21

Ijerked out of his arms, staggering through a wave of confusion. "But Isa said—"

"Isa has seen me at my worst, so I really don't blame her for thinking I was trying to trick you. Even Eiran considered it. Walder was worried too in the beginning. He was afraid that I wasn't being genuine with you and that I was stringing you along just to see what would happen. But after I explained to him how we met, he got hopeful and started pushing it by inviting us to stay and the dancing and talking you into coming up to my room…" he sighed, shaking his head. "I want you to know that he didn't mean to hurt you. Walder cares about me—don't ask me why, he's probably insane. But he really wasn't trying to manipulate you. He just wants to see me happy."

"It's kind of reassuring if you think about it," I considered. "Even spirits do selfish things for the people they love."

"Only you would find the silver lining to being an inconsiderate wanker, Little Butterfly," Apollo teased, flicking my nose.

Without realizing it, we moved closer again, as though our bodies were drawn to an unseen gravitational field that only existed when we touched. My next words left me with a shuddering breath, "Do you believe it will work? Love?"

"No," he said immediately, not sparing the notion a second thought. The disappointment must have been glaring in my face because he quickly added, "I'm sorry, Little Butterfly. But my heart won't return to me because of love. And I refuse to hurt someone just to try. Walder is an eternal being who lives a life of endless possibility, but we both know that this is not the case with us humans. Heartless men don't fall in love and spells don't break with kisses. There is a reason we call certain stories fairytales."

I couldn't disagree with that. Love was the greatest cure in every fairytale, but in reality, it took a lot more to heal a person. It took patience and kindness and determination. It took failure and setbacks too. So I had to believe that Apollo's story wasn't over just yet. "It doesn't matter," I said, clutching his shoulders to hearten him. "Nothing's lost. You can still find your heart."

He shook his head. "I've already searched everywhere."

"You've searched for a box. You don't know if the box had something else inside it, though."

Apollo frowned, considering it. "Wouldn't I be able to feel it somehow? Let's say I had already stumbled upon it."

I chewed at the corner of my lip. "I don't know. I'll have to do some research when I return to the Shop. I can write you if you want."

He smiled that dangerous, sharp-witted smile of his. "Is it going to be a love letter, darling?"

I slapped his arm. "You're impossible."

He caught my wrist and guided my hand flat over the counter behind him, making my body his prison as he cocked his head to the side and watched me through dark, drowsy eyes.

My whole body sparked up in anticipation. What is he going to do? Gods, what am I going to let him do?

But Apollo only asked quietly, almost pleadingly,"Will you forgive me for what I said at Walder's? For the way I've been acting?"

I pretended to think about it. "I don't know. Do I forgive you?"

"I thought you said keeping a grudge gives you wrinkles, Little Butterfly," he drawled.

"Yes, but this might be a wrinkle-worthy offense," I said ruefully.

His eyes fell on my mouth. I hated it when he did that. I hated that he had the power to make my whole body pulse with the mere possibility of a kiss. "Do you want me to grovel, darling? Is that it?"

"Depends," I said, swallowing. "Are you as good at groveling as you are at pushing me away?"

Apollo bit into his smile, some obscene recollection dancing recklessly on the grey-blue floors of his eyes. "You know I had to push you away that night, right? I still should."

I ignored this last assertion and asked instead, "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Just thinking about you in that dress, on that bed." He brushed my hair off my shoulder and leaned down to whisper in my ear, "I would have done terrible things to you that night. And you would have loved them all."

A hot shiver went through me. Was it really so wrong that I wanted to feel his hands on me now? Surely, I could let myself indulge just this once. Even if it was a little reckless, a little foolish. I knew about his curse now. And I wasn't stupid enough to fall in love with a heartless man. So why shouldn't I let myself experience this unbelievable attraction? What was the worst that could happen anyway?

I took a deep breath, trying to give myself some courage. "You can still do them."

"Nepheli," Apollo warned, but he didn't push me away.

"I'm not talking about love. I know it's impossible for you. Unless…" I hesitated, feeling star-bright and as weightless as air. "Unless a part of you still wants to see if Walder is right."

"Allowing ourselves to get close just to see if my curse will break is the most unromantic thing in the world," Apollo grumbled.

I mocked him with a little laugh. "I didn't know you cared so much about romance, Apollo."

He glared at me. "I don't care about romance. I care about—"

"About?" I pressed, my cheeks burning.

He exhaled, relinquishing. "I don't want to hurt you, Nepheli. I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life, and I don't want you to be one of them."

"Is this what I am? A bad decision?"

He looked conflicted, yet his hands, as if they had a mind of their own, skidded down to my hipbones. "You've no idea how impossible it is to resist you when you're looking at me like that, darling."

