Apathy's Hero: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Truth's Harem Book 3)

by Allyson Lindt

  “I don’t anymore.”

  “What about the place we were in before this?” He was grasping and had no idea if that would make things worse. “You know what that felt like. Can you find it again?”

  “No.”

  Icarus wanted to be frustrated with her stubbornness. He stopped himself. If he was exhausted from being an observer through a few eulogies, what did she feel like, living all of them and more?

  Distract her. Conner’s advice echoed in his head.

  That was all well and good, but Icarus needed her to cope, in addition to that. He took both her hands. “Look at me.”

  When she did, the sorrow in her gaze devoured him to the core.

  “You’re probably exhausted and confused, and undoubtedly frustrated.” He kept his voice kind. “I understand. I want to help.”

  “None of this is helping.” Despite the words, some of the tension drained from her body.

  He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, then pressed their foreheads together. “Close your eyes again.”

  “Fine.” She huffed out the word.

  “And start by focusing on me.”

  “This feels an awful lot like meditating.” There was a shift in the air, though. Sadness was muted with comfort.

  Icarus hoped that was a good sign. “I can’t say for sure, but I’d guess this is a lot like following different auras. You have to stop thinking about one, so you can see them all. If you step back from this group of prayers, can you feel those we came from?”

  “No... Yes.”

  The fire and brimstone recitation of The Tomes of Zeus mingled with the drunken singing of the wake.

  In his peripheral vision, Icarus saw their setting flicker between a bar and a chapel. “How about the university, where Esper was?”

  The third setting blended into the mix, splatters of silence cutting off the noise, like a speaker with faulty wiring.

  “You’re doing it.” He wanted to pull away and look around, but keeping the physical connection was important— for him or her, he wasn’t sure, but it needed to stay.

  The scent of damp grass mingled with that of booze, and cool air brushed his skin before fading into more scripture reading.

  Lexi whimpered. “It’s all so loud. I don’t know which one to listen to.”

  If Actaeon were here... Icarus was unsure why that would make this better, but it wasn’t an option. “You don’t need to pay attention to any of them. Listen to my voice instead. Let them jabber in the background.”

  “I can’t ignore them. I’m here to serve them.”

  “You will”—Conner had better be right about that—“but only if you can learn to let them all run together. They need to become white noise. Subliminal.”

  “I can’t.”

  Icarus dropped her hands and cradled her cheeks. He pressed his mouth to hers. It was gentle but unyielding. “Listen to me. No one else.”

  When she didn’t kiss back, he was ready to let go. Then she relaxed against him, her lips molding to his.

  A familiar jolt raced through his veins. This shouldn’t feel so good. He and she were mental projections, nothing more. But desire and comfort spilled through his body.

  When they broke apart, he gasped at the loss of sensation.

  They were nowhere. Vast nothingness stretched in every direction.

  “You did it.” He grinned. “How do you feel?”

  Her smile was tiny but stunning. “I can still hear all of it.”

  “I think it will take a while to turn it into background noise.” He didn’t expect it to happen in an instant. Despite his insistence, he was surprised she picked up on step one so quickly.

  “There’s a pull. Thousands of them. They tug at my thoughts and make me want to follow,” Lexi said. “But I feel like I can tell them no.”

  That sounded like a good thing. “Do you want to come back home?”

  “Yes. Please, yes. It feels like an eternity since I had a say in where I was.”

  This wasn’t the time to point out what a real eternity felt like. He was grateful to have Lexi less compelled and more her. “Let’s go.” He took her hand and stood.

  “How?”

  “Uh...” He’d assumed once she fought the pull, she’d return to her own body. They’d wake up in his room. Conner would be happy he could go back home.

  Lexi turned as much as she could without breaking contact with him. “Is there a door?”

  “I don’t know.” He had to force the words out.

  Grief and frustration pressed in again, but this time it was all hers. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  If Icarus wanted to wake up, he could. He was unsure how he knew that, but there was no doubt. He wasn’t going until Lexi did, though. He’d promised.

  “Tell yourself to wake up?” he said.

  “I’m trying.”

  Try harder. He bit off the words. No need to add to her frustration.

  “Hey. Me. Wake up!” she shouted into the nothing.

  Her volume left his ears ringing, but she didn’t budge.

  Distract her.

  Perhaps Icarus wasn’t done yet. If she was still struggling with the voices, she might need to be taken further from them.

  “Since Conner isn’t here, how about I take you to Germany?” Icarus clamped his jaw shut the instant the offer was out. Why couldn’t he have picked anyplace else?

  “It’s not home, but it’s better than staring at white space.”

  He didn’t have to show her a memory. At least not one from centuries ago. They could go to pre-Enlightenment, post-Cold-War Germany.

  The forest that appeared around them and the two-story villa in front of them said not all of his mind was on the same page.

  Lexi’s delighted gasp kept him from forcing a change in scenery. “This is amazing. It’s straight out of a book. Did you make it up?”

  “I lived here.” Effective distraction for her. Great way for him to paint new moments over the past.

