Innovation's Muse (Truth's Harem) Page 4

  “I know of him. We’ve met a couple of times throughout history. We’re on neither good nor bad terms.” That wasn’t helpful. Lexi turned back to Zeus. “I’ll ask again. How does sending me make a difference? Eventually, it will come out that we’re there at your request. And even if I leave that part out, he’ll guess when I tell him I want another prison for Hades.”

  Zeus’ twitched again, and that whiff of dishonesty drifted from him. “You’re going to apologize for breaking his maze. Beg forgiveness, tell him the details about how it happened, and then ask him to make a new one.”

  “What if he tells us no?” Cerberus asked.

  “Then at least you tried.”

  All of this for an oh well? Lexi wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t expect Zeus would give them the truth. “What if I tell you no?”

  “I can send you back to that mob in Greece. I’ve asked Eirene to step in and bring things to a peaceful end, but you could give it a shot instead. You have talents you’ve yet to discover.”

  Lexi would much rather let a goddess of peace deal with that crowd. “How do I find Icarus?”

  “I’ll send you to him.” Zeus leaned forward in his seat and extended his hand, fist closed and fingers down.

  Lexi hesitated, then stepped closer.

  He dropped a pearl into her palm. “This is a single-use portal back to Greece—to Actaeon’s home—when you’re done,” Zeus said.

  “Just like that?” It was too easy. All of this. The build-up. The smooth talk. The bullshit. What wasn’t he saying?

  “Just like that. Ask Icarus to build a new prison for Hades. Be convincing, don’t phone it in, and then we’re even.”

  “Regardless of his answer,” Cerberus said.

  “Cronus, yes.” Zeus’ mask slipped. “Regardless of what he says. Do you want me to draw up a contract?”

  “No. This is enough.”

  “It is?” Lexi didn’t understand where Cerberus’ sudden acceptance came from.

  “Will you fucking trust me for five minutes?”

  She recoiled at the frustration in his thought. “When?” she said aloud.

  “Now.” As Zeus spoke, the room vanished and was replaced by a sidewalk lined with shops. The awnings over most of them were faded, and the windows were aluminum trimmed. Nothing here looked newer than a century old.

  Lex and Cerberus stood in front of a junk shop.

  Lexi wanted to pull her hair out at the conversation and its unsatisfying conclusion, but she wanted to make things right with Cerberus more. “Can we talk before we go in there?” She searched his face, leaving herself open so he could feel the sincerity.

  He opened his mouth, and his phone rang.

  She bit back the desire to tell him to ignore it. She’d made enough demands for one day.

  Cerberus glanced at the screen, then back at her. “I need to take this. Talk to Icarus, get Zeus’ stupid errand done, and then we’ll go home.” His voice was curt, and he was still walling off his emotions. “Hello,” he said into the phone.

  “I’m sorry.” She sent him the thought, then pushed into the shop.

  He didn’t reply.

  The sooner she got this over with, the better.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Actaeon wished he could ignore this sense of responsibility. That he could actually be the guy who didn’t care. The hurt on Lexi’s face when he’d told her his plans for the afternoon, it devoured him. Hours later, it still gnawed at him.

  He didn’t know how to make her understand. It didn’t matter that he fell out of love with Cassandra decades ago. Going toe-to-toe with Zeus and Heracles cost her life. Sent her to whatever sort of hell twisted her mind, until she was willing to let Hades use her as a vessel. Brought her here, with no memory.

  He’d done that to her.

  This was a kind gesture. Both the most and the least he could offer. He’d invited her to dinner because he wanted to make sure she was adjusting all right and that things were going well with Apollo.

  Now Actaeon and Cassandra sat at an outdoor café, surrounded by people and making some of the most banal conversation he remembered ever having. Every question he asked her was met with a variation of, Whatever you think is best.

  She was apparently as mundane as mundane got, unless she was the best actress ever. And if that was the case, he’d have a lot bigger problems than whether or not she enjoyed life at Apollo’s sprawling Athens home.

