Page 43 of Touch

Slowly, the female’s sheepish grin expands. She thinks this is a ruse to see her. So much the better. It’s the impression Love had been hoping to produce.

She waits a safe distance away and clings to her bow.Invite him inside! Invite him inside!

After a moment, Holly’s expression sobers and grows agitated. “Look. I’m flattered, but you shouldn’t be here.”

The door flexes open wider. Griffin materializes behind his mate, his arrival causing the woman to tense from ass cheeks to shoulders. Although she braces herself for a confrontation, the concern is futile. Indeed, Andrew and Holly’s stunned reactions are priceless as they witness the brute’s newfound civility.

“Hey, man.” Griffin gestures to the paperback. “Book mail, eh? I’m betting you’re happy about that,” he teases Holly, as if this situation isn’t random or the least bit unusual.

“I do love a good book,” she says, riveting her gaze on Griffin.

The man flashes Andrew a magazine-cover grin. “Listen, about that shitstorm at the park. I was drunk and being a dick. For what it’s worth, you gave it to me pretty bad. Any harder, and your fists would have gone through my skull.”

Andrew’s features lock with suspicion. “My fists,” he repeats, because it’s only half true.

He hadn’t been alone that night. True, he could have dealt with both men on his own, but Love had helped. Eagerly and destructively. The damage Griffin had suffered could have been from either of them.

Misinterpreting Andrew’s reply, Griffin offers a mild chuckle. “Don’t rub it in too much. So we’re good?”

The woman beams at her mate. Andrew’s eyes narrow, a thousand alarming thoughts flashing across his profile. Rather than answer, he hands over the paperback—“Keep it,” he murmurs—then twists and stalks away with purpose.

Very well. Perhaps Love had been wrong, and Griffin hadn’t needed to be this well-behaved. She flings her bow to the ground, then kicks her heel into the snow.

***

She is on the verge of a goddess fit. Before resorting to extreme measures such as matching Griffin with the nearest hibernating grizzly bear, Love gives herself a timeout. Ignoring the pleading flap of her hidden wings, she jumps from one branch to the next, putting miles between herself and civilization, moving through the woods slower than usual, tasting snowflakes on her tongue as they drop from the sky.Taking refuge on her branch, she settles onto the coarse surface and scowls at the eventide sky.

Andrew and Holly’s fate are on a downward trajectory, Griffin has mutated into someone halfway decent, and Andrew hasn’t wiped that disturbing look from his face since talking to Holly at the bookstore. Something is brewing inside him, and it’s driving Love wild.

She festers, rests, debates. She cannot afford to waste time, but solutions refuse to manifest. It prevents Love from stalking the lovers at dawn, forestalling her until that afternoon, when she finally surrenders and returns to the village. Anxious about what to do, she reaches the main square and stops dead in her tracks.

At least now she knows what’s been dominating Andrew’s thoughts. Sheets of paper flap from windows, traffic signs, and doors. Some are crisp from the cold, others are damp from the snow. Passersby murmur to one another while reading each page, although every leaflet asks the same question.

It’s hypnotic. It’s his handwriting demanding to know.

Are you Eros?

***

Love rips open Andrew’s office door and deliberately slams it closed behind her. He’s standing in front of his desk, leaning against the wood with his hands casually tucked in his pockets. As if having expected her, his features betray no signs of surprise.

Well. She had indeed made a racket storming through the house, after checking that Andrew’s corrosive relative wasn’t on the premises. Regardless, people within shooting distance could have heard Love tearing a path to Andrew’s office, provided she were a mortal.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shouts.

Andrew barely moves. “At the moment, I’m watching you blow a fuse.”

“Answer me!”

“No, you fucking answer me.” He shoves off the desk and eats up the distance between them. “Are you Eros?”

“I demand to know how you drew that conclusion.”

“Don’t play that game.” But when Love just stands there fuming, he mocks, “As a reminder, I have some experience with the subject of deities, which tends to play tricks on the mind.”

“You insufferable shit,” she growls. “This is anarchy. You wrote the question everywhere!”

“Mmm. I guess I could have visited your tree and asked the question like a gentleman, but then you would have lied to my face. Figured I’d take you off guard. If I was wrong, you would scoff and ignore me. If I was right, I’d get a reaction.” His irises glitter like platinum. “An excessive one.”

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