2 #2
I choose to take it at face value. “I grew up on a farm.” Sort of.
It was technically a farm, but it wasn’t what people picture when they think of so-called farm life.
There was no quaint little house with a faded red barn.
My mother might have expanded her fortune with her three marriages, but she was hardly starting from scratch.
We were an industrial farm and the setup reflected that.
His lips curl, something light flickering in his eyes. “Are there a lot of stab wounds on farms?”
“You admit it, then—that you were stabbed.”
Now he’s actually smiling, though there’s still pain evident on his face. “I admit nothing.”
“Of course not.” I realize I’m still too close to him and back up quickly, moving to the sink to wash my hands again.
“But to answer your question, when there are a variety of large machines, not to mention various animals that take exception to foolish humans, injuries happen.” Especially when one possesses adventurous sisters like I did.
Not that I’m going to tell Eros that . This interaction has already been too intimate, too strange. “I need to get back.”
“Psyche.” He waits until I turn to face him. For a moment, he looks nothing like the confident predator I’ve worked so hard to avoid. He’s simply a man, tired and in pain. Eros touches one of the bandages on his chest. “Why help Aphrodite’s pet monster?”
“Even monsters need help sometimes, Eros.” I should leave it at that, but his question felt so unexpectedly vulnerable that I can’t help the impulse to soothe him. Just a little. “Besides, you’re not really a monster. I don’t see a single scale or fang to speak of.”
“Monsters come in all shapes and sizes, Psyche. You should know that by now, living in Olympus.” He starts to button up his shirt, but his hands are shaking so badly, he fumbles it.
I move before I have a chance to remember why this is such a terrible idea.
“Let me.” I lean over and button him up carefully.
My fingers brush his bare chest a few times, and I’m certain I imagine the way he hisses out an exhale in response.
Pain. That’s all it is. Eros is certainly not responding to my touch.
I hold my breath as I finish the last button and move back. “There you go.”
He climbs to his feet. I watch closely, but he seems a little steadier than he was earlier. Eros pulls his jacket on and buttons it up, hiding the worst of the bloodstains. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. Anyone would do it.”
“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “They really wouldn’t.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond to that. Just motions to the door. “Let’s go. Head up without me; I need to find a replacement shirt.” He hesitates. “It wouldn’t be good for us to be seen returning to the party together.”
It really wouldn’t. It would get Olympus’s gossipmongers chatting, and Aphrodite and Demeter might stroke out in pure rage in response. The very last thing I want is to be linked to Eros in any way, shape, or form. “Of course.”
As we step into the hall, Eros presses his hand to the small of my back. The contact jolts through me with the violence of lightning in a bottle. I miss a step and he moves quickly, catching my elbow and keeping me from ending up on the floor. “You good?”
“Yes,” I manage. I don’t look at him. Can’t look at him. It was difficult enough to ignore this unfortunate spark between us while I patched him up. I don’t like my chances with him standing so close, one hand on my lower back and the other cupping my elbow. I should most definitely not…
I lift my face and Eros looks down and, gods, we’re so close. This is a mistake. At any moment, I’ll pull away and put a respectable amount of distance between us and it will be like this strange little interlude never happened. At…any…moment…
A bright flash sears my eyes. I jerk away from Eros and blink rapidly. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.
Except it is happening. My vision clears slowly, and any hope I have of pretending some light bulb shattered at random goes up in smoke.
A short white man with bright ginger hair and a camera in his hands stands a few feet away.
He grins at us. “I knew I saw you get in the elevator together. Psyche, care to comment about what you’re doing sneaking away from Zeus’s party to get alone time with Eros Ambrosia? ”
Eros takes a menacing step toward the photographer, but I grab his arm and fight for a smile. “Just a friendly little chat.”
The man doesn’t miss a beat. “Is that why Eros’s shirt is buttoned up incorrectly? And you looked like you were about to kiss in this picture?” He’s gone before I can come up with a lie that might make sense.
“We’re fucked,” I breathe.
Eros curses far more creatively than I have. “That about sums it up.”
I know how this goes. Before the end of the night, pictures of me and Eros will be plastered across the gossip sites, and people will start theorizing about our forbidden romance . I can see the headlines now.
Star-crossed lovers! What will Demeter and Aphrodite think of their children’s secret relationship?
Forget stroking out in rage. My mother is going to kill me .