Innovation's Muse (Truth's Harem)

by Allyson Lindt

  LEXI GOT WHAT ICARUS was pushing for, and she didn’t want to reject it out of hand. She’d pulled off a lot of things with her gift for illusions, including making other people vanish. But what he was asking felt beyond her grasp. She barely understood the concept of it’s not real, but it is. How was she supposed to bring it to life?

  Icarus moved behind her and settled his hands on her hips. The contact was too intimate, and at the same time too alluring. “Who got you the siren earring?” He nudged her to her feet.

  “Cerberus.”

  “You can’t ignore this gift. You’ve learned to use it as a parlor trick, which is a good start. I think you can wield it as a weapon.” Icarus kept his head near hers, his warm breath falling across her cheek with each word.

  When he did that, she wanted to offer him whatever he asked for. “I can’t cut someone with my imagination.”

  “You know what you’re wielding isn’t real. No one else does, unless you tell them. You have to believe they won’t know the difference.”

  She wanted to lean back into him and pull his arms tighter around her. But there was more to the desire that thrummed inside. Lexi wanted to believe this idea of his was possible. And to see what else they came up with together. And to discover if he understood other references besides her Tardis one. “I don’t know how to do what you’re asking.”

  “Have you ever wanted to fly?”

  “That’s your myth, not mine.” She was familiar enough with his name to know the story of the man who flew too close to the sun and got burned. The problem was, that didn’t stop her from wanting to join him if he tried it again—literally or otherwise.

  “It’s not a myth. And I’m happy to admit I was arrogant—possibly a little careless—but that doesn’t stop me from wanting it still. You’re not at all tempted by the idea of wings?”

  “Incredibly.” She didn’t mean to say that out loud. “But you’re talking about a flight of fancy—no pun intended—where I need to learn something that helps me make a difference.”

  He pressed his forehead to the back of her skull. The light pressure radiated from a single point until it hummed over her entire body. “Sometimes you have to treat yourself.” Icarus’ voice was almost hypnotic. “You can’t save the world if you lose you in the process. I know. I’ve seen it happen.”

  She didn’t want to dwell on the idea of losing herself, or on the hint of sadness that crept into his tone. “I should start with wings?”

  “Only if that’s what you want. You should start with something.”

  “All right. Wings it is.”

  Before she finished speaking, his touch fell away. She fought the urge to reach behind her and grab for him.

  She didn’t have time to consider the impulse, as he moved into view. The intensity in his gaze stole her breath and amplified her thoughts.

  “Summon them, or whatever you call it,” Icarus said. “Don’t focus on the tangible part yet. Give yourself wings.”

  “I won’t be able to see them. Not clearly. My illusions are always translucent to me.” The idea filled her with doubt.

  “I’ll tell you how stunning you look in them. And you will.”

  His certainty bolstered her. She pictured wings. As large as her body. White and feathered. Attached to and unfolding from her shoulder blades.

  “Wow.” His awe washed over her, making her cheeks heat.

  She made sure to keep the image in her mind. “You’re just saying that.”

  “Do I strike you as that type of person?”

  “No.” It was something he had in common with Actaeon. “So... now what?”

  “See if they work. Flex them. Imagine how you think it should feel.”

  She followed the prompts. If she flexed her shoulders, arched her back in the right way, would the wings move?

  “Use them to lift you off the ground.”

  Ridiculous. She was doing this his way, though. She could almost feel her feet leaving the ground. She looked down. Nope. Wasn’t happening. She closed her eyes and tried to envelop herself in the picture she was painting. Flexing wings she’d created. Letting the air wrap around her. Floating.

  It wasn’t working. She’d feel it if it was. She wasn’t going to get the hang of this. Not today.

  A touch ran along the spine of one wing. Or she was imagining it. It was light and sensual and right.

  “Open your eyes.” Icarus’ voice slid into the vision.