  Actaeon still didn’t think it was right that Athena didn’t watch over the city named after her, but she didn’t carry the kind of favor with Zeus that the other gods did. She got shafted during who gets what time.

  Actaeon fiddled with the handle of his espresso cup. The evening was drawing to a natural close, thank creation for that.

  “Hand to Athena, his mother talked to him in a dream.” The voice drifted from another table.

  Actaeon shouldn’t be eavesdropping. Their conversation about the friend of a friend of a friend, wouldn’t be interesting on most days. Tonight? It blew his own evening out of the water.

  Cassandra used her fork to section off another tiny square from the pastry in front of her. Though she’d complimented the food on several occasions, her tone was flat, as if she read from a script.

  “No shit,” a man said. “Gillian? She died four years ago.”

  Actaeon wanted to turn and seek out the group that was talking.

  “You’re making a mistake, you know.” The shift in Cassandra’s voice caught him off-guard, and he met her gaze. A new kind of clarity stared back.

  He didn’t like this any more than what came before, but it was different. “About what?”

  “The woman—Lexi? She’ll never be yours.”

  Actaeon clenched his jaw. That kind of direct comment was enough to push good graces aside. He didn’t understand why he was drawn to her. What made fate decide they were meant for each other. Not that he cared what fate thought, but he wanted to explore more with Lexi.

  It might be inexplicable and undefined, but what Actaeon had with Lexi was real, growing, changing, and unquestionable.

  None of that meant he’d shut down this conversation. It was the most distinct thing Cassandra had said all night. “What do you mean?” He was wary.

  She let out a clipped laugh. “A child like that? She literally threw a tantrum in your foyer when you stopped paying attention to her.”

  He clenched his fist under the table. “She wasn’t feeling like herself. It was hardly a voluntary reaction.”

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

  “This isn’t a matter of denial. I witnessed it with my own eyes. She wasn’t throwing a tantrum, and this evening is over.” He shoved his chair back.

  Cassandras chin quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes.

  Which was bullshit. That she’d pull the same stunt she accused Lexi of... Anger surged inside Actaeon.

  “Can I get you anything else, sir?” Their waitress paused next to him and rested a hand on his arm.

  A glow grew around Cassandra, and the dishes on the table rattled. “Don’t touch him.” Her voice came out low and threatening.

  The almost blinding white light around her was bad. If Actaeon could see it, it wasn’t an aura. She was drawing light to herself. She didn’t wield magic. Not the vibrant, combative kind.

  “Cass.” Actaeon kept his posture casual, despite every muscle in his body tensing for a fight.

  The waitress backed away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  Cassandra extended her fingers and flicked her wrist.

  Instinct and adrenaline propelled Actaeon between her and the waitress before he registered what was happening. A shard of light flew from Cassandra’s hand, and struck Actaeon in the chest.

  Pain spread from the burn, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. It felt like Apollo’s magic. It wouldn’t kill him, but it might leave a scar, and it fucking hurt.

  “What are you doing?
” He snapped out the question. Around them, people scrambled back from their tables, knocking chairs and dishes to the sidewalk. The rapid shift in mood was bad enough. The fact that Cassandra had never wielded power that way before, especially sunlight, was worse. But striking out at a random person was unforgivable, missing memory or not.

  With a twitch of his fingers, his hunting dagger materialized.

  So did Apollo, standing between Actaeon and Cassandra.

  “What in Tartarus is this?” Apollo’s question shook surrounding buildings.

  Great. Now they were putting on a show for everyone who had their cameras out.

  Cassandra’s pleasant smile returned, and she looked up at Apollo. “No big deal. No harm, no foul.”

  “Is that so?” Apollo glanced at Actaeon.

  Actaeon clenched his fist around the hilt of his blade. “It’s not so.” He stalked forward, prepared to finish this fight.

  “So much for trusting you, nephew.” Apollo grasped Cassandra’s hand.

