Page 47 of Apollo

A glint much like a strand of cow gut infused with the aura of a god.

At least a dozen quips replaced the bewilderment across her brain, everything from nastier takes on Glow Worm to is-that-an-enchanted-lyre-string-in-your-pocket-or-are-you-just-happy-to-see-me. Before she could decide on just one, Apollo issued an affable grunt toward his brother.

“Zeus’s mangy toes, I live for moments like this.”

“Shut up,” Herc snapped, though both syllables vibrated with more fraternal fondness. The warmth spread across the big guy’s rugged features, as well, making the demigod look like an adoring lion with his ladylove princess as he turned back and pressed closer to Lois. As the pretty little writer gave in to her own end of their magnetic pull, Wen couldn’t help a small smile.

She knew a solid case of smitten when she saw one. Yeah, even after just one night.

When people were thrown together by the craziest circumstances, with no idea if they’d be blessed to see another sunrise, crazy ideas felt like the best dreams to live. What she wouldn’t give to do exactly the same. Wouldn’t it be lovely to surrender to the lusties—perhaps even more—for a perfect male of Olympus?

Perhaps even a god who’d built a VIP atrium for his crows, nurtured green and gold gardens even in Hell, actually thought the kohl around his eyes hid the truths of his heart, and—

So many other things that didn’t matter.

That couldn’t. Not ever.

But especially not now.

Not when she stood here and gulped against hot, jealous tears as Lois and her father spoke quietly with Hercules. Yes, as the three of them already appeared like the beginnings of an odd but closeknit family. Though their laughs were unsteady, their gazes and their touches were tight and sure. They were together and planned on staying that way.

Together.

The word stampeded her mind. Stabbed her chest.

Would she and Genny ever know the word again?

Now more than ever, that answer lay in no one’s hands but hers. And no way, despite the exhaustion and hopelessness weighing her limbs and shredding her heart, would she rest on that conclusion.

She clung to the conviction even when swinging back around at Apollo, determined to demand he portal-push her ass back out to a random sidewalk in Ōta. From there, she planned on tapping every Tokyo-based sourced she had to restart the stress of hunting for her sister all over again.

She’d stand firm about it, damn it, no matter how newly beautiful he looked in the beguiling light of this Underworld neighborhood. But a funny thing happened on the way from her mind to hard reality. Yes, the same crazy truth in which that gorgeous godship could pluck thoughts from her mind then morph them into sharper daggers in his steady greens. After that, mold them into double hammers at her psyche. Throbs which felt like playful love taps compared to the command of his hand around hers.

The aggravating male was not letting go of her any time soon.

No more time for that frustration, though. Not when it was blowtorched away by her shock while watching him use his free hand to tuck the lyre string fully back into his pocket.

In the two seconds before he made the whole thing vanish, he rubbed the sheep gut just long enough to send her one line of a firm telepathic message.

Hey, Little Monster. High time we go find your funny sibling scamp, hmmm?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

With the pensive lines taking over her face, along with the way she fidgeted her thumbs and index fingers against other, Apollo was conflicted about approaching her with the new directive. She had to be at her mortal limit for adrenalin and action, not to mention sleep and food deprivation—hell, his own stamina was razor-thin by now—but did that mean go brass-and-balls militant or hugs-and-smoothies motivational?

He defaulted to following what his logic ordered instead of what his gut advised.

And regretted it.

At once.

The uncertainty in her greens took on glints of confusion, even apprehension. But why? Regardless of his shitty choice about the delivery, wasn’t this the plot twist she’d worked so hard to reach? The final stretch of locating her sister?

So why did she look like he’d just asked her on vacation to a kink resort?

And why did that idea make him want to lunge over, smash his lips over hers, and refuse to let her go until everything was all right again—or she agreed to the resort idea? Either was juuust fine by him . . .

“Hey. God dude.” The quippy sass of her reply, definitely confirming his bad call on the presentation, still brought enough music to his blood to re-command his full attention. “You do know you can clock out now for Mission: Find Genny, right?”