Shift (Hearts and Arrows Book 2)

by Staci Hart

  She whipped her head to the sound, and Dillon looked over and froze.

  “Papa,” she breathed and rushed into his arms.

  Dillon realized he hadn’t locked the door after the yakuza had come and gone. But he didn’t have much time to consider it.

  Tanaka Katsu was tall, made of stone, especially his eyes that bore into Dillon with enough weight to make him stand, as if being closer to his level would relieve the pressure of his gaze. The yakuza boss looked shockingly out of place standing in Dillon’s kitchen, wearing a black suit and a deadly look on his face at nearly six in the morning.

  Kiki unwound herself from Owen and ran to him, burying her face in his chest.

  Only then did he break his stare, and he did it with the closing of his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his daughters, holding them so hard, so close, his fingertips were white.

  After a moment, he stepped back, his face completely changed. It was gentle and worried as he peered into Kiki’s eyes.

  “Are you all right, Keiko? Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, though her chin quivered.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and tucked her into his chest again. “And you, Katsumi?” He cupped her face with his free hand, searching her face.

  “I’m all right, Papa.”

  He nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “I think it is time you told me why you came here.”

  Kat took a breath and lifted her chin, telling him everything — from Eric beating Kiki in Vegas and up to that moment.

  The tight line of his lips pulled flatter as he listened, pausing when she finished.

  “You should have told me.” His words were laden with disappointment, and Kat turned her eyes to the ground.

  Kiki spoke up. “Papa, Kat would have killed him in Vegas if I hadn’t stopped her. I didn’t believe he would follow us. I thought we would be safe here. I … I thought I had time.” She took a breath. “I was supposed to tell you, Papa. I was going to. But I waited too long. She was only honoring my wishes; the blame is mine.”

  “I am not happy you kept this from me. You should never have asked this of your sister — you put yourself and Katsumi in danger.”

  “I know,” Kiki said, her eyes down too.”

  His face softened as he turned to Kat, lifting her chin. “You did well to protect her. And you kept your word to your sister. I am proud. But please, always come to me. I could not bear it if …” He trailed off, smoothing her hair, emotion breaking both of them. He drew her into a hug, rocking her, whispering, “Shh, daijoubu. Daijoubu.”

  It was a long moment before they separated, and Katsu turned his attention on Dillon.

  “You saved them.”

  Dillon bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

  Katsu stepped toward Dillon, his eyes assessing, lingering on Dillon’s tattoo. “You are the fighter I have heard so much about.”

  Dillon nodded.

  Katsu drew up to his full height, shoulders square, meeting Dillon’s eyes. “What you have given me cannot be repaid, not in a thousand lifetimes. Domo arigato gozaimashita.” And then he bowed more deeply than his status required.

  Dillon bowed in return, solemnly, reverently.

  The alarm went off in the theater room, but there was no celebration, no cheers or clapping or congratulations. The room was still and quiet.

  Dita sat in the front row, feeling small, looking small, swallowed up by an oversize sweater, with Perry on one side and Heff on the other.

  Ares leaned against the wall, lingering in the shadows at the back of the room. He uncrossed his ankles and pushed off the wall as the alarm went off — tiny mechanical birds flitted around her likeness, the statue modeled after Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, the water in the pool at her feet glowing green — but he paid it no mind as he walked down the steps and to the front row, stopping in front of her.

  He watched her for a moment, a long, charged moment, before opening his big hand, revealing his token. He dropped it in her lap, pausing for only a breath longer before leaving the room without saying a word.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, her fingers closing over the orb full of deep red blood, pulsing in her hand like a heartbeat.

  The room was heavy with the awkward silence, and the gods began to disperse with a murmuring of voices. Perry wrapped an arm around Dita, who laid her head on her friend’s shoulder.

  “Well,” Perry said lightly, “we have two whole weeks before your next competition. I say we go back to Greece before you compete with Artemis. You’re looking pale. And skinny.”

