Tall, Dark, and Divine

by Jenna Bennett

  “Don’t talk about her like that!” Eros growled.

  Dion glanced at him. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I fucking said so, that’s why!”

  “Oh, sure,” Dion said. “You fucking say so, so we’re all supposed to listen? Who died and made you a god?”

  “I’ve always been a fucking god, you fucking moron!”

  “Right.” The god of wine and debauchery drew the word out sarcastically. “I forgot. You’re the fucking god of love. The fucking god of love. Who fucked himself over so badly the woman he wants is now gonna marry someone else. And you call me a moron?”

  “You are a moron, you fucking idiot. Listen.” He tossed back what was left in the glass and slammed it down on the counter. “Three or four or five thousand years ago—who the Hades can remember anymore?—I scratched myself with that damn arrow and fell in love with Psyche. And you weren’t around then, so you don’t remember what happened, but between her and Aphrodite, they made things damn difficult for a while. Aphrodite was jealous because Psyche was so pretty, and nobody would give me what I wanted. It took years to work things out. Eventually, I got Zeus to agree to let me marry her, but it was against his better judgment.”

  “What better judgment?”

  “He told me it wouldn’t work out,” Eros said. “That gods were gods and mortals were mortals, and nothing good came from marrying them.”

  There was a pause. “That’s rich,” Dion said, “coming from him.”

  Eros nodded. Zeus had almost single-handedly sired the entire Greek pantheon, many of them—like Dionysus—with mortals. The demigod of wine and debauchery came by his proclivities honestly; his father had had a hard time keeping his tunic buttoned, too. “Anyway, he won’t let me make Annie immortal. I know that without asking. He said never again. And if Annie’s mortal and I’m a god, that’s not gonna work out very well. She’s better off with Harry. At least they can grow old together.”

  “Looks aren’t everything…,” Ari began, and Dion turned on her.

  “No offense, sweetheart, but I don’t think that’s what he’s saying. Remember that guy you thought you were going to marry? The one who dropped you off on that island and sailed off without you, after you saved his life?”

  Ari’s face closed. “Yes.”

  “Ended up marrying your sister, didn’t he? And they lived happily ever after—or as long as mortals live, anyway.”

  Ari nodded.

  “Imagine that he’d stayed with you. And while he got older and older, you stayed the same.”

  “I wouldn’t care,” Ari said. “If I loved him, it wouldn’t matter what he looked like.”

  “It’s not about the way he’d look,” the god of wine said. “That’s the least of it. Although imagine going somewhere with him and having people think he was your grandfather. Imagine Ross taking Annie out on their anniversary, and someone asking if he’s taking his grandmother out for her ninetieth birthday.”

  “I wouldn’t care,” Ari said stubbornly.

  “You may not, but I bet Annie would. I bet she’d look at Ross—still young and handsome—and wonder if he didn’t wish he were with someone else. Someone younger. And I bet what’s-his-name would look at you and wish he’d just die, so you could get rid of him and move on. Because you deserved better. I know I would.” He shook his head. “Ross is right. It isn’t fair to either of them.”

  He picked up his own glass of ambrosia and tossed back a good portion of the contents.

  “But he loves her,” Ariadne protested. “It’s not right to leave her for Harry.”

  There seemed to be no point in denying it. He loved Annie. However— “Harry loves her, too.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Brita said.

  Ross turned to her. “Of course he does. I stabbed him with the damn arrow, and now she’s all he can think about.”

  “That doesn’t mean he loves her,” Brita said.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “How d’you figure that?”

  “It’s obvious,” Brita said, glaring at him. “You were fine, right? Walking along minding your own business, and then you accidentally stabbed yourself with one of your own arrows and fell madly in love with Psyche.”

  “Sure.” A very long time ago.

  “Until then, you probably didn’t even know who she was, did you?”

  He shook his head. He’d heard about her. Knew she was supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the world. That’s what had had Aphrodite so upset—that the mortals were hailing Psyche as more beautiful than she. So like the witch in the fairy tale, she set out to neutralize the threat. But instead, Eros had fallen for Psyche, too. Because of that damned arrow.

