Hearts and Arrows Box Set

by Staci Hart

  “Oh, god. Spike won’t be there, will he?”

  “He shouldn’t be. I hope he’s not, anyway.”

  “Bless his heart,” she said with a mock pout as she ripped open two tea bags and dunked them into the water.

  “Two teas?”

  “Kara’s on her way over.”

  “Well, I’ll be gone a few hours, so carry on with the gab-fest as long as you want.”

  He turned for their bedroom, stopping in front of the door when a knock rapped.

  “I got it,” Travis said and pulled the door open.

  “Well, hello, sir.” Kara’s eyebrow reached for her dark hairline as she appraised his goods.

  That really should bother me, Lex thought as she dropped a few sugar cubes in and stirred.

  “Ma’am.” Travis tipped an imaginary hat and gave her a wink.

  Kara headed into the kitchen, curvy hips swaying with her neck craned to watch Travis walk away. She almost ran into the table, catching herself at the last possible second. She hung her bag on the back of a kitchen chair like nothing happened.

  “Tea?” Lex smirked as she offered up a steaming cup with a string draped over the side.

  “Thanks, friend.” Kara leaned over her cup, and her dark hair fell over her shoulder. She closed her icy blue eyes and breathed deep. “Mmm.”

  Lex took a seat across from Kara at her kitschy 50’s diner table, complete with turquoise Formica and chrome, which was one of her favorite vintage finds.

  “Bye, girls, have fun,” Travis said as he shrugged on his jacket.

  “Toodles.” Kara twiddled her fingers at him.

  Lex rolled her eyes, smiling as the door closed behind him. “Shameless.”

  “Moi?” Kara feigned surprise.

  “Ha. So innocent.”

  Kara batted her lashes and stirred her tea. “So, let’s hear it.”

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Julie Andrews would say the beginning.”

  “It is a very nice place to start.” Lex sighed. “That makes it sound so easy.”

  “Well, you had the ‘over it’ look last night. Are Mr. Travis’ days numbered? Because my bed has been awfully cold lately, and, well, he’s just so very virile.”

  A laugh bubbled out of Lex. “He really is. Virile. Like incredibly virile.”

  “What’s the problem?” she asked chastely, eyebrows raised as she sipped her tea.

  “Is it love?”

  “If you have to ask yourself that question, then the answer is probably no.”

  “But we’re obviously compatible. I do love him, but it’s not that starry-eyed love, the self-sacrificing, soulmate kind of love. But then I have to ask myself if that even exists.”

  “I believe that it does, and I think you do too.”

  “But is it real? Or is it just some bullshit line that Hollywood and romance novels feed us? Some impossible standard? I mean, why shouldn’t I be with Travis?”

  “If you don’t love him, I’d say that’s probably reason number one.”

  “Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough.”

  “I’m almost positive that you can’t force yourself to love someone.”

  “No, I know, but I do care about him. I want to make him happy, and I want to be there for him.” Lex shook her head. “Maybe I’m just broken. And if I’m broken, then is that fair to Travis? I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t know if I can stay.”

  “Well, sister, you never want to leave any of them, not until you have a tangible reason to, at least. And I’m pretty sure you’ve never said you loved any of them, either.”

  “It’s true. And to top that off, I’ve been a serial girlfriend for the last ten years.”

  “Since David Clark, junior year. He was so cute.”

  “Seriously, the longest I think I’ve gone between guys is two weeks, and I cried the entire time that I would be alone forever. How is it possible that I’ve never been in love?”

  “Well, the minute they get to be too much, care too much, need too much, you jet.”

  “I like to think I live in the moment. That I enjoy what I have when I have it, and move on when it’s over.”

  “Is it over with Travis?”

  “I don’t know.” Lex took a sip of her tea, and they sat in silence for a moment before she continued. “This is all because of my mom, you realize that, right?”

  Kara nodded.

