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Our father used to joke that I came roaring into the world with a war cry and Alexandra arrived with a sunny giggle.
Most of the time, people forget I exist, which means they aren’t staring and whispering behind their hands about the liar Cassandra, who once loudly proclaimed that the Thirteen had murdered her parents. It’s the truth. Not that anyone believes me.
I am greedy for every minute with Cassandra. After this week, all I’ll be left with are my memories of her. I only have seven days to shore up a lifetime’s worth of them. I don’t know if it’s going to be enough.
“Ghosts aren’t real.” “That’s what ghosts want you to believe.”
“Dionysus, you’re one of the peacocks.” He chuckles. “And a splendid one at that.”
I have the disconcerting thought that I’d follow her anywhere as long as she let me look my fill.
Am I willing to compound the pain of her leaving for the pleasure of having more of her now?
Duty comes with the dawn.
I like that even her submission has thorns.
I want nothing more than to lose myself in this woman, to forget the rest of the outside world and make her mine for as long as she’s here. To do whatever it takes to convince her to stay.
Nothing can touch us now. The words have the ring of a false prophecy. I truly hope I’m wrong about that.
This is the Hermes that I lost my heart to all those years ago. I loved her mischievousness and her ability to talk her way both into and out of trouble, but like calls to like. Her inner core is just as dark and haunted as mine.
The feelings are real. The attraction is more than real. But our relationship is as substantial as morning mist,
“Don’t act like you would let something as simple as lust turn your head.” “There is nothing simple about lust.”
He intends to let me go, and I intend to walk away.
He might enjoy me, might care about me on some level, but he won’t put me before the city. Expecting him to will only end in heartbreak.
My parents didn’t believe me that the Thirteen would never stand for them to trigger the assassination clause. The police didn’t believe me that the Thirteen murdered my parents. Now no one is believing me about the danger this party represents.
Am I doomed to repeat the same warnings, only to have to stand by and watch the people I care about be hurt?
It’s going to hurt her when this ends, too. Maybe that should be enough to make me change course, but the truth is that we’ve gone too far to escape unscathed. We had even before we kissed the first time.
“I will give you everything you need, love.” It almost sounds like a threat.
I care for you. I might more than care for you, but I can’t admit that because if I do, then I’ll never leave. I can’t stay.
Better we be the ones to hurt than those who depend on us.
“You’re making it very difficult to protect my heart right now.” You don’t have to protect your heart from me. I don’t say the words.
Don’t leave. I love you. Words I will never say.
My chest can’t decide whether it wants to expand or close. I settle for simply breathing. It’s enough. Right here, right now, it’s more than enough.
Years passing have a way of dulling the edges, both good and bad. I know that better than most.
I will never forget Apollo, but will I always remember the feeling of his fingers imprinted on my hips? Will time eventually smudge the exact way he looks at me, as if the sun rises and sets at my pleasure?
The loss of one Apollo might barely be a blip for Olympus, but it would be everything to me.
I love him so much, part of me wants to dig that emotion out of my chest and set it on fire. To exorcise it because it’s complicated and messy and the implications are more than I can bear to think about right now.
This man, who has exasperated me, confused me, and lifted me up for years. One of the very group of people I should hate beyond all others. The kindest person I’ve ever met. The one who holds my heart in his gentle, battered hands.
The knowledge that we might love each other but we’re destined to be temporary takes up too much space in the room with us. There’s no escaping it.
