by Laura Kaye
The scowl on Zeph’s face drew Ella’s attention. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
He released a troubled sigh. “I’d say that’s pretty obvious, love. This is an incredibly serious injury.”
She barely heard the end of what he’d said for his use of the term of endearment. She just…couldn’t. “But you can fix it, right?”
Zeph shifted feet and nodded.
“You can sit down, you know.” She swung her legs to the side.
Eyes trained on their hands, he sat. Heat radiated off his body, and it took everything Ella had not to lean into it, especially since moving made it clear that her clothes were damp all down her backside. She couldn’t wait to get them off and take a shower.
She sucked in a breath. “Oh, God. Did he mark me again? Are you gonna have to—”
“No,” he rasped. “He didn’t. I’d be able to feel it now.” He nodded to their hands. “You’re okay. Or at least you will be.”
She nodded rapidly, her eyes blinking back threatening tears. “Okay. Okay.”
“Gods, Ella, I am so fucking sorry.”
The tight rein she’d held on her emotions slipped. Her breathing hitched. She clapped her good hand over her mouth and shook her head.
He swallowed thickly, the sound loud in the room. “Can you hold your hand out straight? I want to do a pass from the elbow down, just to be sure.”
Ella extended her arm, grateful for something clinical on which to focus.
Gentle fingers bathed her in that preternatural light, starting at her elbow, trailing down her forearm, pausing over her wrist. He focused the light over the center of her palm for a long moment, and it was the oddest sensation—the bones seemed to tumble over one another and click into place, like the pieces of a 3-D jigsaw coming together. He moved on, then, and stroked each of her fingers from knuckle to tip in succession. The pain relief was so complete, her body began to react to his sensual, caring touch. Ridiculous. Dangerous.
Impossible.
With a tender squeeze, the light faded away within Zeph’s grip. He looked up at her, eyes on fire. “It is done.”
Yes, and so are we. Done and over. Or, at least, given what he needed and she couldn’t provide, it should be. Ella bit her tongue and nodded, heart in a million pieces in her chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The look in Ella’s eyes had Zeph’s heart racing. He was losing her, or was about to. Or maybe he already had.
She drew in a long breath. “Look, Zeph—”
He laced his fingers with hers. “Wait, Ella, don’t say anything,” he blurted out. “Can I please explain? Yesterday, I promised to tell you my story. Will you hear it? It won’t excuse what I did, but it might help you understand.”
Her eyes flickered around the room, anywhere but at him. Thoughts and emotions played out in her changing expressions. That odd calming aura he’d felt from her before was still there, though greatly diminished at the moment. He didn’t allow himself to take any of the feeling from her, though. Not now. Not when he’d failed her so spectacularly. He deserved to feel the full brunt of that. Time seemed to stop while Zeph waited for her to speak. Her head dropped on her neck and her shoulders sagged. When she looked back up, her expression was resigned. “I need to shower first.”
Hope and gratitude exploded in Zephyros’s chest. “Of course.”
Ella stared at him. “So, uh, can you…” Her gaze went to the door over his shoulder.
The request tempered his happiness. “Oh, right. Yes.” He rose and walked backward toward the door. “I’ll just be…” He nodded his head sideways.
“Okay. I won’t take long.”
“Take whatever you need, Ella.” Zeph meant that in any and every way she might interpret it. For her, he would give anything, do anything. He turned and left the room, though it made his chest ache to separate himself from her. For a long moment, he held his hand flat against the wood of the closed door, willing her to understand, to accept, to forgive. If it would make up for the horrible mistake his blind mistrust and self-loathing had led him to make, he would spend the rest of his life earning those things from her, showing her he deserved them.
Zeph braced for the shitstorm that was awaiting him downstairs. He took the steps slowly, like a man on his way to the gallows.
Expressions filled with a whole lot of what-the-fuck, Chrys and Owen both stood in the center of the living room, his brother with his hands on his hips, Owen with his arms crossed over his chest.
Owen cocked an eyebrow, waiting.
