Page 85 of Hercules

But, at that end, it’d brought him to a place to meet her.

And maybe, in some small way, she had helped him process some of that ugliness. To see it for where it had brought him: a place that had transformed her.

Perhaps it had been just a moment. Or minutes. Or one of the whole hours they’d been together. But somewhere along the way, Hercules of Thebes had changed her—for the better.

She’d seen a bigger world—but also realized the value of her small stories in it. That even if none of her words were ever greenlit by Hollywood, they were evergreen to a demigod of Olympus. A male who’d shielded her with his own body…then intimately cherished her with that body.

With more than his body.

The recognition was like a bite of a magic apple. Utter truth. And validation.

And tragedy.

Nectar that was laced with more fast glue, halting her in her tracks.

Even as Oje Ito and his buddies galloped closer—

At the same second that her mystery hero kidded to a stop, as well. And then, like some fantasy sci-fi ship captain, arching his hand high in the air.

There was zero hesitation about the move. He was bold and ruthless, as confident as if he were unveiling a cross-realms portal.

Which, of course, was there.

Twenty-four hours ago, she’d have let out a stupefied shriek. Now, in a different brand of unbelievable, she laughed—but not with a shred of humor. Irony was a cruel bitch that way.

Because here she was, having to tell the stranger who’d rescued her from Nat and the nuclear lyre string, that she was the one to screw up his getaway plan back into the Underworld.

“Hey. Hey.” She wrested her arm from his hold as Natasha screamed something at her hoard in violent Japanese. Lo was too focused on the persistent man to interpret all the words. They meant something close to grab them or die, anyway. “Gomenansai,” she rasped to him. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I can’t go back with you.”

“Eh? Doushite?”

His rebuttal, as well as the adjoining scowl, hit Lo with a new dose of the odd sensation from the moment he’d first snagged her. It was like déjà-vu slammed with a crashing core memory, which she still didn’t have a shred of time to process.

She opted for blurting again, “I’m sorry. You can go ahead. But I…I can’t leave. Not now. Not yet.” When the man only flung his hand back up and clutched her again, tighter than before, she persisted, “Please. You have to understand. He—Hercules—well, he’s still here, and—”

“What?”

His demand was nearly a reprimand. Lo almost ducked her head, wondering why this felt like her interrogation session after she and Chiyo had snuck out at midnight to score special editions of their favorite manga romance series. Only this this wasn’t about a pair of pretty lovers on an embossed book cover. This was about the bigger surge of her heart. The larger picture she only saw in its stunning entirety, in this very moment.

The truth about a man she’d die with, if that were the case.

The truth that surfaced now, as one of the easiest declarations she’d ever made in her life.

“I love him,” she said—and it felt good. So damn good. “He’s Hercules of Thebes, and I’ve fallen in love with him. And right now, he’s still out in this airport somewhere, and…I have to be with him.” She pulled in a breath that cleansed her, filled her. “Please understand. If I have to die with him, or be her slave with him, then that’s just got to be—”

“Unacceptable.”

She stiffened, preparing to seethe at the man, until her psyche collapsed under the weight of a new recognition.

The identity of the male who’d actually growled the word.

But sheer bafflement from the direction it had come from.

“Herc?” It poured from her heavily, congealed with agitation—valid vibe, since it hadn’t been two minutes that she’d been forced to turn on him and follow the bitch who’d flipped too many tables on this situation.

So why—how—was he standing here now, in the mouth of a new doorway back to his neighborhood?

And why—how—was she issuing that inquiry this seriously?