“Told you so,” Cerberus muttered.
Actaeon rolled his eyes. The mutt had to choose that one thing to say aloud.
“Do I get a plus three?” Lexi was still sweetness and sunshine.
Which was probably adding to how uncomfortable Heracles looked. “A what?”
“A party invitation, as books would have me understand it, frequently comes with the option to bring a guest. But you’re trying awfully hard to ensure I say yes, so I’m being presumptuous and asking if I might bring three other people with me.”
Heracles looked around the room. “Heroes tend to make the guest list anyway, but servants aren’t typically welcome. But I’m only delivering the message; I can’t say for certain.”
A chill passed through the room, and Lexi’s spine stiffened. “Try. Give me your best guess. If I tell you I’ll attend, may I bring my guests?” Her sugary tone was developing crystals.
“I’d like you there, regardless,” Heracles met her gaze head-on. “I don’t know who you are or what bizarre twists of fate put you in this position, but I think you’re a good thing. Bring whom you’d like. I’ll tell Zeus this is your answer.”
Lexi mimed curtsying. “Then, we’d love to attend.”
“No. Hang on.” Actaeon might be enjoying the show, but experience didn’t like the situation. “We want your word that Lexi will be safe. That this isn’t an excuse for anything.”
Heracles gave him a withering glare. “It’s dinner. Like the hundreds we’ve been to in our life. It’s not an ambush.”
“Your word,” Actaeon said.
Heracles turned back to Lexi. “You have my word. These soirees tend to be glitz and glam and fluff, but you don’t invite guests into your home—or temporary dwelling, in this case—to ambush them.”
Heracles’ word was worth a lot, but Actaeon still didn’t like this. Every warning bell in his head was screaming this situation was wrong.
“All right.” Lexi nodded. “Tell Zeus yes, and that you deserve better than to be a messenger.”
ICARUS WANDERED THROUGH the main floor of Actaeon’s house. Make yourself at home. It felt awkward to hear. The kind of thing one told people to be polite, and coming from Actaeon, it slid over Icarus uncomfortably.
It was fascinating to see what Actaeon kept on display from things he’d collected over the centuries. On the surface it was all decorative, but Icarus recognized several of the pieces and knew which vases, paintings, and sculptures were gifts. There weren’t many items worth more than sentimental value.
That was one thing he’d always loved about Actaeon.
Icarus stalled in the doorway of a room at the back of the house. It was like a museum, but more personal. Curio cabinets along the walls. Paintings of and from lovers over the millennia.
And in the center of the trinkets on the mantle at the far end of the room, the mid-morning light reflected off a vibrant piece of crystal.
Seeing it again clenched like a fist around Icarus’ heart.
He crossed the room and hovered his fingers over the puzzle box, before gingerly grasping it. Time hadn’t touched the carved crystal and pewter. Icarus had vivid memories of creating the spring-loaded toy. Actaeon loved pieces like this, and he was a master at figuring them out.
Over time, Icarus had lived so many lives, but right now was different from anything he’d experienced. He was used to floating on the fringes of the gods’ affairs. Having his finger on the pulse, and not being an insider, but always able to reach into their world and participate when needed.
Actaeon had floated in and out, pissing off members of the pantheon, and then finding their favor.
And overlapped on all of that was the life Icarus had lived with Lexi. She’d thrown his world into disarray, and he adored it. He didn’t take issue with her love for Cerberus. It was genuine, and separate from but complimentary to what Icarus shared with her.
He still had his doubts about Actaeon, though. He didn’t want to see him tear Lexi apart, the way he had Morpheus. Cassandra was a different story, since she’d died—twice—before she and Actaeon split. And that was its own set of unresolved issues.
“I like your bracelet.” Actaeon’s quiet comment startled him.
Icarus glanced at his wrist and the silver chain with the cross that hung from it. He’d forgotten he put that on, but there was no reason to hide it. He’d rather talk through things than fight again. It wasn’t his right to tell Lexi whom to love, but he needed Actaeon to understand where he was coming from. Why he was so stubborn when it came to that bond.
“I like your puzzle box.” Icarus held up the toy and let it catch the sunlight. “I’m surprised you still have it.”
“I am, too.”
Not the response Icarus expected. He didn’t know what to do with it. “So, this is us. Forced proximity, because we love the same woman.”
“You’re going to give me that, now? You admit I love her?”
“That’s between you and Lexi. I’m going to trust it if she does.”
Silence lapsed in the room, creeping and growing until it was suffocating.
“What happened?” Actaeon’s question shattered the stillness but not the awkwardness.
Icarus wasn’t ready to share the intimate details of what he’d lived with Lexi. “That’s a vague question. Narrow it down for me.”
Actaeon puffed out his cheeks, then exhaled. “Where to start? Let’s see... After the fight with Hades, Hermes found me in the middle of nowhere. Literally. And brought me to Charon.” He laid out a tale about Lexi being torn apart by becoming the new goddess of the underworld. It was similar to what Aphrodite explained—how Actaeon was supposed to find her. The details about what happened when he did were vague. “When we found Cerberus, we thought she was whole again. Apparently not. She was stuck in her past with him. Since you showed up about the time she deemed herself complete, and based on that kiss she gave you, I assume you were the missing piece.”
