Why was Cassandra at the top of it?
Because Actaeon owed her.
No. That wasn’t an answer. Besides, Apollo said the same thing.
But Actaeon was responsible for Cassandra being where she was. He went after Zeus when she’d told him it would mean her death. He left her in the underworld—
And even if I were to blame for her reactions to that, Apollo was taking care of her. And I’m not responsible for her actions.
No, but if Actaeon drove her to them...
He didn’t have answers, and the two halves of his brain arguing were giving him a headache.
Is Icarus right?
No.
He’s not? Then why did I go after Cassandra?
Actaeon hated this. That part of him agreed with Icarus. And if Icarus was right, was Actaeon only pursing Lexi because she needed saving?
No.
How can I be so sure? Especially if Icarus was right.
Lexi’d had a tough life. She was exactly what Icarus said—a powerful immortal living outside the inner circle, and struggling through this world.
A knock interrupted his mental sparring match. These rooms of Apollo were essentially isolation chambers—cutting the person inside off from all sounds and smells of the rest of the hotel. Apparently, they were warded to let knocks through, though.
So much for a peaceful rest. The interruption was welcome at this point. He crossed the room, unlocked the door, and summoned a half-smile when he saw Lexi.
He didn’t flinch at the smell of sex that clung to her skin. He’d gotten used to it, since she and Cerberus had moved in. But this wasn’t Cerberus’ scent, and smelling Icarus on her sent twin pangs of jealousy racing through Actaeon’s veins.
He took a step back, needing to keep his thoughts relatively clear, and gestured to one of the chairs in the room. “Have a seat.”
“I’m only here to let you know we’re almost ready. We’ll explain everything you need to know when you join us.” Her tone was cool, despite the flush of heat sending pink climbing up her neck and into her cheeks.
“Is that it?”
“What else do you want me to say?”
Actaeon wanted her to say why she’d fucked Icarus. He wanted to know where he and Lexi stood. He wanted her to tell him if she was still pissed off about Cassandra. “The only thing I need to hear is what’s on your mind.”
She shook her head. Her lips were drawn in a thin line. “You don’t need that. You didn’t listen last time and my opinion hasn’t changed.”
I’m sorry. The apology died in the back of his throat. If he said it, would she believe him?
“Nothing?” Sarcasm leaked into her question. “You don’t have a witty retort for me? A smooth line to convince me I’m safe opening up to you? No snarky comeback about how I smell like sex?”
A wince slipped out without his permission.
Her smirk created tight lines around her mouth and eyes. “At least you’re not trying to shame me for who I fuck.”
“That’s your business.”
Lexi gave a bitter laugh. “So first of all, you’re lying. And second? If you cared, actually gave a shit about us working out the way you claim—sharing a home and a life—you’d be willing to admit that who I sleep with isn’t just my business. Does it matter to a random stranger on the street? No. Fuck them. Should it matter to another guy I’m involved with? I think so.”
“That’s not what he meant.” He didn’t like being on the defensive. Worse, he hated not having answers.
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Go ahead, then. Spin me a tale about what you do mean. Make it as good as the one about Cassandra. When you swore she’d be gone from our lives, and lied so well you even believed it yourself. Do you ever listen to the words you say?”
The instinct was to bite back. To tell her she was being selfish and unreasonable, and to point out she was too young to have any idea what she was talking about. He didn’t feel that way, though. He understood why she was hurt.
Icarus’ argument made sense.
“I’m sorry.” The words tasted good. Right. “I see what a mistake it was to seek out Cassandra. Not only because of what happened with Hades, but more importantly, because it hurt you. Because I broke my promise. I’m sorry.”
“That’s nice.” Her barking laugh wasn’t the response he expected.
“You know I’m telling the truth.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “That’s the problem with you. I can see you believe you’re telling the truth. For all I know, tomorrow, or an hour from now, you’ll figure out that you didn’t mean it.”
Her words dug deep, but after what he’d done, it was reasonable. “Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t have that answer. There are sides to you that I adore. I want to discover more, but...” Lexi sighed. I’m not willing to put up with your volatile sense of saviordom. Why did you go after Cassandra?”
Actaeon frowned at the same word Icarus had used. “I convinced myself what happened to her was my fault.” Saying it aloud was different than fighting over it in his head. Hearing the words, they sounded like a weak excuse.
“It wasn’t. It isn’t.” Exhaustion mingled with Lexi’s frustration. “She made her choices, the same way all of us do, and you’re not responsible for that. A lot of people die and get dumped, and don’t threaten the fabric of existence because of it.”
Lexi was pretty wise for someone so young.
“I see that now,” Actaeon admitted.
She shook her head. “There you go again—believing your own words. I want to do the same. I want to try again, but... wow, I can’t believe I’m saying this... my heart isn’t the only thing on the line when it comes to you. If you can’t figure out what your problem is, people will die. Also, I won’t let you string me along for decades while you make those discoveries.”
“I’ll ask again, where do you want to go from here?” Actaeon wasn’t pushing the issue to be a pest, or because he felt he was owed an answer. This was a point to offer closure. The idea of losing Lexi squeezed the air from his lungs. “I want to explore our relationship right, but if you’re not interested...”
