Chapter XXX
Demi
“Could this show get any tackier?” Cassie whispered in my ear as we walked side by side down a gravel path lit by torches and strings of fairy lights.
Our besties were ahead of us, giggling and chirping about which exes were going to appear tonight.
Jessica, Brinley, and Paloma were torn about wanting it to be their exes, seeing as they were enjoying some of the men on the show, but they still thought it might be romantic for their former flames to show up.
We were heading toward the edge of the resort’s property, where the forest pressed against a wide meadow. The mountains loomed in the distance, a shadowy beacon against the night sky.
Ahead, the clearing unfolded like a scene from a low-budget fantasy film—wooden benches arranged around a bonfire, a carved archway standing sentinel at the forest’s edge. And then there was the mist. Artificial, obviously. Pumped in to add mystery and tension. All it did was make me want to laugh.
But I didn’t.
Because this ridiculous spectacle mattered to Roman. And that made me pause. It was apparent I still had more to lay on the line for him. And it was time to swallow my pride and help him salvage this season. Which meant throwing out every rule I’d clung to.
No more guidebook.
No more playing it safe.
It was time for the grandest of grand gestures.
We were going to do the whole damn enemies-to-lovers trope here. Who knew—I might even find myself dancing in the rain with Roman and carving our initials in a tree before it was all said and done.
And that meant it was showtime. Roman’s crew wanted drama, and they were about to get it.
“I fear the answer is probably yes. This show could and most likely will get tackier,” I whispered back even though Cassie had hexed our mics not to pick up personal conversations. Still, there were cameras everywhere.
As we neared, Roman stepped out of the shadows dressed in his signature suit—no tie, collar open just enough to give a peek at what I knew was a masterpiece.
If my heart could pitter-patter, I was sure it would have.
But even though my heart was out of order, my hormones were still working just fine, and I wanted to kiss his face off.
Not literally—his face was too pretty to damage.
I made a point of not staring directly at him.
The online rumors about us were getting intense.
People were calling us the most interesting couple of the season.
At least those who weren’t calling me an immense disappointment.
Apparently, they were really hoping for a good girl gone bad.
They wanted a Sandra Dee with a scandal.
Others thought I’d only come out of hiding because I wanted the attention.
Attention was the last thing I wanted. I was just trying to save my heart and get the man who was the key to it to recognize who he was.
I wished I could just tell him, but deep down I knew that’s not how this worked.
He was going to have to figure this out on his own.
Sure, I’d keep kissing him to try to help out.
I called it “divine encouragement.” Didn’t he feel how desperately the Cupid inside of him wanted to read my heart?
I swore each time we kissed, he got closer and closer to breaking through the nearly impenetrable wall I’d cast around it.
But aside from the kissing . . . I genuinely liked him.
And I really liked his mom and daughter.
I looked forward every day to our runs where it was just the two of us and we could talk about silly things that didn’t seem so silly with him.
It felt like our own little world, and it was nice.
It made me feel almost normal and like I belonged somewhere.
Maybe my soul was getting the hint that we’d found its other half.
Now, all I had to do was to get his to take a hint.
And figure out the little matter of him being willing to lay it all on the line for me.
Because was I ever about to lay it on the line for him. As in, I’d never in a million years thought I would ever do what I was about to do.
We took our seats on the wooden benches.
I sat between Cassie and Maggie. I could tell Maggie was nervous that one of Braden’s exes was going to show up.
I wished I could tell her that she had nothing to worry about.
More so, I wished I could give her the confidence she needed to trust that Braden truly liked her.
Gentle Braden who designed model airplanes for a living. He really was a sweet guy.
Then a thought struck me. What if I could give her a little boost—without triggering a love pulse? I’d leave that honor to Roman. But maybe . . . maybe I could help her love herself.
I took Maggie’s hand. Her doubts hit me like a wave—fears about never being pretty enough, good enough, wanted enough.
Sadness washed over me. Then I heard my father’s voice, echoing from Hestia’s office.
