Shift (Hearts and Arrows Book 2)

by Staci Hart

  “Whatever is this?” she asked innocently.

  “Not now, Hera,” Zeus growled as thunder boomed, the sky growing darker by the second.

  Wind whipped through from the ocean, charged and smelling of salt, setting the hairs on Ares’s arms and neck on end. Zeus fixed his cold eyes on Ares as he stepped toward his son, hands open by his sides, lightning crawling and jumping between his fingers.

  “Dearest.” Hera laid a hand on his arm, her voice tight and false. “But what has he done?”

  He laid the weight of his gaze on her. “He has slaughtered Grecians. In my temple.”

  She glanced at Ares, shocked, but she quickly recovered, smiling at Zeus, stroking his arm. “He must have had reason. Was he defending your honor?” Her eyes found Ares again.

  The boy nodded, his eyes on his father, his heart climbing his throat.

  Zeus pointed at his son, white lightning crackling from the tip of his finger. “This will not go unpunished.” He flipped his hand and splayed his fingers.

  Ares’s arms were pressed to his body, the air pulled out of his lung by the force of his father’s power, his bones bending, cracking. As Zeus raised his hand, Ares rose along with it. The only sound was the rumble of thunder, the popping lightning, and the soft pat of the blood of sacrifice as it hit the stone beneath his dangling feet.

  Zeus closed his fist, and Ares saw nothing, his body thrashing, eyes rolling back, the world dim and distant, aware of nothing but his pain.

  “Stop!” Hera screamed, pulling Zeus’s arm with all her strength, the pretense of calmness gone, her face bent and twisted in panic. “He did this for you! He only wishes to please you. Please, please! Let him go!”

  “Not yet,” Zeus said through his teeth. His eyes were so focused on Ares, there was nothing else, his purpose singular.

  Lightning wove a cage around Ares, and only then did Zeus release him.

  Ares slammed into the base of the cage, lighting it with a shock at the contact, the charge of the spark and crackle hanging in the air around them.

  The King of Gods walked to the cage where his son lay, panting. The boy looked at his father, pleading to a judge with no mercy, begging for understanding where none would be found.

  “Never,” Zeus said, the muscles in his neck taut, the chill in his voice final. “Never presume to act in my name.”

  He clapped his hands once, and Athena jumped, wide-eyed, a gasp passing her lips.

  The cage disappeared.

  Hera’s face drained, her porcelain skin as white as snow. “What have you done with him?” she breathed.

  As the clouds parted and the sun slipped over them, he turned to her with flinty eyes. “He is in the great hall where all can see. All can hear what he has done. All can mock him. Perhaps he will learn the humility you could never teach him.”

  Hera shrank away from him as he blew past her and away with the scent of rain and rage in his wake, his white cloak flapping behind him with the billowing snap of sails.

  “Are you listening?” Hera’s voice was sharp with impatience.

  “What?” Ares snapped, still shaken from the memory.

  “I said, if you win, what will you do with the token?”

  He ran a hand from jaw to chin. “I suppose it depends on how the competition goes.” He could use it for Dita or against her, help her or hurt her. Or he could serve himself.

  There were so many favors he could ask of her.

  Hera eyed his smiling face. “You really believe you have a chance.”

  Ares hung his arms on the back of the couch. “We’ll see.”

  “Well, someone should beat her.” She flattened her lips and brushed invisible lint from the arm of the chair. “If it’s not you, perhaps it will be me.” At that thought, her lips twisted in a smile.

  “Maybe it will be you, Mother, and you can devise some horribly embarrassing way to exact revenge.”

  Her smile stretched wider, and she stood to go, tucking her clutch under her arm. “Oh, yes. I’m sure I could think of something.”

  Apollo stretched out on Dita’s bed as he watched Dita and Perry bustle around a very wary Daphne.

  They went on about her, and her moss-green eyes followed them with mild suspicion. Her robes were the color of evergreen, and a golden rope wound around her slender waist, crisscrossing between her breasts — they had called it a strophion in the old times — pinned there by a brooch that twinkled with rubies.

