Page 67 of Hercules

Only Herc’s startle brought the awareness that he was reacting to hers. This time, Lois didn’t wave him back. She welcomed his approach as an odd and unavoidable chill shot through her veins. An instinct she couldn’t explain but was wholly real.

She pushed to communicate as much to Herc, lifting her face as he wrapped a hand around her shoulder, before answering Natasha.

“Uhh…underground? Like how?”

Though Herc’s growl was more a vibration than a sound, Nat didn’t keep her irritation to herself. “I didn’t ask all the engineering questions, Lois. He was on his way to a press event and couldn’t talk long.” But a new snicker snapped her back to a carefree tone. “He did say it would be the most special experience of my existence. That the springs there are amazing for the skin and hair. Also, I’m going to be treated like a goddess and—good gracious, girl. Are you okay?”

For several more seconds, Lois couldn’t quell her choking enough to answer. She swallowed hard and contained it, more for Herc’s sake than Nat’s, since his eyes started looking like bricks of sea glass.

“Hey. Yeah,” she finally said, croaky but coherent. “That sounds like a great place. Just…ummm…making sure you’ll be safe, you know.”

She reached back and twisted at Herc’s fingers, making sure her twisting grip was a message of its own. No. She wanted an answer just as specific, but exactly the opposite. Reassuring pressure. A teasing grin. Maybe something similar from the lights in his eyes, chiding her about her intuition’s overreaction…

His expression didn’t change.

She forced false cheer back into her voice. “Nat? You will be safe, right? And reachable?”

The woman replied, though at first not to her. As soon as Natasha completed her martini order with the flight attendant, her voice cleared up.

“Sweetie, thanks to you and the shenanigans with the hunksicle, unreachable is exactly my goal for the next few days.”

Lo’s throat thickened—for good reason.

Natasha never wanted to be unobtainable.

She almost voiced that to the woman word for word, but sometimes cold water was the worst thing for a fire.

She had to settle for blurting, “Few as in one or two? Three? And what if—”

A burst of static cut into her inquiry. She hung on anyway, hoping it was only a high-flying seagull or a UFO in the way. Though she got her wish, the reconnection came in time to hear Nat stressing about the cutest hairstyle for an onsen dip. She was down to three options when the line went silent.

The halt of Lo’s heartbeat was an agonizingly on-point match.

“Shit,” she muttered, relifting her head as her hand drifted down. “Shit, shit, ssshhh…”

A gulp thudded down her throat once her stare relocked with Herc’s. His regard held all its usual force but none of the quiet assurance for which she was desperately hoping. Too damn clearly, his logic had followed the same trail as hers.

But she wasn’t accepting it until she heard it.

“There are things such as underground onsens, right?” A fast rewet on her lips brought no comfort, and her demigod’s expression stayed stony. “Something with swanky superstar comforts too?”

Beneath his tawny stubble, his jaw constricted. “How much more specific do you want to get here, Erastís? Because we can save a lot of valuable time by cutting to what Rizon really has up his sleeve.”

The new pile of rocks in her belly was worse than the moisture effort for her lips. But acknowledging its actual cause—the fear that clawed between those stones—wasn’t an option. She’d already paid her dues at the fear shrine tonight. The idea of returning to that altar, especially in worry for the woman who’d just hung up in her ear, sent her straight to pissed off.

“Okay, fine.” She folded her arms and meant business about it. “So what if the guy is planning a vay-cay for Nat in Purgatory Springs? Is that such a shitty thing?”

But she almost dropped the bravado when a smirk dashed across Herc’s lips. Was the subject a deeper blaze than she assumed?

“Hey. You brought me down here, and I didn’t even know it until you told me where we were,” she persisted. “So if the amenities are just as awesome in the hell spa, or whatever you guys call it, and Natasha comes out of it all without shrieking in my ear again, can’t we count the guy’s backup plan as a win-win for ev—”

She’d been two seconds away from triumphantly hiking both thumbs, only to self-interrupt when Herc’s scowl didn’t falter by an inch. Though his expression torqued those depressing screws tighter, there was new mercy beneath his reapproaching pace.

“Every cell in my body wants to tell you that’ll be the case,” he murmured, tugging on the backs of her shoulders. “Then seal the deal by reacquainting your tonsils with my tongue.” His fingers dug a little deeper. “But you know how some people in your country think the yakuza have transformed into a humanitarian gang? Some even think it happened before you were born.”

Bullshit.

She held back—barely—from snapping it aloud, letting the sting behind her eyes push that volume instead. After an emphasizing huff, she snarled. “So your point is what?”