I can feel her watching me as I take care of the first two cuts. Even without looking, I can sense her shock fading. Sure enough, she sounds sharper when she finally speaks. “You seem to know what you’re doing. Then again, I’ve seen you naked. Your scars speak for themselves.”
I glance up, fully expecting to see some kind of vindictive expression, but there’s only a soft understanding. I shrug, trying to keep the tension from clinging to my shoulders. “I’ve seen some shit. It’s nothing to write home about.”
“You would say that.” She gives a broken laugh. “I have my scars, too. My father valued perfection too much to ever leave a permanent mark, but sometimes I’m sure I can see the ghosts of bruises from his fingertips.” Another laugh, quieter this time. It almost sounds like a sob. “I guess after this, I’ll finally have some physical ones. Can’t hide the violence anymore.”
I’m not prepared for the sheer rage that hits me. This woman is as much a monster as I am. Different, yes, but no less dangerous. She was meant to be an opponent met on equal ground. And yet…
“Yeah, well, that fucker is dead and you’re still here being a pain in my ass.” I say.
The thought of what her father must have done to put that tone in her voice makes me want to break something. The knowledge that I’m at least partially responsible for the state of Olympus…for the fact that its people are now turning against the Thirteen, against her…
I don’t know how to feel about that. I don’t know how to feel about any of this shit. I can’t fight a fucking ghost, and I’m already doing a shitty job of fighting myself when it comes to everything about the last few days.
“Yeah, I guess I am, aren’t I?” Her laugh is a little ragged, but warm enough that I find myself smiling in response. I keep my head down. There’s no point in letting her know I’m worried about her. She might get the wrong idea.
Instead, I finish cleaning her leg and shift to the next. I repeat the process, again finding no glass in the wounds. We fall into an almost companionable silence, at least until I guide her foot to the ground and sit back with a slow exhale. “There.”
“If you’re petitioning for a blow job, I might actually be convinced.”
Just like that, I’m back to the moment last night when Adonis wouldn’t let me go to my knees. I don’t want Aphrodite on her knees either, not when she’s covered in bandages. I’m not prepared to examine what that resistance means. I just shake my head. “That’s not why I did it.”
“Which brings me back to my original question. Why did you do it?”
I don’t have an answer any more now than I did earlier. I have lived a very simple life. Even in the orphanage, fighting for food and to keep Pandora safe, things were simple. I didn’t have to be smart or cunning; I just had to be brutal enough not to be fucked with. That trend continued in Minos’s household. He doesn’t prize me for my smarts. He points at a target, and I destroy it.
Things aren’t simple like that anymore. Every action, every word, has layers on layers. My life is a fucking onion, and I’ve always been shit at reading between the lines.
I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I don’t need to know. I’m a man of action, after all.
The reassurance feels like a fucking excuse to do what I want, but I ignore that and push slowly to my feet. “I’ll see you at seven.”
Aphrodite still looks dazed and a little lost. “I never said I’d have dinner with you.”
“Your place or mine?”
She blinks and finally shakes her head. “Mine. Gods alone know what you have stocked in your fridge. It’s probably beer and ketchup.”
“I’m a man of taste. There’s mustard, too.”
Her lips quirk. “Lucky me. No, come to my place. I’ll order in.” She narrows her eyes, her smile fading far too quickly. “Then you can tell me why you saved my life.”
Maybe by tonight, I’ll actually have an answer for her.
20
APHRODITE
My sister shows up within thirty minutes of the attack, a mere five minutes after my husband finally leaves me alone. She bursts through the door of my office and looks wildly around before landing on me. “Oh thank fuck, you’re okay.”
I blink. “Are you okay?” Helen looks exhausted. There are faint circles beneath her eyes and her normally impeccable clothing looks like she slept in it. “What’s going on?”