Apathy's Hero: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Truth's Harem Book 3)

by Allyson Lindt

  Actaeon didn’t know how to help her. Every instruction he gave resulted in a bigger complication.

  “Why are you fighting this?” she asked.

  He didn’t understand the question. “This takes time. As in, much longer than an afternoon.”

  “No. We should be able to do this. We should just work together. That was how it happened with Icarus and Cerberus.”

  Wonderful. She’d set the bar too high. She hadn’t asked them to teach her something so complicated.

  “I’m not either one of them,” he said.

  “But we have a connection...”

  “I don’t know what you think that means, but it doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  Her scowl deepened—apparently that was possible. “But it should.”

  It was as though they were speaking two different languages. The words were there, and he understood them as individual components, but when he strung them together, Actaeon didn’t know what she was getting at. “They’re not me.” The retort was like a lightbulb. “Your strengths aren’t mine.”

  “What does that mean?” Her annoyance was directed as much at herself as outward.

  He wished he knew the terminology from those games she liked, with the quests. “Some people absorb the damage, and some people deal it.”

  “Like tanks and DPS.”

  “Yes.” He would take her word for it.

  “And you... multi-class?”

  “I assume that means I do both.” He could do this. “Yes, but I’d rather deal the damage and let Heracles absorb it.” This was a conversation he understood. If he could put them in the same place, even if the terms were different, they could move forward. He could see clearly what she needed to be doing. The trick was explaining it. “You have magic-wielders in your games?”

  “Yes. Mages. Illusionists. But you’ve seen my magic. I don’t cast fireballs or anything. I suppose I could learn, but that’s still going to get in your way.”

  She had a good point. He needed to backtrack a little. “Do you have a sneaky character?”

  “An assassin? A thief.”

  “I like assassin. You don’t have to stick yourself in the thick of the battle, because you’re in the shadows, waiting for your chance to strike while your opponent is distracted.”

  “And that keeps me from being in the way?”

  “It puts each of us where we’re most effective. I can show you.” They needed a third, though. They could practice with Cerberus, but the hellhound would hold back at the wrong times, and the connection between him and Lexi would be distracting. “Can you make me a practice dummy? A free-moving one?”

  “Yes, but it won’t fight any better than I do.”

  “You fight fine. I need you to understand that the issue is about timing between us. It doesn’t have to do with your skill level.”

  “I understand it, but I don’t necessarily believe it.” Her expression was softening, though.

  “Make me a sparring partner that looks like Zeus.”

  Lexi furrowed her brow, and an unmoving Zeus stood next to her. “I don’t know if I can control it and do what I’m supposed to at the same time. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “One step at a time.” He was making a lot of this up as he went along, but it felt right. “Make him fight.”

  The Zeus illusion fought identically to Lexi, but the visage freed a block for Actaeon. Apparently he wasn’t capable of holding back strength without impacting skill. When he had an opening, he didn’t hesitate to deal a mortally wounding blow.

  They went several rounds, with the fake-Zeus’ growing bolder each time, and Actaeon countering in kind.

  “So you can beat up my illusions. Awesome.” Lexi’s tone was flat, but her disappointment had faded.

  “Next step,” Actaeon said. “You try to tag me while I’m fighting him. I’ll keep the match going, to give you time to assess.”

  He expected another protest, for not giving her enough information.

  “All right.” Lexi nodded.

  Another round started, and Actaeon fell into a simple sparring pattern with fake-Zeus. Minutes ticked away. Where was Lexi?

  She kept him busy enough with the illusion that he couldn’t afford to look around.

  Something nudged the edge of his senses. It was her, behind him. The edges of her aura pressed into and mingled with his.

  Even when he was engrossed in the fight, another part of him was tuned to her scent and sound.

  She broke into his personal space, and he whirled to stop her.

  She wasn’t there. She had sidestepped, and she swept his ankle with her foot.