"Really? I didn't realize I had such power over you," I drawled, emboldened by his words and the look of absolute surrender on his face. I traced with my fingertips the neckline of his shirt, my eyes following the hypnotic play of his muscles beneath the flimsy fabric.

His head dropped back. His eyes drifted upward. I fought with the urge to tilt forward and bring my lips to the exposed column of his throat as it bobbed again and again. "Fuck, Nepheli, you're the sensible one here," he growled. His forehead fell to mine, his fingers digging deeper into my hips. "Don't let me touch you."

I licked my lips, my heart thrumming in my ears. Fast. So fast. "What will happen if you touch me?"

He groaned under his breath as he brought my body flush with his. A tiny gasp escaped me as I felt his hardness pressing up against my lower abdomen. I must have lost my mind a little because I found myself grinding on him, desperate for some friction. Here, in this strange, warm room, I blurred into him. And it didn't scare me. It didn't scare me at all.

"I've been a terrible influence on you, darling," he rasped.

"I don't think so," I sighed, my chest caving into his. "I'm hardly acting like an inconsiderate, arrogant, heartless brute."

"You're acting reckless."

Perhaps I was. But I was glad that I wasn't all up in my head for once. I felt brightly, alarmingly immersed in this moment, trying to absorb it all. "I'm in the middle of an adventure. There's no better time for recklessness," I decided.

His eyes dropped to my lips again. "We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't have the heart to do this properly."

I smiled. "Then do it improperly."

Suddenly, I was spinning. The small of my back hit the cool edge of the counter, and Apollo caged me in between, his body before me as hard and unwavering as a wall.

"Tell me this is wrong," he demanded. "Tell me you hate me. I'm horrible. Tell me to get my hands off you."

I rose to my toes and brought my lips as close to his as our height difference allowed. "Kiss—"

He kissed me.

Apollo kissed me and lit a fire in my bones.

His hand took over my jaw, and his mouth collided with mine—all indelicate demands and imperative requests. He asked my lips to open, and they obeyed. He asked my tongue to follow his, and it obliged. He asked my head to fall back in his hand so he could slant his mouth over mine and deepen the kiss, and my head, without hesitation, slipped into place, a surrender complete.

He kissed me fast, hard, possessively, one hand lacing through my hair, the other sliding down around my waist. He kissed me like a starved man, a madman, a man who'd do anything to never stop kissing me. And I had to reciprocate. I had to tug at his shirt and bite down on his lip and stroke my tongue over the seam of his mouth, and taste him, taste him, taste him until the taste became an indelible experience in the notepad of my senses. He smelled just like the first day we met in the Shop: spice and woodsmoke and cold wind. It made me a little mad. Everything about him made me mad. His scent, his lips, his demanding, perfect hands.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him harder, sweeping my tongue over his until my lips felt bruised and he was grunting in my mouth. His sounds reverberated through me and weaved into my bloodstream. Now I knew he'd be a part of me forever.

His arm around my waist dipped to my hips and pulled me up to him so he could kiss me without bending down, not allowing that small shred of space to exist between our bodies. I felt dizzy and fizzy, like I was made of effervescent stars, and when his other hand tightened in my hair to angle my head back for better access, shock and pleasure exploded behind my eyes. His mouth fell hot and wild on my neck, kissing a greedy path back to my lips. With a deep groan, he teased the seam of my mouth with his tongue before plunging inside again.

I was so perfectly surrendered to him that I couldn't feel the pleasurable burn of his fist in my hair anymore. Everything he did felt sweet and tender. Even the terrible things.

I slanted forward and brought my palms to his hard chest to steady myself as my knees wobbled, and he straightened too, lowering both of his hands to my backside, following me, chasing each of my movements as if he couldn't allow me to get away.

He gripped me harder over my skirts, pushed his tongue deeper into my mouth, and this time, I was the one who couldn't hold back a moan.

He broke the kiss to check on me. His eyes were as black as the night. "Did I hurt you?" he panted against my lips.

I shook my head, struggling for breath. "No. I want you like this."

"Like what, Little Butterfly?" he rasped, his hands roving upward. He cupped my breasts over the bodice of my dress while angling his hips in a thrust. His erection pressed further onto me, making my whole body feel heavy and almost in agony. Suddenly, he grabbed my waist and raised me atop the counter. I heaved in shock as he stepped between my knees and put his hands on my thighs, the warmth from his palms seeping through the layers of my skirts. My legs, entirely of their own volition, inched up his sides and wrapped around his waist. I nudged him forward, and his hold on me tightened in response. "You want me to be a little rough with you, Nepheli? Is that it?"

