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We walked into Apollo’s study, where he sat behind his enormous desk with my adversary standing right beside him. The two must have been arguing about something because while the god's face was void of any emotion, Henry’s was red with rage.
They were probably talking about me.
Of course they were. The asshole god had a bug up his butt about me.
Without an invitation, I left Samuel’s side. Sauntering over to one of the two chairs in front of the desk, I sat down and crossed my legs with the grace that would rival a model.
The room was quiet, the only sound the rasping breathing coming from Henry’s throat as he tried to rein his fury back under control. The man wasn’t fit to be a god, in my honest opinion, but—Hey!—what did I know?
I studied Apollo.
He stared back at me. His eyes deliberately traveling over my body—starting with the top of my head, sliding down my torso all the way to my boots and then back up to study my face. A myriad of emotions crossed that masculine countenance, too fast for me to determine what they were.
Those dark blue eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, and my gut told me the games were about to begin.
“What were you doing this morning, Lily?” His voice stayed modulated, in this, his opening salvo.
I smiled, knowing it wasn’t a pleasant one. “Sleeping. And then I woke up and looked out the window to see how this day might go.”
He frowned, not quite expecting that answer. “How the day might go?”
Nope. Not telling him about the gardens and how they reacted to him. That was my secret discovery. And no way in hell would I mention the blackbird. Or the raven.
I kept my eyes on the god, ignoring the little godling who wanted to carry stories of wrong-doing.
“The weather, Apollo. The weather. Was it going to rain or be sunny? Did it look like I would feel a chilly wind from the north or a light, warm breeze from the south if I went outside? You know, those things that tell a person what to wear so they won’t either be over or underdressed.”
He didn’t buy this explanation, but since it sounded reasonable enough, he couldn’t fight it.
I hoped.
He changed topics. “Henry said you mentioned you had a nightmare. Tell me about it.”
I chuckled. “Dear old Hermes. Has to run and tell his master about every single thing I do.”
The godling had finally gotten his temper under control until I said that. Heat rose in his face once more, his eyes shooting sparks.
The sun god sighed, rubbing his eyes. He appeared tired of all the games, but he was the one who could stop them. He wouldn't.
“Please don’t antagonize him, Lily. He is on edge enough right now.”
I laughed, the sound harsh in the room’s quiet. “He is intent on being surly. Everything I do, he hates. Doesn’t matter what it is. If I say the sun is bright, he would say I am telling tales. If I kiss his filthy feet, he would kick me in the face.”
Henry’s face grew darker.
Apollo flicked his fingers and Henry moved. Not towards the door, like I expected, but he headed to the patio behind the desk. Slipping through the doors, he jumped high into the sky, moving as if he had wings on his feet.
I leaned forward a little. Well, hell, he had wings on them. On his shoes, in fact. It surprised me they were strong enough to carry him like they were. It also impressed me at his core strength. Not everyone could remain upright like he was when their footwear was carrying them away through the air.
Apollo rubbed his forehead, as his head was aching now. “Yes, he is not like Samuel. He is hard to deal with, but he does good work. He doesn't like you and I don't quite know why. No matter. I need him now that you broke Octavius.”
Broke the bastard, eh? Well, he deserved what he got. Still, to go all ape-shit over a raven visiting me was a bit much.
I flung myself around in my seat, pulling my legs up and over one arm. I kicked them up and down, my movements lazy, while I studied the god.
He returned my stare, his eyes hooded, his magnificent body still. I compared what I could see of him to what I had seen of Soren, and I still liked my mate better. He wasn’t as bulky as Apollo, but he had lean, long muscles that showed he used them daily.
I didn’t think the god did manual labor, though. He mostly sat at his desk and thought of ways to torture me.
