In fact, when I looked at all the men, they each had some semblance of pain radiating from them. Longing and need too. It seemed to combine into one big ball of something I didn’t want to get involved with, but I knew that wasn’t supposed to be the way of it.
The Fates had brought me here for a reason.
Not only was I alive again because this was my purpose, but they’d put me in Cinderella DiStefano’s body specifically.
Despite myself, I had to raise my knees and cup them. Pressing my forehead to my lap, I whispered, “I just—can you guys give me some time to process all this?”
I felt their hesitation, felt their rejection of what I wanted, so I was surprised when, a handful of seconds later, Apollo stated, “Of course.”
And without another word, without my casting another look their way, they headed out of the room and left me to my dazed thoughts.
❖
Apollo
“She didn’t reject you.”
Dammit. I hated how Castor always knew where my mind took me.
A hand clamped on my shoulder. “She isn’t Daphne.”
I felt certain the twins were trying to make me feel better, but it wasn’t working. To Pollux, I merely said, “She cannot reject me. There is a distinct difference between the two women.”
“At least this one won’t have to turn into a laurel tree to get away.”
Achilles’ cold words had me tensing, but I retorted, “Did one of Eros’s arrows land in your chest?”
The soldier shuttered his gaze, which told me that, yes, once upon a time it had. “And would you have done anything in your power to make that man or woman yours?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then. Fuck you.”
The soldier just blew out a breath that had his nostrils flaring, but Pollux glowered at him and whispered, “Shut the hell up, Chill.”
The most ultimate of ironies—the nickname for a man who was incapable of ‘chilling.’ Even I had more downtime than my most irascible of guardians.
I didn’t wait for them to follow me to my quarters in the east wing. I just knew they would. It was where we always congregated when I was in residence at the estate.
Jerking my neck to the left and then the right to alleviate the tension gathered there, I stormed through the palatial building.
Along the way, I saw myriad people—patients, residents, even some of the counselors gaped at me as I moved. It wasn’t something to be vain about. As a God, I attracted attention in the way that any handsome man or woman would garner it. I could have been butt ugly, and they’d have still watched me. That was how Pan got laid, even if he was half-goat.
As was my way, I ignored it. When I’d been a young pup, I’d reveled in the attention, but now? I wasn’t interested at all. Not only because of Ella, who had plopped into my lap like a ripe orange from the tree, but because I was older. Hell, I made Jesus look young.
One of the reasons I rarely left my office building anymore was this, however. The attention on a smaller scale was manageable. But out in the open? It was beyond jarring.
When I entered my quarters, I stormed over to where I’d dumped a bottle of Casa Herradura last night. The tequila was the only thing the humans brewed I could stomach.
Pouring myself a shot, I sank it back, craving the burn as it slid down my throat. The tension at the back of my neck retreated somewhat, but only the full bottle would make it disappear completely.
When the door closed behind Achilles—the fucker always hesitated when he stepped in here—I turned away from them all and, retrieving the key that I always wore around my neck on a chain, I opened the side door that led to a room off the main lounge.
When it opened, I scented the pool that the guardians tended to in my absence. It was a ridiculous altar all told, but Zeus had insisted upon it when he’d sent us across the world.
The candles that topped the altar represented our energies, meaning that if one ever blew out, one of my guardians could die and my powers could surge out of control. That was why this room was airtight. The water in the pond came from the lake on this property, and every week, the guardians had to drain it and refill it, so it didn’t turn mossy as it wasn’t from a fresh source.
The candles themselves were engraved with each of our names, and were enchanted, requiring no extra elbow grease to keep them alight, but they could be extinguished and therein lay the threat. Of course, it wasn’t much of a threat when the three men at my back had been around for twenty-four centuries. Hell, maybe even more. I’d stopped counting after the first century.
Around the pool, there were the leaves that I both loathed and adored. At least, I had. Perhaps now that Ella was in my life, the ties that bound me to Daphne would disintegrate at last. There was a fine line between love and hate, and mine wasn’t even real. Eros had forged it to taunt me, to torment me.
A part of me prayed that Ella would be the one to end my suffering. I’d been a prick back in the day. I could admit it. Now, after all these years, I could understand why Daphne had forsaken me, and it made me realize how, unless I treated Ella differently, she too could reject me. Reject our connection.
The Fates and Zeus had made this link, but that didn’t mean they sustained it.
We, as individuals, would do that.
A terrifying notion to be sure.
Achilles would have to stop being so goddamn dour; Pollux would need to mind his manners, and Castor? Well, in his defense, Castor was a good man. I wasn’t certain it was fair he’d been lumped with Pollux for an eternity. As for myself? I was arrogant, too self-assured. I didn’t consider myself vain, not anymore. Daphne had knocked that trait out of the water, but I wasn’t a particularly nice person.
Rubbing my chin as I stared at the small altar, I reached down for the bay leaves that were scattered around the floor. They were ancient. They came from Daphne’s tree, the very first laurel.
I can remember that day as though it were yesterday.
