Page 19 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

I closed my mouth and asked warily, “So youchosethis?”

He shrugged. “In a way.”

“And you heal,” I persisted now that he was finally indulging me with answers. “That’s why you can’t die.”

Apollo launched to his feet and towered over me, his dark locks tumbling over his stormy eyes. “The curse made me undead. This is how I canlivewithout a heart. And a heartless man can’t enter the Underworld. The spirits won’t allow me passage. So I heal instead.”

“So, technically, you’re not twenty-seven, since you became undead at the age of…”

“Twenty,” he gritted out.

“Then, again,technically, since I am twenty-three, I’m older than you.”

Apollo gave me a blunt look. “Would that make you happy, Nepheli?”

I lifted my chin. “Actually, it would.”

“Then, darling, you’re older than me.”

“I didn’t realize you cared about my happiness,” I mocked.

“I don’t. I would just like for you to shut up so I can finally take a bath,” Apollo grunted and carefully slipped away. “Eat. If it gets cold, the taste will get worse.”

He stepped behind the partition and immediately started taking off his belt and trousers, the sounds of fabrics swishing and soughing exaggerated in the sudden silence. “You’re staring, darling,” he taunted as he dragged his shirt over his head.

By the stars, Iwasstaring.

Blushing through my bones, I swiveled around and finally went to sit down on the bed. I forced down a few spoonfuls of the foul-smelling mush that passed for soup around here and decided that it was probably smarter to go to bed hungry than risk spending the entire night hugging the toilet. Instead, I sat back cross-legged and began braiding my hair, a soothing ritual I did every night as I prepared myself for sleep. “The food is atrocious. I’m just warning you,” I mumbled.

“I know,” he said over the wailing pipes as they strained to pump out fresh water. “My things are still at the inn in Elora, but I have spare toothbrushes in the brown pouch next to my sword if you want one.”

Rejoiced, I sprung off the bed to go and grab one.

Several toothbrushes were huddled together inside the linen pouch, along with two unopened tins of paste. But what caught my attention was the little brown container that was labeled as a ‘contraceptive’. Of course, he was taking the contraceptive tablets. I had no doubt that this man was as promiscuous as he was unpleasant.

I cleared my throat. “Why do you have so many toothbrushes in here?”

“Whenever I reach a city, I stock up on these things,” he explained.

“Smart,” I admitted.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he clipped.

The second I heard the water sloshing aggressively around and realized he had emerged from the bathtub, I shuffled toward the small bathroom to give him some privacy. First, I checked if the sink spigots worked—thankfully they did—then I began brushing my teeth with the myrrh and mint paste, only to have the most intrusive little thought come straight at me mid-brush. This was the taste of his mouth. This was the taste of his kisses and his exhales. How strange was it that we shared that now?

As I returned to the bedroom, still toying with that flustering thought, I caught a brief sight of him as he crouched down to throw a lit match into the hearth, the pile of logs going up in flames with unexpected vigor—much like my sanity. Then he stood and turned around. And my heart almost left my body. Because he was wet and naked, apart from atinnytowel that hung obscenely low on his hips.

If there had ever been a debate about whether or not life was unfair, Apollo’s existence would settle the argument once and for all. The gods just had to make him wealthy, powerful, handsome, unbreakable,andwith the body of some fairytale knight. They just couldn’t leave something for the rest of us, could they? No, Apollo simply had to have the most beautiful bronze skin and stupendously sculpted muscles, and strong arms, and chiseled abdomen, each and every line deliciously pronounced from his obliques to his pelvis.

Whoever was responsible for the good-gene distribution in this world had some serious explaining to do.

“You’re staring again, darling,” Apollo crooned, grinning his witty rake’s smile.

I swiveled around so fast that I got myself dizzy. “Put your damned clothes on!” I growled, although, to be honest, there were not enough clothes in the world he could put on now to successfully erase that particular image from my head.

“Look at that, Little Miss Butterfly, all flustered and excited,” he drawled, his steps wandering about the room.

“I am notexcited,you conceited brute,” I hissed, my cheeks burning. “You’re just a man. There’s nothing special about you.”

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