Page 54

EVE

“You’re a menace,” I muttered, glaring at Lila through the mirror.

She smirked as she leaned against Darcy’s dressing table. “I prefer ‘genius matchmaker,’ but sure, menace works.”

Darcy hummed in agreement, her fingers combing gently through my hair. She’d been taming the strands for twenty minutes now, smoothing them until they fell in soft curls down my back. I’d never seen them like this—sleek, elegant. Almost like they belonged to someone else.

“You look happy,” she said, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “It’s been too long.”

I hesitated, letting the words sink in. Happy wasn’t quite right—but lighter? Yeah. That I could believe.

“That’s because of me,” Lila grinned. “You’re welcome. If it wasn’t for my brilliance, you’d still be sulking at the diner, ignoring the hot guy with the big muscles who was basically begging for attention.”

I snorted. “He wasn’t begging.”

“Please. It was painful to watch,” she fired back. “And now? Look at you. Glowing.”

“She’s not wrong,” Darcy pinned the little paper cap in place with the same precision she used on wedding up-dos and emotional damage. “And this costume? I think Orion’s might actually combust on sight.”

A blush crept up my neck, but I didn’t fight the smile as I got to my feet and looked in the floor-length mirror.

The outfit was bold—a vintage nurse dress with a tight hemline and just the right amount of cleavage. It was ridiculous. And perfect.

“What can I say?” I teased, smoothing the fabric over my hips. “I aim to please.”

“You’re going to do more than please,” Lila said, cackling as she handed me a tube of lipstick. “You’re going to end him.”

I laughed—truly laughed. It was nice. I wasn’t thinking about magic or daema or the mess of my life. I was just… me.

We made our way downstairs, heels clicking softly on polished wood. Lila chattered about her Catwoman whip action, while Darcy adjusted the jacket over her Chanel-inspired dress. They both looked amazing, but for once, I wasn’t comparing.

I trailed behind, fingers toying with the stethoscope at my neck as nerves fluttered low in my belly.

The sound of children’s laughter drifted up from the living room, tangled with Mark’s exasperated voice trying to rein them in.

Orion was on the sofa already in his costume. His toga clung to his chest and draped over one shoulder, the hem slit to show just enough muscle to be criminal. He looked like a Greek god, completely out of place in the world.

He had Cherry perched on his lap, waving a handful of crayon drawings and chattering nonstop. He simply smiled down at her, eyes soft with amusement.

Mark, meanwhile, was busy failing to wrangle the other two. “Cherry, leave the poor man alone! Orion doesn’t need to see all your drawings!”

“It’s fine,” Orion said, his voice warm. “She’s a great artist.”

Cherry beamed, offering up another picture. He took it like she’d handed him a masterpiece.

I couldn’t look away.

Something about the way he sat there—so patient, so present—hit me somewhere I wasn’t ready for. The easy affection. The quiet attention. Like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

I’d never seen him like this.

And now that I had, I didn’t know if I could ever get the image out of my mind.

Cherry slid off his lap, clutching her art, and skipped off. Orion stood, stretching lazily.

And then he saw me.

He went still, his gaze locking on with the kind of focus that knocked the air from my lungs. He inhaled and seemed to hold his breath.

He didn’t just look at me—he devoured me.

His eyes dragged over the top of my bare thighs, the dip of my hips, the curve of my breasts. Heat flushed up my cheeks as his gaze climbed slowly, locking on mine with such intensity that I almost stepped back.

Darcy cleared her throat beside me, smirking. “Looks like someone’s impressed.”

Lila nudged me. “What did we say? Absolutely done for.”

Orion blinked, like coming out of a trance, and that easy grin slid back into place—only now it was darker. Less playful. More predator spotting prey.

“You all look great,” he said smoothly, glancing at Darcy and Lila before snapping right back to me. “Really… great.”

Lila twirled in her catsuit. “Thank you. I do try.”

Before I could respond, he closed the distance in two strides and took my hand.

“Excuse us,” he said, flashing that too-charming smile at my friends as he tugged me away.

I stumbled after him, pulse spiking, heat rising up my neck. “Orion—”

“Eve,” he said, but his voice had taken on a rougher edge.

He didn’t slow until we rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. The room was dim—just the soft glow from the range hood and a sliver of moonlight through the window. And then I was backed against the counter, his hands braced on either side of me, his body caging mine.

He was everywhere. Pressed against my chest, his presence swallowing all the air. The counter edge bit into my back, but I couldn’t move—wouldn’t even if I could.

“Orion,” I breathed, the name barely audible.

His face hovered close, green eyes sweeping over me again—slower this time. Like he was memorizing me. Branding me.

“Do you have any idea,” he rasped, “what you’re doing to me right now?”

I swallowed hard.

Oh, I knew. The heat of him, the weight of his stare, the press of his hardness growing near my belly—I felt him everywhere. My thoughts scattered, my body flush with tension as I struggled to breathe, to think, to speak.

I licked my lips, trying to form a coherent thought.

“Every good healer needs a nurse.”

Orion groaned, low and wrecked, before one hand slid to my waist, the other tangling in my hair.

When he kissed me, I felt like my whole world was igniting. It was hungry, frenzied—like he needed this more than air. My fingers fumbled over his chest, tracing the hard muscle beneath the toga as I melted into him.

Every inch of me was hyper aware—his breath, his body, the throbbing ache building between my thighs like my nerves had caught fire.

I rolled my hips against him, and he sucked in a breath, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.

“Fuck,” he panted. “We need to get you to that party. Before I decide that ripping off that dress is a better use of our night.”

I laughed—giddy, breathless, wrecked.

He stepped back, lacing our fingers. “Come on, trouble,” he said, his voice still rough, but his smirk unmistakable. “Let’s not keep your friends waiting.”