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And he had been in the darkness for far too long. She stepped forward, her eyes grave. And then she extended her hand.
He could only look at it. Soft and perfect. Like the rest of her.
It felt as if there was a barrier to touching her. As if doing so might break this. Might break her.
The last time he had held a woman, her body had been broken.
The last time he had held a woman, there had not been enough regret or anguish in all the world, in all his soul, to make the moment endurable. He felt... As if touching Athena now would be compounding his sins, and that was something he would’ve thought was impossible. How could his sins possibly be more than they already were. When they were so... Unforgivable.
Perhaps that was the real justice in the world. That he wore the truth of who he was outside now. Before it had been concealed.
His brokenness. His ugliness. And now... All the world could see that he was a monster.
“Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“No,” he said, his voice hard.
He reached his hand out, and pulled her to him.
And they were more than face-to-face. They were so close they could share the same breath.
Today he had seen her, and a doctor. Ten years of not sharing space with anyone, and in the weeks since she had appeared, there had been two.
And then there would be countless more. Because he was resolved. He would go forward, and he would do as Apollo asked. He would see his friend.
But all of that was drowned out by the feel of her hand against his. That soft, enticing skin, the soft press of warmth that bled into his body. Into his soul.
And then he pressed her body against his, held her close as he had done long ago, and yet it was not an echo of things familiar. It was like something else entirely. Something new and sharp. Something enchanted.
He had never believed in such things. Not in the past. But things had changed in these last ten years.
He had learned to watch the grass grow. To marvel at the simple magic involved in rising bread dough.
He had changed.
Even if he had changed far too late to prevent the greatest tragedy he had ever been a part of.
That was the real trick of it.
His ego, his selfishness, his insides had shifted. But it was too late now, for he had earned a visage that matched who he was.
But for now, he would focus on the magic inherent in holding Athena in his arms.
“Do you remember how to do this?” she asked, her eyes downcast.
He reached down, placed his forefinger beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “You never forget such things. The simple pleasure of holding a woman in your arms, carrying her over the dance floor.”
Although, it was not the pleasure he was thinking of now. And he did not deserve to have that thought. He did not deserve to allow that desire to take root in his soul, for even the need of it was more pleasure than he had experienced in all these long years.
Even the ache of desire felt better than the decade of cold that he had lived in. For him, desire had been nothing more than an inconvenience to satisfy. Something that he resented, and certainly not anything he reveled in.
If he had to, he would ruthlessly dispense with the need in a matter of minutes. He did not allow himself the chance to luxuriate in fantasy. And he did not allow himself to think of it as pleasure, rather a simple release.
But this... This promise of something. The suggestion contained in the brush of her fingertips against his shoulders, that hint of questioning in her dark eyes, the curve of her lips.
No. You are misinterpreting.
There was no desire there.
