She approached him, her pretty face a mask of concern. “You will be punished! I can tell. What is it with your people? They’re a vengeful bunch, huh? I get unrequited love, but wow, the whole Narkissos thing? Pretty harsh, don’t you think? And what about Prometheus? Did he really deserve to end up chained to a rock and have his liver pecked out by an eagle every night for simply having the audacity to create fire?”
Khristos nodded his head. He’d be amused at her knowledge of the gods if the truth weren’t so painful. “In all fairness, Zeus has begun to show some remorse for his over-the-top behavior in sensitivity training. Unfortunately, I still can’t get Echo or Nemesis to relent. Nymphs are the worst. It’s like talking to a brick wall.”
“You’re joking now, but you won’t be LOL-ing if you’re chained to a spinning wheel of fire for eternity!”
He wiggled a finger at her in admonishment to lighten the mood and hopefully ease her rising panic. “I kinda have to side with Zeus on that one, Quinn. I mean, Ixion was willing to hit that beast of a woman Hera even after a good old-fashioned warning from Zeus. It’s not nice to touch someone else’s merchandise.”
Quinn winced, her cute nose wrinkling. “Is Hera really that awful? Because I often wondered if the myths weren’t embellished just a teensy bit.”
“She’s a nightmare of a horror.”
She sucked in her cheeks—adorably so, and planted her hands on her hips. Gone was the meek, sad-over-her-recent-breakup Quinn, and in her place was the warrior who thought she was saving a rare Greek artifact. “Forget that. Is that really the point here?”
Nina gave Quinn a small shove between the shoulder blades. “What is the point, Lite-Brite? Because if you don’t make it soon, I’ll wring it the eff out of you. Are you in or are you out?”
She flapped her hands at Nina, dismissing her without even realizing she was brushing the vampire off—which in his estimation was a good sign she’d rally if the going got tough, because sometimes in matchmaking, it did.
“The point is, will these gods dole out some sort of excessive punishment if I refuse to participate? And I want the truth, Khristos. Don’t sugarcoat—just straight-up honesty, please.”
As he watched her make a demand of him, watched her eyes flash and her full lips move, he realized she was only perceived as weak, and not just by others but also herself. On the inside, this woman had the ’nads of a gladiator if she was willing to attempt to keep him from the wrath of his ancestors.
And she wasn’t just stronger than she thought, she was compassionate. She didn’t know him, yet he saw the fear in her eyes when she realized he could end up punished severely. That trait would go a long way in her matchmaking.
But if the gods chose to punish him for his carelessness, they wouldn’t care what the explanation was. They were all burn-him-at-the-stake overkill now, ask questions later.
Quinn would eventually find out about it, and for some reason, he didn’t want her to think poorly of him for lying.
“That is a possibility,” he finally said, because it was the truth.
Quinn rolled up the sleeves of her sweater, her mouth set in a line of determination. “Then consider this Aphrodite thing on.”
A hand brushed the hair from her face; the fingertips were callused, the touch gentle. “Quinn,” a voice, thick and deep, rumbled in her ear.
Yes, sexiest man on the face of the planet? “What?” she groaned.
She had a goddess hangover the size of Yankee Stadium. As she peeked at her alarm clock, she realized why. She’d had only two hours of sleep. Two hours of restless, haunted-by-horrible-dreams sleep.
The apple, in all its bitten glory, sat on her nightstand. Still just as perfect and gold as it had been before she’d gotten on her high horse and had chosen that brief moment in time to finally take control of her life.
After deciding she was all in last night, she’d handed out blankets and as many pillows as she could find to everyone and gone to bed, determined to keep Khristos from doing time. While she lay in bed, what she’d done began to really sink in and she’d come to the conclusion she was mostly to blame.
Distracted or not, it didn’t matter what Khristos had been doing at the time the apple fell from the column. She’d refused to heed his words, his very clear warning. She’d stomped all over his wish for her to give it back because she was too busy playing Joan of Arc.
Thinking about it now, it made complete sense that he’d been so evasive when she’d demanded to know why he thought it belonged to him.
Because seriously, who’d believe it anyway?
“Quinn,” he said again. “It’s time to begin.”
She shivered, burrowing deeper into her comforter and trying to ignore the un-ignorable.
Khristos. And being Aphrodite.
The Khristos who’ll be punished severely if you don’t damn well get up, Quinn. Think Actaeon, for example. Do you want this man, whose apple you defiled because you all of a sudden found your backbone, to end up eaten by a wild pack of dogs?
No. She didn’t want that.