  She did as prompted. His arm was extended, and he stroked her feathers.

  She looked down. Holy fuck, she was about two feet above the floor. She gasped and dropped, to land hard and fall to her knees. Laughter bubbled up in her chest. “I did it.”

  “I told you.”

  “I’m glad one of us believes in me.”

  “It better be both of us now.” Icarus offered her a hand.

  She accepted, and he pulled her to her feet, bringing her to a stop with only a few inches between them.

  “What else do you think I can do?” Her question came out breathier than she intended.

  “Name it. Green Lantern that shit.”

  She caught her bottom lip, smirking at the comic book reference. “Giant mallets?”

  “If that’s your thing.” Icarus’ hands were on her hips again, guiding her back. “I was thinking more real-world practical, like the dagger, but what the fuck? Go for broke.” His mouth hovered millimeters from hers.

  The glee from what she’d accomplished mingled with the energy crackling between them. She draped her arms around his neck, desperate to close the remaining distance to his lips and terrified of doing so.

  He lifted her to sit on a stool, and slid between her legs. Her body fit around his, snug and right. Instead of short-circuiting her thoughts, he set her mind on fire. So much spilled through her head at once. The past. The now. Possibilities. Ideas.

  Need.

  He crushed their mouths together. She moaned into him—or maybe that was Icarus, moaning. She didn’t know where he stopped and she started.

  This was real and vivid, and she wanted to fall into it forever. Icarus nipped her bottom lip, then licked the sting.

  “I don’t know how, but you’ve crawled into my thoughts and won’t leave. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His voice was a dry rasp.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to feel as much of him at once as she could. “It’s a good place to be.”

  Her nipples strained against her shirt, and dampness grew between her legs. There were too many clothes in the way. She wanted to explore every inch of him. Kiss along his chest. Drag her nails up his bare back. Feel the hard length that was digging into her stomach, buried inside her.

  There was nothing in her past that compared to this. Not even...

  A sliver of doubt joined everything else. What about Cerberus? Actaeon?

  Lexi summoned the last of her willpower, slid her arms down, and pressed her palms to his chest, pushing him away. She wanted to touch her swollen lips or let him do it. Instead, she hopped from the stool and put several feet between them.

  It wasn’t easy, but pretending she didn’t see the hurt in his eyes was harder.

  “Okay.” Icarus licked his lips. “Will you tell me why?”

  “You know why. I’m in a relationship.”

  “Right. The whole I let fate tell me who to love thing.”

  She winced at his sharp tone, and tried not to look at the red string glaring at her, connecting her to him. “That’s not true. But I do love Cerberus, and his opinion plays a huge part in my actions.” Why didn’t she mention Actaeon? Because she still didn’t know how she felt about him. The conversations were good... sometimes. The sex was great. That didn’t equal love.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Icarus searched her face.

  How did he know? She ached to say something, but her heart wouldn’t let her. “Nothing that will make a difference.”

  “The pull between us is real.”r />
  No. It couldn’t be. She had a good thing. “Lust is a powerful motivator.”

  “You had the dream too.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She wouldn’t be able to roll out the denials much longer. She was already hating how much lying this required.

  Icarus held her gaze. “Me. You in your underwear. That was real. I don’t know who was in whose thoughts, but we were both in the same place.”

  Lexi swallowed a whimper. “If you’re dreaming about me in my underwear, you don’t need a real-life version.”

  “It may not be a life-or-death requirement, but I sure as fuck want you, and I could see it becoming more.”

  “It’s not going to happen.” The denial ached more than she thought possible. “Conversation over.” The words shredded her on their way out, leaving a pit inside.

  How was that one of the hardest things she’d ever said?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I need to know what’s going on in my head,” Cassandra said, as Actaeon approached. “You’ve been the closest thing to open with me since I got here.”

  This was a mistake. Lexi would be furious if she found out. Actaeon didn’t know another way to get his answers, though. “I’ll answer your questions if you’ll answer mine.”