  The flowering plants, the subtle blend of yellow and green in the leaves, and the faint chill in the air said it was spring. Icarus didn’t have to wonder which spring. He needed to make a few changes to the house before they stepped inside. This was at least partly his mind, so he could erase any traces of Actaeon.

  Lexi was busy taking in their surroundings as they strolled up the path. Her awe was contagious. It had been a long time since he saw the wonder in this place.

  He pictured the interior. The weapons mounted above the fireplace needed to go. Easy enough to replace with a tapestry. Icarus changed the image in his mind.

  A choir singing a modern hymn bled in with the chirp of birds, and Lexi faltered. “It’s coming back.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

  That wasn’t him, was it? She had no idea what he was thinking. Best not to risk it. He left everything the way his mind pictured it.

  She didn’t need to know where the extra items in the house came from.

  The stepped into the foyer.

  “Wow.” Lexi’s awe was tangible. “It’s so huge. Did you live here alone?”

  “Not at first, but by this point everyone else was gone.” There was a smaller house behind this one—living quarters for the people who had tended the home and grounds—but he’d dismissed them after Actaeon left. Icarus had stopped caring. He’d let the dust settle in, moved into a single room in the back of the house, and lost himself in creating.

  But this version was frozen in time before he gave up. None of the wear or disrepair showed. On the main floor were the sitting room, dining room, and kitchen. The bedrooms were at the top of the grand staircase.

  Before Actaeon left, they had lived a high-society life. Most eligible bachelors in the village. People were willing to gossip, but ignored the rumors about their sexuality as long as both men were flirting with all the ladies in town.

  The only thing the house didn’t have was indoor plumbing—nothing di
d back then. But since this was a memory, he didn’t suspect that mattered.

  “May I look around?” Lexi’s question dragged him from his thoughts.

  He gave a deep bow and gestured toward the sitting room. “Be my guest. My home is your home.”

  She walked with a light step, as if concerned she might disturb the past. In the sitting room, she wandered among the sofas and other furniture, looking but not touching. She paused when she reached the fireplace. Above the mantle, a steel dagger was mounted under a bow, the faint silvery glow still radiating from both.

  Of course he had to remember a detail like the weapons carrying hints of Actaeon.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “Actaeon hunted with them. It wasn’t practical to find food with his summoned weapons, so he kept real ones on hand. He used them so much, they absorbed some of his aura.”

  “Does he visit often?”

  It was a simple question, but it gouged a hole, deep in Icarus’ chest. “No. He’ll never return to this place.” He thought he’d gotten rid of that knot in his heart ages ago.

  Lexi turned and strode back to him. She placed her palm on his ribcage, covering the pain. “There’s something between the two of you.”

  “Not anymore.” He shook his head. “There was. An on-again, off-again thing over the centuries. This time, in this house, was the last time.”

  “Is that why we’re here?”

  “I think we’re here because it’s Germany and I lived here for so long. Actaeon was sex, nothing more. There was never any conversation or exchange of ideas.” Not enough, anyway.

  Lexi dropped her hand to grip his fingers. “He’s a good listener,” she said.

  Icarus couldn’t argue that. “But he’s a horrible talker.” He didn’t want to dig so deep into his past. “He and I fought, before we confronted Hades. I told Actaeon he didn’t deserve you. That he needed to earn your love.”

  He expected her to get angry. To tell him he didn’t have the right.

  “Did you ever tell him that about yourself?” Lexi asked.

  He shook his head. “It was never an option for him and me.”

  Lexi raised his hand and kissed his palm. “I was worried the first time I saw this.” She drew her lips along the inside of his wrist. The sensation was sensual and soothing at the same time. “It’s so faint. Invisible, compared to what you and I have. I didn’t even notice it until after we killed Hades. Maybe it had faded into obscurity before then, or there were so many other threads it didn’t stand out.”

  She was talking about a red cord.

  “I don’t... He and I don’t...” Fate hadn’t bound him to Actaeon. Icarus refused to accept it.

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t mean you and him falling in love will happen.”

  “Exactly.” Fate didn’t matter. They made up their own minds. “Besides, I’d rather focus on you and me right now.”

  Her smile was shy. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Under other circumstances, that would be reassuring. Today, it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear. “I’d like it if we both left this place.”

  “I’m trying.” With her frustration, the mood was lost.

  “Me too.”

  “How long can we stay here?”

  “I don’t know.” Time moved differently from one place to the next. “If this is all in our heads... It may be that only a few minutes have passed in the real world, but I can’t guarantee it. Not that it matters. If you’re stuck here, I’m not leaving you.”

  Lexi sank onto a nearby fainting couch. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. You can ask me to leave, but I’d rather not. Conner will do something if we’re gone for too long, if he can. There may not be anything for him to do, besides make sure our bodies are safe.”

  She rested her elbows on her knees and stared at her hands. “What do we do in the meantime, besides stare at our feet and talk about things that make you sad?”

  “Actaeon doesn’t make me sad.” Did she hear the lie? “Would you like to see the city? Berlin, in the fifteen hundreds?”

  The hint of excitement that pushed away her frustration made the offer worth it. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

  He pictured them in period-clothing. Or a reasonable facsimile. The genuine articles were a pain in the ass to get in and out of.