  Dita chuckled, the sound muffled through her stuffy nose. “All right. But I need to tell Adonis the truth. Will you make sure he’s there?”

  Perry pulled her closer and pressed a kiss into her hair. “I will.”

  Katsu stayed for a while, sitting with his daughters, talking with them, drying their tears. But the last time the girls yawned, he kissed their heads and bid them to sleep. Dillon and Owen were offered bows and eyes that approved and consented, leaving his daughters in their care.

  It was an honor Dillon would work to keep.

  Owen knelt before Kiki, cupping her cheek. “Do you think you can sleep?”

  She nodded and took his hand, and he pulled her close, pressing his cheek to her hair as they made their way to his bedroom and closed the door.

  Kat stood and moved to Dillon, threading her fingers through his, her eyes inviting and certain, so sure.

  All his life, he’d been looking for someone to give his heart to, someone to care for him, never believing he would find one strong enough. But she was strong enough. Strong enough to face him, to walk up to the beast without fear, to place her hand on his smooth coat and rake her hands through the fur.

  She didn’t need him in chains to be safe. Because her love alone could tame the wild beast.

  He followed her to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  The dark curtains were drawn, the room dim, safe, the world outside far away. Kat stepped away from him, stopping in the middle of the room. She turned to him, her face and eyes and heart opened up. And he was overcome, overwhelmed by the force of her, strong and unwavering, standing there before him.

  He wanted to move, wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her and hold her and tell her he’d keep her safe. But she wanted him to stay where he was; he knew by the way she held herself, facing him so plainly, the set of her shoulders and the honesty in her eyes.

  And so he did.

  She crossed her arms and hooked her fingers in the hem of her shirt, pulling it off, black hair tumbling over her naked shoulders. Her pants were next, her eyes on his as she pushed them down her thighs and stepped out of them. Then, her bra, sliding down her long arms to join the rest of her clothes on the floor. Her panties were last, slipping down her legs with a whisper.

  She stood before him, still and silent, an offering, an invitation. Only then did he move to her, not stopping until he could feel her breath on his lips and her hand over his heart. He covered it with his own, hooking his fingers in hers, holding her face with the other.

  And with a tip of his head, he kissed her, telling her all of his wishes, all of his promises, giving her all of his heart.

  She pulled away, eyes down, watching her hands as she undressed him tenderly until he was naked as she. When she lifted her eyes once more, they met his, and in what felt like a single motion, she wound her arms around his neck, pressing the length of her body against his, stretching to meet his open mouth with her own.

  He was lost in her hot mouth, lost in the softness of her skin, lost in the feel of her body. There was fire in her touch, fire in her heart, and it ignited his, lighting him up from the inside.

  She broke the kiss and took his hand, turning for his shower. The night had been long and hard, his muscles aching and skin salty, his mind spotted with things he would never forget, things he’d wash away with the stream of hot water and the comfort of her arms.

  Water
ran in rivulets down their bodies, through her hair, against their lips as he kissed her, her flesh slick under his hands. She reached for the soap, lathering it in her hands, and then she touched him.

  She touched him with hands intent on learning every inch. They cupped his jaw, skated down his neck, over his shoulders, across his chest, down his rippling abs with tender, deliberate care, taking her time. She washed his sins away, wiped his soul clean with her lips and hands and forgiveness.

  His offered reverence and devotion, an invocation of fingertips and whispering sighs. Fingertips traced the length of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast, the peak of her nipple and down, down the gentle slopes of her stomach to the hot center of her.

  He cupped her heat, slipping his finger into her warmth as his mouth opened wider, his tongue searching deeper. His hand flexed, and her core flexed in answer, winding her arms wound around his neck and leaning back into the cold tile wall.

  Her hips bucked against his hand, her hands on a path for his length until her silken fingers wrapped around him, stroked him, thumb in the cleft of his crown.

