AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, that’s—no. Ioweyou.” Worry flickers across his eyes. “It was no simple thing you did.”
“Okay.” My heart jumps, beating faster with sudden, inexplicable nerves. I’m not nervous about this. Why would I be? Everything turned out fine. “Then I know what I want.”
“Name it.” Jesus, his face is so open. He thinks I’m going to ask for money. A house. A car.
“Would you mind if I called you Dad?”
Zeus is completely still for one, two, three heartbeats, and then his face crumples. “Oh, shit.”
“Look—you can keep crying all day if you want, but can you tell me if—”
“Of course you can. You didn’t have to ask, Hercules, but yes. You can. Fuck.” Zeus leans over, crushing a piece of bacon in the process, and gives me a hug. It doesn’t feel awkward at all. “I have to go. Come downstairs if you want. Breakfast is in twenty.” He’s already off the bed and across the room. Zeus opens the door and pauses with his hand on the frame. “I love you, Son. Bye.”
“Bye, you fucking weirdo.”
“Mom!” Poseidon yells downstairs, and Daisy startles against me. “Eleanor didn’t say you were coming. Rude as hell of her!”
“Poseidon,” Hades snaps.
“I’m just kidding, Hades, calm down. My mom’s here, everybody. Is it time to eat?”
21
DAISY
My dad criesfor an entire day.
I always thought thatifhe ever did that, then it would be the end times. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse couldn’t be a clearer sign than tears on his face.
But, of course, he’s my dad, so he does it in his weird, non-crying way. He forgets to drag his sleeve over his eyes until Poseidon starts following him around with a dish towel, and then he just cries and glares at the same time, which is objectively hilarious.
Everybody spends the first few days after what Pollux callsthe Ordeal—in air quotes, naturally—resting. At least, that’s what Hercules and I do. We take lots of naps, and in between, he covers my mouth with his hand and we fuck like we almost ran out of time.
Artemis and Apollo arenotfucking, but they do spend a lot of time draped over each other, her head on his shoulder, like they need each other to feel whole.
I’ve been back in New York for a week when he rolls his naked, tattooed, perfect body off me and reclines on the pillows like someone tore him out of an ancient Greek fresco. He even has one of his legs folded, a hand propped behind his head, so the resemblance is uncanny.
I don’t know how long I spend staring. Hercules doesn’t open his eyes, and he looks so hot and at peace that I want to make a painting of him.
Except I haven’t had any nightmares sincethe Ordeal—for God’s sake, Pollux—and I’m not sure I can paint without them. Also, I have no idea how to paint a human man instead of the spectral form of death.
I’m still staring when his lips part. Okay, well, even if I can’t paint nightmares anymore, I can learn to paint him. He’s barely moved, and I’m stricken by his perfection.
“Baby.” Hercules peeks at me from the corner of his eye and startles. “Jesus. How long have you been watching me?”
“Since you bit my neck while you came inside me and rolled away like a fainting Victorian woman.”
He lifts his chin, leaning harder into the pose. “Did you paint me yet?”
“No, but I was thinking about it.”
Hercules shakes his head,fast. “No. Nope.”
“Oh my God. You don’t like my paintings?”
His body glistens in the pre-dawn sun filtering in through my window, movement and muscle until his hand is in my hair, and his lips are on my cheek. “Baby.”
“Yes?”
