All that being said, not even I can convince myself that killing Psyche is a mercy.
It never used to be like this. I only went after people who deserved it, people who actively threatened my mother. I was a hunter of monsters, of people who intended to harm the only family I have in this world. Until one day I looked up and realized I’m the biggest monster of all. I’d sacrificed too much, had erased too many lines for morality to be anything more than a theory.
There was no going back.
There is no going back.
I sense the moment Psyche walks into the bar. The few patrons go silent and watchful. No matter that she’s dressed down in a pair of jeans and a black coat that covers her to the knees, she’s beautiful enough to stop traffic. She moves through the bar slowly, surveying each table before those hazel eyes finally land on me.
It’s a good thing she’s still a fair distance away because I suck in a breath at being the sole focus of this woman. I was too distracted the night of the party to properly appreciate her sheer presence. Even in pain and pissed the fuck off, I’d still enjoyed the way her gray dress hugged her generous figure and gave a tantalizing glimpse of her large breasts and ass. Especially when she leaned over me to change my bandages.
Focus.
She crosses to my booth and slips into the seat across from me without hesitation. Despite myself, I like that she’s not cowering or flinching. She walked in here with confidence, and I get the feeling that she approaches every situation the same way. It’s too damn bad she can’t brazen her way through tonight. “Psyche.”
“Eros.” She considers me for a long moment. Is she comparing and contrasting how I look now versus the last time we spoke? The only time, really, aside from a handful of greetings over the years at various parties. Even as children of the Thirteen, we hardly move in the same circles. The Dimitriou women hold themselves apart. Another thing about them that drives Aphrodite up the wall.
Psyche leans back slowly. “Most people send an email when they want to meet me. You’re efficient enough to have figured out my phone number. Why bother with Hermes?”
Because an email can be hacked and a phone can be traced. No matter what everyone believes about Hermes, she takes her title and her role seriously. If a message is meant to be secret, it stays that way. Not even the legacy titles can compel her to share a message.
If Psyche is murdered, I want nothing tracing it back to me.
If? What the fuck am I talking about if? Her fate was sealed the moment my mother demanded her heart. No, before that, when she showed me kindness despite the fact that anyone else in that party would have turned away. Even my friends would have pretended not to notice the blood or the limp. We all operate under the carefully balanced lie that I am nothing more than Aphrodite’s playboy son. A little too free with his charms, a little too hard to pin down in anything resembling commitment.
No one talks about what else I do for my family.
Or who pays the price.
There is no room for doubt about the price to be paid tonight. The only way forward is through. It’s not like I haven’t done worse. My hands are covered in the blood of my mother’s enemies, both real and imagined. I’ve long since made my peace with the fact that I’ll never get them clean. I’m no longer particularly inclined to fight that uphill battle for sainthood. It’s Tartarus for me.
I lean forward and prop my elbows on the table. “I’m sure Hermes already told you this, but I’d prefer to have this conversation in person.”
“She mentioned it.” Psyche shrugs out of her coat, revealing a thin black sweater that hugs her tits to perfection. “How’s your chest?”
I blink. “What?”
“Your chest. The one that was covered in cuts two weeks ago.” She nods at me. “Did you manage to find a doctor?”
My hand goes to my chest before I can stop the impulse. “Yeah. It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”
“Lucky you.”
“Sure. Lucky.” It was a sloppy mistake on my part. If I hadn’t been rushing the job to make it to the party on time, I never would have lowered my guard enough to let Polyphonte’s father get that many strikes in. “But then, I walked away from that fight. Not everyone did.”
Psyche takes a slow breath. “Like a pretty girl who asked too many questions?”
Right. I did say that to her, didn’t I? I don’t bother to smile. “My mother takes exception to a lot of pretty girls in Olympus.” Pretty people, really. Gender matters less than beauty and attention, and Aphrodite wants the lion’s share of both for herself.
“Who was it?”
“Knowing won’t make a difference.”
Psyche gives me a sad little smile. “Indulge me.”
I meant it when I said knowing wouldn’t make a difference. It won’t save her. It won’t change what happens here tonight. “Polyphonte.”
She frowns. “I don’t know that name.”
“No reason for you to.” Polyphonte hadn’t climbed the social ladder high enough to attend Dodona Tower parties. Fuck, she hadn’t climbed high enough to do more than endanger herself. The little fool thought she could take on Aphrodite without consequences. Even if she hadn’t crossed my mother, she would have sent someone else important into a murderous rage within a month. She had too big a mouth and too little caution.
“Eros…” She shakes her head, her expression turning inward. “Never mind. I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
I suddenly desperately want to know what she almost said. Was she going to mention the way she caught me staring at her mouth? She’d bitten her lip in response to that look. I don’t think she even realized she did it. Just like I don’t think she realized she glanced at my mouth for several long seconds before she shook off the moment. If we were anyone else, in any other situation, I might have kissed her then.
I might have pulled her down onto my lap and coaxed all the wariness right out of her. First with a kiss, and then a slow seduction that we both would have enjoyed entirely too much.
I shake my head. What the fuck am I thinking? Even if I had crossed that line, it would just make this situation that much worse for both of us. “You’re right. It really doesn’t matter.”
“Like I said.” She clears her throat and straightens. “Okay, let’s get down to business. You wanted to meet to talk about how to guide the media attention away from us. Well, away from you specifically. I’m sure Aphrodite isn’t happy about the whole situation, and you’re not exactly as practiced at dealing with this stuff as I am. I have a few ideas.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“That is why we’re meeting, isn’t it?”
I might fucking kill Hermes for putting that thought into her head. I told the woman to get Psyche here, no matter what she had to say, but I didn’t expect her to use Psyche’s own good nature against her. My stomach drops. “You showed up here because you think I need your help to manipulate the media into chasing after someone else.” As if I haven’t done that very thing on my own before.
The little fool rushed here, threw herself right into my trap without a second thought, because she believed I needed her help.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Psyche goes still. “Isn’t that why we’re meeting?”
“No,” I say almost gently. Gods, I hate myself right now. “That’s not why we’re meeting.”
She clears her throat. “You’re here in your official capacity, then.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out like an apology.
A beat of silence. Another. She draws herself up. “Surely she can’t be that furious about a single photograph?”