  Apollo folded his hands behind his head with a sigh, his gaze sweeping the length of her wild copper hair that tumbled down her back in curls. He would never get his fill of her, not in a thousand years.

  Dita and Perry had undertaken a mission to bring Daphne into the twenty-first century, though the nymph was clearly out of her element, having just been awakened after being locked in a magical tree for three-thousand-some-odd years.

  Daphne met his eyes and offered a tentative smile, and he winked with a comforting smile of his own.

  Dita held up a pair of black skinny jeans and a sheer gold blouse. “These are going to look amazing with your hair.”

  She hesitantly took the clothes, the corners of her lips turning down a smidge. “Are you sure —”

  “Don’t worry,” Dita said, shuffling her toward her closet. “You’ll get the hang of it.” She stopped just short of the door and snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot! Hold, please.” She ran into her closet and came back a moment later with a lacy black bra in her hands.

  Daphne’s frown deepened.

  “It goes like this.” Dita held the bra up over her shirt.

  Apollo’s brow rose as Daphne took the device, perplexed.

  Dita laughed. “It’s like your strophion, except a little more … involved.”

  Daphne looked down at the bra and touched the brooch with her free hand, clearly not buying Dita’s flippancy about the undergarment.

  Perry turned Daphne toward the closet, and the nymph glanced over her shoulder at Apollo with pleading eyes before the door closed.

  Dita gathered her long golden hair and twisted it into a rope as she walked across the room, tossing it over her shoulder. She plopped onto the foot of the bed.

  “So, Kat and Dillon look like a real match,” Apollo said, his voice laden with sarcasm.

  Dita’s mouth fell into an O as she mocked, “You doubt moi? Didn’t I just beat you? Again?”

  He shrugged. “I got what I wanted, so I guess that’s debatable.”

  She laughed and hit him with a throw pillow. “Don’t be a douche.”

  “Speaking of douches, how’s Ares?”

  Dita sighed and rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “Same as always.”

  “I’ll never understand the attraction, Dita. He’s such a shit.”

  “Well, he’s my shit,” she joked, but her smile lost its shine. “I don’t understand it any more than you do. Maybe it’s because we’re so much alike.”

  He shook his head. “Personally, I don’t think you two are anything alike. He’s petty and vindictive, arrogant and childish. He’s been throwing tantrums over his toys for thousands of years with little care or respect for others.”

  “Some would say the same about me.”

  “Then they don’t know you at all.”

  She picked at her bedding, eyes on her fingers. “We’re more alike than you think. It’s just that I’m not evil. I mean, not unless provoked.”

  He laughed at that.

  “We’re both too competitive for our own good, and we have a high appreciation for beauty, power, and sexual aptitude.”

  “So, basically, it’s like sleeping with yourself?”

  “Sleeping with your evil self. Pretty much.”

  Apollo recrossed his ankles. “There has to be more to it than that, Dita. He’s far too much trouble for that to be enough.”

  “The distance of time helps. We go a long time between being together, and with Adonis gone …” She let out a heavy breath. “Apol
lo, I’m alone. And I know Ares is bad for me. I know it will probably all end in tears. He hates me for not choosing him, and I hate him because he wants to consume me and won’t rest until he has. But we love each other just as much. We hurt each other, but we always come back for more. It’s … complicated.”

  “I’ll say. But you’re still going to try to beat him, right?”

  She gave him a look. “Whenever have I not tried to win?”

  “Fair.” Apollo grabbed a small red pillow and put it behind his head. “Have any moves up your sleeve?”

  “Kiki and Owen are my biggest move. They’re my only tool to get the players into each other’s space. If Kat had her way, she’d never see Dillon again. No way would she willingly give him a second chance. She’s already written him off.”

  “Well, sounds like you’ve got this in the bag.”

  “Don’t question the mistress.” Her eyes lit up, and her smile was merry. “They just need a little time to realize they’re not enemies. Without Kiki and Owen, my chances would drop drastically. They’re the reason I chose Kat as my player. I’m sure I could still win, but I’d really have to work for it.”

