Page 10 of Apollo

Wednesday Night Speed Dating,

in partnership with The DeLux Café,

has been delayed but not canceled!

Starting soon: 10 minutes

As Wen swore again, barely managing to keep it beneath her breath, the bottom line of the sign changed. Only nine minutes now. The night’s festivities—the speed dating shenanigans undoubtedly delayed because of what she and her team had done earlier to DeLux’s atrium—weren’t about to let a little chaos ruin the night’s plans. Why even consider saying die, with Hell as an event partner?

Air returned to her lungs in a stabbing rush. Despite the ill-timed proof of life, she took enough of another breath to surround new, bewildered words.

“Could this rodeo get any weirder?”

Before she could lilt her voice into a full question mark, someone clutched the crook of her elbow. The woman was stunning, with long curls Wen could never pull off, and eyes the color of the ocean just after sunset: an oddly perfect metaphor despite their current locale. The reverent comparison held fast, even as she flashed a smile that showed off pronounced canines that looked ready for a willing mortal neck.

But as Wen attempted to flinch back by a step, the beauty grabbed her tighter and emitted a throaty laugh.

“Hey. Don’t be nervous. This is supposed to be fun, right? My name is Eve,” she went on, not missing a beat. “Yes, that Eve; thanks for asking.”

“I . . . ermmm . . . didn’t—”

“And on behalf of Aphrodite and me, thanks for coming back after all the commotion.”

“Right.” The word was a gummy, uncomfortable extension, no matter how hard she fought for glib and trite. “About that . . . ”

“All in the past. We’re not going there. Just think about the fun ahead. And meeting the love of your life!”

“Oh. No. I’m sorry, I can’t . . . I don’t . . . ”

“Believe it’ll happen? Even with a Supe?” Eve flashed a mischievous wink. “You want to know how many times I’ve heard a Normie say that, sweetie? And how many times I’ve gotten a thank-you note along with their wedding invitation?”

Wen would’ve laughed if everything still didn’t hurt so much, especially when she noticed the vampire’s nostrils flaring from scenting her unhealed wounds. “I’m just going to get—”

“To table eight. Of course.” The female indicated toward a card that appeared by itself in Wen’s hand. “That’s a great location. Out of the way a little bit, with a lovely view of the atrium.”

“Of course it is.” The dim light, hiding the mortified color across her face, was suddenly her best friend.

“I’ll send over a complimentary drink,” the vampiress offered. “You look like a red wine girl. It’s good for blood health, you know.”

“Right. But that’s not necessary. I’m not going to . . . ”

What?

Every intention in her head and word on her tongue dissolved like cheap breath mints, as soon as a new female walked into the club. Like the captivating yin to Eve’s yang, the tall, majestic, and horrifically familiar woman waved tapered fingers in greeting to Eve while threading her way through the crowd.

“Oh, look. There’s Aphrodite. What perfect timing. Let me introduce you two,” Eve said. “We run this event together. I guarantee you’ll feel like old friends at once.”

But the only relevant at once sensation was the urge to surrender everything in her stomach straight up her throat. With a wide swing to the left and a deep, violent kneel, Wen managed to keep the bile where it belonged—for now.

“I—uh—think we’ve already met,” she rasped out.

As in a few hours ago, in that damn atrium, just before she’d shot a vial of falmouth into the goddess’s brother.

“Shit.”

Goddess?

Ohhh, no. She’d meant woman, hadn’t she?