All the blood in my body rushed straight to my face, but I managed a nod. "Yes. Yes, that's what I want." I shuddered as I heard the words leave my mouth. I'd never wanted anything like that before. I never sounded like that before. So breathless and ready and certain of myself. It exhilarated me. It made me question my sanity too.

His mouth landed on mine again, and he kissed me hard and deep for a few delirious, fever-dream moments before his lips traced up the side of my neck and lingered at the tender spot just below my ear. "So dangerous, my Little Butterfly."

"Why—" I began, but as Apollo grazed his teeth along my throat, all comprehensive thoughts escaped me momentarily. I swallowed hard. "Why do you keep calling me dangerous?"

Unexpectedly, he hesitated, breathing hard against my neck. He cupped my jaw and held me like that for a moment, looking into my eyes. Then a whisper: "It's dangerous to be someone others are afraid to lose."

My heart skittered inside my chest. I wanted to say something. What was it? I couldn't remember. I could only feel his hands slipping down my parted thighs until he reached the hem of my dress. He searched for my eyes. "Is that okay?"

I nodded, biting down on my lip.

I didn't think it was possible, but his eyes seemed to grow even darker. "I'd like to hear you say it, darling."

"Touch me," I breathed out. "Please."

"Please?" he teased, a truly heartless grin on his face. "Well, as long as you're begging…" He leaned forward and claimed my mouth again, slower this time. Lazy strokes of his tongue and indolent exchanges of breath. Then he pushed up my dress. Up my ankles, up my calves, up my knees. My skin pebbled at the sudden exposure to the air. Or perhaps his hands were to blame—his rough fingers that roamed so possessively over my fever-flushed skin.

He pulled back and examined the twin bruises on my knees. "Damn it, you did hurt your knees."

"I fell pretty hard," I rasped.

Apollo ran his fingers alongside them, making my skin tingle in anticipation. "An awful way to bruise such pretty knees, really."

I raised my brows. "Is there a good way?"

"Darling," he laughed, looking at me as if to say, Come on, Nepheli, you know what I mean.

The realization finally dawned on me, and I scoffed in outrage. "That's it. You're absolutely terrible."

His fingers slipped up, up, and—Oh. "Isn't that why you want me, though?" he asked, teasing me with two fingers over my undergarment while pressing down his thumb on that perfect spot. "To do terrible things to you?" He squeezed me in his broad hand with enough pressure to make my eyes roll all the way inside my head, my lips parting in a desperate sigh. I almost fell back on the counter, but he brought his free hand around my waist. "I got you, darling," he reassured, nudged my undergarment aside, and pushed a finger inside me.

I gasped at the sudden fullness, and the bastard actually laughed at me. "Let me ask you something, Nepheli. Every time you fight with me and call me terrible and a heartless brute, are you this wet for me? Do you secretly want me to fuck you until you can't walk? Because I know I do."

Oh gods.

"You're despicable," I moaned.

"I know," he said soothingly. "I know, darling. That's why you're dripping all over my hand."

A moment of unimaginable pleasure swept over me as he angled his finger to reach that body-shattering spot before adding a second one inside me.

"Gods," I cried, reaching up to clutch his arms.

"You okay?" he asked, slowing his thrusts to a more merciful pace.

But I didn't want him to be merciful. No, I didn't want him merciful at all.

I wrinkled his shirt in my fists. "Don't slow down."

He buried his wicked little smirk into the curve of my neck and breathed me in. "You want to come on my fingers or on my tongue?"

My jaw fell open. "I didn't know I had options."

"There's a third option too, but you're not ready for it, darling," Apollo said, thrusting his fingers so deep inside me that a spasm of pleasure spiraled through me. My back arched. My legs shook. I was so close to orgasm that even the slightest stroke of his tongue would send me over the edge.

"I want to feel your mouth on me," I heaved.

Apollo removed his fingers to slip his hands under my knees. "Well, you did want me to grovel…" With one sharp pull, he brought me to the very edge of the counter and pushed my legs further apart.

Then he got to his knees. He knelt, and I just knew that there was no god or force in this world powerful enough to save me from this man now because the way he stared up at me with his tousled hair and swollen lips and rumpled shirt, was so feral and hungry that I felt utterly and thoroughly consumed.

But he was patient as he seized my left calf and traced his lips up my leg, kissing, tasting, savoring. That was the thing about Apollo. He was a head-splitting paradox of harshness and gentleness, and he had this way, this effortless way of making you crave both at the same time.

"Gods, you're so beautiful," he murmured against my skin before leaving two slow, reverent kisses on each of my bruised knees. "I'm so sorry you got hurt today."