  “She’s still not over my dad leaving, and he’s been gone since I was nine. It didn’t matter how she tried to hide it. She cried almost every night for him and probably still does. After he left, she just … fell apart. No child should have to take care of their parents like that before they hit puberty.”

  “But her crazy doesn’t have to be your crazy, Lex.”

  “I can’t help it. I watched her for all those years as she waited on him to come home, never able to understand how someone she loves so much could just leave her. I don’t want that. If that’s what love is? If that’s what happens when it’s over? I don’t want it. And even though I want to care about someone, I can’t. Not if there’s a chance they’re going to hurt me. I see her face in my mind, and all I can do is be angry at my dad. Men leave. They betray. I can’t really trust them, and I can’t care, because if I don’t care, then I can’t get hurt.”

  “Do you think Travis is going to hurt you?”

  “No, I don’t think he’d do anything to hurt me, not on purpose. But it’s not like I can choose to fall in love, or decide to let someone in. So does it mean redefining love and my expectations? And is that fair to Travis? Is there some girl out there who will love him like Juliet loves Romeo? Like Orpheus and Eurydice? Because if there is, he deserves that.”

  Kara reached out to touch her arm. “You’re the only one who can figure that out, and I know you will.”

  “I hope so, because right now, I am so confused.”

  “You will. And trust me, things could be a lot worse.”

  “Don’t you jinx me, Kara.”

  “You are so superstitious. Hurry, burn some sage,” Kara said, laughing. “I know you’ve got some around here somewhere.”

  “Don’t make fun of me. It works, even though it smells dank.”

  “Define ‘works.’”

  “If nothing else, it makes me feel better.”

  “Well, in that case, burn away.”

  ———— Olympus ————

  Dita lay on her overstuffed red velvet couch, lost in the creases and folds, eyeing Perry, who sat lotus style at the end of the couch, annihilating an enormous chocolate donut.

  Dita propped her head up on a bright, hand-woven pillow. “You’re dead meat if you get Bavarian cream on my sofa.”

  “Mmmph hmm,” Perry mumbled. Bisoux’s tongue hung out as he panted at Perry’s elbow with his eyes fixed on the donut.

  Dita grabbed her cashmere throw off the back of the couch and pulled it onto her lap. “So Dean’s hot, huh?”

  “Hubba, hubba.”

  “He’s going to be tricky. I kind of did a number on his mom, which screwed him up pretty bad.”

  Perry snorted.

  “Emotionally, that is, although that pun was totally intended. He’s so damaged. It was a good choice for Apollo.”

  “For once.”

  “Right? He seems to be on his game, though I doubt it will be enough for him to win.”

  “Well, you never lose.”

  “Not when it comes to love.” Dita pulled a small pillow into her lap and absently fiddled with the tassels. “Lex is a perfect match for him. She’s never been in love, so when it happens with Dean, it’s going to hit her like a freight train.”

  “The love train?”

  “Yes, filled up with chocolates, stuffed animals, and bad poetry. If I had to bet, which I realize we are, I’d say they’re perfect for each other.”

  “Well,” Perry licked her fingers as she held the donut gingerly in her other hand, “yo
u happen to be the universal expert on the subject, so I can’t say that I’m surprised. Devil’s advocate, since that’s technically what I am, what if Apollo wins?”

  “Do I have to think about that?” Dita shifted in her seat.

  “I think it would be prudent.”

  “Well, I’ve beaten him hundreds of times before, so my track record should speak for itself.”

  “You do own the competition pretty fiercely, Dita, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t prepare yourself, just in case.”

  “It’s kind of hard to prepare for losing when you haven’t done it in three thousand years.”

  Perry eyed her. “Try.”

  Dita sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t forget that look in his eyes. Maybe he’ll give me a run for my money this time. Our little feud has gotten to him, but it’s gotten to me too.”

  “You’re not one to forget.”

  “No, I’m not. How can I forgive him? He murdered Adonis.” Dita shook her head. “If he wins, I guess I have to give up a token, but I can’t imagine what our lives will be like if I do.”

