This Immortal Heart: A Novel of Aphrodite(93)

“It’s done,” I tell her.

She’s still holding my hand. “I’m so grateful,” she says.

“I hope you get what you want.”

“Oh,” she says, “I will.”

She slides her fingers down my palm, gives me one last lingering look, and dives back into the sea.

I laugh. “Good luck, Euryte,” I say to the waves. She doesn’t need it. She has me on her side.



* * *



—

Two dogs run ahead of him, their noses high in the air, searching for the scent of prey. He catches sight of me and lifts his hand in greeting, his face transformed with a joyful smile.

“You’re happy to see me,” I say, and he wraps me up in his arms, swinging me around before kissing me hungrily.

“You’re here so early in the day,” he says. “A beautiful surprise.”

The sky is stained with pink and gold; flowers lifting their sleepy heads to the first rays of light spilling over the wide meadow.

“I couldn’t wait,” I tell him.

He takes my hand, and we stroll together, the dogs darting forwards and then circling back, alert and inquiring.

“Can I hold your bow?” I ask him.

He halts, shrugging the plain wooden weapon from his back. “If you want,” he says. “It’s nothing special.”

I take it from him, balancing its slender curves between my hands. He’s right. I’m used to the craftsmanship of Hephaestus. This was carved by a mortal—by Adonis himself, probably. It’s unremarkable, but still I lift it the way I’ve seen archers do and I squint at the horizon, calculating the path an arrow would take.

Adonis waits patiently.

I lower it. “I’ve never shot one of these before,” I confess.

“Really?”

“You don’t have to pretend that I look like I know what I’m doing,” I say. “Aphrodite never trained us to fight.”

“You don’t need to,” he says. “I’ll protect you.”

Soon, I’ll tell him who I am. But, right now, I don’t want to jeopardize what we have by making him afraid of me. While I pretend that I’m only a forest-nymph, it makes us equal. I don’t want to see his eyes cloud over with apprehension or be anxious to touch me in case I burn him to ashes for impudence. The gods are too careless with mortal lives.

This new romance is precious; beautiful and fragile like a crystal vase I fear to shatter. It’s better to cradle it close for now, to nurture and protect it, keep the two of us cocooned in the dream I’ve conjured just for us.

I hand back the bow, and he slings it over his shoulder again, putting his arm around me. “I’ll teach you if you want,” he offers.

“Yes,” I say, “I’d like that. But first…” I slide my hand up his arm, giving him a meaningful glance under my eyelashes.

No one else is around. The woods belong to us. That’s how it feels as I beckon him under the shade of a spreading oak, leaning up against the bark as he kisses me. I run my hands down his back, feeling as though I can’t ever get enough, wrapping myself around him as the sun rises above the canopy that hides us from prying eyes.



* * *



—

“Tomorrow?” he asks.

“Tomorrow,” I agree, slipping my tunic back over my head. I could get used to this forest-nymph outfit, I think. It’s freeing to be unhindered by a long flowing dress.

“I thought it was only Artemis’ nymphs who dress like that,” he comments.

A chill descends on our sunlit glade at the mention of her name.

“Is something wrong?” he asks. He leans up on his elbow, his brows creasing slightly. His own tunic is still lying rumpled in the grass, his skin like warm bronze sculpted into perfect proportions: long muscular legs and a torso honed by lifting his bow and throwing spears. Soft curls fall across his face, and when my gaze lands on his lips, I want to taste them again. “Is it something I said?”

“No,” I say. “It’s just that you reminded me. We need to be careful of Artemis.”

“I’ve hunted in these woods the past three years,” he says, taking a long, luxurious stretch. “I’ve never seen her.”

I kneel down beside him, stroking my fingers down the side of his face. The grass tickles my bare shins. “If you don’t cross her path, she keeps her distance,” I say.

“Then what’s the problem?”

I glance around us. “She has little patience for men,” I tell him. “She forbids her huntresses from taking them as lovers. I’m not one of hers so I can do as I please, but she wouldn’t take kindly to this if she saw us together in the place she considers her home.”

He takes my hand in his. “There are other forests,” he says. “If you’re afraid of her—”

“I’m not,” I interrupt.

“But we can go,” he says. “Anywhere you want.”

Lightness bubbles up in my chest, a fizzy rush of excitement. “Anywhere?” I ask.

His eyes are wide with sincerity. “There’s nothing to hold me here,” he says. “I want you and only you. That’s if…if you feel the same.”