I stared down at him, breathless and mesmerized at the softened sight of him in the flickering firelight. "I just stumbled. It's not a big deal."

"It is to me," he said as he lowered his mouth on the inner side of my left knee and began trailing up my thigh. I closed my eyes and braced my hands on the counter, my heart pounding, my core aching, my whole body clenched and ready for him.

And then someone yelped.

"Oh gods!" Isa exclaimed at the same time as Apollo growled, "Oh fuck!"

Quickly, he helped me off the counter and bent to straighten my skirt while Isa clamped her hands over her eyes, hurling all kinds of curses at him.

Apollo, to my further mortification, winked at me as he smoothed his shirt and brushed back his hair. "We're both decent, Isa. You can open your eyes now."

Isa split her fingers apart and took a peek, hissing, "There is nothing decent about this."

"I am so, so sorry," I mumbled, wishing for the floor to crack in two and swallow me up. "We… we just got carried away."

"No, you didn't," Isa sighed. "It's that damned potion I'm making. I was looking everywhere for you to give you these annulets." She held out the two golden bands identical to the one she wore as a potion-maker to protect herself from the magical side effects of her concoctions.

Every muscle in Apollo's body tensed all at once. He stared at her, pale and alarmed. "What are you talking about?"

Isa gave us a guilty look. "I'm making a potion for a couple with… marital problems. It exudes a certain amount of lustful energy. That's why I was looking for you to give you these. I knew you'd be affected. It's quite strong. Gods, I'm so sorry. And Nepheli, I'm sorry for earlier, too. I have such a big mouth…"

She went on with her apologies and explanations, but I couldn't listen anymore. My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. I felt as though I'd been dunked into a pool of ice-cold water, a drowning voice inside my head pleading inconsolably, It wasn't a lie. It wasn't a lie—

"Of course," I heard Apollo whisper to himself, his whole face sinking. He turned to Isa, cutting her off mid-sentence, "Can you give us a moment, please?"

Isa closed her mouth and nodded shakily, looking apologetic. "I'm just going to leave these here," she said as she left the two annulets on the long, wooden table in the middle of the kitchen.

Apollo waited for his cousin to exit the room before he faced me again. "Nepheli," he sighed. "I didn't know. I would have never touched you if—"

"It doesn't matter," I choked out, covering the distance between us to brace my hands on his chest. "I don't regret it—"

He stumbled away, grabbed one annulet from the table, and came to put it on my ring finger, each movement curt and precise. "Do you regret it now?"

A horrible sense of disenchantment befell me. It swept over me like a veil being drawn back to reveal a piece of art. A strange groundlessness, the sort of feeling you got when you accidentally looked yourself in the mirror late at night, and didn't recognize the person staring back at you. It was not the pang of shame that made every nerve in my body tug inward as if to hide from the world, but the lack of regret that was more shocking and shameful than any mistake.

Yes, my senses sharpened to register things beyond my physicality. But the need was still there. Maybe not as immediate and consuming as a fire, but imperative and effortless as a breath. I still wanted him to take me into his arms. I still wanted him to get me upstairs to his bedroom and make love to me all night long, and let me bury my face in the slope of his back and tell me how it did not matter that he had no heart. That my heart was enough for the both of us.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? Apollo wouldn't do any of those things. He would take me on that counter, make me feel wonderful for a few flitting moments, and then put me on a ship tomorrow morning and promise to write me, although we both knew he never would.

I didn't want to be the kind of person who endured such coldness while secretly waiting for the other person to change. Change was a personal journey. I knew that now. And so I understood that Apollo was in no position to share anything meaningful with me while still looking for himself.

"Go to your room, Nepheli," he said, cold as the rain. "Lock the door. Forget this happened."

My heart stuttered in my chest as it tried to reconcile his words with what had just passed between us.

I could not accuse him of playing with my emotions this time, like at Walder's. This time, we were equal in responsibility. So I swallowed around the boulder in my throat and looked him in the eyes, clinging to my last shred of dignity. "For what it's worth, it wasn't just the magic," I said.

"I know," he admitted coldly.

It was so easy for him to slip a mask of indifference on his face. Here I was, a trembling mess, and there he stood, cool and collected and looking almost relieved.

"Be happy, Little Butterfly. You're going home tomorrow," he said. And left me all alone in the room.

Heartbreakingly, I recalled how he'd called me earlier a bad decision and finally realized what he meant. Apollo had made a mistake coming into my Shop. He had made a mistake by taking me with him through the Celestial Door. He had made a mistake by getting close to me. He had made a mistake by kissing me.

To me, he was the greatest adventure of my life. But to him, that was all I was. A mistake in a life that was already full of them.