Page 37 of Wildfire

With a huff, Hermes leaned back against the door frame and crossed his arms. “What, you don’t think Zeus is going to ride a storm cloud down here and throw his lot in with ours?” he asked.

Athena’s eyes narrowed. “Father is aware of the situation. He is also focused on Cronus.”

Hermes’s lips twitched. Of course he was. Zeus didn’t give a damn about a few dead mortals. Hell, months ago, Hermes hadn’t either.

He couldn’t exactly trace what had changed in him, but he knew when it’d started—that night Theo Ward had thrown himself on Zeus’s thunderbolt to save the school. For too long, he’d let himself think that mortals were just as complacent and useless as gods. If the world was a mess, it was at least as much their fault as it was the gods’. But that night, Hermes had realized that people were doing the best they could with what they had. They weren’t always perfect, but they tried.

Since then, Hermes had been trying too—all right, usually, he’d been trying to keep himself out of trouble. But of all the distractions he could have chosen to get his father off his ass, he’d chosen to let Prometheus out of Tartarus. He’d tried to save Lach from Paget and his cultists. He’d hunted down those same cultists, who’d tried to raise Cronus—who had succeeded, maybe. He’d beeninvolved.

And now, he was helping a bunch of mages try and teach the next generation how not to die. It was either an enormous waste of time or the right thing to do. Hermes wasn’t entirely sure which yet.

“Cool. If all the big dogs are going after Cronus, I’m going to pretend we’re not entirely fucking fucked. Wilder?” Hermes tipped his head toward the door. He wanted to go home. Wilder owed him brownies, or... or something. He’d had just about all he could handle ofpeoplefor that day.

“Hermes,” Athena said stiffly, “you can’t run from this.”

He scoffed. “No,youcan’t run from this. I’m...” For a second, his gaze tracked to Wilder, and he bit his lip. “I’mchoosingnot to run. Not this second, anyway.”

Athena rolled her eyes, but Hermes wasn’t anything like his more martial siblings. Athena and Artemis and Ares were all completely terrifying. Hell, even Hephaestus had his moments, if you couldn’t see past his size or his scowl. But Hermes wasn’t a warrior; he was a napper, and a snacker, and he was ready to indulge.

Hands on his hips, he turned toward Wilder—the only person in the room he was interested in impressing. Shit, when had that happened?

“Can we go home?” Hermes asked tightly. “I’m one hundred percent here for our training montage tomorrow. But I’m ready to—” He bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. The night before, they’d snuggled. That was what he wanted—Wilder close, pressed against him, safe and there.

But that was just about the least likely thing to ever come out of Hermes’s mouth, and rather than admit something soft in front of these weirdos, Hermes shrugged and wiggled his eyebrows. “You know, get down tobusiness.”

“What the hell?” Theo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wilder’s lips were a thin, white line.

“What?” Hermes asked. “No sugar, hot stuff?”

“We can go,” Wilder said stiffly. He stood from his seat, grabbing his bag, and Hermes had the distinct impression that Wilder was less interested in getting cozy than getting the hell away from anyone Hermes could embarrass him in front of.

What Do They Sell at Whole Foods?

Right in front of Dean Woods.

Of Athena.

Of course.

Wilder didn’t struggle enough to be taken seriously as the spoiled child of rich assholes. He definitely needed Hermes embarrassing him in front of his colleagues and acquaintances.

Hermes was silent in the passenger seat as he drove, foot tapping absently and staring out the window as the world passed them by. When he pulled to a stop in front of the grocery store, Hermes stared blankly for a moment.

Then he turned to Wilder. “What’s this?”

“We mere mortals do a thing called eat. It means we require food for sustenance. As such, we must purchase the food somewhere.” He motioned to the Whole Foods sign on the storefront. “This, shockingly, is the sort of establishment where such fantastic feats are accomplished.”

Hermes didn’t exactly smile, but his eyes did a thing, turning up at the corners, filling with challenge, one brow lifting. That was when Wilder realized the look had been missing for the latter half of the afternoon.

It was a part of Hermes’s personality as much as his flippant suggestions that they go have sex, right in front of Wilder’s fuckingboss. His ownsister.

“You’re not gonna wuss out on me and buy prebaked brownies, are you?” He leaned into Wilder’s space and whispered the next. “Real badasses don’t buy prebaked brownies.”

“Best you come in and make sure I don’t buy them, then, isn’t it?” Without another word, Wilder climbed out of the car and headed into the store. Brownies weren’t all he needed, but the promise had indeed been part of the reason he’d decided to go to the store. He hadn’t intended to, but it was suddenly tempting to try to sneak some premade treats into the cart. Nice cheese was more his speed than brownies, though, and he didn’t even know where the brownies were kept.

Instead, he headed for the baking aisle. “I may not buy them premade,” he told Hermes, “but fair warning, you’re definitely getting a boxed mix.”

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