  Perry watched her silently, but Dita didn’t notice. She stared across the room at nothing in particular as her thoughts drifted back in time to the day that forever changed her life.

  The day that their feud began, Aphrodite sat under an old, gnarled olive tree in a small clearing in the woods of old Greece, waiting for Adonis. They always met in a valley that seemed to bloom with wildflowers, no matter the season. Poppies dotted the green grass that swayed in the breeze and climbed the walls of the mountains that surrounded the quiet place. The sky was blue and clear, and two fat little pipits landed nearby, chirping their small song.

  They flew away together, weaving around each other until she could see them no longer.

  “My goddess,” Adonis said, his voice full of awe, “how lovely you are, always, but today especially so.”

  Her white robes billowed behind her as she made her way into his arms. “My love.”

  Adonis leaned back and brushed her hair from her face. “Hello, dearest.”

  She smiled up at him and ran a hand through his golden hair that hung in curls around his angular face. It was said that he was the most beautiful man ever created, which was the truth. Her eyes traced his blond brow over crisp blue eyes, then followed the line of his perfect nose to the steep slope of his generous lips as he smiled.

  “My goddess,” he said, “what have I ever done to deserve the grace of your affection?”

  “Just existing is enough.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, “I will hold you forever.”

  “Forever is long for a mortal such as I.”

  Aphrodite pulled away, her mood sullen in an instant. She took a seat under the tree again and picked a star-shaped crocus from the grass. “Forever is the blink of an eye, if you would only drink nectar.” She twiddled the stem of the small violet flower between her thumb and forefinger, and it spun around wildly, flying in a blur as she avoided his eyes, trying not to sound impertinent.

  Adonis inspected his fingernails. “I will, when I am ready. I have not experienced living enough to settle into eternity.”

  That is true enough, she thought. At twenty-three, he had been alive for only a moment in time, and they had only been together for a few short years of that. Humans were fragile creatures, and the thought of losing him so soon after having him for her own was almost too much to bear.

  They had argued over the matter dozens of times, never reaching an understanding. In his short existence, he didn’t have the experience to understand mortality, and she found the sentiment that immortality changed what he could, or would, experience ridiculous on the best days and enraging on the worst.

  She plucked the petals off the flower one by one and dropped them, watching as they spiraled into her lap in an attempt to bite her tongue, not wanting to say anything to anger him. But she couldn’t help but stew.

  “Do you realize that you could be in danger?” She kept her eyes on the flower.

  “Hunting is dangerous, and I realize that.”

  “Yes, but what is more dangerous is the attention that you’ve called upon yourself. Your hunting prowess is unmatched by any human—“

  “And this is a bad thing?’

  “No,” she answered, using the patience she reserved for small children and the very old. “Not on its own merit. But if you anger Artemis, you know that she will not forgive. You challenge her as the goddess of the hunt. I’ve seen the jealousy in her eyes and have heard it in her voice. She would not hesitate to harm you.”

  He laughed, which only frustrated her more. “I do not threaten Artemis, and I never claim to be more skilled than any other man or god. Why should she wish to punish me?”

  She sighed. So sure he is of himself. There was no convincing him as he stood before her, leaning on a tree with his big arms folded across his broad chest, smiling as if he’d live forever without being smart enough to ensure that he would.

  Her thoughts drifted to Ares, and her fears burned even brighter. They had been lovers for hundreds of years, and Ares was insanely jealous, particularly of Adonis. She pushed the worry away, hoping that she had secured his safety from Ares, at least.

  Aphrodite stood, and the petals fell from her robes and into the grass as she moved to him, threading her arms through his. She laid her cheek against his chest and took a breath.

  “Please, be safe,” she said, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “I will.”

  After a moment, she unwound herself and pushed up on her toes to cradle his face in her elegant hands. He bent to brush his lips to hers, soft and tender against her own. Her fingers roamed down his chest and over the ridges of his stomach as he leaned into her.