  “That seems fair.”

  He didn’t trust her around crowds. Not after what happened last time. “Someplace else.”

  She twisted her mouth. “A spot with fewer people for me to blow up in a misplaced fit of jealousy? All right.”

  This wasn’t the same woman he talked to a few days ago. She was more lucid. More interactive.

  He gestured with his head, away from anyone else. “Walk along the beach with me?”

  “If the situation were different, I’d swoon at a request like that.” She jammed her hands in her pockets. “Sure. That sounds nice.”

  They strolled in silence, as the crowds thinned. Actaeon would get his answers, and then walk away. It was as simple as that.

  Cassandra was close enough her arm brushed his occasionally. After several minutes, she gave a throat-clearing cough. “It's not normal to be locked away by gods. I remember that much. Apollo is kind, and he apologizes a lot, but he hasn’t let me leave the house since... well... You know. He keeps saying he owes me. That he’s responsible for me. What does that mean?”

  “What did he tell you it meant? I’m not a mind reader.” Actaeon had a hard time believing Apollo was apologetic about anything.

  “He won’t tell me. Apparently I’m better off if I don’t remember.”

  Actaeon hated this. It was one of the biggest reasons he’d distanced himself from the gods. Arrogant assholes were always making decisions for their constituents, based on the gods’ best interests. But they framed it as this is for your own good.

  A few feet away, waves lapped at the sand, coasting in gently before rolling away again. The water was no longer Poseidon’s domain. Would someone else step in to claim the sea? Or would it be one of the biggest places on earth that was free from a god’s influence? It was hard to believe Zeus would allow that.

  How many other gods would die before this was over? And would their deaths be a good or a bad thing?

  “I’ll answer any specific questions you have. But you have to keep in mind that, once you learn—re-learn?—a thing, you can’t unlearn it,” he said.

  She glanced at him, her lips pursed in a bitter smile. “Apparently that’s not completely true.”

  He recognized that look. The amused sarcasm. He used to adore that expression. Lexi’s was better—more confident, less manipulative, and sexier. “Touché. I want you to tell me you understand it anyway.”

  “I understand. Once it’s out there, it can’t be taken back.” She was definitely more with it today. “Besides, my knowing doesn't change what happened or what will happen.”

  His mind stumbled on the words. She used to say something almost identical about her visions of the future.

  “Who am I?” she asked.

  A frisbee flew overhead, and a beach-goer charged in front of them to snag it. He gave Actaeon and Cassandra a sheepish nod, then jogged back to his friends.

  Where to start, with a question like hers? “First of all, you’re a lot older than you look.”

  “So I’m what? Forty? Fifty?”

  “Three-thousand and some.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She sounded as though he’d told her, It’s twenty-three and breezy outside.

  Maybe her response wasn’t that odd. She'd been immersed in the immortal side of things since she returned, and even without her memory, she’d come pre-programmed with knowledge of a post-Enlightenment world.

  It still seemed like an understated reaction for someone who didn't recall their past. “You were born an Oracle,” he said.

  “I can see the future?” The question should be one of disbelief, but her tone was flat.

  This wasn’t right. Uneasiness clawed through Actaeon. “You could. I don't know if you can anymore or not. Myth says Apollo gave you the gift, in order to seduce you. That’s not true. You were born with it. But when you turned Apollo down, he cursed you so no one would believe the future you saw.”

  “Oh. That sucks.” She might as well be complaining that her toast was overcooked.

  Sucks was an understatement. “It almost drove you mad.” The first time, but not the last. “Over the centuries, Apollo’s obsession shifted, and he eased up on the curse, until what you saw spoke for itself.”

  “How much later was it before you and I fell in love?”

  “I—” That was a peculiar tangent for the questions to take. Had he told her they used to be in love? It must have come up in his house. “It's been about forty years.”

