
He snapped his fingers, and the noise stopped.
Lexi threw her arms around Icarus’ neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him hard. This was real. She wasn’t stuck in anyone’s head. She was no longer a series of fragments. This was right.
He held her up even after they broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead to hers.
“We missed you,” she murmured.
He sighed. “It feels like it’s been centuries.”
“Am I the only guy here no longer fucking you?” Conner’s dry question shoved its way into the moment.
Lexi smirked and dropped to her feet. She looked at Conner. “You saved my sanity. These three have no idea what godhood is like.”
“Sounds like a yes. Welcome back, Zee.” Conner was seated on a stool. One of the few items in the room that wasn’t charred, upended, or in pieces.
She’d find out what happened in a moment. So many parts of her heart and mind ached, but it was all back where it belonged. She wanted to laugh and cry and scream and cheer and fight and fuck and everything, all at once. “Do you know everyone?”
“By reputation,” Conner said. “Not many of us have met servants of Death.”
Icarus gestured. “Conner, Cerberus. Cerberus, meet the God of Internet Dating.”
“That doesn’t roll off the tongue the way Death does. I’ll leave the heavy sexual tension in the room to use that innuendo however it would like.” Conner traced the mark on her neck. “Or are we calling you Truth?”
“We’re calling me Lexi. Zee, only because you’re cute.” She’d let Icarus get away with it from here to eternity. She glanced around the room. “Did a tornado touch down while we were gone?”
“Semi-tangible dragon,” Icarus said.
Actaeon cleared his throat.
Lexi wouldn’t look at him. She wasn’t in the mood for one of his accusing glares. “Oops.”
“Are you sorry now that it impacted more than me?” Actaeon asked.
“I said I was sorry before.” She was a lot sorrier that she’d destroyed Icarus’ workshop than she was about Morpheus’ showing up in the underworld as a dragon.
“We have a lot of catching up to do still, don’t we?” Cerberus’ voice was in her head.
She’d missed that, too.
Conner clapped Icarus on the shoulder. “Call me if you need anything else. Thanks for the biggest brain bender I’ve had in ages.” He hugged Lexi. “I’m glad you’re safe, Zee. And one of us.”
“I’m not sold on the second bit, but otherwise, me too. Thank you again.”
As Conner left, Lexi took in more of their surroundings. She shouldn’t know what was intact and what had been destroyed, but each item she checked out, she could put in one category or the other. “I’m so sorry.” She’d done this because she was upset with Actaeon. She didn’t know how the dragon appeared to her, but it made sense, given the rest of the overlap in her experiences, and that Morpheus said she was broadcasting.
She really had been a child. “We’ll clean up. Tell us where to start.”
“It’s not a priority.” Icarus covered her hand. “We’ll get to it. My money says I’m not the only one who’s exhausted. We need to...”
She could guess where the thought was heading. There wasn’t space here for the four of them. Not to be comfortable and stay in the same room.
“You’re always welcome in my home.” Actaeon almost sounded hesitant.
Icarus frowned. “I haven’t been for a long time.”
Lexi felt his hurt. It ached with a past she and he lived outside of this one.
“You were, you are, and you always will be.” Actaeon was sincere this time. “We’re all exhausted, and there’s a lot to talk about.”
And Actaeon’s house was as neutral as it got.
“I love you boys,” Lexi said, “but can we decide sooner, rather than later? I’ve lived three lifetimes in the past twenty-four hours, and saying I’m drained is an understatement.”
“Actaeon’s place is fine,” Icarus conceded.
Lexi took their hands and blinked them to the foyer. It wasn’t the destination she preferred, but she didn’t dare assume yet, with Actaeon. She fixed her gaze on him. “Biggest bed in the house? Puppy pile?”
“You get to make dog jokes?” His face was sunken. She’d never seen this kind of exhausted before.
“I’m the mistress of the underworld. Of course I do.” She didn’t feel it, though.
He nodded up the stairs. “My room, it is.”
The four collapsed in a tangle of limbs on his mattress. She was surprised anyone had the strength to take off their shoes. She wanted to sleep for a decade, but her mind refused to be silent. Too many thoughts. Too many lives. Too many memories.
“Give it time. Try not to focus.” That was Cerberus.
“What he said.” Icarus chimed in.
Apparently they could hear each other now.
Lexi couldn’t do this. She needed silence. It had been centuries since she had her own thoughts. She wanted the men all close, but she couldn’t... “I need a little time.”
She was grateful no one stopped her as she climbed from the bed. She wandered onto the beach. Warm sand squeezed between her toes. The ocean air caressed her cheek. It was all real. If she could ground herself here and never leave, it might be heaven.
She sat near the water, close enough for the waves to lap at her feet. The soft crash of the surf mingled with the night, providing the only sound. Walls in her head kept the voices out.
In a few hours, she could face it all. Cerberus and Icarus—even Actaeon—were close enough she felt secure, but far enough she could think.
