Page 47 of Tangled Threads Of Fate

Milo cuddled me closer, and that warm comfort slid over my body again. The Milo effect. “We’ll figure it out.”

Fucking fuck.As much as I tried to resist, my eyes dragged to Erus and Tryp. They stood together, Tryp looking pale and Erus looking concerned. I let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Erus stepped forward, and all my muscles froze. I wouldn’t blame him for screaming in my face. I wouldn’t blame him for throwing me out. I’d just stolen his lover and given both of them a death sentence.

I looked down at the ground, at the sandy-colored pavers, at the small ants scurrying across them, each with a tiny flicker of a golden thread that I hadn’t even noticed until now. How could ants have a fate?

Soft fingers beneath my chin lifted my gaze up. I stared into the brown eyes of Erus, waiting for censure or even hatred. Instead, there was only compassion warming their depths.

“Come and eat. There’s time to fret about this later.” His thumb stroked my jaw almost absently. “You couldn’t have known.”

“You might die.”

His smile was mirthless, twisting up one side of his pretty, plump mouth. “So be it. It is long past our time.” His hand moved down to my arm, and he nudged me gently toward the table. “Everything’s better with food. Normally, I’d say with a little rakí, but that’s not going to work, considering it’s Milo’s brew and therefore strong enough to put hairs on your chest. For you, we have grape juice.”

He sat me down in the middle of the table beside Nate before moving over beside Tryp. Teron lifted the jug with the deep red grape juice and poured me a tall glass. It was cold, the glass condensing immediately as it hit the warm Aegean air.

Milo laughed, sitting down heavily next to me and pushing his cup toward Teron. “I might have grape juice today too.”

All the guys turned to look at him, their faces various shades of disbelief. Were guys not meant to drink grape juice? Teron filled Milo’s glass with the sparkling juice, and the table fell back into silence.

Until Tryp grabbed a tall, thin bottle that was sitting open on the table. “Well, I’ll drink Milo’s glass for him. Goddess knows I need it.” He poured a couple of fingers of the clear alcohol, downed it in one gulp, then repoured another, raising it. “Yamas!”

The guys all lifted their glasses, and repeated it back. Nate lifted his wine, screwing up his nose. “Sláinte.” He took a sip and sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for a whiskey right now.”

Milo tapped his glass against mine softly, looking happy, though I had no fucking idea why. “Cheers, little one.” He put his glass down and started piling food onto my plate.

Teron bopped his hands with another set of tongs. “No cheese. It’s unpasteurized out here. Not good for pregnant women.”

Milo looked at him like he’d just suggested oxygen was detrimental to my health. “No cheese? What’s she going to eat then?”

Teron just rolled his eyes. “There’s more to food on this island than just cheese, Milo.” He shook his head. “Try the dolmades. Demke has perfected them over the years.”

Milo piled six onto my plate, which was way more than I could eat, especially when he added pita, dips, some kind of meat, grapes, cucumber salad, and more bread.

The guys chatted casually, like I hadn’t just sucked two of them into the tangled web of my fate; they discussed their investment portfolio, someone from the village whose daughter had just become a doctor with help from Teron, and the sale of land on the beach to the north to human investors.

Nate had his arm around my shoulder, and I leaned into his body, soaking in his warmth like it was a balm for my frazzled nerves. Milo somehow looked lighter than he had the day before. The day I’d met him.

I had only met these menyesterday.Holy shit, this was insanity.

Milo picked up a grape, holding it to my lips as he chatted with Demke. Unsure what to do, I took it between my teeth and crunched, the sweet, warm juice bursting into my mouth. The grapes were amazing, and I could see bunches hanging from the vines above our heads, bees and insects darting from cluster to cluster.

“Cy is hanging around too,” Milo said conspiratorially, like the presence of a stray dog meant something.

Demke raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“At the front wall. He was there when Wren left yesterday. He’s already gathering strays.”

I thought about the large white dog that I’d shared my lunch with. He didn’t look neglected, but surely he’d prefer a warm house and regular meals. “Does Crete have an animal rescue? Maybe they could find Cy a home. I’d take him back to the US with me, but I’ll have enough to worry about, I think.”

Tryp threw back his head and laughed. “That dog already has a home and a territory. He has the whole village wrapped around his finger.”

“Paw?” I corrected, and Tryp laughed harder.

“Yeah, paw. Don’t tell him you want to keep him, though—he’ll never leave you alone.”

Erus looked amused, while Milo huffed an irritated sound. I was missing something here, but I couldn’t tell what. Demke just rolled his eyes. “Keep an eye on him. If it gets too out of control, I’ll go and speak to him.”

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