  “Oh.” Lexi gasped and approached him. She touched something at the base of his throat, and he looked down.

  He wore the silver chain with the cross. It shouldn’t be there, but it was too late to take it back.

  “What is it?” She traced her thumb along the intricate design.

  “A cross.”

  “Thanks for that.” Amusement tinged her sarcasm. “What’s special about this one?”

  He couldn’t help a smile at the memory. “Martin Luther and the protestant reform. It began just a few years ago, and this was a trinket someone was selling, to profit on the movement. We thought it was funny, given our birthright and all...” He didn’t want to say more and tumble back into that sadness.

  Lexi followed the carvings on silver one more time before dropping the medallion. “It’s from Actaeon. How long did you wear it after he left?”

  “A couple hundred years.”

  “You’re not going to correct me?”

  He didn’t expect her to be more fascinated with a necklace than with the stunning gown he’d dressed her in. “About what?”

  “I don’t know. I expected some sputtering protest about how he didn’t leave, you threw him out.”

  Icarus didn’t have the kind of ego that demanded that sort of lie. “He left. I suppose, in a way, it was mutual. Neither of us had what the other desired. He needed someone to die for, and I desperately wanted someone to live for.” He couldn’t offer more details. Not right now. “Shall we see the town? I can imagine us up a carriage.”

  “I’d love that.”

  With the past left in the house, Lexi was drawn more into the rest of the world—her dress, the view as the horse-drawn carriage took them into town, the lights and sounds of the city.

  Their surroundings were a jumble of different time periods. There was no need to sort them, though. They weren’t here for a history lesson. With Lexi trying to take everything in, Icarus wanted to appreciate her awe.

  They went to the opera—Mozart, who should have been two-hundred years in the future, but was incredible tonight. Lexi sat captivated through the entire thing.

  On the carriage ride home, she didn’t stop talking. It was wonderful. “Dad raised me on well-orchestrated movie scores. I’ve always loved that kind of music, but I’ve never had a chance to see anything like a live symphony or a real, honest-to-Aphrodite opera. That was incredible.”

  They reached the house. Icarus was as enamored with Lexi’s enthusiasm as she was with the evening. He adored the way her eyes lit up and her aura flared when she talked about her favorite parts of the opera.

  She paused, and pink spread across her face. “What?”

  “I like watching you.” He caressed her cheek. “Then again, I also like touching you. Listening to you. Everything about you captivates me.”

  Icarus grasped her fingers and tugged her into the living room, toward a fainting couch. He kissed her knuckles, then tipped her hand up, to press his lips to each fingertip.

  “There’s so much to see here. We must have only scratched the surface.” She nudged his shoulders, prompting him to sit, and straddled his legs. “And I don’t think my skirts should bunch up this easily.”

  He glided his palm up her inner thigh, then hooked a finger under the crotch of her panties. “And you shouldn’t be wearing these. But the clothing of the era was a pain in the ass to put on and remove, so I’ve taken a few liberties.”

  “Hmm... Have I ever mentioned I love the way you think?”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  She shifted her body, prompting him to adjust his fingers. Creation,
she felt good. Her damp heat teased his skin.

  She rocked against his touch and unlaced his trousers.

  Something about this was muted. The sensations were incredible, but there was a hint of that extra oomph missing.

  Because this wasn’t real.

  But if Icarus pushed aside that whisper, he could lose himself in this moment.

  When Lexi gripped his shaft, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. Her touch was electric.

  He shoved her panties aside. “I desperately want to fuck you.”

  “So poetic of you.” Lexi giggled.

  “I’m not a word-guy.” He lifted her enough to slide inside her.

  She lowered herself, and a long moan tore from his throat.

  They built quickly to a frantic pace, as he slammed against her.

  “You’re so incredible.” He glided his hands up her sides, to tease her nipples through her dress.

  She clenched around him. With each thrust, he inched closer to the edge of climax. His senses were alight with sensation.

  Lexi’s gasps became throaty cries. She was close to orgasm as well. He felt it flowing through and around him.

  She dug her fingers into his arms when she came, grinding into him.

  He couldn’t hold back. He spilled inside her, grunting and hammering, until they were both spent.

  Lexi’s clothing faded to a thin cotton shift. Icarus discarded his altogether. She curled up next to him and rested her head on his chest. “I don’t want to replace your memories of Actaeon. I don’t want that to be what we’re doing. I know this is a sad way to end the night, and I’m sorry for that, but your past is yours.”

  He wanted to tell her she was welcome to overwrite as much of his time with Actaeon as she wanted. The words stuck in his throat. “I don’t want that either.”

  “If this is all imaginary, what’s to stop you from bringing him back right now and having him join us?” She propped herself up and looked Icarus in the eye. “Not that this isn’t lovely. I’m loving the time with you. But I’m curious.”

  “It wouldn’t be him.” That was one answer Icarus didn’t hesitate on. “I’m not wishing some two-dimensional version of him into my life. If he comes back...” What? Where was that thought supposed to end? “Then and now don’t compare. I don’t want him back.” He tasted the lie, and it left a sour coating on his tongue.