Page 63 of Apollo

But this . . .

The mysterious slump of her shoulders, the desperation in her stare across the pond and plants . . .

This was a foe he didn’t know about, nor could gather a hint of reference for. Especially with Kaw nowhere to be seen.

“The hell?” he muttered at last. “Irowen? Are you all r—” But yes, he was going to be that kind of blockhead right now, unsure he could handle her answer if he finished the question.

For fuck’s sake.

He knew his way around questions. Yep, even the hard ones. They got stickier with humans; that much was an ironclad truth; but he hadn’t built several dozen businesses in their realm without learning how to tackle the tough stuff.

Why was this human so different?

Why was her sadness beyond a case of tough stuff?

What words did he use with her now?

“What happened to His Highness Kleos? Kaw? You suddenly shy about taking a shit off the perch, asshole?”

And suuure, that lame sarcasm was a better conversation choice . . . why?

Another query without an answer, unless the fresh gusts in the trees qualified as an answer. But even the pelt of pine needles on his face and neck weren’t as painful as the next sound on the air. Irowen’s soft but plaintive sniffs cut into his soul like ragged razors.

“He’s not here.” And so did her serrated sigh. “He . . . already left.”

Yeah, so much for feeling weird about the poop humor at the expense of his squad captain. He also shelved the food bowl on a nearby gardener’s cart without another concern. Good thing, since Irowen’s revelation added the same exponential to his reaction about her emotions.

Emotions.

Zeus’s derelict dick hairs, why did he flinch at the word like a terrible tarot card turn? He knew about feelings; every leader in the temporal and Olympian realms had to. Just like those fickle cards, they were full of complications and variations. But somehow, in this woman’s case, he’d forgotten that. He thought he already knew her: the human who’d been dealt the deadly tower a thousand times yet survived. His onna-musha monstress, strong to the point of astounding, making him wonder—hope?—if she was some kind of demigod and merely didn’t know it yet . . .

But more than most, he’d learned a few hard things about hopes.

About adjusting them when fate dealt those shitty tarot decks.

About realizing hope was sometimes a fancy word for illusion.

Yet also, that reality was a more beautiful word than he ever imagined.

Especially when he could plunk down his ass next to that reality and enfold its teary mess into his comforting arms. When he could bury a hand in its curls and hum his strength into its new sobs. And when she got those out, he could use his other hand to thumb back the wetness along her cheeks, while diving his scrutiny into her shimmering gaze.

“Talk to me, Monster.” He modulated the syllables a few calm decibels above the new wind gusts. “Is he gone gone, or just skipped out to the conbini gone?”

“He left.” She underlined it with a firm nod, seeming to relish the chance for the action. “I . . . uh . . . Well, we talked. And I’m not totally sure what I said, but it fired him up with a new lead. I mean, the bird Kiss-Kiss-Bang-Banged it right out of here . . . ”

“Okay, you didn’t need to make me more obsessed with you, woman, but that’s a nice touch,” he broke in, relieved when the comment nudged a misty laugh out of her.

“What? The getting rid of Kaw part or the reference to one of the best Christmas movies of all time?”

He cracked a huge grin. “Well, now I may just have to demand you marry me.”

“Sure.” She chuffed and scooted away, sweeping her gaze back over the garden. “Because that’s practical.”

“Because any Christmas movie is?”

Her lips twisted, but this time as if she suppressed a new smile instead of a sobbing reprise. “We should probably change the subject.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded, already enjoying her fresh surprise at his easy surrender. “I’ve got a new question for you anyway.”