by Staci Hart
She shook herself. She still had time. But, what if she lost? Apollo had never come so close to winning before.
Her thoughts drifted to Adonis. He would be angry if Apollo won, but he couldn’t blame her, not unless he suspected that she threw it. But that would be ridiculous. She’d never forfeited anything.
Apollo was one of only a few situations in thousands of years that had ever come between her and Adonis. Everything about their relationship had been cherished because they had only ever been kept apart. Every meeting was a rush, exciting because it was forbidden.
She was taken when she found him as a baby at the foot of the tree that had once been his mother, before she’d been cursed. He was a golden child with bronze skin and wide, blue eyes the color of the sky. His plump little fingers wound through her hair, and when he cooed at her, she knew she had to save him. His mortal mother died in the transformation, and he had no one to care for him, so Aphrodite swaddled him and sent him to the underworld to be raised by Persephone.
And raise him she did. She loved him as her own son, but as he grew into a man, Aphrodite took notice. The gods always spoke of him, impressed with his skills as a hunter, and would gather to watch him hunt, wagering on how long it would take or how he would take the kill. She was enamored. He was so skilled, so lovely, easily the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and she wanted him.
Persephone kept Adonis locked away in the underworld, to keep him safe she said, only releasing him to hunt. When it came time to give him up, free him to live on Earth, Persephone refused, and their feud began.
And so, Aphrodite devised a plan to win his heart. She had watched him for so long, and one day, she waited in a valley, one of his favorite resting places after a hunt.
Adonis held back the brush and stepped into the clearing where Aphrodite waited. He froze, watching her as she moved toward him, her red robes flowing behind her as she glided to him, her bosom spilling out of her enchanted corset.
“Do not be afraid. I am Aphrodite, the Lady of Cyprus, Goddess of Love. When you were only a babe, I happened upon you and saved you. Did Persephone tell you?”
He shook his head.
“No, I suppose not. We in Olympus have watched you grow so fair and brave, and I wished to meet you, to know you.”
His blue eyes were wide as he took a step toward her. “Are you real?”
She laughed, and the sound was music. “I am real. I am flesh, just as you.”
Aphrodite reached for his hand and pressed it to her cheek as her eyes roamed his face, holding on to every detail. He took a step toward her, the space between them gone, and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her to him until their lips met, and her heart rang out.
Persephone would never stop her. Not as long as she had breath.
They met in that way for several years, and each time it became more and more difficult to part. He always chose Persephone, always wanted to return to the underworld, stoking the flames of her jealousy with bitter wind. Aphrodite knew that if Persephone found out, there would be Hades to pay, so she and Adonis only had their small time together, which made it more thrilling, and more dangerous.
Only a few years after Zeus released Adonis from the underworld, he was killed. They had never been together in a real, true way, but still she was fiercely possessive of him. They had gone through so much to be together, even through death and eternity.
Her heart sat heavy in her chest. He was ripped from her when they were still new, but he was hers, in all ways. And he was the one that she chose, that she wanted, although they were not the same. In fact, they had little in common, but the regret of responsibility for his death had weighed on her for thousands of years. The Fates seemed bent on keeping them apart, which angered her to no end. And because of that, she had never, ever been able to let him go.
She loved him, how could she not, after all they had been through? But Adonis’ love had always been conditional. She realized for the first time, having never questioned it before, that he had never chosen her, not when it mattered. He chose Persephone over being with her. Chose mortality over her. He wanted everything but gave nothing.
Dita slipped under the surface of her bath, her hair floating around her, her tears mingling with the water as she began to understand that her life, her love, was not what she believed it was.
Apollo leaned against the rail of the elevator with his hands in the pockets of his slacks and his feet in oxfords crossed in front of him. When the door opened, it opened into a copse of trees. He stepped onto the lush grass and made his way down the trail to the pond where Artemis and her band of merry feminists were usually to be found.
Artemis sat high above him on a rock that hung over the pond, clad in short, blue robes, her fair skin glowing like moonlight, her dark hair pulled back in the old fashion with a silver crescent diadem placed on top. Zeus, their father, had frozen her in time at her request, and she was forever a maiden at sixteen. Her legs in doeskin boots were tucked in next to her, and he could see her quiver of silver arrows on her back, the leather strap lying between her small breasts. A fawn lay asleep next to her with its head in her lap. She smiled when she saw Apollo, and he could only smile back.
His twin was the night to his day, the moon to his sun, and his closest ally.
“Hello, Brother.”
Apollo climbed up the boulder gingerly, conscious of his expensive pants. “Hello, Sister.” He dusted the knee of his slacks and ran his hand down the baby deer’s spotted torso, over its soft, tan fur, before sitting shoulder to shoulder with Artemis.
He hooked his arms around his bent knees and looked out into the vastness of her domain. They sat in a wide valley surrounded by lush, green mountains, stretching up into the sky. In the distance, he heard the rush of a tall waterfall as it streamed from a break in the face of a cliff, and a clamor of harpies screeched from some distance away. A unicorn drank from the pond below, and a pack of centaurs thundered behind them, then off into the thicket.