The explanation filled in a few blanks for Icarus but didn’t inspire him to open up. “We were in my head. We got to know each other and fell in love.”
“I see.” Actaeon’s tone was flat. “Lucky you. I guess I got to be the other side of that coin. We were doing the opposite of falling in love.” His voice cracked. “I was focused on getting out.”
That hint of accusation didn’t sit well with Icarus. He didn’t know which of them it was directed at. “So was I. Different approaches for different people, I suppose.”
“I still think you were wrong. Everything you said in your shop, when Cassandra was still here.” Actaeon meandered along the perimeter of the room as he spoke. He brushed his fingers along the surfaces of random collectables.
Was there any significance to what caught his eye, or was it a random slip into the past with each item? “If you thought I was right, it might require some personal growth.” Icarus couldn’t help the edge that slid into his retort.
“I didn’t track you down so we could argue.” Actaeon picked up a porcelain statue of Athena. A gift from the goddess.
Bits of Icarus were raw from having pieces of his past so close to the surface. “Then change the subject.”
“This thing with Zeus is bullshit.” Actaeon looked at him.
Effective choice for a new topic. “I agree.”
“What do we do?” Actaeon asked.
It was odd, being looped in on any hint of battle plans. At least these days. Icarus was a brilliant strategist, but there hadn’t been much call for such a skill in a while. “Cross our fingers and pray?”
Actaeon chuckled dryly. “You’re not funny. We have to make sure Lexi understands.”
Icarus had that covered. He and Lexi had exchanged thoughts about it while she was talking to Heracles. “She does.”
“Right. You share dreams.” The bitterness was back in Actaeon’s reply.
“More than that. She tells me it’s not like her servant’s bond with Cerberus, but it’s some sort of tel
epathy thing.” Icarus didn’t understand how it worked.
“That must drive you nuts—not knowing the details well enough to explain them. And before you ask, yes, I’m a teensy bit jealous.”
Icarus turned and placed the puzzle box back on the mantle. Its stand was positioned so it would catch the light from multiple windows, depending on the season, and cast tiny rainbows on blank spots along the wall. “I’ll figure it out, and so will you.” He hoped both of those were true. “As for Zeus... You’re a walking armory. There’s no one else I’d pick to go with into a situation like that.” Differences or not. Fractured past or not.
“I like the praise, but it’s not reassuring. Zeus doesn’t like having his authority challenged.”
“He sent Clio into Lexi’s thoughts, to inspire her to spill her secrets.” Icarus didn’t want to delve into the shared memories, but this was needed, to understand what they faced.
Actaeon raised his brows. “Morpheus said she was broadcasting on multiple channels, so it probably wasn’t difficult for a muse to find her. He came to her as a dragon.”
That must be an interesting story, and it probably explained what happened in Icarus’ shop. “Lexi is powerful. More than anyone realizes. Especially her. But I don’t know if it’s enough.”
“She’s young. She’s impulsive. She irritates Zeus.”
Icarus smiled. “I can’t tell if you think those are good traits or bad.”
“Both,” Actaeon said.
“This is going to be on live TV, and Zeus has already told the world he wants to welcome Lexi into the fold.”
Actaeon didn’t look reassured. “You know as well as I do he’ll twist that however he needs, to accomplish his goals.”
Icarus did, and that was what worried him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Actaeon should be grateful for the potential of two weeks of calm. But in the grand scheme of things, it was nothing. An insignificant blip on the radar.
When it came to life with Lexi, that much time with no looming threats sounded brilliant.
Rather, it had, five days ago. Watching her swap jokes and obscure references from fifty years ago with Icarus and Cerberus was grating.
Perhaps it was the fact Actaeon hadn’t clicked with her like that, which gnawed on his nerves. He didn’t know how to fix it, though. The night they spent with Cerberus in the underworld was brilliant. And Actaeon didn’t know how to bring that back.
He sat in his study, trying to read, but his thoughts kept drifting back to her. What had he done in the past?
Nothing. Lexi’s assessment of their relationship mirrored most of his that he examined. He’d had some things in common with Cassandra. They liked to go to the movies. Sort of.
She wanted high action, because the visuals made up for the fact she saw most movie endings coming a mile away. He preferred comedies. It was nice to laugh every once in a while.
With Morpheus, they people-watched. Which was always a little awkward when Morpheus could point out what most people’s darkest hidden fantasies and dreams were.
Most of Actaeon’s past connections weren’t the kind of thing solid romance stories were built on.
With Icarus...
Actaeon tried to toe away from the thought before it formed. He didn’t succeed. They used to chat long into the night, and into the next day. It didn’t matter the topic—politics, religion, philosophy. Even when they didn’t agree, they talked.
Why had he thought that was such a bad thing?
Because it terrified him. The way getting to know Lexi did.
Wow. That hit like Heracles’ punching him in the gut.
“Do you have a minute?” Lexi’s soft question was a welcome distraction from being stuck inside his own head. “I can come back later, if you’re not done staring at that spot on the wall.”