  “If you hadn’t accidentally stabbed yourself,” Brita said, “do you think you would have fallen in love with her?”

  Probably not. She’d been beautiful, sure. Mind-blowingly beautiful. But she hadn’t been very nice. Much too self-absorbed and jealous. Not really very bright. And ultimately unfaithful.

  And if he hadn’t been so infatuated with her, he might have noticed some of the signs. They’d been there for him to see; he just hadn’t paid enough attention. He’d been too enamored with her beauty.

  “The arrows don’t make people fall in love,” Brita said. “They cause infatuation.”

  “So?”

  “Harry is infatuated with Annie. He thinks he loves her. But he doesn’t really know who she is. He’s never had a chance to get to know her.”

  He’d had his chance. But Brita was right: when Annie had offered Harry the chance to get to know her, he hadn’t been interested.

  “So what you’re saying,” Eros said, “is that what he feels isn’t real.”

  “It’s real. But it’s infatuation, not love. And it doesn’t last.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn’t last?”

  “Look at you and Psyche,” Brita said.

  “It lasted. For thousands of years.” And that would be more than long enough for Annie and Harry.

  “Sure,” Brita said. “You love Annie, right?”

  He blinked. And then decided he may as well say it out loud. They all knew, anyway. “Yes. I love her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” What did he love about Annie? “Because she’s nice, and pretty, and fun to be with, and she cares about stray dogs, and we have great sex, and I can’t stop thinking about her, and I’m happy when I’m with her.” And after years of mourning the loss of Psyche, on top of years of being victim to her manipulations and mood swings, being happy again was wonderful.

  “You know how I know you love Annie?” Brita said.

  “How?”

  “Because you’re willing to give her up because you think she’d be better off with Harry. You love her enough that you can do what you think is best for her. Even if you have to drink yourself into unconsciousness to do it.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “So he loves her,” Dion said. “Now what? She still wants Harry. And Harry still wants her.”

  “Maybe. But maybe she only wants Harry because she thinks Ross doesn’t want her.”

  They sat in silence again. “She told me she wanted Harry,” Eros offered. “When I walked her home that first night. After he was so rude to her. She said she wanted him to look at her the way he looked at Brita.”

  Everyone looked at Brita. “He does,” the blond goddess said calmly. “But that doesn’t mean she wants him, Ross. That just means she wanted revenge. He was mean to her, so she wanted him to realize how wrong he was.”

  “Besides,” Dion added, “that was before you took her home and nailed her to the wall, right?”

  “I never nailed her to the wall.” Although he’d come close.

  “Excuse me,” Dion said. “What I meant to say was that was before you took her home and made tender, sweet love to her all night long.” He made a gagging noise.

  Eros snorted. Dion grinned.

  “We talked about
this, man. You’re the god of love. And when the god of love sticks it to someone, it sticks. Right?”

  Absolutely. In this case, the person who’d gotten stuck was him.

  “You’re not helping,” Ariadne said. “Listen, Ross. Annie is crazy about you. She baked you cookies. And she came to the office tonight wanting to go out with you. She dressed up like that for you, not Harry. If she wants Harry now, it’s only because you made her believe you didn’t want her. So if you let her know that you do…”

  “It’s not that easy,” Eros said.

  “Why not?”

  “I poked Harry with the arrow. What kind of immortal god would I be if I take his girl and leave him hanging?”

  “So unpoke him,” Brita said.

  “There’s no way to unpoke him.”

  She looked dismayed. “From now on, he’ll always be in love with Annie?”

  Possibly. “It could wear off, I guess. Psyche fell out of love with me eventually.”

  “Harry doesn’t have a couple millennia,” Brita said. “And he shouldn’t have to suffer unrequited love just because you changed your mind. What happens if you shoot someone who’s already been shot?”

  “I’ve never tried.”

