Chapter XXI
Roman
As soon as we crossed into the forest, the chaos vanished. Like someone had flipped a switch. No wind. No thunder. No screaming cast members. Just silence. Heavy and foreboding.
Demi pulled away from me, panting, shaking her head like she was waking from a dream.
And though the connection between us severed, the remnants lingered—a phantom warmth in my hand, a hum in my chest where the void used to be. And I realized something: every time we touched, the ever-present emptiness inside me dulled. Not gone. But quieter. She filled something in me.
That was unfortunate.
“We need to go back and help,” she said, panicked.
I grabbed her hand again, not ready to lose the tether. “Don’t,” I said. “I have a feeling that if we go back out there, chaos will ensue again.”
“What? Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I gestured to the unnatural calm around us, like we’d been placed in a bubble where time ceased to exist. “The gods are meddling again. They wanted to give us this moment.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she stammered. But the blush on her cheeks betrayed her. She knew I was right. She had to feel the way the air unnaturally shifted around us. “Why would they want that?” she whispered.
I shrugged. “I don’t have a clue.” But I felt it in my bones. It was almost as if the trees felt it too and were holding their collective breath.
She stared at our clasped hands, and for a second—just a second—she squeezed tighter. Her brow furrowed. Then she pulled away, abrupt and wide-eyed, as if the connection startled her.
Oh, hell.
I’d forgotten she could read me like a book.
“You need to stay out of my mind,” I snapped.
“I can’t read your mind.”
“You know what I mean,” I grumbled. “It’s unfair that I can’t read your feelings and you can read mine.” It came out more juvenile than I intended. Embarrassingly so.
Her lips twitched. She was trying not to laugh. She probably thought I was behaving like a twelve-year-old.
“It’s not like I want to know how you feel,” she said, voice light. “But if you want to know how I feel, you could just ask me.” She smirked. “And I may or may not tell you.”
Dang if I didn’t want to kiss that smirk off her face. This was so wrong. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake the feeling. I had a show to run. A show she was trying to single-handedly sabotage.
“Well, tell me this, then: What do you think you’re doing playing matchmaker on my show? Are you trying to get it canceled? What’s your endgame here?”
“My endgame?” Demi wrapped her arms around herself, her voice lower, uneven.
She was probably cold. The bonfire was long behind us, and the forest air had turned nippy.
If I’d worn a jacket, I would have given it to her. But my vest wouldn’t cut it, and if I offered her my shirt—well, that would be a whole other headline if anyone caught us together.
Producer caught half-naked in woods with cast member.
Not exactly the kind of press we needed.
“You know what the endgame is,” she said, voice pitched high and trembling. “I cease to be a demigoddess and—for all I know—Demi, come the full moon in August.”
“What do you mean?”
She glared at me, eyes sharp and glistening, piercing through every defense I had left.
“I know you know that none of the men cast this season are meant for me. Maybe you did that on purpose. Maybe you planned the entire thing with my father and Zeus to punish me for all my mistakes. I don’t know.”
Her voice teetered on the edge of collapse, and I tried to interrupt—tried to tell her I would never do such a thing, even if she was the bane of my existence. Even though she made me feel like I was losing my mind.
But she wouldn’t let me speak.
“The only thing I do know,” she cried, “is that this quest is just to make me pay for my sins. I get it now. Okay? I ruined everyone’s love lives and the whole world.
So my only endgame, Roman Archer, is to make sure everyone cast this season gets their happy ending—and then you and my father can fix all my mistakes and make the world a better place. ”
I stared, stunned, trying to unwrap her words and the unfounded accusations she’d hurled at me. But mostly, I was trying to fight off my Cupid’s ache to hold her and soothe her pain. And it wasn’t just that side of me. I didn’t want her to hurt like this.
So, I did the worst thing possible—I wrapped my arms around her shivering body.
At first, even though she trembled from the cold, she stiffened to the point that I almost let go, especially knowing she would read just how much I enjoyed it—the feel of her soft skin, her silky hair, and the way she smelled of sandalwood.
But then she gave in and sank against me, her breath stilted.
It was almost as if she were trying me on.
She didn’t even complain about how part of me was relentlessly trying to break into her heart.
It was a vain pursuit, yet that part of me persisted.
“You’re warm,” she said after a few beats, as if giving an excuse for clinging to me.