  He rolled with the fall, to land on his back, and she straddled his waist.

  “I win.” She looked pleased with herself.

  “You win.” He liked having her this close. The pull had always been there, but this was more intense than in the past. It was similar to what he felt in the underworld, but in Super 16K HD.

  Lexi rested a palm on his chest, over his heart. “Did you feel it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I told you it was there.”

  “You were right.”

  Her smile grew. “Was that so hard to say?”

  Not when her weight pressed down on him, and she studied him with those mischievous blue eyes. It was distinctly physical, but it wasn’t all sexual. “Not when it comes to you.” Because she was sexy and fun?

  Because he trusted her.

  He cupped a hand at the base of her neck, and another shock of energy twisted around them. He pulled her in for a kiss. Each new point of contact was another thread that wrapped them together. It had been there every time they had sex, but this was undiluted. Fine wine, as opposed to the smell of grapes.

  Lexi broke away but stayed close, setting her hands on either side of his head in the sand. “I’m kind of surprised it didn’t kill you.”

  “Admitting you were right?”

  “Stooping to my level, to speak in RPG terms,” she teased.

  This was so much better than arguing. “It’s a different language, but lucky for me, it’s one I understand the concept of.”

  “I’m sure you’ll pick up more of it, the longer you teach me.”

  He moved his hands to her hips, holding her in place. “I want something in return.”

  “Is this a barter?” She wrinkled her nose, but it didn’t hide her good mood.

  “No. I’ll teach you more regardless. But you promised me a date.”

  “I did.”

  He knew the perfect place to take her. “I have a standing invitation from Athena, to visit the library.”

  “You’re going to take me to a library?”

  “The library. Alexandria.”

  “No. It was... Are you serious?” Her wide eyes and the awe radiating from her were worth the offer.

  “I’ll even read to you from one of my favorite books.”

  “It’s not one with stories of the gods, is it?”

  He rolled, eliciting a squeal, and pinned her to the sand, hands above her head. “It’s not. It’s about a submarine and a giant squid. And no, that’s not a euphemism.”

  “It’s a date. And I’m expecting it to be spectacular.”

  “You deserve no less.” He kissed her again, falling into everything.

  Her mood shifted. It wasn’t good or bad—she was already happy—it was sideways. The others were home.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt it through her. The new sensation was strange, but he liked it.

  “It takes some, getting used to,” Lexi said, “but it’s worth it.”

  “I believe it.” It might have taken a lot of stress to get to this point, but it was all worth it.

  If only dealing with Zeus was so easy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Cerberus had spent his entire existence with Hades’ emotions hovering at the edge of his mind. It was second nature for both of them to block those out or hide them, b
ut the potential was always there for Cerberus to be dragged in.

  Feeling Lexi’s tension thrum under his skin was a different beast. It crawled through his veins and made him itch to act. To protect and shelter her. The problem was there was nothing more he could do. Not this time.

  He was sitting on the couch, and she lay with her head in his lap. He trailed his fingers through her hair. The gesture comforted both of them, but stress still hummed in his thoughts.

  “Why do you think she did it?” Lexi’s question wasn’t attached to anything—spoken or thought.

  Cerberus backtracked through their conversation and couldn’t find a point of reference. “I’m going to need more details.”

  “Aphrodite. Every time she hid snippets of my past from me. I know what she said her reasons were, but they don’t make sense.”

  Cerberus frowned. That was a good point. If the point was to keep the gods from knowing about Lexi, why take her memories of those events in her life? Why not take the thoughts of those people she’d interacted with, instead?

  Especially with Aphrodite’s comment to Lexi, that she’d done it too many times. That didn’t sound safe. “I don’t know,” Cerberus said.

  “You could ask her.” Icarus’ voice came from behind them.

  Lexi sat up, and Cerberus looked over his shoulder, to see Icarus standing in the living room doorway, holding a piece of paper between his index and middle finger.