She stayed there until the sun crested the horizon. It was a beautiful sight.
Actaeon’s icy aura caressed her skin before she heard his footsteps.
Thank her, he didn’t speak. He sat next to her, pressing his arm to hers. The simple contact quieted her thoughts further.
“Cerberus is your heart, child. But Icarus is your mind.” Aphrodite’s words taunted Lexi.
It made sense now. Actaeon was her strength.
“I don’t need you.” Lexi’s quiet words mingled with the morning.
“I’m hurt.”
She rested her chin on her knees and stared at the vast stretch of blue. “No you’re not. You’re waiting for me to finish my thought.”
“Am I?”
“You don’t need me, either.”
“I’m going to let you keep talking, because I’m tired of sticking my foot in my mouth.”
She smiled. “Life has taught us both that we can only rely on ourselves. That we don’t need anyone else.” The words didn’t taste quite right, but they were close. “There’s a bit
of you—I know, because I hear a similar voice—insisting that, if we fall apart, you can still stand on your own. I’m my own backup. I can’t afford to rely on anyone else.”
“That does sound familiar.”
“Then you can guess what I’m going to say next.”
“Is this what it’s like with them?” Actaeon asked. “Finishing each other’s thoughts?”
“No. I hear them in my head.” She couldn’t explain why Actaeon wasn’t there. She didn’t want him to be. Didn’t know if she ever would. “This, right now—it’s instinct.”
Actaeon chuckled. “You’re right. I don’t need you. Who I am won’t let me. But I sure as fuck want you here, and I’m going to be lost if you leave.”
That was exactly what she’d being going to say. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Silence settled between them as yellow and orange cascaded over the ocean.
She was done trying to figure out time and clocks. The sun was a few inches above the water when Actaeon spoke again. “You’re going to have to sort through what happened.”
“It’s all a jumbled mess.” Her heart was, anyway.
“Talking about it may help unjumble things. We could have breakfast. Icarus makes a brilliant berry cobbler.”
“I know he does, and I’m not telling you how I do. You haven’t earned that detail.” She wanted Actaeon around. Felt his strength whenever he was near. They still had issues, though.
“That’s fair.” Actaeon stood and tugged her to her feet. “May I ask you something?”
“You can ask...”
“That doesn’t mean you’ll answer. Thanks.” His smile was soft. “I still want to take you on a date. Or more than one. After you’re back in a better spot and feel like your head is on a little straighter, may I buy you dinner?”
“That’s what you wanted to ask?” She hadn’t seen that coming. It seemed like so long ago that he’d promised to take her out.
Actaeon rested a hand on her back and pointed her toward the house. “Yes. You. Me. Night on the town—this one or another, you pick.”
“I’d like that.” A date. With a hero. One of the big ones in history. The idea made her heart skip in a giddy hop. Dad would be so disappointed. But he might like Actaeon. Lexi almost laughed at the ridiculous ramble of thoughts. It felt so normal.
They stepped inside, and the sugary scent of cobbler greeted them.
“It cooks more evenly in the modern oven,” Icarus said when they found him in the kitchen.
Lexi grinned. “I know how that goes.”
She and Actaeon took seats at the breakfast bar.
Cerberus passed out mugs with coffee, while Icarus dished out food.
Shadows fell across the marble, and she spun toward the glass doors at the back of the house. The sky was black. Lightning shattered the darkness, leaving an afterimage when it vanished. Thunder shook the building.
“Zeus.” She wasn’t certain which of them spoke, or if it was everyone.
Energy crackled in the air, and their phones all screamed high-pitched whines at full volume.
Icarus furrowed his brow and clenched his fist, and the noise stopped. His nostrils flared, and his breathing was heavy. “He’s doing this to every device in the world that can broadcast. We need a TV.”
“I don’t have one,” Actaeon said.
“Of course you don’t.” Icarus turned to Cerberus. “You have something.”
“Yes.” Cerberus reached into the air, and a laptop appeared in his hand. He set it on the table. The instant he opened the lid, it blared to life, and Zeus appeared on the screen.
“He shouldn’t be able to do this.” Icarus sounded concerned.
“We’ll figure out the how after we hear what’s so important that he did.” Listening to Zeus was at the top of Lexi’s list of things that suck worse than getting shot, but if he’d gone out of his way for a stunt like this, it needed to be heard.
“I come to you today, regardless of the time where you are in the world, to share some tragic news. But out of the saddest moments come some of life’s greatest triumphs.” Zeus was seated on a plus recliner, in a simple living room.
How domestic of him. Lexi’s muscles tensed. She rolled and stretched her neck, but it didn’t help.
“Discovering my brother Hades wasn’t dead was simultaneously horrifying and heart-wrenching.” Zeus’ tone was somber. “And to hear otherwise as he returned to destroy so many lives, because he could... I blamed myself. I still do.”
“Bullshit.” Actaeon voiced everyone’s sentiments.
