Her lips curve in a sad smile. “I guess that’s the least I can do.”
When I rushed over here, I wasn’t thinking about how much it would hurt to be in her presence. Theseus leaning on the bathroom counter just out of reach doesn’t make things feel less complicated. He hasn’t bothered to get dressed yet, and I will not think about the fact I licked my way down his thick chest last night.
Instead, I focus on Eris. Words aren’t going to make her feel better right now, and telling her everything is going to be okay feels too much like a lie.
We have enough lies between us.
Her skin is mostly dry by this point, but I grab a second towel and twist her hair up into it. I can feel Theseus watching us closely, but he’s not my problem right now. Eris is terrifyingly passive as I work lotion into her skin. It’s not something she often had the patience to let me do in the past, but it’s a small act I’ve always enjoyed.
At least until I get to her legs and start taking off the wet bandages. There are easily a dozen cuts on each leg, ranging from little more than a scratch to one on her left thigh that I’m a little worried might need stitches.
I finally glance at Theseus. “First aid kit is under that sink behind you.”
He’s got a strange look on his face, and for the life of me I can’t tell if he’s studying us like enemies or like he wants to memorize exactly what I’m doing so he can replicate it in the future. For all that I’m drawn to this man, a moth to his flame, I don’t fully understand him. He’s harsh and driven and violent, but there’s a raw emotional center there that he works hard to keep locked up. I only get glimpses, but it’s enough to make me wonder what kind of man he’d be if given the freedom to make his own choices instead of playing the part of marauder for his foster father.
He pulls out the kit and sets it on the counter between us. Eris sighs. “That’s not—”
“It’s necessary.”
Theseus crosses his big arms over his chest. “You said you would get these looked at. You didn’t. Those are the bandages I put on there.”
It’s hard to tell with her head ducked, but I think Eris flushes. “There wasn’t time, and you did a fine job.”
I’m not sure what to think about that. Saving her life is one thing, but taking care of her afterward? He hates her—or at least he says he does—but if you hate someone, you don’t spend a prolonged time bandaging their wounds. You don’t check up on them later that night. You don’t call in reinforcements when you’re in over your head.
But what am I going to do, accuse Theseus of having feelings for his wife?
I want to accuse him of exactly that.
Desperate to escape the conflicting feelings inside me, I gently touch Eris’s knee. “These were caused by glass?”
It’s Theseus who answers. “The glass divider thing in the lobby shattered.”
Again, the anger that he kept this knowledge from me for hours rises, and again I shove it down. “Let’s get these bandaged.” That, at least, I can do. The action calms the worst of my whirling thoughts, if not my emotions. I never would have considered myself naive, and yet I can’t help thinking, It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Not Olympus falling apart around us, violence rising with each day.
Not Eris, married to another man—a man who is partially responsible for that rise in violence.
“Adonis.”
I hate how small Eris sounds, hate it so much I finish with the last bandage on her right leg before I look up to meet her gaze, giving myself time to control my expression. “Yes?”
Eris opens her mouth, but seems to reconsider whatever she was about to say at the last moment. “Thank you for coming. I know I don’t deserve this, but…thank you for being here.”
I finish bandaging her second leg in silence. By the time I’m done, she’s weaving a bit, clearly exhausted. “Have you eaten anything?” I noticed takeout bags in the kitchen when I arrived, but I’d been too focused on getting to her to investigate.
“No, but I’m not hungry.”
I give her the look that statement deserves. “Eat something and then you’re going to bed.”
She narrows her eyes. “I don’t need a keeper.”
“Don’t you?” I push to my feet. “You’re doing a bang-up job of taking care of yourself lately.” More words bubble up, ones that have no satisfactory answer. Eris has never had any qualms about the fact she puts this city before everything. When we first started dating, I thought it terribly heroic.
That was before I knew the cost.
“This city is going to kill you,” I grind out.
“Maybe.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and slides off the counter. “But at this point, we can only deal with the circumstances we have instead of the ones we want.” With each word, she sounds more like herself and less fragile. “I have no intention of dying, Adonis. I can promise you that.”
She doesn’t bother to keep the towel wrapped around her as she walks away from us. I know this woman’s body as well as my own—the curve of her waist, the dimples at the top of her perfect ass, the two crooked fingers on her left hand from when her father slammed it in a door when she was fifteen and broke them. Everyone thought it was because she fell during ballet practice. I’m the only one she told the truth to.
I have to turn away, but that doesn’t help because Theseus is still here, still wrapped in that damned towel, still watching us as if taking mental notes. And why not? I doubt he learned much in the way of comfort and softness in Minos’s household.
Things would be so much simpler if I only wanted Eris. I drag my hand over my face and speak softly, pitching my voice to only carry to him. “I am very angry with you.”
Theseus nods slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”
“You get that. I—”
He snags me around the waist and drags me against him. It’s similar to the moment when I pinned him against the shower wall, but even with the obvious threat, I can’t help staring at his mouth. If he smiled right now, I might punch him in the face, but he just looks vaguely tormented, as if he’s not any happier with how things have developed than I am.
Theseus squeezes my hip. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t want her dead?”
“No.” But I want to. Gods, how I want to. I want to so desperately, it shakes me. “You hate her.”
“Yeah, I guess.” His gaze tracks toward Eris’s closet. “Feels more complicated than hate these days. She’s a monster, maybe even my monster. I don’t like seeing her declawed.”
He sees her. Actually sees her. Not the wild-child party-girl persona she picks up and sheds like clothing. Not the cold Aphrodite who makes calls solely to save her city.
Eris. Woman. Monster.
Mine.
Except she’s not mine any longer, is she? She’s his.
Having sex with this man was a mistake. I knew it when it happened, but with my foolish heart lurching in my chest as if trying to close the distance between us further, I have to admit exactly how thoroughly I’ve screwed myself.
I’m falling for my ex’s husband.
And I’m still in love with my ex.
23
APHRODITE
If someone told me a week ago that I’d be sharing a tense meal with my ex and my husband, I would have laughed them out of the room. I fully intended to stay as far from Adonis as possible, and the only time I planned to be in Hephaestus’s presence is when I’m driving him out of his mind with rage.
He’s not out of his mind right now.