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“Let me see.” Athena brushed Aphrodite’s reaching hands away, knelt and then the gentle fingers she had been admiring all through the week were prodding and pushing along her foot, down to her toes, and up her calf. It was all very clinical—Athena obviously having very helpful and pure, even innocent intentions—but once the cool palms swept up to her knee, Aphrodite’s pain turned into a discomfort of another kind.

“This isn’t happening.”

“Nothing is happening, Dite. I don’t think it’s broken.”

Happy that Athena had misunderstood her predicament, but confused and now discomfited by her own reaction to the Goddess of Wisdom, Aphrodite couldn’t quite be graceful in her retort.

“When did you become a healer?”

Athena gave her a bland look before answering, her voice sounding defensive. “Would you prefer Apollo here? Or Hephaestus? Both of them have some of those healing abilities.Though Apollo will more likely than not tell you to drink tinctures and condition your hair, and well, Hephaestus will... I don’t actually know what he might do.”

“Nothing wrong with my hair and let’s leave my ex-husband out of it.”

Athena removed her hand from where it was supporting the injured ankle, and Aphrodite immediately missed the cool touch. But a second later, a caress and slight tug on her disheveled locks almost made her purr. She leaned into the hand helplessly, surrendering to how amazing those fingers felt running through her hair.

“No, nothing wrong with your hair, Dite.”

“You’re shortening my name now?” The affectionate nickname her friends used was like honey when spoken in Athena’s low voice. She’d said it once before and it had not sounded friendly at all then. This time it was less tentative, as if after using it previously, Athena had gained a bit of courage and was more certain of how it rolled off her tongue. The thought of Athena’s tongue did things to Aphrodite’s insides. Strange, warm things.

“Everyone else seems to, and I heard you prefer it?”

“You heard?” This was very interesting. Athena was not generally a gossip. Who had she been talking to? And more importantly, why?

“I can’t seem to escape it. Hearing about you, that is.” Athena’s hand moved lower to the nape of Aphrodite’s neck and she had to put her entire force of will to refrain from shuddering.

“So you’re trying to avoid me?” Aphrodite narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like where this whole thing was going. She also didn’t like how much she enjoyed Athena’s ministrations.

“You’re unavoidable. Inescapable, really.” Athena’s fingertips traveled back up and into Aphrodite’s hair. They were carefully but surely tracing a pattern up to her ear, andwhen they brushed behind it and moved lower to where neck met jaw, Aphrodite shuddered. “Beautiful and haunted. Hunted even. This is all such a cliché.” Athena’s words did not seem to address anyone in particular, as if she was talking to herself, simply defining the predicament she found herself in. “Or maybe I am the cliché, for responding to a gorgeous and vulnerable woman–”

“Oh for crying out loud! You’re making me into some god awful damsel in distress! I don’t need your saving! I don’t need anyone! The mere fact that you have some semblance of understanding of my situation does not give you any right to…” Hades, she was revealing so much more than she wanted to! And what had Artemis called Athena?A dumbass?Yes, she was a big dumbass who had no idea what she was talking about. Nobody knew what Aphrodite was going through. This was all so aggravating. So dreadfully insulting!

“You’re in an arguing mood?—”

Yes, definitely insulting… This was also humiliating and as soon as she’d shaken off the maddening touch she would… What had Athena just said?

“I’m not in an arguing mood! What do you even mean?—”

A finger on her lips shut her up.

“Youarein an arguing mood. And you’re in pain. Otherwise…” The hand on her face was no longer cool, and the eyes looking into hers were no longer shy or apprehensive. Amber burned like liquid gold.

“Otherwise?” She watched as Athena’s tongue peeked out to lick her lips, and wondered if she knew how incredibly irresistible she was right now. All gentle hands and smoldering looks.

Of course the universe would choose that moment—just as Athena was about to lower her head to Aphrodite’s mouth—tosend Sabine Bloody Goddard to interrupt them. At least she had Abby with her, so how bad could it be?

“Kissing already? We’re barely halfway through this book.” Why had she thought Abby was somehow a more preferable option? Traitor.

“We weren’t kissing. I twisted my ankle. Will anyone help me, for god’s sake!”

“Once a diva, always a diva. And which god are we cursing? Or praising? Because the dance floor is getting really heated, and you might just want to come watch this.” Sabine held out her hands, but Athena simply lifted Aphrodite up like she weighed nothing.

“We’ll be right back downstairs. She needs to have her ankle bandaged at least, to avoid more damage. And a different pair of shoes. Those… whatever ridiculous name she called them, are done for.”

“Oh no, not the Choos?” Abby picked the sad-looking shoe with its barely still attached heel.

“Who the hell—sorry Hades—names high heels after trains?” Athena blinked uncomprehendingly, suddenly appearing aggrieved once again.

“Oh Zeus, one is obsessed with shoes, and the other thinks they’re named after trains. You two really are made for each other.” Sabine shook her head, and Abby rolled her eyes at her wife.