“What do you want me to say?” Zeph asked, his ears picking up the whine of the plumbing as Ella turned on the water upstairs.
“Gods, Z, he broke her hand,” Chrys said. “Where were you?”
“And that’s not all,” Owen said, voice quiet. Chrys’s gaze cut to Owen. “When she said she was assaulted, she didn’t just mean her hand.”
A burst of wind whirled through Ella’s living room, lifting the curtains in waves of fabric, scattering magazines. “I swear to the gods, Owen. What. The fuck. Are you saying?”
The younger man heaved a breath. “She’s got marks on her ear and throat, Zeph. Um, bite marks.”
Zeph went elemental. It was the only way he could cope. He remained in the living room, and knew his brethren would be able to sense his presence. But he needed an infusion of metaphysical energy to deal with the mounting pile of evidence of his massive fucking failure. As a man. As a lover. As a protector.
Owen’s words forced him to face the truth of it: he watched Eurus assault Ella, the woman he loved—yeah, he knew that shit now, without question—and did abso-fucking-lutely nothing about it. Worse. He left her to it.
How could she ever forgive him? How could he expect her to? He knew, right down to the bottom of his soul, he didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t keep his selfish heart from wanting.
Chrys sighed, his voice softer now. “So, I gotta ask again, Z. Where were you? How did E get his hands on Ella?”
Returning to corporeality, he sagged onto the couch, arms braced on his knees, head hanging. “Ella and I…we were at dinner. I didn’t pay enough attention, and let her feed me something that turned out to be scalding. I went elemental to heal the injury, back to the Realm of the Gods.” He sighed, his voice going more and more monotone in his own ears as he spoke. “Earlier in the day, I’d learned she had all these associations with the East, there were all these coincidences piling up, so I was already suspicious.”
“So you thought she’d done it on purpose,” Chrys stated. It wasn’t a question—he knew Zephyros well.
Zeph nodded, finally looking up. The combination of pity and understanding from the pair of gods was a real kick in the ass. “When I returned, hoping I was wrong, I found them kissing. She appeared a willing participant. I’d found exactly what I’d been looking for all along—proof she was too good to be true.”
“So you left,” the blond said.
“So I left.”
Owen cleared his throat. “Do you love her, Zephyros?”
“Yes.” He spoke without thinking. He knew it to the very marrow of his bones.
The men exchanged glances. “You realize there’s another thing you’re going to have to deal with here, right?” Chrys asked, tugging a hand through all that hair.
Zeph frowned and nodded. He’d been wondering when Chrysander would pounce on him for this healing. He hadn’t required a sacrifice from her—because it wasn’t her sacrifice to make. But, in so doing, he’d violated a major tenant of the use of divine magic in the human realm. “It was worth it.”
“You’re going to have to see Father, Z. No doubt he already knows.”
“I know. I have something else I need to discuss with him anyway. But right now, I just need to talk to Ella. Father can wait.”
Chrys groaned. “The longer you wait—”
Zeph flew off the couch, appeared right in Chrysander’s face. “I’m not leaving her! What part of that don
’t you understand? I did that once, and look what happened.”
Owen put an arm, then a shoulder, between them, proving he was madly brave or just plain mad. He’d never been as strong as the Cardinal Anemoi, and as a demigod, was even less so. But what he lacked in power, he made up for in character and integrity. Zephyros nodded to him and stepped back.
Chrys squeezed Zeph’s shoulder. “When you’re ready to go, I’ll go with you.”
Zeph stared out the front window for a long moment, then turned back to Chrys’s serious gaze. He nodded “Thank you, brother.”
Upstairs, the water shut off. Zeph’s eyes tracked the sound.
Owen got right in his line of sight. “Fight for her, Zephyros. It’s worth it. I’m telling you. You have to put all the shit aside and fight.” Wisdom and compassion flashed out of those strange mismatched eyes.
“I will. I have to.” Zeph sighed. “You guys don’t have to stay for this.”
“We’ll stay,” Chrys said, plunking into an armchair and picking up the remote.