  “Do you think Ares will try to expose that? Break them up?”

  “I’m not sure he’s smart enough to see anything but the direct path. He thrives on spontaneity. The heat of the battle and all that. He relies completely on his emotions. Athena is the sibling with pragmatism.”

  “She’s so pragmatic, she’s practically a robot.”

  Dita snickered. “Ares will probably use Eric, but I’m hoping that by the time he figures to put Eric in the game, I’ll either be close enough to winning that it won’t matter or I’ll have a plan to take care of him. If Eric comes after the girls, I’m afraid he’ll kill them.” Her voice softened, all levity gone. “He’s a psychopath, and he wants Kiki.”

  Apollo’s brows were drawn, the dread of the potential outcomes stirring in his chest. “I just hope you haven’t handed the game to Ares by choosing someone so unpredictable.”

  “I won’t deny that Kat was a risky choice, but I can see the threads that bind them, and I know it’s right.”

  He must not have looked convinced because she smiled.

  “I’ve got this. Ares has quite literally never beaten me in my own game. He doesn’t have the capacity to understand love. He doesn’t even understand his own love for me, which is why he can’t seem to respect that love, or me. So really, don’t worry; the odds of him winning are laughable. Perry and I even have bets going on how fast I can beat him and what his reaction will be, if you want in.”

  “You sure you want to bet with the Oracle?”

  She laughed, flashing her perfectly gorgeous smile. “I’m not worried. Plus, I love beating him, partly because he is the biggest baby when he loses.”

  “It’s so true. Remember that chariot race in Rome?”

  “Oh gods. Do I ever.” Dita ran her hand through her hair, shaking her head. “That tantrum was one of the many reasons why I wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Well, before I had something to do with him at least. He hates to lose, but with you, he’s got something to prove. Daddy’s golden boy versus the ne’er-do-well.”

  Apollo folded his arms across his chest. “He lost that race fair and square. I don’t even know why he challenged me. He’s always been the second best chariot driver in the history of the universe. He should have challenged me to a gladiator bout. I would have sucked at that. But no, he had to pick one of the few things I’m amazing at. He’s the sorest sport. Ever. We should have Heff make him a medal.”

  Dita snorted. “We can shape it like a giant dick and put Number One Cocksucker on the metal plate.”

  A laugh shot out of Apollo, and Dita giggled at a memory.

  “Remember afterward?” she asked. “When he stomped around the finish line arguing and threw his helmet?”

  “Are you kidding? I play that on a loop when I have a bad day.”

  The closet door opened, and Daphne emerged looking extraordinarily uncomfortable. She walked into the room like a newborn calf, tugging at the thighs of her jeans as she stopped in front of the mirror in Dita’s bathroom.

  Apollo sat up when he saw her, swinging his legs off the bed to walk to her.

  Daphne eyed him, but he touched her freckled cheeks and brushed his lips to hers in awe and reverence.

  When he pulled away, he was smiling. “You look beautiful.”

  Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth as she looked down the line of her body. “These clothes are so odd. Women truly wear garments like these all the time? I feel … well, I feel stifled and naked all at the same time.”

  Apollo turned to Dita with a brow up. “You couldn’t have started her off with a dress?”

  Dita waved him off. “Sometimes you just have to dive in.” She beamed at Daphne and hopped up onto the counter. “You look fantastic. Okay, so what do you want to learn about the modern world today?”

  Perry leaned against the counter next to Dita, her face lighting up. “What about the Kardashians?”

  Dita rolled her eyes. “I don’t see how that’s relevant—”

  Daphne looked up at them, big-eyed. “The who?”

  That was all Perry needed. “Well, see, there are these sisters, and they’re famous. They’re really beautiful and rich, and everyone watches them to see what they’ll wear and what they’ll say. Really, their whole family is famous, too—”

  Daphne’s eyes sparkled with wonder. “These sisters, are they princesses?”

  Perry’s brow furrowed. “No, not exactly …”

  “You know,” Dita interjected, “on second thought, maybe we should let you get used to the whole pants thing. And I’m sure Apollo can teach you more about your bra.” She jumped off the counter with a wink.

