I start to turn toward the door but stop short. “Apollo, look.” I point to the bed with its absurd number of pillows. Pillows that, until I stood at exactly this angle, hid what appears to be a laptop.
We exchange a glance and move quickly to the bed. He grabs the laptop and opens it. “Surely we’re not about to get lucky now.”
It boots up quickly, showing a desktop with a handful of icons on it. “Not password protected,” I say softly.
He angles it toward himself and starts typing, agile fingers moving so fast through a series of commands that it makes my head spin. I’m decent when it comes to computers, but Apollo is on another level. Within seconds, he has Ariadne’s search history, her password storage, and a whole lot of files of what appears to be fan fiction. “This is worthless.”
“Give me a second.” He narrows his eyes and leans forward. “There.” A new browser window pops up for a different email account. “Minos logged into his email on this computer.”
I lean back. “That seems very foolish of him.” He’s gone through all this trouble to keep things secure, and he logged into his email on a computer that isn’t even password protected? It defies belief.
“Not looking the gift horse in the mouth.” With a few keystrokes, he selects hundreds of emails and begins to forward them to Hector’s email. “This will take a second, and Hector is going to have a lot to wade through, but this is the best lead we have right now.”
All sorts of stuff is stored in email accounts. Log-in info. Bank notices. It will give a skilled hacker like Hector more than enough to work with. “This is big,” I say. “But we also can’t discard the fact that it might be a red herring. Doesn’t it seem a little too convenient?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” The emails finish sending, and he carefully exits out of everything and wipes the history. “But we can’t afford to ignore it.” He goes still. “Do you hear that?”
I hadn’t noticed earlier, but there are footsteps coming down the hallway. “Apollo—”
It happens so quickly. One moment I’m frantically trying to decide if we’re supposed to hide or allow ourselves to be caught. The next, Apollo tosses the laptop back into the pile of pillows, sweeps an arm around my waist, and tows me backward into the closet.
He pushes the hangers out of the way and shuts the door, bathing us in darkness. I’m still blinking and wondering what the fuck just happened. I’ve never seen him move so fast…except last night when he dragged me down to the couch.
Despite the current circumstances, I can’t help the forbidden thrill that goes through me. I’m not a small woman and I’m also a control freak, so the thought of someone hauling me around has never fully appealed, even in kinky play.
I get the appeal now.
I shake my head, trying to focus. Sex is not on the menu right now, and we have bigger issues at hand—like whoever is coming even with the bedroom door right now, their footsteps firm and thudding.
The only problem is I can’t see who it is. Apollo’s shut the door entirely, cutting off any chance at identifying our visitor. I reach for the door, intending to crack it a little bit so we can view who comes into the room, but he catches my wrist without hesitation.
I tug on his hold. Surely figuring out who’s approaching is a better idea than just hiding and hoping for the best? It’s not Theseus. The cadence of the steps is not uneven the way Theseus’s is. This is someone else, and the knowledge of their identity might be a key piece of information.
But as I open my mouth to give a whispered demand for him to release me, Apollo places his hand firmly over my lips. The contact of his calloused palm shocks me to stillness. He takes that opportunity to lean down and speak softly in my ear. “Silence, Cassandra.”
I realize within a few seconds that this is not someone looking for us. If they were, they wouldn’t be pawing through things the same way we were several minutes ago. No, this is someone else looking for answers. I frown into the darkness of the closet. Who is it?
Not Hermes. She would never be so crass as to allow her footsteps to give her away. The woman moves like a cat, silent and always popping up where you least expect her. It’s unlikely it’s one of Minos’s family members. There are still nearly half a dozen people it could be, not to mention the staff Minos has flitting about in the background.
Too many options.
If I had to place bets, I’d lay them on Charon or Aphrodite. Zeus is the type to hedge his bets, which means sending someone in addition to Apollo to search for information. He won’t trust most of the other Thirteen with a task like that, but Aphrodite is his sister. And Charon is obviously here for Hades for the exact same reason—he doesn’t trust the rest of the Thirteen to pass on the relevant information to ensure the lower city stays safe.
But I could be wrong. I won’t know for sure unless I see them.
The temptation to crack the closet door is nearly overwhelming. My curiosity is a live beast inside me, all claws and teeth and irresistible urge to move. Only Apollo’s presence, his strong body pressing me to the closet wall, keeps me still and silent. His words echo in my ear.
Silence, Cassandra.
I shiver.
He smells like expensive soap mixed with pure Apollo, and it’s everything I can do not to bury my face in his throat and inhale deeply. I shift against him, not actively trying to… Except that’s a lie, isn’t it? I like the feeling of him holding me down, even in such a finite way, and I can’t help pushing back against his strength. Just a little.
Apollo shifts, pressing a strong thigh between mine, and all thought flees my head. There are only this man and me in the close darkness. We might as well be the only two people left in the world right now, and that suits me just fine.
I go a little soft against him. There’s something about this that I respond to on such a deep level. I’ve spent the last five years convincing myself that this is not what I wanted, and the first opportunity for things to change, it’s as if a dam burst and all my needs and desires came flooding out, overwhelming everything.
I want Apollo. But I can’t pretend it’s just sex. I’ve cared about this blasted man for years, and if there was anyone in this city that would make staying here worthwhile…
I can’t do it.
He hasn’t offered me anything, for one. Even if he had, in that sweet, strong way of his, I can’t accept. He’s Apollo. He’s a member of the very body of powerful people that I hate above all others. No matter what I feel for him, surely my bitterness would poison any chance of a long-term relationship. More than that, eventually he’d resent me. My parents ensured no one would ever trust me enough to allow me to play the games required of a partner of one of the Thirteen.
He needs a full partner, and I can never be that. Not with my history.
What am I thinking?
Apollo hasn’t made any offers. He might want me, which means he cares about me enough to desire me, but he’s hardly tried to convince me to stay in Olympus.
He intends to let me go, and I intend to walk away.
22
Cassandra
For his part, Apollo is not unaffected. His hard cock against my hip is more than evidence of that. His fingers against my mouth move to grip my jaw lightly, and he shifts back just enough for his mouth to brush mine, a light kiss, both a warning and a tease. The things the man does with his kisses should be illegal. How am I supposed to keep my head on straight when he kisses me as if I’m his favorite dessert? It’s just not fair.