Page 45 of The Gods Forbid

“I did,” Now I was really making that fucking list, I didn’t care how many family members were on it. “You’ll have it by dinner.” Followed by literal dinner, but that went without saying.

“I’ll be back by then,” she said, and because I was a fucking horrible person, I imagined she sounded excited about those plans. She shot an unsure glance towards her boyfriend—who, in my humble opinion, was meeting a terrible fate quite soon—before turning back to me. “Do you know your way back home?”

Home. I was invading her home and yet I couldn’t find a bone in my body that was sorry for it. There was too much warmth there to ignore. “I do,” I said, louder than necessary to make sure that Nikolas heard it.

And heard it, he did. When I turned to look at him, he was glaring at me.

Good.

Even if there was a large chance that glare was a result of the role I played in him betraying Daphne and Lukas, that was of no consequence. I preferred to imagine he was pissed I was living with Persy.

That way, I didn’t need to apologize for any of my past actions either.

Persy didn’t make any move to walk away from me, forcing me to be the one to step away.

With my newfound freedom for the rest of the day, I had time to head to the market and browse the stands for inspiration for dinner. Then even more time to lock myself in the studio and try to finish the landscape Persy had requested.

It also conveniently allowed me to walk past Nikolas.

I sought out Persy’s eyes quickly, her head tipping back to meet mine as if I’d placed my hand on her chin and lifted her head myself. “Enjoy,” I said, my voice a rougher scrape than I’d intended.

Persy’s lips turned up into a close-lipped smile as she nodded quickly. Whether it was the reflection of the limestone off the walls or not, her cheeks were a deeper pink than normal.

Before I convinced myself I was the cause of that blush and did something that would send her brother running after me with a lightning bolt in hand, I decided it was best to excuse myself.

With one final glance up and down my captor’s form, I turned down the hallway, walking towards Nikolas.

To his credit, he stood his ground on confident legs. When I went to walk past him, his hand shot out and caught my shoulder, forcing me to acknowledge him.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that the entire Mediterranean, with me at the helm, will be after you if you touch a single hair on her head,” he whipped out, threat clear in his voice.

Well, dammit, I hadn’t planned for him to make me respect him, former friendship or not.

“And who are you to protect her?” I shot back, baiting him to answer.

He opened his mouth, a retort and answer combined ready to snap back at me, before Persy stopped us both in our tracks. “Nikolas, please.”

Oh, there was no stopping the smile on my face. Before Persy could ruin it with an equally chastising comment in my direction, I turned towards her. “See you later, love,” I called, before taking off down the hall on quick legs, restraining a laugh in my throat.

By the time I turned the corner, I could hear low whispers that surely belonged to Persy and Nikolas, but decided to be kind and forgo eavesdropping.

➸

Unfortunately, that good deed only lasted me so long. Clearly, everyone in Prometheus had grown comfortable enough with my presence in a manner of days to gather up the courage to speak to me.

It started with a few innocent hellos and how are yous from shop vendors, gently inquiring into my day. Those conversations were as easy to manage as the most simple of charcoal drawings, the charm and smooth small talk rolling off my tongue and earning bashful smiles.

It was when people got bold that I had to remind myself that if I was rude to any one of these people, Persy would personally light me on fire and would likely do so by smiling so brightly that her joy would morph into a lightning bolt and hit me in the chest.

Joining the scar already there.

“You know I really am a fan of yours,” one particularly confident vendor said, one who sold squash that was unfortunately necessary for me to purchase.

I smiled easily, weighing two different squash in my hands. “Generally or for a specific reason?”

“Oh, well, I—” they said, stumbling slightly over their words. I simply waited as they collected themselves. “I’m a huge fan of art. I could spend hours in the Apollo gallery just in your section. Your piece Sunlight Incarnate is one of my favorites. I mean the detail is just amazing. You have to tell me—is it a woman or not?”

I breathed in slowly, pulling my eyes away from the squash in my hands. That answer was thoughtful, and happened to point out one of the only paintings that haunted me years after I’d put brush to canvas. “Thank you. I am proud of that one.”