I’d been moments away from reaching her, had watched her fall to her knees as she pleaded with her father for freedom, for a chance to escape my suit. When the roots and the bark had swarmed over her skin like a snake curving around her form, I’d known it was too late. I’d fallen to my knees, watching as her beautiful flesh turned rough, as her hair was coiled and lengthened until it became a small branch.
One thing I’d never forget was her face as it happened.
At first, there’d been pain.
But after?
To my endless guilt, there’d been relief and then peace as she’d come to terms with her fate. A fate that was free of me.
My gut churned as I fell to my knees in front of the pool, and though I knew my guardians were watching me, I didn’t acknowledge them. I wasn’t ignoring them, but my focus was elsewhere.
I scattered my hand through the ancient leaves that I’d preserved through pestilence, war, and famine. Gods didn’t possess magic, nor did we truly enchant anything, but we had powers of our own. I protected the candles and the leaves through those powers. But now?
I had another intent.
I gathered about forty of them in my hands and raised them to my nose. There was the scent that had plagued me all my life. The scent that was both torture and delight, and yet, even as my senses processed it, I realized the stain on my being wasn’t as strong as it had been before.
The notion had me frowning, but I studied it more, played with the thought as though it were a small cut on my hand that I couldn’t leave alone.
The pain of Daphne’s escape wasn’t something I felt because I’d loved her. It was guilt. Guilt and horror that I’d driven her to such an end. It was my shame that I’d taunted Eros, that I’d allowed him to do this to me and ultimately, it had cost an innocent her life. Over the years, the love had faded, and the self-loathing had begun, but now, as I smelled the leaves, that tug on my soul had lessened without Ella’s aid, simply her prompt.
I’d forever feel shame
over what I’d done, but it was time to repent. I’d chased Daphne like a lion would a gazelle, disregarding her vows of chastity, and it was time to atone by doing what I hadn’t done with her—giving Ella the freedom of choice.
My throat clutched with panic. Zeus would be furious if Ella didn’t accept me, didn’t accept us, which meant simply I had to do whatever I could, and my guardians the same, to ensure her happiness. Her joy at being ours.
Getting to my feet, I rounded the pool then dropped the laurels onto the altar. With one of the golden chalices the men used to fill the pool with fresh water—it was the height of inefficiency and I admit I got a kick out of imagining my guardians having to fill the large pool with tiny, little chalices—I gathered some liquid in the vessel. One by one, I dipped the laurel leaves into the water and, ignoring the sharp gasps from my guardians, let the fire from the flames touch each leaf.
I knew what was happening, but the men didn’t. Even as Achilles clomped into the chamber, I felt Castor grab him by the arm and tug him to a halt. Then Pollux whistled under his breath as I willed the laurels into gold.
One by one, I collected the now solid gold leaves and connected it to the next until I’d created a perfect circle. A wreath that would adorn my woman’s head for all-time if I had my way.
Once the wreath was made, I placed it in the pool which bubbled and hissed in response to its intense heat.
“What was that about?” Achilles rasped, his arms folded across his chest as he stared at the sizzling water, the steam that came from the sacred pool.
“Making a crown for our queen,” I informed him gruffly. Then, bestowing a look upon each of them, I stated, “It’s time we talked.”
❖
Achilles
Narrowing my eyes at him, I demanded, “Talk about what?”
“We need to woo Ella.”
Whatever I’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that.
Having just watched a God forge gold from bay leaves, I’d expected something a tad more major. Something world-shattering. Although, I guess in its own way, that in itself was earth-shattering.
Apollo? Thinking of anyone except himself?
Yeah, nuts.
My forearms tensed where they rested against my chest as strain filled me. This entire situation was beyond anything I’d anticipated when Pollux and I had stumbled upon the little peeping Thomasina in the stable last night.
Now, out of nowhere, we had a wife and Apollo had done what alchemists throughout the ages hadn’t managed to do in thousands of years.
Well, technically Ella wasn’t our wife. She was our woman, but I rightfully understood why they wouldn’t tell her that. No female alive wanted to be called a man’s ‘woman.’ I knew jackshit about wooing the opposite sex, but even I was aware that was a major no-no. Our language wasn’t modern, though, it was ancient. Therefore, it was also chauvinistic.
“I didn't think we had to bother,” Pollux stated gruffly. “Isn’t that like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted? Why woo what is already ours?”
“The horse analogies are catching, Castor,” Apollo said dryly as he stared down at the crown he’d just forged. “There is no guarantee that she’ll take us on, Pollux. No guarantee whatsoever, and if I don’t learn from my mistakes where Daphne is concerned, then I’m a fucking idiot.”
“You’re that anyway,” I told him, cocking my brow at him as I dared him to argue.
He narrowed his eyes at me but, on that score, he stayed silent. He usually did where I was concerned. If Pollux or Castor gave him shit, he doled it right back. Whereas with me, his irritation showed only on his face.
Whether it was guilt for felling me, or just the knowledge that he couldn’t get into any shit without my being willing to leap into the fray, his anger stayed internal.
Sometimes, I really fucking wished he’d express that anger.
I wanted to tear into him. Wanted the excuse to rip him a new one, but though we’d been glued together for far too long, he never had given me a justifiable reason for smashing his teeth in.
Damn his hide.