“I don’t know, and now’s not the greatest time to stop and figure it out.”
“I understand.” He wished he didn’t. It would be easier if he could just plow ahead and convince her to get over whatever this hesitation was. That wasn’t the right answer, though.
“But I can’t tell you no.” She jammed her hands in her pockets. “I’m not willing to cut things short with you yet. After this is over, and Hades is dealt with, you’re going to buy me dinner—someplace nicer than you ever took Cassandra—and we’ll have an actual conversation. Not a do we stay together for eternity conversation. One of those things where we talk like two people who need to get to know each other.”
He smiled. “I’d like that. Dinner it is.”
She turned away and grabbed the doorknob. “Come find us in the living room when you’re reading.”
“One other thing.” Actaeon had one answer. While he’d talked to her, it knocked itself loose.
Lexi didn’t open the door, but she didn’t face him either.
“Icarus has accused me on more than one occasion of needing some to die for in order to feel fulfilled.”
Lexi snorted.
Actaeon didn’t blame her, and he wasn’t surprised she and Icarus were of the same mind on the matter. “He’s right. I’ve looked for that for a long time.”
“I see.” The coolness was back in her voice.
“That’s not you.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
“Because you’re not helpless.” Actaeon saw it clearly when he looked at her. “You’re not lost or adrift or in need of saving. You’re so strong. I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I promise you, I’m not sticking around because I need someone to die for.” The words tasted real and sweet. “I’m here
because I want to see what happens when we live.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and a soft smile played on her face. “Same. We’re in the living room.” She left, closing the door behind her.
Creation, that felt good. Actaeon wasn’t looking forward to the fight with Hades, but this gave him something new to anticipate after.
ICARUS COULDN’T SHAKE the silly grin that mirrored Lexi’s. He’d finished the prison, riding the high of their shared moment.
There was only one step left. The one he’d rather put off for eternity. He sent her to fetch Actaeon while he prepped the bracelet.
When he finished, she still hadn’t returned. He hoped Actaeon wasn’t being an ass, whatever they were talking about.
Cerberus appeared in the middle of the living room.
Good timing. “How’d it go?” Icarus kept his question sympathetic.
“I’m sorry.” Cerberus’ frown deepened.
That didn’t sound good. A chill raced down Icarus’ spine. “For what?”
Cerberus strode toward him, closing the distance quickly and quietly. It reminded Icarus of a hunter stalking his prey. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was about to be an entirely new kind of fucked.
Cerberus twisted his hand, caught Icarus’ wrists in a single sweep, and pinned him to the wall. Icarus had more power than the hellhound, but it wasn’t manifested in strength. His struggling only made his muscles ache.
A knife appeared in Cerberus’ free hand, and he pressed the tip to Icarus’ throat.
“You can’t kill me with a regular blade.” Icarus should be asking what this was about, but fear short-circuited his thoughts.
Cerberus pressed the tip harder, drawing blood.
Fuck, that hurt. Icarus bit the inside of his cheek, to keep from screaming at the burning agony that spread from his neck to his feet.
“I’m not stupid.” Cerberus’ voice was mechanical. It was too much like Cassandra’s had been, but there was no trace of another aura mixed with his. “This knife will kill you.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
LEXI DIDN’T FEEL LIKE she had a resolution when she left Actaeon’s room, but the conversation sat better with her than any other they’d had recently. It was going to be quite a ride finding out what came next.
As she walked down the hall, she felt Cerberus return, but his thoughts were closed off.
Her stomach dropped into her shoes when she walked into the kitchen and found Cerberus with a blade to Icarus’ throat.
“Stop.” She forced every ounce of command into the word. This wasn’t the time to worry about pushing him to do something he didn’t like.
“No.” Cerberus didn’t twitch. His voice was cold.
Did he actually refuse her? “Why?” That wasn’t what she should have asked.
“I have to do this.”
“No. You don’t.” Icarus sounded surprisingly calm for someone who was on the verge of losing his ability to speak. “I’m an inventor. Frequently a shitty one. I’m not a threat to anyone.”
None of this made sense. If commands didn’t work, she could beg. “Please stop, Cerberus.”
“What the fuck are you doing, asking?” Panic slipped into Icarus’ voice. “He’s your servant. Order him to stop.”
Cerberus growled. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
“Why not? What is this? Are you upset that we had sex? What?” Icarus sounded like he was on the verge of babbling.
Overlapping thought and emotion, neither of them hers, assaulted Lexi. Icarus was right about one thing—she shouldn’t have to ask. She hated pushing the bond with Cerberus. Commanding him to do something felt like a breach of trust, but so were his current actions. “Stop. I command it.”
Cerberus’ hand shook. “I can’t. I’m—” He pressed the weapon in with more force.
Icarus screamed, and the agony rocked Lexi to the core.
“You don’t understand,” Cerberus said in her head.
“There’s nothing to understand. This doesn’t need to happen. I’ll order, beg, plead—whatever it takes, to make you back away.”