  He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers, their lips millimeters apart, water dripping from him to her and down her body in streams.

  And he didn’t want to wait.

  Neither did she.

  He released her as she released him, his hands slipping around her waist, bringing their bodies flush, and she hooked her legs around his hips, pressing herself against him. There was no space, no air, as he carried her to bed and laid her down, hovered over her, memorizing the feeling of her body under his, the sight of her hair spread around her, the tiny droplets of water on her cheeks, her lashes long and wet, her eyes so deep. And he was drowning, drowning in the feeling of her, drowning in her.

  He kissed her and never wanted to come up for air again. He’d drown happily, sink beneath the surface and hope he never hit the bottom.

  He broke the kiss only to reach for his nightstand for a condom, and then he was kissing her again, as deeply as he could, his fingers wound in her hair, their wet bodies skimming against each other. He ripped the package open behind her head, never letting her go, sheathing himself.

  Kat shifted, guiding him to his back with her palm against his chest, straddling his hips. His hands rested on her thighs, his eyes on her body, down to her hand as she gripped his base, to the center of her as she lowered her hips, pressing his crown to the heat of her. And with a sigh, he disappeared inside of her.

  Their bodies met wholly, connected completely.

  She braced herself with her hands on his chest and rocked her hips, head turned to the side, eyes closed, strands of wet hair stuck to her face. She rode him gently at first, breasts caged between her arms, lip pinned between her teeth. Faster she moved, his hands spurring her from where they gripped her hips. Harder she pressed, grinding, seeking.

  When she opened her eyes, they were on fire.

  He sat as she bent, their lips meeting, his arms finding their way around her body that rolled on and on in a never-ending wave. And when he broke away, when he looked into her eyes and spoke her name, she came to him, and he came to her, and with their bodies and with their breath, the chains fell away, and they were finally free.

  It was dusk when Dillon woke, his room bathed in oranges and reds of fire and endings. But when he reached for her, she was gone.

  He panicked, scanning the room, only breathing once he saw her things were still there, exhaling as he slipped out of bed, pulling on gray sweatpants, padding through the house to find her.

  Kiki and Owen were in the living room, lying on the couch, watching television, Owen behind her with his head propped on his hand. Kiki looked like a doll, fast asleep in front of him.

  Dillon smiled, and Owen mirrored him and pointed out.

  He climbed the stairs and stepped onto the patio, slowing to a stop when he found her.

  Kat leaned on the rail with her back to him, wearing his sweatshirt with the hood flipped up, her long legs naked. The darkness of her body stood solid and strong and real against the silhouette of the bridge and the city, the sky stretching over them, blazing with his heart.

  He bid his feet to move, and they obeyed, walking him over to rest his hands on the rail on either side of her body.

  She nestled into him, smiling.

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. “For a second, I thought you’d left me again.”

  Kat turned in his arms and raised her gaze to his with eyes full of adoration and hope. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  And when she kissed him, he knew it was true.

  Day 15

  Perry handed Dita a plate with the tallest BLT she’d ever seen on it.

  Dita laughed, sitting up as she took it. “How am I supposed to eat this delicious monstrosity?”

  She shrugged. “Just give it a good smoosh.”

  Dita took the plate and pressed the toasted top layer. There was a crunch of bacon and lettuce as the sandwich compressed to a more manageable size, so she wouldn’t have to unhinge her jaw.

  She picked up a triangle and took a rude bite, closing her eyes. “Mmm. Das show goo.”

  Perry looked pleased with herself as Bisoux hopped into her lap. “Bonjour, Bisoux.” He barked once before spotting Dita’s sandwich, but Perry grabbed him as he tried to wiggle away, crazy-eyed.

  “So,” Perry began delicately, “wanna talk about Ares?”

  The mouthful of sandwich felt like dirt in her mouth. She took a hard swallow and reached for her water. “Nope.”

  Perry gave her a look.