  Their kiss burned hot, and he broke away to sweep her off her feet. He carried her to the wide shade of the tree, lying her down in the cool grass, his hand on her thigh as he kissed her neck.

  “You are mine,” she breathed into his ear, her arms around his neck as his fingers nimbly loosened the belt that kept her robes in place.

  “Yours,” he said into her neck before laying kisses down her collarbone, then along the neckline of her robe. He slipped the fabric off her shoulders. “As you are mine.”

  “Always yours,” she whispered back and pulled him close.

  He kissed her again, his lips charged with want as he cupped her breast, then pulled away, his eyes hungry as he pulled her robes to the side, exposing her body to him. She reached for his belt, dropped his robes, and wrapped her fingers around his length.

  His hands pressed into the grass on either side of her as he tilted his head back and moved into her palms. He bent down to kiss her, and she brought her hand to his lips to slip her thumb into his mouth when he broke from her. She skimmed her hand down his torso and ran her slick thumb over his crown, already beading, rolling it around in circles. He bucked with a soft moan, then pulled away from her to kiss frantically down her chest.

  He paused over her breasts to kiss them, squeezing gently with his strong hand as his thumb brushed her nipple. One arm lay under the small of her back, and his free hand moved down her body to her thigh, then trailed back up to touch her. The pads of his fingers rolled in circles, and she gasped. Her hips tilted to him and her head hung back, her golden hair a blanket around her in the spring grass.

  A branch snapped nearby, and Aphrodite opened her heavy lids, confused.

  “What in Hades?” she said, her voice husky, and then she saw him.

  Erymanthus hid in the brush, leering at her with a hand under his robes. It was not the first time she had found Apollo’s son lurking, trying to catch a glimpse of her bathing or with Adonis, but never had she been taken by surprise. And she was so shocked, so caught off guard, that when he sneered with a wicked look in his eye and turned to run, she filled with rage.

  She stood and flung out her hand, fingers splayed, eyes glowing blue-white in her wrath as she
paced toward him. An angry wind flew through the space between them, kicking up leaves and flowers that danced madly in the currents, whipping her hair around her. He clawed at his eyes, screaming as he turned and ran.

  She let him go with his life, though he would spy no longer.

  The wind calmed as her hand dropped to her side, her heart thumping in her chest as she turned to where Adonis lay stunned, his long body stretched out in the grass. He shook his head, but the shock never left him as she stalked to him, her heart racing furiously on the rush of her wrath.

  Adonis propped himself up, and when she reached for his face, he leaned out of her reach, emotion warring behind his eyes. “How could you?”

  She was dumbstruck, her anger dissipating, her tone soft and pleading. “Truly? He saw me naked, exposed, and this is not the first time he has tried. He was touching himself, Adonis, while watching us. You suggest that I let that go unpunished?”

  “What will become of him?”

  “He is blind, but he is alive, and lucky to be so. I am a goddess, worshipped and sacred. Surely you understand?”

  He looked away and rubbed a hand across his lips. “I sometimes forget that you are not human.”

  Her eyes stung at his words. “Have you forgotten who I am? I know that it is impossible for you to grasp immortality and the life of a god, but that does not mean I am not the one you love.”

  “This is why I do not wish for immortality. You say that all will be the same, but it will not.”

  She touched his cheek, and he turned to face her, his eyes sad. “Adonis, please. I have lived so long and have order to uphold. It is the way of things. It does not change my feelings for you, or who I am.”

  His face softened, and he leaned into her hand. “I know. I should not be so shocked, but to see you in wrath reminds me how different we are.”

  She pulled him into her chest, filled with cold dread, and he wrapped his arms around her. If he never drank nectar, he would never fully be hers, would never understand, and she wondered how long they could survive together if they couldn’t find common ground.

  “I must go,” she said and kissed the top of his head. “Go. Hunt. Call for me when you are ready to speak, and I will come to you.”