Antigoddess

Athena sighed. “I’m exhausted. And what you’re going to tell me … I have a feeling is going to keep me up.” I don’t have time to be sleeping. I should make him talk now, so I can think of what to do next. I should make him talk now so I can dream battle plans, for f**k’s sake. Her mind’s arguments were weak. The soft bed spoke much louder.

“It can wait. We’ve got a long ride ahead.” Odysseus’ tender voice soothed her ears. But the concern on his face edged too close to pity.

He’s losing faith in my strength. I’m messing everything up. I can’t protect him. I have to be stronger, faster. I will be, as soon as I get some rest.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Odysseus said. “You don’t deserve it. Of all the gods on that damned hilltop, all of those vain, stupid prigs, you don’t deserve it. You never did.”

It hurt her heart that he gave her so much credit. She wasn’t something to be worshipped; she was something to be contended with. Everything that had gone wrong in his old life could have been blamed on her, or on some twisted member of her family. What did it matter if she tried to fix it? Fixing it was her responsibility. It had been then, and it still was now.

She watched him as he moved down to the floor of the sleeper, as he rolled up a sweatshirt from his bag for a pillow. This was the most time they had ever spent together all at once. In the old days, there had been more to her existence, things for her to do, and she’d dropped in on him only when she was needed. But she’d always watched. She had always made sure he was safe.

Will I fail this time? Will I finally have to watch him die, not in his bed an old man but young, and soon, and painfully?

Her tongue found the slowly healing wound on the roof of her mouth and twisted into it. Bitter tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Without thinking, she reached down and put her hand on his arm. He jumped at the touch before letting himself be pulled up onto the bed.

It felt strangely natural, even though she had never in her long, long life slept beside a man. It went against everything her father had created her to be. And she’d never wanted it, until now.

Odysseus lay down uncertainly. He kept his eyes on her until his head hit the pillow and released his breath in a slow, nervous shudder. She felt his heartbeat, and heard it, fast and strong in his chest. Words were there, between them, but they went unspoken. It was only moments before they were both deeply asleep.

* * *

When Athena woke, the truck was stopped, and the engine turned off. Something had jolted her awake. She waited and felt a soft jerk from somewhere behind them. It was the movement of the trailer, pulling the truck back as it was unloaded. That meant they were already in Toledo.

Athena looked around in the dimness. Only two shafts of light cut through a gap in the faux leather curtain dividing the sleeper from the cab, and even that light was gray. The weather must’ve turned overcast while they slept.

Odysseus stirred by her side and shifted against her hip. She tensed. The bed was small. They were completely wrapped up in each other. How had that happened? She’d been so deeply under it had felt like oblivion. He was lucky she hadn’t shoved him off onto the floor.

Why did I ask him here in the first place?

She couldn’t remember. A deep breath brought aftershave to her nose, and she didn’t know if it was his or Craig Melville’s. It was probably Craig’s. If it had been Odysseus, it would have smelled like cinnamon massage oil from The Three Sisters. The corner of her mouth twisted into a smile, and she pushed dark hair back off his forehead.

In the shadows, he looked softer, relaxed and innocent, the working of his brain reduced to slow clicks and whirrs. He looked almost harmless, almost gentle, nothing like the swashbuckling liar she knew he was. She leaned closer and studied the curve of his jaw, the easy pulse at his throat. His fingers rested on the small of her back; she’d turned men into stone for less. But she didn’t move. Something grew inside her chest and stomach, some new, unnamed need, unfurling and trying out its wings. She let herself press closer, and shivered.

This is what men risk so much for; this shiver, this acute heat and desire. This is what they think eternity feels like.

The words moved through her mind without warning. Thoughts like that were not meant for her. She was removed from it, completely outside the jurisdiction of Aphrodite’s lasso. But she had to admit it was intoxicating. It took over completely.

I should move away.

Except when she did move, it was her hand, slipping mindlessly up underneath the fabric of his shirt.