Page 74 of Hercules

She was no more consoled when the god mashed his lips as if he was thinking the same discomfited thing. Either that or the devil in her blue jeans and leather had somehow detached his balls and was keeping them hostage.

“Brother,” Apollo finally had the decency to mutter. “I know what you must be th—"

“No.” An acid laugh from deep in Herc’s throat. “I don’t think you fucking do.”

“Hey.”

Weirdly, it was Lime Candy’s interjection that force-fed some calm into the guys—or maybe the two of them were feigning their slackened stances for some crazy reason. Did they think she’d buy it, with their expressions needing only another coat of battle paint?

“You guys serious about finding Natasha before Byrd does, or should I just set up targets for the pissing match?”

And there was the answer to that. The little biya was smart, even if psycho killer drums commanded her blood. Serious shame. In another universe, Lois would insist they trade numbers for setting up a girls’ night. But not in this one. Especially not with her crystallized sugar eyes starting to glitter like they did in those first moments at DeLux. Purposeful. Predatorial. Absolutely prepared for what she said next.

“Hercules. I’m unarmed this time, okay? And whether you believe it or not, I’m here for the same reason as you. Because of the person who matters most to me.”

It was as close to an awww moment as they’d get in this section of the night’s chaos—but when the woman swung her nod toward Lois instead of Apollo, the gushy feelings fled. In their wake, Lo’s eyebrows crashed into each other.

“Wait. Whaaat the—” Her upraised hands, channeling all the Scooby-Doo-where-are-you energy she could muster, helped with the rest of the self-interruption. “Oh, I’m not—” she stammered. “I mean, Herc and I aren’t—I mean, this isn’t—”

“Uh-huh,” Lime Candy muttered, not that her skepticism mattered once a new expression panged Herc’s face. A strained, sad one.

A moment Lois had to permanently shelve. Schisms like this were just to be expected, right? After such an intense night, where they’d sought some comfort with each other and counted the orgasms as bonus perks, it was going to be rough to unplug and—

His sharp pivot didn’t look like unplugging.

And then his quick duck away, as if hellbent on hiding everything from her…

What was that all about?

Clearly, he wasn’t about to let her find out.

His whole demeanor was back to stern business when he swung back around and pinned his dark aquas on their newest troop member.

“The point,” he bit out. “Want to get to it, Betty Boop?”

He’d barely popped the final sound before Apollo stomped forward, eyes equally ablaze. “She has a name, damn it. This is Irowen Steed.”

The woman’s jaw clenched, likely to control her eyes from totally rolling. “But call me Wen, or you’ll get stabbed.”

That earned her a nod from Herc that looked actually sympathetic. Well, damn it. So did Lo thank the biya or keep rolling with a glower?

“Just like Lois, she came to LA with not much but her dreams and her family,” Apollo went on. “But that family has now dwindled to only one other person. Her sister, Genny. A person, Herc, just like Lois. And now she’s been taken captive by some shitty bastards who want my lyre string as payment for his months-old gambling debt.”

A spiky breath tore out of Lo. Her stunned stare wasn’t any smoother. “Okay, I don’t get it.” Neither was the new concentration she stabbed at Wen Steed. “Why your sister, if Rizon’s the one who owes?”

The woman’s eyes were no longer so bright. “Because, as eloquently stated by my friend,”—she and Apollo bounced oddly charming glares at each other—"these guys really are bastards. And I turned them down when they first came knocking.” She let the yeast of that rise into Lo’s confused dough, which clearly made its way to Herc’s oven too, before explaining, “I’m one of the best headhunters in eighteen countries, but I’ve stayed that way by steering clear of suicide missions. That’s what the big string search was quickly turning into.”

“The big string search.” Another huff from Herc. “Sounds like a reality show about feral knitters.”

“That I could handle,” Wen countered. “But when it was clear that the string was an actual item and somehow tied into all you extraterrestrials…”

“Extraterr—” Herc choked. “Excuse me?”

“Patience.” Apollo whoa-whoa’ed his hands on the air. “She’s still learning.” Though his new sidekick, obviously not embracing that drift, rolled her eyes and pursed her lips,

“Chill, demigod. I respect who and what you are, Hercules of Thebes.” Wen flowed the eye calisthenics into a nod toward Apollo. “Which definitely helped after this one decided he wanted to bring me back from the brink of death. Until then, the stories that were circulating about the operatives sent out to retrieve the string…”

Just like that, the woman wasn’t so smooth and confident. As her shaky breath started defining her whole stature, Apollo circled back in and gripped her shoulders.