  Apollo laughed and held Daphne a little closer. The realization that she was real and whole and in his arms caught him by surprise; it was always in the small moments. And he smiled at Dita, his savior, who loved Ares, his jailer, hoping she could find a way through the competition without getting hurt.

  But he knew it was in vain.

  It was late by the time Kat ran out of things to count in the stockroom. Kiki hadn’t bothered to come check on her, which stung. Kiki’s absence was also an indicator that the brothers were still there, which made leaving the back even worse.

  But Kat was nothing if not determined, so she took a deep breath and pushed the door open with a scowl on her face, ready for round two with the angry brother, thankful at least that she could kick them out.

  Kiki sat next to Owen at the bar, though she hopped out of her seat the second she saw Kat and walked over, her face full of concern.

  Dillon was gone. At that fact alone, Kat relaxed considerably.

  “You okay?” Kiki asked with genuine worry.

  Kat threw on a sardonic smile. “Great. Just peachy.”

  Owen sighed. “I’m really sorry about him. He’s not usually so …”

  “Hostile? Belligerent? Obnoxious?”

  “Well, no,” Owen started. “He’s usually those things, but tonight he was in rare form.”

  “And last night?” Kat added.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “And last night.”

  Kiki gave her a withering glare.

  Kat sighed, trying to at least make an attempt at being understanding. This required herculean effort. “Listen, it’s not your fault. And it’s nothing I’m not used to.” She tossed Kiki a towel and turned to start cleaning up. “It’s about closing time.”

  She caught the towel and twisted it in front of her, biting her lip. “Um, Kat? Could I … I was wondering if maybe I could borrow your car to drive Owen home?”

  Kat picked up a rack of glasses and stacked it on a cart with a clank. “Can’t Owen take a cab like the rest of New York?”

  “Kat,” Kiki’s eyes went a little wide and darted to Owen, “come on.”

  She was too tired and salty to care that
she was being rude. “It’s really late, and Owen’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  “It’s just … I just thought maybe we could hang out a little longer, that’s all.”

  And there was the truth of it. Kat turned to face her sister as Owen stood and pulled on his coat.

  “It’s okay, Kiki. We can do it another time.” He gave Kat a smile that was warm and full of acceptance, which made her feel like an utter jerk. “It’s all good. Really.”

  Kiki silently begged Kat with gigantic puppy-dog eyes.

  Kat could already feel her resolve crumbling. Because, as pushy as she was and as much as she felt like she knew better, she also knew that saying no would end in a fight, and that fight wouldn’t go away. Kiki wasn’t going to drop it, which meant that if Kat pushed, Kiki would revolt. And if Kiki revolted, Kat’s job would become much, much more difficult. She’d quit listening, run away, leave Kat out. The sisters had been together almost every single minute since they left Vegas, and that comfort wasn’t something she was ready to give up yet.

  There would be no saying no. But she could try to keep it under her control.

  “How about you come to our place instead?”

  The lovebirds grinned at each other from across the bar, and Kat almost felt happy for them.

  “Works for me,” Kiki answered.

  “At least that way, I can keep an eye on you,” she joked, making a V with her fingers and pointing them at her eyes, then her sister’s.

  Kiki rolled her eyes, smiling as she pulled the bins of drink garnishes. “You’re more like a big brother than a big sister, you know that?”

  “You’re welcome.” Kat reached for a scoop to empty the ice bin as Owen sat across from her.

  He glanced over at Kiki, who was out of earshot. “Listen, I just want to say thanks. Kiki said the last guy she dated was a jerk and that you two didn’t get along, so I really appreciate you not tossing me out on my ass.”

  She would have laughed at Kiki’s version of the truth if it hadn’t been so horrifyingly blasé. “Yeah, you could definitely say he and I didn’t see eye to eye. But here’s how to stay on my good side.” She squared her shoulders, her voice heavy with warning. “First, do not fuck with her. If you fuck with her, I will fuck with you, and you do not want me to fuck with you.”