Actaeon blinked away the dryness in his eyes and dragged his gaze from the stucco. He turned to face her. “What’s up?”
She stood in the doorway, one arm behind her back, hand grabbing the other elbow. “What are you worried about, with this Zeus thing? I’m not questioning your concern—the idea of this dinner makes my skin crawl—but I’d like to give a shape to my anxiety.”
“I can’t help you with that.” He wished he could. “It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t taste right. Every inch of me says to be prepared for something, but anticipating what Zeus is up to tends to lead to his doing an entirely different thing.”
“You said you’d teach me to fight. Can you do that?”
“There’s not a lot I can show you in the amount of time we have.” Actaeon stood anyway. A little practice sparring was a welcome distraction.
Lexi relaxed. He actually felt the tension seep from her. That was interesting.
“You can’t load up the right program and teach me kung fu?” Hesitant teasing lined her question.
He smiled. He got that reference. “Neo’s got nothing on you. It took him a movie to figure out how to decompile the code. You built an entire town before I reached you in the underworld.”
“I’m a fast learner.” One corner of her mouth tugged up. “Which means you can teach me just enough to make me dangerous.”
He hesitated, not sure if he should say what he was thinking. Fuck. It needed to be out there. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
She slumped against the doorframe, tucking in on herself. “Why did I even bother?”
“I don’t doubt that you learned amazing things from the sword master”—Actaeon wasn’t handling this right—“but practiced forms aren’t the same as the rhythm required in battle. You and I don’t have that synchronicity.”
Why not? The question blared in his thoughts. They should. The idea didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t shake it.
“Don’t make me pout and whine that you promised. That’s a cheap manipulation. We both deserve better,” she said.
This wasn’t the Lexi from the underworld. He saw now what was missing. In a way, it was a shame; being whole squashed some of her playful optimism. He hated knowing this version was more likely to survive. “You’re right. I’ll show you a few things, and we’ll go from there.”
A grin broke across her face. “Should we go somewhere? A dojo in Japan? A boxing ring in L.A.?”
“The beach behind the house.” He pointed to the back door. “Save the travel for when we can enjoy it.”
“Smart thinking.” She fell into step beside him, and they made their way outside.
They walked barefoot onto the sand. “Do we need to change?” she asked.
He wore slacks and a button-down. She was in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Can you move in that?” He gestured at her clothing.
“Yes.”
“Then no. This is fine. You’ve probably noticed, but the thing about the kind of fights I end up in is that there’s not usually time for a wardrobe change.”
“Okay.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Anxiety floated from her, like salt on tender skin.
Where to start? “Show me what you can do.” He considered the request. “And if you’re going to use the swords, can you make them intangible illusions?” “I can.” She summoned the two swords. Sunlight glinted through them.
He was impressed she had that kind of control.
Lexi slid into a fighting stance, and then began a series of forms. She was graceful and fluid, dancing with her blades as if they were an extension of her. He recognized the fighting style—she didn’t put much variance in it—but he still liked watching her move.
She paused after several minutes and met his gaze. “Are you actually observing, or just enjoying the show?” Her tone was light and playful.
“Both.”
“Do you know what you need to? Or at least have an idea?” she asked. “You said we need a rhythm.”
They did. It had been a long time since he was at a training stage in his development, and he’d never been much of a teacher. With Apollo, he lear
ned because they hunted together. With Heracles, he did a lot of sparring.
Lexi watched him. “Well?”
“I... don’t know.” Why did he volunteer to do this?
She laughed. “At least you’re willing to admit it. Any thoughts?”
One solution made more sense than the other. “With Heracles, we brawled a lot. It taught us each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Let’s try that first.”
“Okay...”
“What’s wrong?”
Her weapons flickered in and out of sight. “I only know how to fight with these. You’re not that kind of fighter.”
“I can do close combat. Your blades aren’t real, and I promise to pull my punches but not my moves.” Please don’t let her be offended by that.
She looked at him with doubt. “Is that possible?”
“It is. We’re both new to this, and I need to gauge how to ramp things up.”
“I understand.”
Thank Cronus for that. Actaeon put several paces between them. “Whenever you’re ready, attack.”
Lexi’s movements were fluid, and she was fast. However, he was familiar with the fighting style. Experience told him where to step and how to dodge, to avoid each strike. He tagged her quickly, striking hard enough to knock her off-balance without doing damage.
She stumbled and caught herself on one knee, before spinning and darting back in.
“Do something unexpected.” He dodged each swing. “Think outside the norms of what you were taught.”
Her smile was tight. “All right.”
He recognized her next move and slid to the left. She didn’t follow-through the way he anticipated, and their feet tangled together. They tumbled to the ground.
“This sucks.” Her frustration was tangible.
“We’ve only been going for a few minutes. How long did you say you trained in the underworld before I showed up?”
“A lot longer.” She huffed but accepted a hand up, letting him tug her to her feet.
The next several hours were a series of rinse-and-repeat exchanges. Lexi’s scowl was etched deeply in place, and she hadn’t unclenched her jaw for a while.
Apathy's Hero: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Truth's Harem Book 3) Page 16