  His presence didn’t eliminate Lexi’s stress, but it did add another thread of happiness to her mood.

  Cerberus enjoyed seeing the way her mood changed when Icarus was around, and was happy she’d found the hero. He wouldn’t have minded meeting Icarus a few centuries earlier, regardless. As they’d gotten to know each other, Cerberus was surprised they’d never met before.

  “Asking Aphrodite for answers in the past hasn’t gotten me very far,” Lexi adjusted her position, so she could sit and see both men.

  Since living Lexi’s past through her memories, and coming back out, Cerberus had noticed a subtle change in their connection. Even when they weren’t holding a mental conversation, he picked up on subtle things like her intent, unless she was blocking him out.

  Icarus crossed the room to hand her the card, plus his phone. “Skip the temple. Give her a call. See if you can get a meeting in a neutral place. I have a feeling things have changed since the last time you spoke to her.”

  Lexi raised an eyebrow. “Things have changed. That’s an interesting way to say, the world is even more fucked up than I thought.” She dialed the number anyway, then set the phone on the back of the couch between all of them.

  “Hello?” Aphrodite’s lilting greeting filtered from the speaker.

  Cerberus was surprised she’d handed out her direct number. From her tone, she didn’t expect anyone to use it.

  Lexi radiated trepidation. “Hi. It’s Lexi.”

  “Good evening.” Aphrodite’s voice shifted in an instant. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  “I understand you played a part in pointing Icarus toward an answer. Thank you.” Lexi flexed her fingers, then wiggled them.

  Cerberus grasped her hand and squeezed. She gave him a grateful smile.

  “I’d do a lot for you, child.” Aphrodite sounded sweet.

  Lexi gripped Cerberus’ hand tighter. “Because of fated love.”

  The pause was too long. “Because of fated love,” Aphrodite said.

  “And that’s why you erased my memory at least half a dozen times over the course of my life?”

  “Ah. You’ve remembered.” Like that, the sugary tone was gone again.

  Icarus knelt, to rest his folded arms on the back of the couch.

  Lexi leaned her head into him for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Hopefully everything, though I suppose only you know that for sure. Tell me the truth. Not this fluffy for love excuse that you gave Icarus. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  “I wasn’t lying. I meant everything I told him,” Aphrodite said.

  Now that Cerberus knew how dishonesty felt to Lexi, he recognized the faint traces of deception that she picked up on. Like a hint too much salt.

  Lexi glanced between him and Icarus. “But you didn’t tell him everything.”

  “Have lunch with me, and I’ll give you those answers.” There was that rub of friction that said Aphrodite was holding back.

  “Try again.”

  Aphrodite sighed. “I’ll tell you what I can.”

  “Closer.” Warning crept into Lexi’s reply.

  “That gets irritating, child.”

  A smile flickered across Lexi’s face, and she shook her head in amusement. “See, I believe that. Lunch sounds pleasant.”

  The exchanged details, then said their goodbyes. Lexi handed the phone back to Icarus.

  The emotion that spilled from her was muddy, making it difficult to choose which feeling to appeal to or soothe.

  Icarus hopped the couch to settle behind her. She leaned into him and draped her legs over Cerberus’.

  “Are you going alone?” Cerberus asked. Aphrodite wasn’t a threat, unless she was the most twisted and manipulative god in history, and that was a high bar to reach.

  Lexi nodded. “Something tells me I need to.”

  Cerberus rubbed her leg. “I hope she has satisfactory answers.”

  LEXI APPEARED IN THE location Aphrodite had given her. It was odd, getting used to traveling this way. Apparently, if she looked up an address and had an idea of where she was going in the world, she could get there, even if it was a new-to-her location.

  She had no idea how that worked, but it was a neat trick.

  It must not have worked this time, though. She stood on a patch of cracked asphalt. The building behind her was faced with warped wooden boards. The paint was fresh, though, and the curtains in the front window of the diner were clean and bright.