Owen stretched out on the couch. “We’ll stay. Just”—he grinned at Chrys—“go get us a snack.”
Zeph glared, but headed to the kitchen. Ella’s fridge and cabinets were alarmingly sparse. What did the woman eat? Bingo. He’d found what could only be called a stash. Candy. Cookies. Something called Nutella. He grabbed the Oreos for the guys. He looked wistfully at the bag of M&Ms. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time to yesterday afternoon when she made him pancakes full of the candies. The list of things he’d do differently was a mile long.
Back in the living room, Zeph chucked the package of cookies onto Owen’s chest. He caught them with a curse, then his face went all kid-in-a-candy-store.
“Aw, man, these are awesome.” He took three and passed the container to Chrys. Zeph shook his head and paced.
Light footsteps descended the stairs. Zeph froze. Waited. Behind him, he could feel the other gods trying to act normal, affect some casual nonchalance. He appreciated the effort, for Ella’s sake.
When she cleared where the staircase met the wall, she paused. “I’m done.”
Zeph could hardly breathe for the fresh, magnetic scent of her. Cheeks still pink from the warmth of the shower, hair damp over her shoulders, she looked lovely to him. “Okay. Should I…”
She glanced at Owen and Chrys, gave them a small smile that made Zeph’s heart hurt. “Yeah, let’s go back upstairs.”
Zeph followed her up and frowned when she led them into the office, not her bedroom. He had no context for her here. Even with the light on, the room felt formal, stiff. He didn’t know what to do with himself.
She sat on the far end of the futon. He followed her lead, choosing the middle—not as close as he wanted to be, but not as far as he could be.
Zeph dropped his head. “Ella?” When she didn’t answer, he turned toward her. Exhaustion and heartache painted her expression. He hated that he’d put those there. “Do you have marks on your neck?”
She gasped. Her hand tugged more hair over her shoulder. Though she normally tucked it behind her ears, he noticed she hadn’t. His stomach dropped.
“Can I get rid of those? Please?” he rasped, almost unable to talk for the rage and guilt bubbling up his throat.
“It’s fine,” she said, looking down.
“For the love of the gods, it is not even in the same realm as fine. The sheer number of ways I failed you…” He balled his fists and closed his eyes, reining himself in. No use scaring her by losing control. And he was hanging way out over the edge. “Please, Ella, I can’t begin to imagine—” He heaved a breath. “Please.”
It was a single nod, but it was all he needed.
He scooted right next to her, relieved to be closer. She smelled of vanilla and woman, that light, calming aura shimmering around her. “Can you pull your hair back?”
Her eyes flicked to his, then away. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and held it there.
Zeph ground his teeth to restrain the curses poised on the tip of his tongue. But mother of gods, his brother’s teeth had actually penetrated the top of her ear at one point, and otherwise left a semi-circular trail of angry bruises. As horrific, an enormous red-purple monster of a hickey dominated the tendon on the side of her neck.
Hand shaking, Zeph focused the healing energy over that round mark first. There would be more hell to pay with Aeolus for this, but it couldn’t be avoided. In this moment, undoing what he had caused was the only important thing in the world.
…
Ella’s eyes traced the weaving in the futon cover, humiliation rolling her stomach, heating her face, and making it impossible to look at Zephyros.
This was a mistake. She should never have—
“When I was young,” he began in a sad, quiet voice, “I had what you would understand as a wife. Her name was Chloris, and she was one of the goddesses of spring, of flowers, and of new growth.”
Jealousy flared in Ella’s belly, but then she’d been married before, hadn’t she? Though, not to a god.
“We weren’t together long, because of Eurus. I didn’t know it, but he loved her. His hatred for me, it started all these long millennia ago, because he believes I stole her from him. She didn’t love him, she didn’t even really notice him. But that didn’t matter to my brother. To get even, he told everyone in the Realm of the Gods that I’d kidnapped Chloris, held her hostage, and raped her until she acquiesced. He even lodged a formal complaint with our father, demanded an investigation.”