  Before Actaeon could retort, Apollo and Cassandra were gone, and so were the crowd and café. He was on the front step of his house.

  “No, seriously. What the fuck was that?” he asked the empty air.

  ICARUS STOOD AT THE counter in the main floor of his shop. His work area was downstairs, but he was trying to keep business hours, to keep his mind occupied. . He stared at the row of shelves on the adjacent wall, but didn’t register them.

  Over the millennia, he’d seen more people die that he cared to count. Lost countless friends and acquaintances. He grieved for all of them, though the sense of loss was more muted these days. Time and overexposure had made him numb.

  In a way, that made him sad, but if he sank into each passing, it would drive him insane, the way it had with Atlas. The decay of mankind’s heart during the second world war drove him to kill himself.

  There was more to George’s death, though. Sure, he missed his partner, but he’d never had a death wish.

  Icarus couldn’t stop replaying that last conversation in his head. What was he missing? Why couldn’t he grasp it?

  The front door swung open, and he looked up. The woman strolling toward him, tight smile on her face, would be the perfect distraction. He wanted answers for the questions about George, but he needed distance.

  The brunette with the blue-and-pink aura swirling around her would be the perfect way to let other thoughts rattle in the back of his head for a little while. Was she a daughter of Eros? No. Eros only had the one son, and he wasn’t the kind of god who hid his escapades. Aphrodite? The colors were right, but this woman wasn’t.

  He didn’t care who a person was—god, human, servant, or hero—they all had something to offer. And this woman offered a mystery.

  She carried herself like someone who didn’t want to be seen, but whose nature and presence defied that desire. Dark hair fell halfway down her back, framing a pale face, and blue eyes studied him.

  “May I help you?” he asked when she was a few feet away.

  She met his gaze, and some of the coolness evaporated from her expression. “I’m looking for Icarus?”

  He stepped around the counter and approached her. “Are you a fan?” He got those sometimes—people who’d heard the old stories. Icarus wasn’t important enough to make history books, but he also wasn’t the kind of threat that required he be stricken from the myths.

  But most people who came looking for him inspired by tales of flying on wings made of wax and feathers, knew what he looked like.

  “I appreciate some of your work,” she said. “I like mazes.”

  Irritation tickled his senses. “Daedalus built the labyrinth.” Not the new one, but very few people knew about Hades’ prison.

  “Not that maze.”

  Caution raced through his veins at the words. “Then you’ll have to be more specific.”

  She fiddled with a cuff on her ear, tapping her finger against the metal. “Might as well get this out of the way. Zeus sent me.”

  Icarus could guess where this was going, but he wanted to see how much she’d say if he let her keep talking. She wasn’t Zeus’ daughter. As brightly as she glowed, traces of her parentage should be visible in her aura.

  Perhaps she was Aphrodite’s. But the pink and blue were more of a recreation than a natural result. The colors were right, but the pattern was structured—more like a fractal than an organic flow.

  He was barely aware of stepping forward, until she took a step away. She wore a tattoo on her neck. It might be a god mark, but most heroes that knew who they were didn’t brand themselves with their parents’ names. Besides, hers said Truth, and it didn’t belong to any of the gods.

  “What does Zeus want from me?” he asked.

  “A new prison for Hades.” Her voice was firm, despite the heave of her chest.

  The air between them was charged. Talk about the ultimate mystery. She was stunning. Compelling. Understated but impossible to ignore. A walking dichotomy.

  How had he never met her before? A woman with this kind of power? There should have been rumors about her existence. Something.

  “He let someone break the last one,” Icarus said.

  She licked her lips. “And that person is very sorry and wishes they could take it back.”

  As he searched her eyes, images flashed in his mind. Snippets. Desires. Of kissing the shine from her mouth. Of pressing her to the wall and seeing if this electricity was real. Of fucking her until they were both spent.

  Of flying?

  “Who are you?” He didn’t want to guess. He had to know.