He leaned forward to look into the dark pool, the edges dotted with lily pads. “Where are your little nymphs?”
“They have gone on a hunt.”
“Without their goddess? Needed a little time alone?”
Artemis was as solitary as he was social. “You know me well, brother.” Her palm ran between the fawn’s ears. “How goes the competition? I witnessed your prophecy. It seems you may have found a way to beat Aphrodite.”
“And wouldn’t you be elated?”
“Yes, frankly. Thrilled. I cannot stand that she constantly wins at her ridiculous games of love.”
“Well, Sister, I’m fairly certain she feels the same way about your games and wants.”
“This is true,” she said.
“The competition goes well, and yes, I hope that I have found a way to finally get my wish.”
“And how do you think that Adonis will take this news?”
Apollo sighed. “He will likely be less than pleased.”
“Fortunately for you, he is in Elysium and cannot reach you. And fortunately for me. When he was alive, he was always stealing my glory. What is the modern phrase that you use?”
“Stealing your thunder. Zeus loves that one.”
“Yes, I suspect that he would.” Artemis’ eyes twinkled.
“I find it forever ironic that Aphrodite, who is the goddess of love, has held on to Daphne for all of these centuries over Adonis. She’s throwing a tantrum over a man whom she does not even truly love.” He released his knees and leaned back on his elbows as he stretched his legs out in front of him.
“You know that she cannot stand to lose. Letting go is not something in which she is well versed.”
“She will have to learn this skill, and very soon.”
Artemis turned her deep blue eyes to him. “Have you had a vision?”
“I have, and I will win. I saw Daphne, in my apartment.” His lips stretched wide in a smile.
“Brother, you have waited so l
ong. I am pleased,” she said reverently with a smile.
“Dearest, a smile? For me? So rare.” He placed a soft kiss on her flushed cheek. “Thank you.”
“You have earned this, Apollo.”
“I don’t know about earned, though I have paid my penance. I do feel for the humans, though. They are suffering. But I’m rewarding them with a little extra nudge in the creativity department. I hope that it helps to ease their pain.”
“All that comes from love is pain.” Her dark brow dropped, and she looked away.
“That is not all that comes of love, and you know it.”
Artemis turned her gaze back to him. “Has it been worth the pain that you have been through over Daphne?”
“Artemis, the moment she is in my arms, all will be worth the price I have paid.”
She sighed and moved the small deer’s head from her lap, then rose and ran her hand through Apollo’s hair. “I do hope so, Apollo.”
Artemis turned and climbed lithely down the boulder. She trotted to the unicorn and grabbed its mane as she jumped and swung her leg over its back. She turned to wave, her face serene as she gave the animal a small kick and flew into the woods, a pearly streak through the dense green of the forest.
Day 15
DITA DUCKED UNDER A BRANCH as she ran through Elysium after Adonis. His bow and arrow were drawn as he chased a stag through the brush, never faltering as he cleared a fallen tree in their path. Her muscles burned as she bolted through the woods, her sandaled feet flying, her blond hair streaking behind her as the tension left her with the sweat that rolled down her body.
She burst into a clearing and found him strapping and hot blooded, panting over the deer whose tall antlers reached her waist. He loved to hunt deer, and Dita suspected it had something to do with the fact that they were sacred to Apollo. She sat down on a felled tree and rested her elbows on her knees to catch her breath. Adonis gave her a wild-eyed grin as he pulled his knife from his belt and turned to clean his kill.
They hadn’t hunted together in ages. Dita watched the sweat roll down his back as he worked, pausing occasionally to rub his brow with the back of his forearm.
Hunting was not Dita’s favorite pastime, not by a long shot, but when Adonis lived he would not be separated from it. So, to spend more time with him, she donned short robes and hunting gear to learn the art that gave him so much joy. It was another difference between them, a sacrifice she willingly made because she wanted to understand him, wanted to be a part of his life, even though he’d never expressed any interest in hers.
When her heart stopped racing, she moved onto the grass and leaned against the log as she watched Adonis. She could stare at him through eternity, and practically had. His hands were covered in the buck’s blood, and her breath hitched at the memory of his death. It had been thousands of years, but she still felt the loss. She would never wish her pain and regret on another soul, not even Apollo for killing him.
Her relationship with Adonis had never been easy, always complex, heavy with the many years that had passed, through betrayal and murder, love and lust, lies and deceit. She felt them all in that moment, pressing on her from all directions as she watched the man before her, the man who she loved, who she had fought through heaven and hell to be with, the man who she wasn’t sure truly loved her in return.
But was her love true? Her heart was wrapped in so much pain and loss, had she mistaken that for love for so long? They had never been able to be together, never without the fear, or knowledge, that they would be torn apart.
Her thoughts circled like vultures over her sick, aching heart.
She found a way to brush them away, though she knew they would be back, and turned her mind to Lex and Dean, aching to find a way to fix the damage that Apollo caused, knowing they were each other’s best chance at happiness. She didn’t know if she could repair her own love, but she could salvage their chance at it.