“You looked cold. It’s why I’m hugging you.” It was a clumsy, transparent lie. I sounded like an idiot. I was an idiot.
I looked up at the sky, which was once again clear. The stars shone brighter than normal. I wanted to curse and thank Zeus all at once for this moment, even if I wasn’t entirely sure why he’d bestowed it upon us.
This would be a good time to sing her a sonnet, my Cupid nudged.
That was never going to happen. Because despite what Demi thought, I knew her father would never send her on a quest she was meant to fail. I also knew I wasn’t the right man to unlock her heart.
“Demi,” I murmured. “I didn’t choose the cast members. I had no idea none of them would be a match until today. And I know your father would never do anything if he thought it meant losing you.”
She scoffed against my chest. “My father ignored me for the first sixteen years of my life. And I’ve done a terrible job running the Bureau, so I’m not so sure.”
“I’ll give you the one about the Bureau,” I teased. Although it was true.
She tried to untangle herself from me, but I just couldn’t let her go. Not yet. The need to try to see into her heart was becoming something primal.
“You’re cold, and I don’t have a coat to offer you. This is the best I can do,” I said, fumbling. Smooth. Real smooth. Who was I? I was a Cupid. Smooth was supposed to be my game.
“Um . . . well . . . I am cold.” She settled back against me.
My Cupid sighed. Idiot.
I rubbed her back—in a purely gentlemanly way, of course. Friction created heat. Not that we needed any more of that. It felt like there was enough between us to ignite the entire forest. At least on my end.
I tried to keep those thoughts at bay, but I could only imagine what Demi was picking up from me. My attraction wasn’t exactly subtle. And she was a walking emotional radar.
“Roman,” she breathed, “I’m sorry I didn’t approve any matches for the last few seasons,” she said like she was confessing her sins. “Even though I still think calling yourself the ‘Architect of Love’ is weird. And I do feel like shows like this are cheap and icky.”
“Are you apologizing or trying to offend me?” I couldn’t tell.
“I guess both,” she giggled.
“Fair enough.” I let the moment settle before I added, “While we’re being honest . . . this quest isn’t your penance.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
I tightened my hold just slightly. “Your father told me you’re important to the world. The world needs a daughter of Eros—a goddess of love.”
“They have my sister,” she said flatly.
“Hedone?” I snorted. “She’s worse than you.”
“Are you trying to offend me now?”
“Maybe.” I smiled, but my voice softened. “But I do believe you can’t give up. Quests are never meant to be easy. Did you really think Zeus was just going to hand you your true love? True love is a rare gift.”
Most of the matches made throughout earth’s history were between two people at the right place and at the right time. True love was cosmic and divine. Appointed, even. A soul split in two.
“Well, I was kind of hoping.” She sighed. “I just don’t understand. If it’s not a cast member, then why make me come on this show?”
I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
“That’s a good question. One I don’t have an answer to yet.
But I do think we’re supposed to figure this out together.
It’s obvious the gods want us to forge a friendship—or some kind of partnership.
If we don’t, I’m afraid of what disaster will happen next. ”
Demi shuddered. “I hope everyone is okay. I would hate for anything to happen to anyone because of me. Again. These people probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. Except maybe for Blaine.”
I had a feeling Demi didn’t need to worry about any of the cast or crew. My bet was we would walk out of here and no one except Cassie would be the wiser to what had happened. They wouldn’t even remember the storm.
“Yeah, he’s kind of a tool. But there’s some hope for him. And . . . for you too.”
She leaned away from me. “You really think so?”
“Yes.”
“Did my father really tell you that I was important?”
“He did.”
“And you believe him?”
I tilted my head and studied the beautiful creature in my arms. There was something so vulnerable about her. Something I felt the need to protect.
“Don’t you see how people are drawn to you?
” Although it was bad for my show, I was impressed with how easily she’d brought all the women cast members together.
And I knew damn well they were having secret get-togethers.
And then I thought of how drawn the world had been to her when she was younger and in the spotlight.
“How they have always been drawn to you,” I added.
“That’s just because of the divinity within me. It has unfairly made me beautiful and talented. It’s not right.”
Understanding clicked into place. “Is that why you . . .?”
“Dressed like a garbage bag,” she supplied.
“Uh, yeah.” Shame burned through me; I’d earned every bit of it.