Eros

Chapter Twenty-Three

Angie wasn't sure what she was expecting from Ares' home in the Common World. Maybe dungeons and cauldrons and skulls. Something of that sort.

Instead, she was left shocked by how normal everything seemed. Sure, it was a little oldy-worldy, but it was normal all the same.

In the living room, she faced two couches from where she sat by the window, passing glances outside every few seconds.

This was mad.

Mere hours ago, she'd been in Italy. Now, she bided her time in a wholly different world. How her brain hadn't gone into overload was a mystery to her too.

She blamed it partly on the comforting circles Eros drew into her side. It was as if he knew she needed support with this, even if she wouldn't admit it aloud.

She watched Ares mess around with the communication book over by the coffee table. To say he wasn't happy would be the understatement of the century.

He threw it to the table for the last time, watching the water sop to the carpet in distaste.

"Was throwing it at the water necessary?" Ares asked bitterly.

She'd do it again if given the chance. But next time, she'd make sure he didn't have any allies hiding beneath the surface.

"I told you. I have... butter fingers."

Eros pinched her side softly, a look of playful warning on his face.

"Don't wind him up. His temper's already too short."

She could see that being the case.

"It's lucky that the nymphs happen to like me," Ares said.

"Super lucky."

Another pinch to her side. Another disapproving look. "Ange—what did I tell you?"

"You're lucky my witch will be able to sort this," Ares said. "I'd wring your neck if not."

His witch friends could sort this.

Uh oh.

By sort, what exactly did he mean?

Did he mean that they'd be able to find out who held the other copy? Or did he mean they could dry it? Could they make the ink legible? Would they return it to its former condition?

Do I have to die?

Eros' teeth briefly touched her earlobe, drawing forth her attention. "Why are you so tense?"

I don't know, maybe because I might die.

Instead of saying that, she pointed to the book. "It's mine."

"We're just going to figure out who has the other one," He assured. "It's for safety purposes. You don't want to walk headfirst into a trap do you?"

"I—"

She'd rather it at this point. At least she might be able to survive a trap. If these men started to believe the only way to bring Eros back to life was to kill her, there'd be no chance for survival at all.

Ares wouldn't allow it.

"Talk to me," Eros prompted. "We can sort this out. I know you're keeping secrets."

"This... isn't something you can... fix."

"Try me."

"I don't... want you getting... ideas."

The last thing she wanted to do was plant that seed of thought if it wasn't there already.

"Ideas about what?"