Page 23 of Apollo

Layers.

No, he should call them what they were.

Weaknesses.

Fissures he’d allowed to form, somewhere in his systems and supports, that had made it too easy for Rizon to get in. Thankfully, it’d only been that greasy demigod, getting away with a small treasure like the lyre string. But what about next time? What if it was someone smarter, with more evil intent? What if they took his crown or his bow? Or even Kaw and the team?

Fuck.

He had to step away. Write her off, and right now. She’d served her purpose; they had the intel to find Rizon and Kaw would make that happen. He’d ensure they did the same for her sister, which squared him and her up with each other. Their business was done.

So why did he fling his shirt into the living room and then move in to clutch both sides of her waist, as if he’d decided the opposite? Why did he move in, making her drop her new clothes at their feet and taking up more of the perimeter in front of her body . . . even savoring the choppy little breaths from the sweet bow of her parted lips? Why did her breath still smell like ginger and elderflower and—

Emotions.

Damn it. This wasn’t good.

But so, so good.

A better awakening of his senses and synapses than he’d known in a while. Decades. Centuries? Had it been that long? And why was he even thinking about it when there were much better things to be homing in on now?

Like. Her. Lush. Lips.

“Irowen.”

“What?”

And how mesmerizing they were, merely slamming one syllable back at him.

“You’re also trembling.”

She blinked hard. One more time. With a shudder of her shoulders, as if his rough rasp had roused her from sleep, she shifted backward.

“I’m just cold.” When he bent to retrieve the clothes that slipped from her grip, she groused, “And yes, a hot shower would make me more comfortable now.”

Ah. Okay. This way, then.

It was what he should’ve said. What he should’ve followed through and done. He’d sworn to be a decent host for her. But damn it, why was decent a missing word in the glossary between him and this female? Why didn’t he want it to be? What was wrong with him, that his first twinge of attraction in an eon was attached to the human who’d tried to kill him and Herc?

Twisted. Demented. Insane?

And what if it is?

The answer to that was swift—and freeing. Enough to unlock new words from his own lips. Not the ones he’d planned to say, though these were worth a more deliberate delivery. His new grip around both sides of her waist. The direct dive of his gaze into hers.

“More comfortable. Hm. Isn’t that too bad, then.”

“Huh?” Once more, Wen shifted her weight—though not necessarily backward at this go. As she pulled in a shaky breath, her lower rib cage pushed at his knuckles. “Wh-Why?”

“Because discomfort is a damn good look for you, Little Monster.”

CHAPTER NINE

Another breath shuttled in and out of Wen’s lungs. Okay, attempted to. It wasn’t half the oxygen she needed to think straight right now.

Hell. In this crazy, cartwheeling moment, she’d settle for halfway straight. A gentle, gliding path between one synapse and the next . . .

But only one recognition glared at her—he’s going to kiss me—irrefutable even after his sideways hookup line. A sentence so cheesy, lesser men had ended up with bruised balls for stuff in the same category.