Innovation's Muse (Truth's Harem) Page 6

  “I’m sorry,” Cerberus said. “I understand why you did what you did.”

  The corner of her mouth tugged up. “Me too. I mean, but all that stuff you said, back at you.” She paused, considering her words. “I know why you wanted to protect me, but I’d make the same decision again.”

  “I know. You’re willing to put the world above yourself. It’s one of the many things I love about you. It’s also one of the many reasons I can’t let you.”

  She clenched her jaw. That meant this could happen again.

  “I’m not trying to make you angry,” Cerberus said. “I’m heading back there in a few hours, if you’ll have me. We’ll have this conversation face-to-face?”

  That would be better. This wasn’t a solution, but it was a good start. “Of course I’ll have you. I’ll see you in a little while. But you’re not changing my mind.”

  “No. I don’t expect to. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She liked being able to say that, even when things were tense. Would she ever reach that point with Actaeon?

  Was it worth worrying about right now?

  The wall that had kept Cerberus’ emotions blocked off from her vanished, and she could feel him again. The flow of affection surged in. She’d missed this so much, despite it only being gone for a few hours.

  Actaeon had crossed the room. He flipped a switch, and light spilled out from a huge walk-in closet.

  Why am I doing this?

  The thought came from nowhere. She’d done what Zeus asked—passed the request for a new prison for Hades along to Icarus—and gotten her answer.

  Why was she jumping on another chance to speak to Icarus again?

  Lexi had two incredible people to fall in love with, twice as many as most ever got. And while one was up in the air, Cerberus was hers alone. She definitely wasn’t seeking out Icarus to explore the strong pull she felt toward him.

  The answer was simple—Hades needed to be kept in his place. If Icarus could do that, she needed to plead with him to reconsider.

  That was the only reason.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lexi sat in bed, trying to focus on a book. Actaeon had hundreds of them in his library. Some of them were even newer than a century old. He wasn’t much of a genre reader, though. She’d plucked a leather-bound HP Lovecraft book from the shelf.

  It turned out the Old Ones weren’t so scary, when the real gods were more callously destructive.

  She set the book aside, and scrubbed her face. Sleep wasn’t happening.

  It wasn’t unusual for Cerberus to take off in the middle of the night. Sleep was optional for him, just like it was for Actaeon.

  But this was the first fight Lexi had with him, and despite the mental apology, she wanted him here, to cement that things were all right.

  She tried to keep the desperate whining out of their bond—at least he’d left that open—but she let the longing flow through.

  He wasn’t speaking to her mentally. He was sending back reassurance.

  It helped, but it wasn’t a long-term solution.

  “I’m home,” Cerberus’ voice in her head was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever heard.

  “Can I ask where you’ve been?”

  There was no answer. She frowned. Did they need to make up first? She understood that he wouldn’t tell her everything, especially as life went on, but the snub dug deep.

  He stepped into the doorway. “You can ask, and I’ll answer.”

  She hopped from the bed, crossed the room in a few short steps, and hugged him tight.

  Cerberus squeezed back, and kissed her on the top of the head. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Or, it will be.” She took a step back, and grasped his hands. “Where were you?”

  “Touching in with old contacts. People I knew when I worked for Hades. Trying to get a good idea of who I could still trust.”

  She nodded. It seemed like a smart thing to do.

  “It didn’t have to be now, but I needed to think.” Cerberus searched her face.

  She didn’t have to guess that he was looking for understanding. She couldn’t offer that quite yet. “I see.”

  He tilted his head back to study the ceiling, before meeting her gaze again. “I can’t let anything happen to you.” Warmth and concern lined his words. “Not because I serve you, but because I love you and I’d be lost without you.”

  “I get that.” And she did. She felt the same. “But those people...”

  “You don’t want to see anyone hurt who doesn’t deserve it, and even then you hesitate. I understand.” He brought her hand up to kiss the back of her knuckles. “I’ll respect that until I don’t have any other choice.”

  She couldn’t argue that. Or rather, she could, but she was tired of fighting, and it seemed like a reasonable compromise. “Thank you.”

  “Come here.” He bent to hook one arm under her legs, and steadied the other behind her back, and lifted her up.

  She let out a tiny laugh, and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him carry her to the bed.

  He kissed her on the cheek, pulled back the comforter, and set her on the sheets. “Don’t move,” he said.

  “As you command.” She gave him a mock solute.

  Cerberus shed all of his clothes except his boxers, the climbed into bed with her. He nudged until she rolled on her side, to press her back to his chest.

  This was good. It was right. “I’m lucky to have you,” she thought.

  “Luck isn’t any more reliable than fate. We earned this.”

  It was a good point. Months and months of getting to know each other online. Finally meeting in person and realizing despite the shit storm they were in the middle of, they fit together. “Whatever it is, I love it. I love you.”

  He kissed the back of her neck. “I love you too.”

  Regardless of what she and Actaeon might have, it wasn’t anything even close to this. She hated the thought the instant it popped into her head. Way to ruin a perfectly good moment.

  “Where’d you go?” Cerberus asked aloud.