He shoved her out of his mind. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“So you’re going to break the bond?” Lexi was about to be cruel, but this was hardly the time to consider feelings. Panic and betrayal were setting in. “This means your death, too. No one will take you if you sever another servant bond.”
“I’m not interested in swearing loyalty to anyone but you,” Cerberus said. “And I’m not severing the connection. I’ll beg you not to as well, but I can’t sto...” He violently shook his head and moved the knife to Icarus’ gut so quickly, Lexi only saw a blur.
She threw a wall between him and Icarus, and the blade clinked against Plexiglas. She didn’t know where the inspiration came from, but there was no time to think. She summoned the illusion of shackles and bodiless hands, to bind Cerberus’ wrists behind his back.
The dagger clattered to the floor.
Icarus grabbed it and put several feet between them. “This is a siren blade.”
Oh fuck. An irrational sob rose in Lexi’s throat, and she swallowed it. Lorelei’s vision rushed back, vivid and painful.
Cerberus struggled against his restraints. “These aren’t real.”
“They’ll hold you.” Lexi didn’t know where she found the strength to keep her voice from quaking. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t. This isn’t a matter of I don’t want to. I’m incapable.” The last bit bounced in her skull.
Lexi strode toward him, rested her hands on his face, and held his gaze. She couldn’t ignore the treachery and didn’t try to hide her reaction. “Show me,” she commanded.
Images of him talking to Lorelei flashed in her mind, like a whispered dream. The conversation wasn’t identical to the one Lexi saw in the prison, but it was close. This time, it was real, though. Lexi forced her way into the memory, digging further back. Cerberus was saying goodbye to his brother, and Lorelei visited him at the grave.
She said he wasn’t allowed to tell Lexi about this. That he was bound by his promise of a favor, regardless of his master’s demands. He’d made the promise to Lorelei first, and it overrode his bond with Lexi.
“I had to. I have to. I don’t have a choice.” Cerberus was muttering to himself.
It was true. Lexi wanted there to be more to this. A greater reason. Jealousy, or that Cerberus thought this was for the greater good. It hurt more that all it took for him to turn against her was someone calling in a favor.
He didn’t have a choice. But she did. “If I can’t order you to stop, I command you to not do it in my presence.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work.” Cerberus frowned.
But it would. Somehow she knew she’d found a loophole. It tore her apart to build all these confinements into their relationship. “If you find it’s not working, I order you from my sight until I say you can return or until you can be in the same room as Icarus without killing him.”
She pushed past her doubt and let the shackles fall away.
Cerberus’ hand twitched, and Icarus backed up.
“Leave.” Saying the single word devoured Lexi.
“I’ll be in the other room. Send Actaeon when it’s time to leave.” Cerberus’ hurt was the perfect companion to her tired, angry heart.
When he was gone, she sank to the floor. She was spending a lot of time down here. She was grateful Icarus didn’t speak. Lexi had wanted to spend more time getting to know him. She didn’t expect that to come at the cost of not being able to let him out of her sight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Actaeon sat on the edge of the bed, collecting his thoughts. Physically, he’d recovered. It was amazing what a little soul-searching could do for the psyche.
He was still furious at Icarus, but his friend’s point was sinking in. Actaeon wasn’t going to admit that to anyone, though.
He flexed and stretched. Everyt
hing was functioning fine.
He should go find Lexi and Icarus.
He discovered them in the kitchen, both wearing scowls, and neither speaking. Icarus spun a metal bracelet on the counter like a top. It was identical to the one he’d given Cerberus in the abandoned building.
Lexi traced the pattern of the stone countertop.
“Did I miss something?” Actaeon asked. Besides the sex?
“Yes.” Lexi cut off the word.
That was informative. “Did the pup ever come back?” He hoped she’d see the nickname as playful, and not an insult.
Icarus nodded behind Actaeon. “He’s in one of the rooms. It was the best way to keep him from killing me.”
“Why?” Jealousy wasn’t Cerberus’ thing.
Lexi sighed and scrubbed her face. “Because Lorelei called in her favor. She didn’t like that I stole her favorite toys, and Hades gave me to her. In return she offered Cerberus up as an assassin.”
Wow. “Wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years.”
“I should have,” Lexi muttered.
And Actaeon should have left the door open a crack while he slept, so he wasn’t playing catch-up. “What now?”
“We gamble on taking the time we need to talk through all the skeletons in our closets—as well as figuring out how to invalidate the favor—and hope Hades isn’t as refreshed as you when we get there. Or we admit we’re out of time, say fuck it, and go do this.”
“Do what exactly?” Actaeon asked. “We need details beyond trap Hades.”
“Go get Cerberus, and we’ll explain.” Lexi sounded tired and looked worse.
And Actaeon had no idea how to help.
He located Cerberus in an upstairs room. The hellhound sat cross-legged, eyes closed, and breathing even as if he was meditating.
“I was sent to fetch you,” Actaeon said.
“Probably smart.”
“If we go in there, will you have to kill him?” Actaeon could stop Cerberus, if it came down to that. He’d rather not deal with the fallout—Lexi’s reaction and the loss of someone he was learning to call friend—but he’d act if needed.
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