Eros shifts close and pulls me into his arms. It feels horribly natural, as if we’ve been embracing much longer than a few days. I don’t tense and I manage to smile up at him as if deeply in love. The warmth on his face never ceases to set me back on my heels, but I manage to mask my response. He leans down to speak in my ear. “An hour or two and then people will drift off to other parties or clubs.”
Honestly, it’s not a big ask to play this role with him for a few hours. This party might be filled with people I’ve spent years avoiding, but Hermes is the only member of the Thirteen in sight, and so it’s still better than the events at Dodona Tower my mother insists on dragging me to.
I turn in Eros’s arms. He doesn’t let me go; he simply tucks me back against his chest and rests his chin on the top of my head. I don’t understand why this feels as intimate as the embrace, but I’m not going to break his hold just because my heart is racing as if I just ran up a flight of stairs.
And then my attention lands on the man across the living room, and I forget all about Eros. “That motherfucker.”
His arms tense around me, tugging me back a step when I would break free. “I didn’t know he’d be here.”
Orpheus.
The asshole whose selfishness not only broke Eurydice’s heart but put her literal life in danger. They were dating seriously before that night, and she loved him with everything she had. The breakup has hit her hard, but Orpheus hasn’t missed a beat in the intervening months. Every time I turn around, he’s making headlines in MuseWatch with his partying and hooking up with one gorgeous person after another. Current speculation is that he’s on the rebound and soothing the pain of a broken heart, but it’s bullshit.
If he really loved Eurydice as much as he acted, he wouldn’t have set her up. At the very least, he would have apologized for the harm he’s caused.
Instead, he’s here, wearing a designer suit and leaning against the wall next to a woman I recognize. Cassandra. From the smile on his handsome face, he’s got his charm cranked up to a thousand. I might hate him, but even I have to admit it’s a lot of charm. His mother is a Korean model who puts even Aphrodite to shame and his father is a Swedish businessman of some sort.
For her part, Cassandra seems bored by the whole experience. She’s about my size, with a fall of brilliant red hair and a generous mouth that naturally turns down a little at the edges. She also has a reputation for taking no shit.
“Let me go,” I say quietly.
“Psyche—”
I down the rest of my drink and turn to face Eros. I know this is a mistake, but I don’t care—which seems to be a running trend with me these days. The alcohol is already buzzing my thoughts, feeding the anger I’ve been nursing for far too long. “Eurydice almost died. You weren’t there that night. Persephone was. The man chasing her had a knife. The only reason she was in that position at all was because Orpheus sold her out to Zeus.” Eros has his carefully blank expression in place. I hate it. I hate that he can keep his eyes on the endgame while I’m ready to pull a Callisto and find a knife to stab Orpheus with. “Let me go,” I repeat.
For a second, I think he won’t do it, but he finally releases me long enough to drape an arm over my shoulder. Between one blink and the next, his playboy smile is back in place. “Let’s go have a chat.”
I hesitate. “You know Orpheus?” Even as I voice the question, I realize how ridiculous it is. They don’t exactly move in the same circles, but there’s no way they haven’t interacted before now. Apollo has been in his position for years now, so his younger brother Orpheus has been attending the same parties Eros and I have. It’s how he and Eurydice met.
“Well enough.”
I don’t know what game he’s playing at, and it’s almost enough to distract me from my rage. Almost. I let Eros guide us toward Orpheus. He’s so focused on Cassandra, he doesn’t even look up until we’re right next to him.
The way he blanches when he sees me almost makes me laugh. Or it would if I wasn’t so busy trying not to scream. Eros gives my shoulder a little squeeze, his expression still perfectly relaxed. “Orpheus, you know my wife, right?” He glances at me, all charming playboy. “Wasn’t he dating your little sister?”
“Wife?” The man looks like he might be sick. “I didn’t know you were dating.”