  “We’ll have to try now.”

  Dion shook his head. “He won’t be able to shoot anyone. He’ll be too busy sucking face with Annie.”

  Brita gave him a withering glance. “Remember me? Cretan goddess of hunting? I think I can manage to cock a bow.”

  “I imagine you can manage to cock a lot of things,” Dion said, “but I’m not sure Ross’s arrows will work for anyone but Ross.”

  “Fine.” Brita turned back to Eros. “You’ll go see Annie. Tell her the truth. About everything. Even the arrows and who you are.”

  “She’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “That’s your problem,” Brita said, not too sympathetically. “Once you’ve found out whether Annie wants you or Harry—because until we know that, it really doesn’t make sense to rock Harry’s world any more than it’s already been rocked—and you’ve finished sucking face, you’ll go find Harry and shoot him with the arrow.”

  “Not sure Ross wants Harry in love with him, Britomartis,” Dion said.

  Brita sent him another glare. “I intend to be there, too.”

  “You want him in love with you?”

  She shrugged. “We’ll be back where we were twelve hours ago.”

  It was true. Harry had developed his fixation on Brita all on his own. Eros had upset the natural order when he forced the mortal to fall in love with Annie instead.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asked Brita.

  “There are worse things than having a mortal crazy in love with you. I think I’ll survive.” Brita hesitated for a second before adding, “And it’s just for a few decades anyway. Then he’ll die and I’ll still be the same.”

  There was a pause while they all thought about this statement.

  “Immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Ari said. Brita shook her head.

  Dion snorted. “Speak for yourselves. From where I’m standing, I’m looking at an eternity of willing women.”

  “Just as long as you’re not looking at me,” Ariadne shot back.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “So how do you want to work this?” Brita asked Eros while Dion and Ari glared at each other across the bar. “Ignore them.”

  Easier said than done, frankly, especially with the way his head was starting to feel fuzzy, but he’d give it a try. “He’s proposing in the morning. I guess I have to get to her first.”

  “No time like the present,” Dion said and removed his attention from Ari.

  She shook her head. “Go home and take a shower, Ross. Clean up. Change clothes. Get a couple hours of sleep. You don’t want to wake her up in the middle of the night to tell her you love her. Not looking like you’ve spent the night sleeping in a cardboard box.”

  He did want to wake her up in the middle of the night to tell her he loved her. Preferably while he was lying next to her in bed. But Ari had a point. He could see himself in the mirror behind the bar, and for a Greek god, he looked pretty ragged.

  “You can shower here,” Dion offered. “I’m sure I can find something that’ll fit you.”

  Eros looked at Dion’s tight leather pants and flowing shirt and shuddered. “No, thanks.”

  “Not everyone appreciates the tacky,” Ari added.

  Dion grinned at her. “I haven’t had any complaints.”

  She rolled her eyes. Dion turned his attention back to Eros. “So we’ll meet outside Annie’s place at what? Eight o’clock? If Harry shows up while you’re talking to her, we can keep him occupied.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “No problem, bro. I’m happy to watch someone else tie himself down to just one woman.” Dion grinned. “Leaves more for me.”

  Right. Eros got off the stool a little unsteadily. “I’ll make sure he gets home,” Brita said and took his arm.

  Dion turned to Ari. “What about you, sweet cheeks? Wanna spend some time in my shower?”

  “In your dreams.”

  Dion smiled. “You better believe it.”

  He made it home and in the shower before sunup, and even managed an hour or so of shut-eye before he had to get ready. A second shower helped with the muzziness, and then he had to take George on his usual errand around the block. The dog’s back paw had gotten much better since Annie had first found him in the alley, and for a moment, Eros thought about taking him along to her apartment as incentive. Look, we have a dog together! Please say you want me, too.

  But then he thought better of it when he remembered that Annie’s building had a no-pets policy. If he got her evicted, she might use that as incentive to decide to move in with him. On the other hand, she might use it as incentive to accept Harry’s proposal, too. And that was too big a risk to take.

