I didn’t tell him I’d turned down that exact offer last night. This was the third time in as many days that Adonis had asked me to leave. If he asked again, I might have to take the request personally. “I’m not leaving.”
“You were attacked and charmed—”
I gave an exaggerated groan, and sat up, straddling him per the photographer’s instructions. “I told you, I might not have been charmed when I made out with Tantalus.”
“Yes, you were.” Adonis propped himself up on his arms and leaned toward me in a half-sitting position. “You wouldn’t have kissed him otherwise.”
That was a pretty big leap. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because . . .” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not subtle when you want to kiss someone. The way you look at me, the way you looked at Ares last night . . .” He glanced down at the sand. “A blind man could see it. You’re a lot more transparent than you think.”
I gave him a level look. “Then you know I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t stay here for me. Please, Aphrodite. Not for me.”
“You’re really worried,” I realized, shocked at the level of concern in his voice. I tried to inject some levity into the conversation. “And here I thought we weren’t friends.”
“I told you, I’m not pretending.” Adonis flashed me a playful grin for the camera and gripped me tighter before he rolled over. I half-laughed, half-shrieked with surprise at finding myself lying on the sand beneath him.
“I care.” Adonis worked his arms free, planting one on either side of me to support his weight. “I don’t know exactly when that happened or to what degree. I’ve mostly tried to ignore it. But then . . .” He broke off with a sharp shake of his head.
“But then?” I encouraged, brushing his hair back from his face.
“You stopped breathing.” Adonis’s voice wavered. “The way I felt, in that moment . . . I can’t ignore that anymore. If you stay for me, and you get hurt or worse, I couldn’t live with myself.” His gold eyes bored into mine, full of fear. “Please, Aphrodite. Please go.”
“And if I left and something happened to you?” I wouldn’t insult him by asking him to leave, even though I knew Persephone would hide him in the Underworld with the others if I asked. Adonis wouldn’t hide while demigods on the surface went missing. Everyone in his family was a demigod. “What do you think that would do to me?”
“Aphrodite . . .” He hung his head and his forehead brushed against mine. “I’m not. . . . I’m not w—”
“They said that’s a wrap. Hello?”
Elise’s voice sent Adonis scrambling to his feet in shock. I glanced around, surprised to find all the equipment being broken down and no one except Elise actually focusing on us.
Adonis tilted his head. “You’re not—”
“No need to announce it to the world.” Her face might belong to Elise, but the smile sure didn’t. “Just wanted to check in with you guys before I head back to the boat.” She turned around, slow, with her arms out. “How do I look?”
“Just right.” I grinned at Artemis. “Be careful, will you?”
“You, too.”
“I will.” But somehow, I doubted all the caution in the world would be enough.
Chapter XXIV
ONCE ELISE AND Artemis made the switch, all Adonis and I could do to help was stay out of the way and look “normal.”
“I think they stock this water with sand dollars.” Adonis’s hands were full of the sandy disks, an expression of delight lighting up his face.
“Probably.” The water looked so clear, I could see reflected ripples making a patchwork pattern along the sandy bottom below. If I squinted, I could make out nearly a dozen sand dollars within splashing distance. Sunlight fractured upon hitting the crystal-clear water, sending rainbows sparkling in the rise and fall of the gentle waves.
Grinning, I plucked the largest sand dollar from Adonis’s fingers and sprang away from him.
“Hey!” He splashed after me. “There are like, a hundred other ones you could get.” Adonis threw a shard of a sand dollar at my head. “Get your own.”
The sand dollar hit my head with a thunk before crumbling and splashing into the sea. I kicked my feet, splashing Adonis. “But I want this one.”
“Never!” He laughed, sending a spray of water in my direction.
I held the sand dollar at arm’s length above my head. “I’ll throw it!”
“Don’t you dare.” Adonis lunged toward me and looped an arm around my torso to pull me to him and try to grab the disk from my fingers. I pushed backward off the sand bar. We went under, pushing and pulling at one another until we tumbled into the shallow water, sand scraping at my back.
He grabbed my hand, looking at me in askance when he found my clutched fingers empty.
“I dropped it,” I admitted.
He burst out laughing. “Bet I find it first.”
“You wish.” I dove into the water.
The hours stretched into eternity. We went scuba diving, played volleyball, and lounged on the beach. Clouds wisped into thin lines in the bright blue sky. Fragrant pink blossoms bloomed beside tiny, spiky palm trees and thick cedar pines. And for a little while, I felt as if we’d frozen one perfect day in paradise.
Then the sun started to sink into the aquamarine waves, and the warm, euphoric feeling I’d enjoyed all day froze in my chest. Whatever was happening to the demigods would happen tonight, and I might not be able to stop it. I eyed Adonis, swallowing hard at the sudden pressure on my chest. It wasn’t just him who’d be in danger tonight. Ares, Artemis, Athena, even Poseidon were making themselves targets and I was powerless against whatever was coming.
Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to head back to the room. I felt sick with fear and cold, too. I shoved my worries out of my head and focused on the physical instead. The sun did a pretty good job of drying my bikini, but my hair still felt damp. Between the dying daylight and the constant sea breeze, my sheer swimsuit cover didn’t stand a chance against the chill.