Apollo looked in on Dean, who sat on the floor of his apartment with his head bent over his notebook. He’d filled up an entire book and moved on to a new one, all of his hurt bleeding onto the pages as he tried to get through every minute, every hour, every day. His pen flew across the page, and Lex was in every word he wrote.
Inspiration was the least Apollo could do, having ripped the boy’s chest open and thrown his heart into Hades. Dean set his book down next to a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and reached for his guitar.
He looks like hell, Apollo thought, and looked away. He understood in a very intimate way how it felt to want what you couldn’t have, and he hoped that something good would come from the whole affair. The humans had earned that much.
But, at the end of the day, their pain was a means to an end.
He laid back and closed his eyes.
This is it.
In his mind, he was thousands of years before and thousands of miles away, stretched out on the spring grass next to Daphne in old Greece.
Her face was turned up to the sun, his sun, and he bathed her in warmth. She sighed, eyes closed, her copper hair shining, spread out on the grass around her. Apollo rolled over to his side and propped his head on his hand, and she turned to the movement, opening her green eyes.
“Play me a song,” she asked sweetly.
“That, my dear, is my specialty.” He sat gracefully and produced a lyre out of the air, then strummed a melancholy song with a mock somber face. She propped herself up and threw a handful of grass at him, giggling.
“Do not jest, Apollo. It is a beautiful day, not a day for weeping. It is a day for love. Play me a song for love.” Her eyes shone with hope and devotion, and he knew he would deny her nothing, as long as he could give it to her, as long as he should live.
“And now, beloved, you have guessed my second specialty—songs for love.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, then strummed and sang, the song so sweet, so full of the love in his heart that tears rolled down her freckled cheek, her face alight with her joy.
When he stopped playing, he could do nothing but kiss her tenderly, completing the circle of what he could not tell her with words, imparting his love through his touch. She twined her arms around his neck, and he held her small waist as he lay down and pulled her on top of him. Her red curls fell around them like a curtain, the light beaming through as the sun flashed with the beat of his heart.
Apollo gazed at the space where she stood in his vision, there in his apartment. In the flesh. His. For the first time in eons, he allowed himself to believe, truly believe that it would be, and he soared.
———— New York ————
Kara made her way into Lex’s building with a furrowed brow. She was worried about her friend since every time they’d spoken, Lex had cried so hard she was barely intelligible. She’d officially reached hot mess status, and it was unnerving, to say the least.
The band had started recording the day before, and they’d all slept for a few hours at the warehouse before getting up to do it again. Travis hadn’t been home, though Kara figured at some point the guys would cave and take a legit break. And when Travis did make it back, he’d be in for a serious surprise, one she had a feeling that none of them were ready for.
She opened Lex’s door to find her molded into the window seat, writing in her notebook. Her hair was dirty, and she was in her pajamas. It was two in the afternoon.
“Wow, look at you.” Kara shut the door behind her and made her way across the room. She sniffed dramatically. “Lex, you smell like a subway bathroom on a Saturday night.”
“How would you know? No one goes into subway bathrooms.”
“Just a hunch.” Kara dropped her bag and sat in the chair across from the window seat. “I’m guessing you’re not feeling any better?”
Lex dropped her pencil in the crease of her notebook. “Not really. I thought I’d be at least functioning by now.” Her eyes misted up.
“Do you need to have an ugly cry? I wore a t-shirt, so mascara is no prob.”
> Lex chuckled as a tear fell down her cheek, and she sniffled. “I guess I just need more time.”
Kara seriously doubted that time would make the situation better. She spotted a Hershey’s bar next to Lex. “Share.” She stuck out her hand and wiggled her fingers.
“God, you’re so demanding.” Lex broke a piece off and handed the chocolate over.
Kara popped off a piece and put it in her mouth. “I’m sort of in uncharted waters here. This,” she motioned to all of Lex, “is new.”
“I just … I thought … I thought I could trust him. I mean, Kara … he’s fucked up. But we connect on levels of fuckedupedness.”
“Is that in the dictionary?”
“It is, right next to bitchass and your picture.”
Kara paused as the little rectangle of chocolate melted in her mouth. “You should talk to him.”
“I said what I needed to say, and honestly, if I see him again I don’t even know if I can walk away a second time. And I have to walk away. How can I not? How can he possibly prove that he’s not a user? That he’s not going to hump and dump me?”
Kara uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, forearms on her thighs. “I don’t know, Lex. Are you going to let something pass you by because you’re afraid to take a chance?”
Lex looked down at her hands and picked at her nails, then sniffled and looked out the window as she wiped a tear away.
After waiting for a response for a minute, Kara realized that Lex didn’t have an answer, at least not one that she was willing to share.
She stood up. “Come on, pretty. Pack a bag. Moping around here isn’t helping you, so you’re coming with me to a magical land full of showers and pants without elastic waists.”
“What about Travis? I need to talk to him.”
“Do you feel like you’re in the proper state of mind to deal with Travis? What would you tell him if he walked in right now?”