Being both mortal and a goddess of love meant I had the potential to do more good in the world.
Maybe that meant helping people love themselves.
Maybe if people loved themselves more, they’d choose better partners. There’d be less jealousy. Less cruelty. Less hurting others in the name of insecurity. Maybe love would stop being a battlefield and start being a sanctuary.
I felt the divine in me stir, applauding me. Saying, It’s about time.
She guided me, and a warm sensation flooded my chest—like sunlight spilling through cracks I didn’t know were there.
It didn’t come out in a rush. It was quiet.
Deep. Like something waking up inside me.
My skin tingled, but not from heat—from recognition.
As if my soul had reached out and touched hers, not to bind me to her, but to remind her of who she really was.
Who I really was. Or at least who I could be.
And somewhere in the exchange, I felt my entire being whispering, This is what love can do. This is what you were made for.
Tears pricked my eyes; I was afraid I’d figured this all out too late.
That within a matter of weeks I might lose this side of myself and forget I was ever a demigoddess.
Forget that I was Demi Blake. Forget that once I’d loved a boy who I very much wished would love me now.
And worst of all, that I would forget how to love entirely.
Maggie took a deep breath in and out, and a contented smile appeared on her pretty face. And her feelings began to shift. Waves of accomplishment and competency, even beauty, now rolled off her. It felt like a rainbow after a storm.
She squeezed my hand. “You know, I think I’m going to sit next to Braden.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” I whispered.
She stood and smiled at me. “Thanks, Demi.”
“For what?”
“I’m not sure. I guess for just being you. There’s just something about you.”
She flitted off, and I leaned my head on Cassie’s shoulder, wishing she could tell me I’d still be me come the next full moon. Especially since I was just starting to figure out who I was.
Cassie leaned her head against mine as if to say it was all going to work out.
The mist thickened, curling around the clearing as if it had something to hide. Roman stepped in front of the arch, backlit by torchlight and drama.
I guess that meant it was showtime. I swallowed hard, mostly trying to get my pride down. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do.
“Welcome to Temptation Week. This is where things get complicated. Where the past shows up uninvited. And where every choice could change the ending,” Roman said so maddeningly seriously that I wanted to laugh.
But I couldn’t. He cared an awful lot about this show and his crew. And the stupid man thought he might help me by adding Jonas to the cast. It was pretty noble considering I could tell that he already hated him . . . and that he wished to do significantly more than kiss me.
“Tonight, we’re introducing a few familiar faces,” Roman said, standing tall in front of the arch, mist swirling around him like he’d summoned it himself.
“People who’ve known our contestants since before the cameras started rolling.
Some bring closure. Some bring questions. And some . . . might bring temptation.”
He delivered it with extra ominous flair, like he was hosting a supernatural court instead of a dating show.
It was getting to be too much. I was dangerously close to bursting into giggles.
Jessica and Brinley squealed, clearly here for the drama. Some of the guys shifted in their seats—nervous energy rolling off them in waves. Oh, a few were definitely sweating over who might come strolling through that arch.
Except for poor Todd.
He was perched on the edge of his bench, eyes locked on the arch like it might deliver salvation. The man had it bad for Olivia.
I sat up, spine straight, waiting for my cue to do the unthinkable. Well—unthinkable to me. But my heart was on the line, and desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Let’s meet them,” Roman said, and the torches behind him flared brighter.
So, so cheesy. It was giving off campfire séance-meets-reality TV vibes.
“First, let’s welcome Fiona Zimmerman,” he continued, “associate archaeology professor at Cornell University and Diego’s former intern.”
“Oops,” Cassie whispered. “But also . . . that’s kind of hot.”
I giggled, watching Diego grip the edge of the bench like it might save him from drowning. Guilt and longing radiated from him.
And then it hit me. I’d probably kept them apart.
A relationship like that—boss and intern—was a hard no in my guidebook. Cassie wasn’t wrong. It could be hot. But it could also be messy. Emotionally and mentally dangerous. The kind of dynamic that left scars.