Ella gasped, and outrage for him stole her breath.
His hand cupped her neck. “We were young and impulsive. We essentially eloped. But I didn’t do those things, Ella. I promise.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest. “Oh, Zeph, I never would’ve thought you did, or that you ever could.”
He nodded. “The gods live and breathe on one another’s misfortune, and rumors spread about me and Chloris. We couldn’t go anywhere without murmurings we were meant to hear and blatantly disapproving looks we were meant to see. It wore on her. She cried all the time. Word finally made it to her father. He exploded. Beat me to a pulp, and I let him, because I hated that she’d been hurt. She finally left me, which gave credence to the rumors in some people’s minds.”
Zeph’s hand slid up to her ear, the warmth she recognized as his healing power spreading over her skin. She didn’t know what to say, so she just let him speak, let him purge some of the weight he’d been carrying. “I was alone for a long time after that.” His chuckle was without humor. “You can imagine that few were interested in me, given my reputation. Sometime later, I met another goddess of spring, Maia. We courted for a long time and planned to join our godhoods—what you would call marrying—but the week before the ceremony, she was found dead. Poisoned. No evidence could be found to identify the guilty.”
“Jesus, Zeph.” Ella’s sympathy was a heavy weight on her chest.
He shook his head. “Through all this, I had a close friend who believed me, supported me, and after Maia’s death, we became lovers. For a long time, we were together. Hyacinthus made me believe again, in love, in family, but then I learned that he had cheated on me—”
Ella gasped, and her stomach dropped through the floor. Her heart demanded empathy for the fact that he, too, had experienced the betrayal of unfaithfulness, but her brain, conditioned by Craig’s lies, reacted to the other thing he’d said—that this Hyacinthus person was a he.
Zeph’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?” He caressed her cheek. “Your expression worries me.”
“I…um…nothing.”
“Please, Ella. Please tell me. I need your honesty as much as you’ve said you need mine.”
Well, when he put it that way… “Okay. So, uh, this Hyacinthus person, he was a…he?”
Zeph tilted his head. “Yes. Does that bother you?”
“Not for the reason you might think. I mean, I guess it’s a bit surprising, but I don’t have a mora
l objection or anything to homosexuality. It’s just, um, my husband, when he left me, he told me that he was gay. So it was better that we hadn’t been able to have children, because he wanted to leave. And I was…God, Zeph…I was so mad at him, not because he was gay, but because how could he not know it, you know? But then…then I found him in bed with my best friend—a woman, by the way—who was four months pregnant. He’d started sleeping with her before he broke up with me. When I confronted him, he said he thought thinking he was gay would be an easier let-down than knowing the truth.”
Zeph scowled, dark light flashing from his eyes. “Your husband was a coward and a fool, Ella, and you deserve so much better.” He scoffed. “Better than me, too. Last night proved that.”
“Zeph—”
“No, don’t. Though, I feel you should know that, where I’m from, becoming intimate with someone of the same sex is accepted, somewhat common even. We don’t distinguish or moralize the way humans do. But are you sure it’s something you could accept? Because Hy wasn’t the only man.”
Conflicting emotions stole Ella’s voice. Not because she had a problem with his sexuality, which was surprisingly intriguing, if she was honest, but because in answering him truthfully, she’d be giving him hope that they could be together. And given her wasted womb, they couldn’t. Not really. Finally, she murmured, “Your bisexuality is not a problem for me, Zeph. Honestly.” She chose her words carefully, aiming for honesty and neutrality, too. “So, I’m sorry, I interrupted. You said he’d cheated on you.”
He nodded and released a breath. “Yeah. Does the name Apollo mean anything to you?”
She shrugged. “Um, one of the gods who was supposed to have lived at Olympus?”
“Yes. One of the twelve Olympic gods. Zeus’s son. Very complicated, and very powerful. That’s who Hy was cheating with. In the end, guess who he picked?”
Ella didn’t need to ask. It was clear from the way his shoulders sagged and his eyes went downcast, he’d lost Hy not only as a lover, but as a friend. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