I brushed sand off my legs and arms, to no avail. The beach looked beautiful, but the white granules got everywhere, and the powdery substance clung to my skin like foundation. A flicker of flame caught my attention down the beach.
A group of models sat around a campfire. Snatches of laughter and conversation made their way to us on the wind, but we weren’t close enough to make out words.
“What are they doing?” I narrowed my eyes, trying to see clearer. Judging by the laughing and jeering when someone poured a shot, they seemed to be playing some kind of a drinking game.
“They’re playing Truth.” Adonis yawned, stretching in a way I found incredibly distracting.
“What, like Truth or Dare?” I forced my gaze to his face.
“Just Truth. We ah . . . cut the dares after some . . . incidents. It’s a stupid game,” he explained. “Everyone thinks the whole thing is dumb, but, you know . . .” Adonis shrugged. “It’s something to do to wind down after a shoot whenever we’re stuck on location. They ask questions, and if you don’t answer or if you lie, you have to drink.”
“How would they know you’re lying?”
“Tantalus charms them into being honest, not that they realize it. Not the best game to play if you’re an impostor who can’t lie, though.” Adonis eyed Tantalus, squinting to see him in the distance. “So I’m guessing Ares hasn’t taken his place yet?”
I texted Ares.
He’s always in a group, he replied. If he doesn’t go somewhere alone soon, I’ll have to wait until he gets back to his suite.
I frowned at my phone. “It’s still him.”
“Tantalus probably hasn’t been alone.” Adonis scowled at the fire and let out a deep breath. “He tends to stay in a cr
owd. What if he stays in a group the whole night? He might not even go back to his room alone.”
“He didn’t have anyone with him last night.”
“Probably still hoping for a shot with you.”
I could use that. I texted Ares my plan, then pulled off the swimsuit cover, folding it into my bag. “Stay here.”
“Aphrodite, don’t.” Adonis followed right on my heels as I approached the fire, blazing green and blue thanks to the sea salt.
“Mind if I join you?” I flashed Tantalus a smile.
“Please.” Tantalus stood and reached for my hand, pulling me to the spot beside him. “We’re playing a game. I’m winning, but it’s not too late to join in.”
“If by winning, you mean well on your way to passing out drunk.” The brunette next to Tantalus gave him a playful shove.
“Was that not the point of this game?” He grinned, then turned his attention to Adonis. “You can join too, have a seat. Play a round. You pass, you drink. You lie, you drink.”
“Isn’t the ship leaving soon?” Adonis asked. “Maybe we should head back.”
“It’s not going to leave without us,” Tantalus said with such certainty that I wondered who he’d charmed to make that arrangement.
He motioned for one of the crew to grab us some shots. “Pass on whatever questions you like except mine. I really want to hear your answers.”
When I hesitated, his eyes bored into mine. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
The sooner the game ended, the sooner I could get Tantalus alone and Ares could make the switch. I relaxed, sitting on the log Tantalus indicated, joining the circle of seven other models. The air shimmered with heat from the blue and green flames rising from the salt-coated driftwood and the smoke bit at my taste buds. The musky campfire scent always reminded me of the fires Ares, Hephaestus, and I grilled hot dogs on during our road trip last year. Unlike the bulk of that trip though, not a single cloud marred the sky, allowing the crisp moonlight to beam down and reflect off the pure white sand.
“Violet, I believe it’s still your turn.” Tantalus motioned for her to ask a question.
Violet, a dark-haired model, turned to me. “We’ll start small. Ever kill anyone?”
The girl next to her burst out laughing. I gave her an icy smile then turned to Violet, waiting for the laughter around the fire to die down to a nervous silence. “Pass.” I took a shot.
Tantalus’s laugher sounded a bit forced. “Good one. Adonis, what was the last lie you told?”
A long look—one I couldn’t decipher—passed between the two of them. “I apologized to Elise.”
That drew a few hisses and snickers from the group of models. I looked around at their smiling faces and realized Elise was not well-liked. Huh. I hadn’t cared for her either at first, but she actually seemed pretty nice. Friendly, even.
Tantalus stared at Adonis. “You gonna make me say it?”
Adonis clenched his jaw and took a shot.
“I thought so.” Tantalus turned to me. “Who was the blonde you were with last night?”
“Pass.” I reached for another shot, but Tantalus grabbed my hand, hard enough to hurt.
“Who.” He met my eyes. “Was. She?”
“Persephone.” I filled him in on as many details about her I could think of, forgetting the words even as I spoke them.
Adonis glanced from me to Tantalus, his face darkening. “Stop charming her; let her go.”
“When I’m done with her. Oh, and don’t worry. No one is going to remember anything you or I say to or regarding her, isn’t that right, everyone?” He met each model’s eyes before settling on me.
“Yeah,” I said, chiming in with everyone else. Wait . . . Why did I say that?
“We’re just having fun.” Blue-green firelight flickered across Tantalus’s golden features. “Nothing unusual going on, right?”
Every head around the circle nodded.
Adonis worked his jaw. “Tantalus . . .”
