Not just one pair. Multiple pairs.
He sensed it—subtle, but present. A small movement in the crowd. A shadow beside a building where it shouldn’t have been. This wasn’t just mortal curiosity. This was different. Possibly divine. Deliberate and intense in ways mortals could never match. They wanted him to know he was being watched. A warning, perhaps. Or was someone testing him? Toying with him?
His instincts, finely tuned from centuries of slipping past gods and mortals alike, told him to switch course. He did so without hesitation. Instead of turning right to the quiet restaurant, Hermes led Iliana across the busy street, near the Marché des Enfants Rouges, one of the oldest markets in the city. The press of tourists and locals would offer them better cover.
Iliana looked around while Hermes stayed sharp, tracking movement and noting anyone who seemed overly interested in them.
A group of women passed by, giggling after giving him blatant once-overs. He sighed. That kind of attention used to thrill him; when escaping Olympus meant findingvalidation. But lately, it felt shallow. Performative. It wasn’t really him they looked at. It was his power.
More importantly, their attention didn’t make his neck crawl. The feeling hadn’t faded. If anything, it intensified. Whoever it was, they were patient. Skilled. Content to observe. Which meant they were gathering information—about him or Iliana?
He kept her moving, relieved she wasn’t questioning the anxiety beneath his calm or the way he stayed alert.
As another group of interested humans walked past, his mind drifted from danger to curiosity.Why was Iliana so different? She didn’t fawn or look at him with a worshipful gleam. Her reaction intrigued him. He watched her admire a statue, her face lit with interest, not awe. It was the same way she looked at him. His lips tipped into a frown before he quickly schooled his features. No standing still. Not while someone was watching.
“Have you been to France before?” he asked, steering her farther into the crowd.
She laughed, looking up at him. “No. I’ve never been out of the States. Well, once we drove through Canada on our way to Alaska. But other than that, no.”
She was thinking about her parents.He should’ve nodded and kept things light. But he watched her too closely. How her countenance softened, and her tone turned wistful when she spoke about her parents.
He hated how real she was.
Hermes placed his hand over hers, which still rested on his arm. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, genuinely meaning those words.
That was a mistake.He’d perfected surface-level charm over the centuries, caring just enough to be convincing, but not enough to get hurt. Yet here he was, offering genuine sympathy to a mortal woman who was getting under his skin.
Her parents’ deaths remained a mystery to him, and her grief was fresh. Curiosity burned in him, but asking would cross a line he wasn’t ready for. Not when she was already looking at him like that, as if she believed he might actually care.
He needed to change the subject before he said something foolish.
“Are the others treating you well?” The question came out smoother than he intended, easily slipping back into familiar territory.
Her steps faltered, but she recovered, looking up at him with a question. “Yes. They are.”
Before she could say more, the sounds from the market pulled her attention. Vendors announcing their prices in rapid French, along with laughter from a nearby café, joined the drone of a street musician’s cello. A modest sign marked the entrance, and the cobblestone street welcomed them into another world.
Iliana stopped, letting the crowd flow around her as she took it all in, amazed. He ignored the crowd and watched her instead. Exhaustion lifted from her eyes. Her shoulders loosened with each breath. She grew lighter and brighter.
And that made everything worthwhile. He just needed to keep her distracted from the eyes he sensed. If she returned more anxious, this outing would be pointless.
Iliana inhaled the mix of aromas coming from the market ahead.
Hermes leaned down. “If you want to eat, you’ll need to enter the market. Delivery’s tricky out here.”
She looked up at him playfully. “Are you buying?”
He narrowed his eyes, catching the game. “I am.”
Her grin widened. “Good, because I plan to try everything.”
With that, she pulled him forward by the wrist, tugging him into the crowd of vendors and tourists with surprising strength for someone so mortal.
Hermes followed willingly. After all, she couldn’t get any of it without him.
Chapter thirty-eight
ILIANA