  She hadn’t meant to shove him out of her thoughts. She forced herself to drop the wall that had gone up instinctually, and let the ideas flow between them. These thoughts were difficult, but she didn’t want to hide them from him. “Someplace I shouldn’t have.”

  She might want more with Actaeon. There was a pull she couldn’t ignore. Right now? They were barely more than friends with benefits. Was it a benefit if it had only happened once?”

  “There’s no reason to rush things,” Cerberus said.

  “But Actaeon...” She didn’t know how to finish the thought.

  Cerberus rested his chin on her shoulder. “You’re not responsible for his actions. What he did with Cassandra? I can’t explain that, and it’s not either of our places to make excuses for him. You’ll either reach a point where you understand who he is, and still accept him, or you won’t. Neither outcome is wrong, and you don’t have to figure out anything tonight. Or even next month. Or next year.”

  She wasn’t used to looking at her future beyond tomorrow. It would take some time before she was okay with the answer will happen, just not yet.

  ICARUS FELT AWKWARD being in George and Ralph’s house, now that the owners had moved on.

  Esper had inherited it. The paperwork would take a few more days, as would most of the things that needed to be done, but there was no doubt she owned it now.

  Still, he was adjusting. He paused in the kitchen, letting the memories wash over him. He was here to help her get things in order. Ensure funeral arrangements were made, insurance claims started, and everything else she wasn’t prepared to face while she grieved.

  Esper was in her mid-twenties, so she didn’t need him, as her godfather, to be her legal guardian. That didn’t mean she couldn’t use the support.

  So many things had happened in this room. In this house. George and Ralph starting their life together. Bringing Esper i
nto their world.

  So much love and hope and pain and loss radiated from the walls.

  He hated seeing Esper mourn. Guilt gnawed at him. A mortal death hadn’t hit him this hard in... he couldn’t remember the last time.

  Esper bursting into tears every few minutes made things worse. Not that he blamed her. He sat at the kitchen table. He needed to numb his mind, or he’d never make it through the next few days. But being here reminded him of George’s call. The coffee they never managed to have...

  Icarus had done everything he could, but it didn’t feel like enough. He’d missed something.

  “Icarus?”

  Hearing Esper use his full name dragged him from his thoughts. She was sitting in a chair on the other side of the table, watching him. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

  “You were someplace else. Was it nice?” Her smile didn’t reach her red-rimmed eyes.

  He shook his head. “It really wasn’t.”

  “This is all my fault.” Her voice dropped so low he barely heard her. She clasped her hands and turned her gaze toward them.

  He reached across the table to cover her hands. “It’s not. You’re never responsible for someone else’s actions.”

  “Intellectually, I understand that. But I can’t ignore that nagging feeling that if I hadn’t...” She swallowed a sob.

  Icarus felt her words. They gnawed at his core and mirrored his own tumble into grief. But this girl who only had a few decades of life behind her, and may not have many more in front of her if she hadn’t inherited her father’s immortality, needed his support. He shoved his own doubts down. “If you hadn’t what?” he prompted kindly.

  Her frown deepened and her chin quivered. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “I lied to him.”

  “I’m sur it wasn’t a big deal. What did you tell him?” This was the kind of conversation that called for tea, or something else soothing. But Icarus didn’t want to interrupt her, and risk stalling the dialogue.

  “I told him I hadn’t seen Daddy Ralph recently.”

  Icarus’ gut clenched, but he kept his reaction from his face. “How recently?”

  “Don’t be mad, please. And don’t tell me I’m crazy.” Grief coated her words.

  He squeezed her hands. “I’m not mad, and you’re not crazy. Gods call themselves our benevolent overlords. Your godfathers are three-thousand-year-old immortals.”

  “But that’s just the way the world is.”

  He supposed to her, that was true. “It hasn’t always been.”

  She pulled her hands from his, and twisted her fingers around each other. “Have you ever seen a ghost?”

  “I’ve talked to people who have died.” He didn’t want to discourage her, but he also couldn’t lie. That wouldn’t help.

  “But you went to the underworld to do that.”

  Icarus nodded. “I did.”

  “Do they ever come here?” Esper asked.

  The grandfather clock in the hall ticked out the seconds while he searched for an answer. “They’ve never come to me personally, but I’ve also never fought a griffin. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen to others. Esper, you can tell me anything. I’m not going to judge you.”

  She pulled her sleeves over her hands and fiddled with the cuffs. “Ralph came to me in a dream. He said he missed me. That he wanted Daddy George and me to join him.”

  “When did that happen?” Icarus made sure only sympathy shone on his face. The story sounded too much like George’s.

  “The first time was a few weeks ago. I guess around when that Hades thing went down.”

  That Hades thing. Talk about understatement. “Before or after?”

  “After, I guess.” Esper shrugged. “I thought they were nightmares. School has been stressful. I know Ralph’s been gone a while, but I’ve been missing him more lately. George has been... not quite here for a while now.” She sobbed. “I shouldn’t have blamed him. I don’t blame him. But I thought... I thought I was dreaming about Ralph because I wanted the support of at least one father.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Icarus hated to see her suffer this way. “When did you realize these weren’t just dreams?”

