Page 37 of Hercules

Thanks to her concentration on every inch of the man’s retreating form.

It wasn’t the flawless V of his torso, concluding just as perfectly at the taut muscles of his ass. It wasn’t even the lush ponytail that was more of a twisty-tie knot thing between his shoulder blades, combining battleworn and bedhead in one delicious clump.

It was none of the hunkish worthiness.

It was the trifecta of the uglier stuff. The trio of bullet holes she had to order herself to look at.

All of it.

The rips in his clothing, easily defined by their dried blood outlines. And the skin beneath healed but puckered. Scars he might have forever? What was the rule about that and demigods?

You’d know, if you’d cared less about tight asses and more about the Mythology Literature final.

The rebuking tone dug deep, gouging her nerves like barbed wire in the cotton balls of her stress. Somehow, an angry spark got tossed into the mess too—and erupted into words she couldn’t control any more than explain.

“Okay. Cool. You’re allergic to thank-yous, Herc? Then I won’t dish up any more. Now we just have more room on the table for the more important conversation items.”

It was as diplomatic as she was going to get—which, as diplomacy went in the wake of rancor like his was pretty damn generous—so his deeper scowl was connecting to no logic at all.

“Conversation? That’s…ermmm…still going to be a thing here?”

All right. A little more logic now. But with it came the irrepressible urge to snicker. Lo gave in. At this point, what did she have to lose? Dwindling belief in a reality that’d been upended in one night? Oh, only that.

“Ah. I see. I was worth the effort of ‘conversing’ when I was Natasha, but now that I’m just little ol’ Lois Lance, you’re stumped about what to do with me. Something along those lines?”

There was more to that, because she loved nothing better than rolling with the snarky snips when they started bombarding her brain, but they flew away as quickly once Herc spun back around.

His expression was…different. Well, more different than she expected from the massive male who prided himself on keeping his composure rigid and sewing his damn cards to his vest. Normally a few hours with a guy didn’t give her such clarity—but this was no ordinary man, and none of these hours should have been in the same sentence with normal.

And his face did more of it: transforming from simply irked to something with a lot more layers.

Was he…confused? Miffed? Hurt?

And why did her brain refuse to check any of those boxes?

Because right now, the fury felt better. Safer. Emotional glue that was going to hold, instead of the wild chases behind the others within the last few hours.

Yep. Here’s where she’d stay a bit. Maybe more than that.

“You know what, dude?” Same for the slangy handle. If he wanted all the bro-man handling, she could serve it all damn day. “Why don’t we just go there anyway? You are actually stumped about it, aren’t you?”

He shook his head hard enough to shake the tie totally free. “Lois. What are you—”

“No. What are you?” she snapped. “I’m serious. All of this wasn’t making any sense, and then was, but now you and your brother have landed me right back at square one.” And then she splayed her hands as if auditioning for a Fosse show. “Which, to add to this shitshow, is where, now? Setting update for the win, kids? Is this…what…Never-Never Land? The Sanctum Sanctorum? Peter Rabbit’s upgrade? Sexy Hades’s Helldive?”

“Hmmm.” He cut in there by clear choice, much more deliberate than she’d expected. Oh, a lot of deliberation—to the point that her nerve endings went right back to high alert, wondering if he was about to summon her to his naughty principal’s office. “I’d say you’re getting warmer, but the obvious runs such a risk of turning tedious.”

“Huh?” she sputtered. “The obvious…” A crash of comprehension took over in a sharp gasp. “Is your genie seriously in the bottle?” And then a wild sweep around, her arms like ropes on a high-speed swing ride as her stare consumed her surroundings with new and agitated awareness.

“Lois.” More of that close-the-door-and-sit-down principal’s voice. “You really didn’t think we’d gone to Mount Olympus, did you?”

She choked out a rough sound. “So you thought I’d jump to hell as the next logical listing?”

His comeback was prefaced with a similar chuff, though the man had the gall to lace his with amusement. “Sorry. It’s not like I’m Air BNB’ing the place either.”

She dropped her hands. Kneaded the knuckles against her thighs. “So…this is your place?”

“For the time being.” At last, a juncture where he seemed to be taking her seriously again.