Page 46 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

In a strictly carnal, surface-level way, Apollo, I thought, was attracted to me. Not that this made me special. I didn’t believe his standards were very high to begin with. In fact, I was pretty sure Apollo had as many meaningless dalliances and one-night flings as books I had read. But the desire was there, and it was obvious in his drowsy, lust-stricken eyes, his hands that brought me closer, his knee that kept slipping between my legs. The question was whatIwanted to do about it.IfI wanted to do something about it. I had never experienced lust this way before, and certainly not for a man I hardly knew. But perhaps that was the point, besides his blatant, ridiculous attractiveness, of course. The irresponsibility of it made it exciting. To be careless just this once…

“Don’t answer that question,” he rasped, his voice dropping to a whisper, something meant only for my ears.

I frowned. “Why not?”

His jaw clenched. “Just don’t answer.”

“Fine.”

He released a breath and swayed us a bit faster, following the tempo of the music perfectly. Our bodies fused together, and I started to think that only the Prince of Broken Hearts could make such a dignified dance feel so sinful.

He lowered his head to my ear again, and his sweet, hot breath drew goosebumps on my skin. “The dress… it suits you.”

I feigned surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, you look…you know how you look.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t get cocky, Little Butterfly.”

I raised my chin. “Why not? I lookfantastic.”

“You look dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“Very, very dangerous.”

For a dizzying, head-splitting second, my heart skittered from the possibility that he was going to kiss me right then and there because he stopped moving completely and just… bore into me, touching me with his eyes in a thousand different ways and in a thousand different places. Until I felt possessed by him, taken in some intangible but significant way. He looked at me the way people look at the sky at night when there are so many things to see, so many mysteries to uncover. And for that daydreaming—dangerous—second, I wished for his lips on mine. I wished for his taste in my mouth. I wished for his hands on the curve of my hips. I wished for his impulsiveness with the same kind of passion that I hated it. I wanted the world to cease, the colors and shapes of this room to melt into some unknown realm, and leave us here all alone, in the skittering uncertainty of the moment.

But then he blinked. He blinked, and swallowed, and jolted as though a bolt of electricity had just shot through him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out and stormed off, leaving me flushed and breathless to stare at the empty spot in front of me.

The music ceased, and Walder came to offer me his arm. “Why don’t we finish our dinner, dear? I made chocolate cake for dessert.”

Something must have been terribly wrong with me because here I was about to refuse a slice of cake, and gods knew how sacred cake was to me.

I glanced over my shoulder toward the lightless staircase. “Shouldn’t we go—”

“Give him some time,” said Walder gently, guiding me back to my seat.

“What’s gotten into him? Did he have too much to drink?”

Walder shook his head. “I pushed him. And I shouldn’t have. He told me not to.”

I frowned at him, more confused than ever. “Pushed him? You were playing music. You were being a good host.”

“I was being selfish.”

“Selfish?”

Agathe sighed resignedly, and the both of them shared a strange look, a secret something I clearly wasn’t privy to.

“To you,” said Walder. “You see, after the curse, Apollo lost a lot of people from his life, and he has hardly tried to form new relationships. He’s trying to protect us. His family, most of all. To love someone who can’t fully reciprocate your feelings comes with a great deal of heartache, and he’s done his best to spare them from it. Always away, always moving. But that is how I know Apollo is a good man. He does the right thing, even when it’s hard. Even when he doesn’t understand it. People often do good things because it makes themfeelgood. Apollo doesn’t feel at all. He has to navigate life only on instinct and logic and faded memories of the person he once was. And the more he stays heartless, the more he forgets what it was like to have a heart—to be thoughtful and kind. Moral decisions that might seem trivial to you puzzle him more than he would ever care to admit. It’s such a lonely existence. To have yourself as an enemy. I was just happy to see him here with you. To see him with a…traveling companionfor a change.” He sighed at himself. “I shouldn’t have pushed him tonight.”

I hadn’t even considered the possibility of Apollo being unhappy with his curse. He seemed plenty content gallivanting across the Realm, diving headfirst into adventure, flirting with everything that breathed, and experiencing life without a care in the world, except maybe where he’d sleep at night. He didn’t seem lonely, either. He seemed careless and appallingly arrogant and—

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