  “Sorry, boy. You’ll have to stay here.” He ran a hand over the dog’s soft head and scratched him behind one ear. “But I’ll try to bring her back for you.”

  George wagged his tail, letting it thump against the kitchen floor as his tongue lolled out. By the time Eros got to the courtyard outside Annie’s building, at eight o’clock sharp, Brita was already there. She had a bow slung over her shoulder, along with a quiver of arrows. His. He’d looked for them this morning and had been unable to find them, and now he knew why: the minor goddess of hunting had been afraid he’d forget to bring them and had taken it upon herself to make sure they got there.

  Ariadne was with her, and after a few minutes, Dion showed up, too. In deference to the early hour and the fact that it was a Sunday, the god of debauchery had eschewed the leather pants in favor of black jeans and had buttoned his shirt almost all the way up his chest. He was still wearing leather, but only in the form of boots and a jacket.

  They made quite the group, Eros imagined. All of them exceptionally good-looking, of course; they weren’t called Greek gods for nothing. Both the women were stunning, while Dion had been known to cause mortals to walk into walls. And Eros wasn’t too bad himself, if it came to that. If nothing else, he could offer Annie better-looking babies than she’d have with Harry.

  Then again, disparaging Harry was probably not going to win any favors with her. Now that Harry had changed and she’d bought into the fact that he liked her, she was too nice to want to hear him criticized. And besides, looks weren’t everything.

  At any rate, there was Dion in his leather and long hair, Brita in her Robin Hood getup with her bow and arrows, and Ari looking like a fashion model at her most unapproachable, with big sunglasses covering half her face and the rest of her mostly hidden in an oversized trench coat.

  And him, in his usual expensive suit sans tie.

  Dion looked him up and down and must have found him acceptable, because he said, “Ready, bro?”

  Eros nodded. More than ready.

  Dion rubbed his hands toge
ther. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “We’ll be right here,” Brita said. “If Harry comes while you’re up there, I’ll shoot him.” She brandished the bow and golden arrow.

  Eros nodded. “Wish me luck.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just headed for the door. Located the buzzer next to Annie’s name and pressed it. And waited.

  There was no answer.

  Not even the second or third time he hit the buzzer.

  “You think she’s still asleep?” Dion asked, frowning. He and the girls had joined Eros now, and they were all clustered on the top step in front of the door.

  Ross’s heart was beating so hard he had a tough time getting the words out. “I don’t see how. It’s after eight o’clock. She was home before midnight.”

  He peered in through the reinforced glass in the front door. There was no sign of anyone inside.

  They all turned as a scuff and a gasp sounded in the courtyard behind them. Eros’s heart skipped a beat—Annie!—and then settled into its normal rhythm again when he saw that it was someone he didn’t know and had never seen before. A young woman, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three, bleary-eyed and in yesterday’s party dress, stumbling home from a night on the town. Her bloodshot eyes were fastened on Dion, who greeted her with a blinding smile. “Morning, gorgeous.”

  She blinked. Probably speechless.

  “You live here?” Eros asked.

  She turned her attention to him, and her eyes widened. He could see the movement of her throat when she swallowed nervously. “Uh huh.”

  “You know Annie Landon? Top floor?”

  She nodded.

  “She’s not answering her buzzer. I’d like to go upstairs and knock on the door. Think you’d be able to let me in?”

  He gave her his best smile. It was at least the equal of Dion’s, and the girl looked like he’d hit her between the eyes. She was unsteady on her feet when she made her way toward them. Eros could hear Ari mumble something caustic to Brita, and he shot her a warning glance. The girl could get them inside the building. Ari could save her commentary on Dion’s habits for sometime when there wasn’t so much at stake.

  The girl fumbled her keys out of her purse and took forever to choose one and insert it in the lock. Eros had to forcibly keep himself from taking the damn keychain out of her hand and doing it himself. When she finally pushed the door open, it was all he could do to wait for her to turn to him and beckon.