  “Apollo took centuries to get over me and even now has regrets, and you moved on in a couple of decades.” Emotion crept into her voice.

  It was awfully warm out here, for the sun being so low in the sky. Actaeon wanted to say Apollo tended to be obsessive. It was why Actaeon didn’t get along with him. He kept his posture casual, but adrenaline raced through his veins. He needed to be ready for anything. “I’m a different person than my uncle.”

  “Buy me an iced coffee.” She nudged his shoulder with hers, pointing him toward a kiosk near the edge of the beach. “I meant what I said about Lexi. She’s a melodramatic child, and she’ll devour you from the inside out, leaving you an empty husk.”

  He bristled at the words. “That’s not quite what you said, and I disagree.”

  “That’s your right. Regardless, thank you for telling me the truth about Apollo.”

  He didn’t have to ask why she was so certain he’d told the truth. “How long have you had your memory back? Was it ever gone?” What was her game?

  “You wound me. Why would I lie about something like that?”

  When they were a couple, a conversation like this would have led to sex. How fucked up was that? “Everyone has their reasons.”

  “I was telling the truth when I wandered onto your little stretch of beach. I didn’t remember a thing. At dinner, something happened in my head. It was as though my mind fractured. After Apollo fetched me, I was a wreck. Couldn’t think. Nothing made sense. Have you ever gone mad and then come back from it?”

  “Almost.” They reached the coffee hut. “Usual?” he asked.

  “Depends on what you think the usual is.”

  Actaeon looked at the girl working the register. “Large iced dirty chai, with an extra shot. And a bottle of Souroti.”

  “Sounds like you remember too.” Cassandra leaned her weight against him.

  Her touch was like rough scales cutting his senses, and he put several inches between them.

  Cassandra straightened without flinching.

  The cashier handed him his water, and he and Cassandra stepped aside to wait for her drink.

  “I still feel it,” she said. “The fractures in my mind. The splintered thoughts. They look like a broken
window. But it’s like I have a repaired one, too. The cracks are in my head, but they’re not a part of me anymore.”

  Actaeon didn’t like where this was going. “That sounds good.”

  “Everything came back to me that night. Everything. The visions. Dying in Las Vegas. Finding Persephone in the underworld. Realizing you were never going to come for me. That you were there for Lexi.”

  “Dirty chai,” the barista called, then handed Cassandra her drink.

  “Thanks.” She grabbed her cup and took a long sip, meandering back toward the water.

  Actaeon didn’t have a response. He wouldn’t apologize for that choice. He was starting to regret this one, though he was compelled to find out where all Cassandra’s tangents were going.

  She glanced at him. “Like I said, I feel the madness underneath it all. It’s not gone. The drive that convinced me it was okay to let Hades use me as a vessel. That compelled me to kill Persephone. And the blackness. There was nothing after that.” Her step faltered, and she pressed her palm to her forehead. She let out a shaky sigh, then resumed walking. “Hades pulled me from the nothing. He saved me.”

  The shift in her voice sent ice sliding down Actaeon’s spine. Despite the haunting words, her matter-of-fact, clinical tone had returned. “That’s a lot to process at once. I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

  “It’s all right.” They’d reached the edge of the water. She stood close enough that the surf lapped over her toes and sandals. “Hades explained it to me.”

  This was so much not better. “Explained what?”

  “He promised to send me back to you. He’s made the promise to hundreds and kept it. But none of the others were oracles, cursed by a god. I came with unexpected side-effects. He was trying to figure out how to fix me, and now he has. My mind is whole again, for the first time in centuries.”

  “That sounds incredible.” Or unbelievable. Actaeon didn’t know if he should push for answers or walk away. Nothing about this situation was right.

  “It is.” She turned to face him, and her expression softened. “Actaeon, I’m not trying to come off as cold. Or as the psycho ex. Or whatever else is going through your head. Losing you hurts. I’m trying not to feel it, but it’s there.”