  Painted in big blue letters, was the boast $15 Steak and Eggs. In the right corner of the glass was the pyramid-with-an-eye symbol that indicated they accepted barter.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” Aphrodite’s voice startled her.

  Lexi whirled, to see the goddess standing a few feet away. She wore a light sweater and a wrap-around skirt, and her hair was tucked under a scarf. If Lexi couldn’t see her aura, she wouldn’t have recognized her.

  This was the right place after all.

  “I never pictured you as a cheap-diner kind of individual,” Lexi said.

  Aphrodite pointed toward the door. “This is where Persephone met your stepfather.”

  Lexi faltered. It felt like a fist squeezed her heart. “Oh.” Not the brightest thing she could have said. She recovered and headed inside with Aphrodite. The sign invited them to seat themselves, so they did.

  Aphrodite sat with her back to the door. Lexi didn’t understand it, but she wasn’t going to argue. A lifetime of hiding had taught her the best place to be was where she could see the entire room and run quickly.

  She probably didn’t need to live that way, now that she was a goddess. How long before that impulse faded? Would it ever? That might not be a bad thing if Zeus decided he didn’t like her.

  “Order whatever you’d like.” Aphrodite handed her a menu from the short stack tucked behind the salt and pepper. “I understand your stepdad was a fan of the grilled cheese, with fries and a side of ranch dressing.”

  “That does sound like Dad.”

  The waitress grabbed their orders. Lexi went with the recommendation, plus a strawberry milkshake. She didn’t know if it was her imagination or not, but food here tasted better than in the underworld.

  Someone else picking up the tab helped too.

  Aphrodite asked for the same.

  That was going to take some getting used to. Lexi might be a goddess, but she’d seen the entire pantheon believing they were above the normal people. Even Conner, back in high school, held himself in a way that said he knew he wasn’t the same as everyone else
.

  “What do you remember?” Aphrodite asked when the waitress was gone.

  “So much. The night with Conner, Poseidon’s daughter turning me in, and Artemis talking to Actaeon in the back of Statesman’s Deli.”

  Aphrodite frowned. “I didn’t do that last one.” She was telling the truth.

  Was Actaeon so different back then that Lexi just didn’t notice him? It was possible. She was glad he’d climbed out of that pit.

  Lexi fiddled with a sweetener packet. “Why did you do any of it?”

  “To protect you.”

  That was true as well, but it was missing some details. It would be nice if this gift for seeing the truth came with some pointer of which direction to look in when Lexi saw a lie. “To keep the gods from knowing about me? Because—”

  “To keep you from knowing about them. I didn’t want you to be a part of our world.”

  For the second time since she’d arrived, Lexi’s heart stumbled. Why was she hurt by that? Because she’d thought Aphrodite’s kindness meant something. For instance, that the goddess cared. Apparently not. “Why not?”

  The waitress returned with their milkshakes. Aphrodite used her spoon to poke at the cherry on top, not looking at Lexi.

  Should Lexi say something else?

  “I loved your mother.” Aphrodite finally spoke. “I’m not talking about the fleeting bullshit passion that movies and books portray as love, or the obsession Hades had for her. She was my best friend, sometimes my lover, and always a pillar of strength in my life.”

  Lexi had expected this meeting to be a strain, mostly as she tried to get answers. She didn’t anticipate her emotions being yanked through the ringer. Cerberus had loved Persephone—as a queen. As a ruler. But this was so pure, it rolled over Lexi with its raw honesty.

  Aphrodite pulled a napkin from the holder and draped it over her knees, then nibbled on a tiny spoonful of milkshake. “Persephone gave Hades everything, to keep him sane. Don’t misunderstand—before time drove them apart, they were an incredible couple. The love flowed both ways.”

  Lexi didn’t know what to say. This didn’t answer her questions, but it was sincere, and a glimpse into her mother’s past that she’d never had before.