  “Don’t get mad.” Her plea was timid.

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “I couldn’t sleep after I had the dreams too many times. Trenton was worried, so... he got me something to help.”

  She was concerned Icarus would be mad about her taking drugs to get some sleep. There were so many worse things in the world. “Did it help? Whatever it was?”

  “It was tea. Something of his great grandfather’s. It helped. The dreams went away.”

  Trenton was her best friend. They’d grown up together. Atlas was his great-grandfather. Trenton hadn’t inherited any of those titan abilities, as far as Icarus could tell. He didn’t even glow the way Esper did. But he knew more about his lineage than she did.

  “I’m glad it worked. As long as you’re smart and safe about it, that’s what matters,” Icarus said.

  “I was. I am. And it did. But then, I saw Ralph a few times when I was awake.”

  That was definitely odd. “Did he walk up to you on campus?”

  “He appeared in the corner of my room while I was studying. Shadowy and transparent.”

  “Like a ghost.”

  Esper nodded. “And then George called me and asked if I’d been seeing Ralph. I was scared. I didn’t want him to think I was insane, so I said no. And then the night before...” She sobbed, and the dam holding back her tears broke.

  The crying wracked her body, and she turned in on herself.

  Icarus stood and moved next to her. He helped her uncurl, and pulled her to her feet. He held under until the crying stopped. “You don’t have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

  She sniffled and hiccupped, then dragged the back of her hand across her face. “George left me a message that night. The night he die...” She faded into another gasp.

  “It’s okay. I’m here,” Icarus said soothingly.

  “I didn’t hear my phone ring, because I put it on silent before I go to bed. He said Ralph needed him. That was I was strong and I’d be okay and he knew I’d make him proud. He promised he’d be watching me from the underworld. I’m so sorry.” She was crying again.

  He didn’t care that she was soaking his shirt with snot and tears. He squeezed her. “It’s not your fault. I mean that, and I’ll tell you until you believe me. None of this is your fault.”

  It was Hades fault. Icarus had no doubt. He didn’t know why, but he’d make the bastard pay, whatever it took.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “What the...?”

  Lexi’s unfinished question drew Icarus’ attention.

  He looked up from his table, to find her standing near the doorway of his workshop, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and panties. The desire that nudged him today rushed over him, raising goosebumps everywhere.

  “Do you sleep in that?” she asked.

  He looked down, to see he wore the same jeans and button-down he’d had on earlier. He must have fallen asleep working. “Good dream.”

  She pursed her lips but rapidly shifted to a smile. “I probably shouldn’t be dreaming about you.”

  She held herself with the same confidence as earlier. There was no attempt to hide the fact that she was in her underwear.

  Icarus took a step and found himself in front of her. The way her breath hitched sent heat spilling through his veins. Really good dream.

  Lexi held his gaze, making no effort to put distance between them.

  He hooked his thumb under the elastic of her panties and traced along her skin, never moving below her hip, despite the desire pulsing inside.

  “I fell asleep at my workbench,” he said in answer to her question. “I lose track of time, I pass out.” Why was he explaining himself to his own dream?

  She shifted her weight, pressing her hip against his palm. “That makes sense.”


  “Glad to hear it. What are you doing in my dream?” And why was he asking her that?

  She looked between them. “Pretty sure it’s my dream.”

  Sassy fantasy. He liked that. “How do you figure?”

  “I’m the one in my underwear.”

  And he’d like very much for her to be in even less. “Not sure how that proves your point.” He dragged his gaze over her again, studying the long, pale legs, round hips that led to a narrow waist, and full breasts. Creation, he had a good imagination. “Unless you’re Morpheus.”

  “No.” Lexi shook her head. “If this were Morpheus, I’d see through the illusion.”

  Fascination warred with arousal. “And you talk like you believe this is your dream. My subconscious is a fucked-up place.”

  “That’s my line.”

  He liked the banter, but he wanted more. To live out the fantasy that had flashed through his head when they met. “Agree to disagree?”

  “You’re capable of that?” she teased.

  He dipped his head until his mouth was a breath from hers. Invisible sparks rushed between them, dancing along his skin. “I’m capable of a lot of things. I have a feeling even more with you.”

  She licked her lips and leaned closer.

  He closed his eyes to kiss her, and missed. When he looked, she’d stepped out of reach.

  The smile she gave him was apologetic. “Maybe next time.”

  LEXI STARTED AWAKE. The dream lingered, filling her head and heating her to the core. It didn’t matter that the contact with Icarus was brief and tame; desire pulsed between her legs.

  It was Cerberus’ voice that had interrupted the vivid dream, but he wasn’t in their room with her. That wasn’t unusual. He was either downstairs, or out enjoying the night in his hellhound form.

  Lexi kicked off the blankets and went in search of him. She was vaguely aware she was wandering through the house in a T-shirt and panties—the same things she wore in the dream—but as long as Actaeon didn’t have company, she didn’t care.