“Careful, Adonis,” Tantalus cautioned. “You’re getting awfully close to crossing the line here. Look, you don’t have to play. Go back to the boat. I’ll get her back to you, eventually.”
Adonis sat next to me, his expression stony.
Tantalus leaned forward, gaze intense. “Why were you searching the ship?” His voice sounded so low, I almost couldn’t hear him over the crackle of flame.
He shouldn’t have remembered the search. Either he was immune, or I’d been so charmed out of my mind, I only thought I’d made him forget. Good. I couldn’t imagine why I’d ever want to charm him into forgetting anything. “We were attacked by charmed passengers with Olympian Steele. We needed to make sure there was no more left on the boat.”
“Why are you on the boat to begin with?”
My phone buzzed, vibrating in my bag, and setting my beach tote glowing with a cool blue light. I blinked, staring at the bag. What did I say? Why—
“Hey!” Tantalus’s sharp voice brought my attention back to him. “I asked you a question.”
Right. I scrambled to remember. “Demigods are going missing. We’re trying to figure out where they’re going and why.”
Tantalus made a surprised sound. “Any leads?”
“We know the demigods will go missing tonight, but that’s about all we know.” My fingers dug into the sand, feeling the powdery granules slide against my palm.
“Tell me everything you’ve found, and everything you’ve planned so far. Who is working with you, and what can they do?”
“Tantalus,” Adonis objected. “Enough.”
Words spilled out of my mouth, impatient and eager. When I finished, Tantalus turned to the next girl. “What’s your favorite color, Andrea?”
“Blue.”
He made his way around the circle, each question more innocuous than the last. I dug my toes in the sand, frowning. Did he ask me a question? Or did he skip me? Not that I minded being skipped in this game, but. . . . He’d asked me something, hadn’t he?
I looked to Adonis for clues, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“My turn,” the brunette next to Tantalus announced. “What the hell kind of a name is Tantalus? Like, seriously, why do you all have such weird names?”
Tantalus’s face darkened. “It’s Greek. And Nikki was a weird name once upon a time. Naming trends have to start somewhere.”
“No offense, but I somehow doubt your parents are going to be trendsetters in the baby name sphere.” She laughed, giving Tantalus a good-natured push, and continued around the circle. When she got to Adonis, she asked, “Are you and Tantalus related?”
The two demigods exchanged looks, but Tantalus answered. “Not to our knowledge, why?”
Well, actually they were. But I guessed Zeus would be rather hard to explain.
She flushed at the challenge in his voice. “Well . . . I mean, you’re both Aurums. I’ve heard it can be genetic.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the human explanation for demigods.
“I’m sorry,” Violet interrupted. “Aurums?”
“You know,” the brunette said. “People who look like them. All gold and stuff.”
“Most of the time, it doesn’t run in families.” Tantalus’s smirk looked less than friendly. “Aurumnism is a genetic abnormality that absolutely anyone can be born with, no matter what their ethnicity or family history.”
“We prefer people with Aurumnism,” Adonis added.
What, were they reading from the same pamphlet? Both their answers sounded super rehearsed.
“What’s the difference?” Violet asked.
Adonis glanced down at the sand, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Person-first language is a bit less dehumanizing.”
“Dehumanizing?” O
ne of the other models laughed. “You guys, like, rule the world. How many famous people have it? Like one in ten?”
“At least,” Andrea chimed in. “Seems like every other movie star, model, or singer has it.”
“My history prof told me that you guys were held up as gods in most ancient societies.”
“We also made handy sacrifices. And today, we go missing and die a lot thanks to human trafficking and crazy people who think we’re some kind of unnatural abomination.” Tantalus’s voice sounded dry. “Let’s move on.” He gave the brunette a pointed look.
“Yeah, okay.” Nikki turned to me. “What’s your number?”
“Uh.” I frowned, trying to remember the number to the phone Persephone gave me. “Seven o-six—”
She laughed. “No, no. I mean your number. How many people have you slept with?”
“People?” I mused, leaning back, enjoying the way the words made my lips tingle. After one shot? Even if my divine tolerance decreased to human levels, I shouldn’t be feeling tipsy yet. Right? What was in these things? No more passing for me. “Hmm . . . I don’t know that I’ve—”
“Beings,” Tantalus corrected so I couldn’t equivocate. When Nikki shot him a puzzled look, he turned on the charm. “Don’t ask.”
I felt ultra-aware of Adonis sitting next to me. And I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know my number. Against my better judgment, I downed a shot.
“Aw, come on.” She pouted for a moment, then stopped when Tantalus whispered something in her ear. “Okay. Adonis . . . “She laced her fingers together over her knee, and fluttered her lashes with a come-hither look so impressive, I found myself taking notes. “What is your room number?”
Adonis gave her a sideways grin at the obvious invitation in her voice, took an inward hiss of breath, and took a shot.
“Ouch,” cried another model. There were snickers and jeers around the campfire and Nikki turned bright red.
“It’s occupied,” Adonis offered by way of apology. She followed his gaze to me and shrugged.
“Your loss,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster, and moved on to the next question.
Aphrodite Page 18