  “What? It’s over.”

  “You honestly believe that?”

  “Right now, it’s all I’m willing to believe. I spoke the words, did what I could to break the bond, or at least stretch it thin enough to dilute its power. I hope.” Dita took a breath, the tenuous hold on her emotions waning even at the mention of him. “I want to get away from here.”

  “I know. We will. Finish your sandwich.”

  Dita took another bite.

  “We can talk about it in Greece. When you’re ready. If you’re ready.”

  Dita nodded. It would be cathartic to be alone with Perry, out of Olympus, away from Ares. She would get it all out of her system, the whole ordeal.

  She ate the middle out of the sandwich, leaving the crusts on the plate that she set on the coffee table. “That was delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Perry took a breath. “Adonis said he would meet you.”

  Shock shot through Dita. “Don’t drag it out or anything. Just go ahead and blurt it right out.”

  “Sorry. Is there really an easy way?”

  “No.”

  Perry stood to leave. “Your belly is full, and I think you could use a nap. We leave tomorrow; it’s now or never.”

  “I’ll take never, please.”

  Perry chuckled. “Go tell him the truth.”

  The truth. There were so many truths, layers of truths peeled back to find truths she’d buried, truths she didn’t want to admit.

  Perry bent down to kiss Dita’s cheek, whispering in her ear, “Good luck.”

  And so Dita stretched out on her couch, blanket up to her chin and Bisoux nestled in her chest, watching a flickering candle on her coffee table as she drifted off to sleep.

  She stood in the meadow in Elysium, the sun on her face, warming her hair. But it could not warm her heart.

  Adonis stood when she appeared, his eyes uncertain as he strode toward her, stopping a few feet away.

  There was no way to begin the end.

  So she took a breath and spoke. “It was not Apollo who killed you. It was Ares.”

  Cognition slipped from his face and away. “He couldn’t … but how?”

  “An oath. Apollo’s vengeance for his son. Ares’s vengeance for his jealousy. But it was Ares who murdered you. Apollo only conspired.”

  Adonis stepped back, reeling, and sank to the grass b
eneath the olive tree. “How did you come to know this?” he breathed.

  “Mnemosyne.”

  “So, Apollo—”

  “Did not deserve the punishment he endured.”

  He stared at the grass, stunned. “All this time, I have been wrong,” he muttered.

  “We were both wrong.”

  When he turned to meet her eyes, his face was soft, his smile gentle, relieved. “This changes everything.”

  “This changes nothing.”

  He moved to her, brow quirked, still smiling, reaching for her face. “Of course it does. Apollo has done me no wrong. He has Daphne. All is well and right.”

  “Nothing is well, and nothing is right.” She turned her face away to release herself from his touch.

  “I do not understand.” His smile fell as he realized the weight of her words.

  “If you loved me, if you truly loved me, you would have listened to me. You would have respected my feelings, if nothing else than to speak to me. And through all that has come to pass, I have realized something very vital.” She held his eyes, looked into their depths, and peeled back another layer of truth. “I need your respect. I need your partnership. I need you. But you cannot give, not even your heart.”

  “Aphrodite—”

  “Please, I am not finished.” A breath did not steel her. Nothing could. “Ares betrayed me. You do not see me as your equal. And I am lost. The only way back to myself is without you.”

  “You cannot mean…”

  “No longer will I lay my heart in the hands of someone so willing to throw it away.”

  “But I never believed this to be forever.” He begged her forgiveness with his eyes but never with his lips.

  “And so you ignored me? Avoided me? Did you wish me to wait idly by for you to decide it didn’t matter to you? Do you realize that, in your leaving me, I discovered the truth of my feelings for you and yours for me? I was abandoned, and in solitude, I found perspective. I found truth. And I will no longer live a lie.”

  He had nothing to say, sitting dazed before her, not even standing to face her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to fight for her, to fight for them. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t because he didn’t love her.