“As you all know by now, this happened because his daughter was misguided,” Zeus said. “Lied to her entire life, and led to believe freeing her father was a wise decision. She’s learned from her mistakes and taken steps to vanquish the former god of the underworld. She’s stepped up to fill her father’s shoes and take his place. So, this evening, as we mourn and celebrate the passing of a great and terrible god, I’d also like to welcome a new one to the pantheon.”
An image of Lexi appeared on screen. It was altered—she’d never worn a blue evening gown in her life. They made her look good. She’d be grateful for it, if her gut wasn’t twisting in on itself at seeing her face on a global broadcast.
“In two weeks, we’ll introduce her properly to all of you. A live event and a global series of accompanying banquets, for everyone registered, to usher in this new age.”
This was so very bad.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“You’re not attending this bullshit event.” Actaeon shouldn’t be surprised by Zeus’ gall, but he never would have guessed the god would pull something of this magnitude.
Cerberus flipped shut the lid of his laptop and stashed it in his pocket reality. “She has to. He’s told the world to expect her. If she doesn’t show up, that’s instant antipathy.”
Actaeon couldn’t believe that Cerberus—her fucking guard dog, of all people—was even considering this. “Who gives a fuck what the general population thinks? The dead are her followers. The living, as a collective anyway, will always been indecisive assholes. And doing anything because Zeus suggested it, especially if you’re not getting something in return, is a stupid idea.”
“Or,” Icarus said, “you could both keep in mind that Lexi’s not only a god, she’s also an adult, and she can make her own decision.”
Actaeon looked at her.
Lexi gave him a thin smile. “Door. Heracles.”
“What?” That wasn’t an answer.
Someone knocked.
“How—?” Actaeon wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
She jammed her hands in her pockets. “He’s really bright. Like you, but in a sunshiny, painful-to-look-at kind of way. Can’t you two smell him or something? And do you want me to get that?”
“No. I’ve got it.” Actaeon stood and went to let his cousin in. When he was paying attention, he could smell the change in the air, and Heracles’ presence was obvious, but it wasn’t something he usually gave thought to. In Actaeon’s experience, he was happier when he ignored the other hero’s presence unless it was a threat. “The gang’s all here.” Actaeon nodded to the kitchen. “I’d offer you breakfast, but we already ate.”
“Thanks. I’m not here to socialize.” Heracles followed him further into the house.
Cerberus had his fists clenched, his body coiled in his seat. Icarus didn’t look any friendlier.
Lexi gave Heracles a tight-lipped smile. “Your dad is a dick.”
“Lovely to see you again.” Heracles’ formal greeting was as stiff as the tension in the room. “And to be fair, so was yours.”
Lexi shrugged. “Sperm donor. And we killed mine.”
“So I’ve heard. I’d love details sometime, about how you managed that,” Heracles said.
Icarus gestured to a free stool. “I bet you would. Are you staying? Have a seat.”
Presumptuous ass. Actaeon wanted to be upset at the gesture, but that tiny bit of him that he’d tried
to ignore for so long was happy to have Icarus back in the same house again. Almost like he belonged here.
“I’m only here to talk to the newest member of the pantheon.” Heracles was focused on Lexi. “To extend an invitation on Zeus’ behalf, to join him and the others for dinner.”
“He sent you for that? He didn’t have someone who could drop off a message?” Actaeon wanted the retort to sound belittling, but he knew why Heracles was here. Actaeon should be pleased this group posed a threat, but if Zeus was worried enough to send his toughest champion, he’d take other extreme steps as well.
“Do you think the invitation might be more sincere if you showed up before he told the world I was attending?” Lexi asked.
Heracles rubbed the back of his neck. “I would have preferred to do things that way. This was his decision, though. You can still say no.”
“These three have some very specific ideas of what happens if I turn Zeus down. What’s your insight into the situation?” Lexi hopped from her stool and approached Herc
“I don’t speculate like that.” Heracles wouldn’t meet her gaze.
The only person in the world who was a worse liar than Lexi. She was going to call him on it, without question. Under other circumstances, Actaeon would have laughed at the two meter, one-hundred-ten kilo wall of muscle being intimidated by a woman almost a foot shorter and half his weight.
Lexi studied him through her eyelashes—a deceptively demure posture, with her hands clasped behind her back. “Go on. Speculate. Consider it a good deed for a god who’s new to this entire thing? Please?”
Was she batting her eyelashes? Actaeon was almost entertained.
“I’d suggest you attend,” Heracles said. “You can refuse the invitation, and I don’t expect Zeus will come after you. Right now, the world knows you as Hades daughter—the post-Enlightenment immortal who loosed his wrath on hundreds of thousands of people. And I know you can hide your appearance, but an eternity is a long time to live with that kind of animosity, and you strike me as a person who’s tired of hiding. It’s dinner. Come meet the gods. Enjoy the spectacle. Go home at the end of the night and let your friends tell you whatever stories they want, about who everyone actually is.”
Apathy's Hero: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Truth's Harem Book 3) Page 15