“Look, she’s scared now. I wanted to give her space to come to terms with what I showed her.”
“What did you reveal exactly?” Castor inquired, his tone quiet as usual. I believed that for as long as Apollo had been holding his temper with me, Castor had been the peacemaker, the gentle soul, among us.
I’d heard about him back in the day, and the twin’s exploits had been detailed in paintings throughout the ages. They’d been wicked pissed when Rubens’ Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus had been revealed because I knew they’d loved their first wives. I’d found Castor crying after he’d purchased it—that was how gentle the man was. The belief that the public thought he’d raped his beloved Hilaeira had devastated him.
“I showed her the truth, of course. I held nothing back. There would be no advantage to us doing that.”
“Hell, Apollo, you didn’t show her everything, did you?” Pollux said on a groan, scraping a hand through his hair.
“For God’s sake, why not?” he countered, mimicking my pose by folding his arms across his chest. “Why would I let this situation drag on, keeping her in the dark about important matters, when I need her to know everything. Stat.”
“But there’s some shit she didn’t need to know.”
“Perhaps. But I didn’t want to hide it from her. I even showed her what happened to Daphne. If she missed anything I revealed to her, it’s because she pulled away.”
“It’s no goddamn wonder,” I interrupted. “Hell, you know humans can’t handle the truth.”
“And I spoke true—she isn’t human.” He grimaced. “Well, she is. But it’s watered down. She’s a daughter of Hecate.”
Castor rubbed his chin. “So, she’s a witch.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’d just say she has a talent with crystals.”
“She doesn’t seem like the kind.” Pollux rubbed his chin. “I mean the women who like crystals are all airy-fairy, aren’t they?”
I snorted. “What the fuck does that mean?”
He wafted a hand. “You know. All ditzy.” He snickered. “In fact, they’d suit the name, Cindy.”
I hid a grin because he wasn’t wrong, but still… “You and I both know not to judge a book by its cover,” I chided.
We had some real freaks come to this place.
A billionaire with a fetish for shoes? We had them on the regular. A daughter whose grief for her mother presented itself with her defacing everything said mother had owned—her husband had brought her here; she hadn’t wanted to come.
Rich or poor, they stayed under this roof, and whatever they had in their pockets, they were all just plain odd. I’d come to like that though. I liked that people weren’t boring. Variety was the spice of life, after all.
“I guess I’m just surprised,” Pollux admitted, and Castor nudged him in the side.
“Doesn’t take much,” his twin teased, earning himself a glower.
“She’s all sass.”
“So? When have you ever known Hecate’s kin to be anything other than fiery?” I pointed out, shooting him a scornful look.
He narrowed his eyes right back at me and started, “Look—”
Apollo growled. “For fuck’s sake. There’s nothing to discuss here. I didn’t bring you in here to talk about whether or not I’m right. I brought you in here to discuss tactics.”
“Sounds about right. Do as I say, not as I do,” I grouched.
“Look, Achilles, I get that you dislike me. I’ve endured several millennia of your glum moods, your grim looks, and your scorn. But for God’s sake, we have a wife now. We’re going to have to share her and to do so, we’re going to have to make her happy because nowhere did Zeus say when he was explaining this shit to me, that she didn’t have free will.
“You and I know what that means. We feel the link, the connection, and I’m certain she feels it just as strongly, but s
he doesn’t have to do shit she doesn’t want to. As someone who’s endured unrequited love, I can assure you, it’s crap. So, let’s work together to keep her because if we don’t, I can guarantee that we’ll be mourning her for far longer than she mourns us.”
His words resonated, and I fucking hated that. I hated when he made sense, and I had to listen to him.
Grunting, I demanded, “What’s the plan, then?”
❖
Castor
When I stepped into the stable, the sense of peace that washed over me was beyond anything I’d known in too long.
It had been months since I’d been home, and months was foolish all round because the horses never did well without me. Pollux had the touch, but not like me. He was a physical man, renowned for his skills at boxing. But over the years, glued to my side, he’d watched me enough to know my techniques, making him almost as good as I was.
“Aren’t you going in?”
Achilles’ words didn’t surprise me. I’d expected them—he’d been watching me for the past five minutes. “I will in a minute.”
“Why didn’t you visit yesterday? That’s not like you.”
It wasn’t. I’d intended on visiting the stables after breakfast, then everything had gone down with Ella and… “We were planning our attack.”
“We don’t need a Trojan horse, Castor. We need to figure out how to speak some pretty words to a woman who isn’t automatically going to spread her legs for us when we smile at her.”
I blinked at that rather crass explanation. “Funny that the Fates gave us a woman who wouldn’t roll over for us.”
“Funny?” he groused. “More like sick. Beyond sick, in fact. Fucked up.”
My lips curved. “You never have liked women, have you?”
“I like what’s between their legs well enough.”
That had me rolling my eyes. “Jesus, just don’t, whatever you do, say that.”
He snickered. “I managed to figure that out by myself, Einstein.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I ran a hand over my head so I could grip the back of my neck. “You feel it too don’t you, Chill?”
The Sun Revolves Around Apollo (The Gods Are Back In Town Book 2) Page 8