  WITH EACH STEP ICARUS took toward her, Lexi took one back, until she collided with something. Toasters and coffee makers rattled on the metal frame, and she gripped the shelves to steady both the appliances and herself.

  “Who are you?” Icarus’ gaze bored into and through her.

  She collected herself. She wouldn’t let that intense gaze burrow any deeper into her soul. Her heart hammered against her ribs. It should be with fear, facing this unknown entity, but it was a stifling need that stole her breath and threw her mind off balance.

  “Is this a metaphorical question?” she asked. “As in, what’s my meaning in life? Who am I?”

  “It’s a literal question. I’m a literal kind of guy.” Each time he looked her over, heat raced along her skin.

  And the images that filled her head—maybe they were a side effect of being around heroes? Aphrodite help her, if she fantasized about screwing every one she met. This hadn’t happened with Heracles, though. She’d just wanted to punch him.

  If Icarus didn’t recognize her, the illusion was working. The new face. The adopted glow. “Can’t you see it in my aura or smell it on me, or something? Everyone else can,” she said.

  He dipped his head closer, and her pulse kicked up to a billion. Desire raced through her veins. “You’re not going to lick me, are you?” She tried to keep her tone light. Cerberus and Actaeon could smell who she was. Maybe this guy had a different approach.

  “Only if you beg.”

  That was tempting. She could almost feel his tongue gliding along her skin. She smirked to hide the reaction, and shook her head. “Cocky much?”

  “You have to beg for that, too. Besides, I’m more of a hands-on kind of guy.” He trailed his fingertip over the mark on her neck, never making contact. “Why Truth?”

  His touch hovered close enough to her skin the electricity flowed between them. If she looked down, she swore she’d see the sparks. She bit the inside of her cheek, to prevent her gasp from escaping.

  The front door of Icarus’ shop clanked open, startling her. “Sorry that took so long,” Cerberus said.

  Icarus looked at him, then back at Lexi. “If he’s Cerberus, that makes you...”

  Fuck. “I should have asked you to stay outside,” Lexi thought.

  “Am I interrupting?” Cerberus’ question echoed in her head.

  Icarus glanced over his shoulder, at
the mirror behind him. He met Lexi’s gaze in the reflection and scowled. “Nope.” He put several feet between them. “My answer is a hard no.”

  “We haven’t gotten into details yet.” She’d almost forgotten that was why she was here.

  He glared at her. “You broke my fucking labyrinth.” The smooth seduction was gone, replaced with raw irritation.

  The instinct to apologize, and make everything all better, nudged her senses. Fuck that. She didn’t do anything wrong. “I said I was sorry. Besides, it wasn’t technically me.”

  “You were the catalyst, so it doesn’t matter if you’re here for toaster parts. The answer is no.” Icarus turned on his toe and stalked away.

  “You’re right. I should have stayed outside,” Cerberus thought.

  Icarus would have found out anyway. Lexi was grateful it happened sooner, rather than later. The disguise was grating. The teasing, though... She wanted that back.

  Icarus paused and whirled back around. He looked between Lexi and Cerberus, and then landed his gaze on her. “He shares your aura. Your actual one, not that bullshit lightshow. I thought it was a rumor, but you have a servant. How’d you do that?”

  “Magic?” Lexi tried to laugh. She didn’t know how far the answer would get her, but it was the best she had.

  Cerberus crossed the room to stand next to her, a scowl marring his expression. “Loyalty and benevolence.”

  The fascination Icarus watched them with was almost tangible. Inspiration struck. Everyone wanted to know how she’d formed the bond with Cerberus, and though she didn’t have answers, she did have something to offer this intriguing man. “I don’t know how it happened, but I’ll tell you everything else if you hear me out.”

  “Be careful with your phrasing.” Cerberus’ warning might as well have been a shout in her head.

  “Deal,” Icarus said and gestured toward the back of his shop. “You look like a coffee kind of woman. Or will this require something stronger?”