Page 24 of Nemesis

I creep in closer for a better look, but he just turns away.

His cheekbone might be broken. It’s definitely bruised and swelling—as well as the rest of him. His skin is a patchwork of bruises and cuts and drying blood.

I circle around him, shaking my head.

Idiot, I want to say.

“You can’t judge me.” He squints. “You know what’s coming up.”

I drag the bottle across the counter and take a sip. “A lot of things are coming up, Saint.”

My birthday being one of them. My past is another.

With a start, I realize I scheduled my “date” with Atlas—henceforth only referred to in quotes, the sham that it is—on my twenty-fifth birthday.

Stupid. And here I was, planning on hiding at Bow & Arrow or spending the day in bed.

At least I’ll be able to avoid the celebration that’s undoubtedly coming… The chocolate cake that Antonio will be baking. Apollo’s family will no doubt loop me into their celebrations, too.

Overall, not feeling great about this year. Ten-year anniversary of being sold into a sex trafficking ring will do that to a girl.

“Elora’s death,” Saint spits.

I stop and stare at him. Elora is Nyx’s real name. He doesn’t call her Nyx anymore, not in private. As painful as it is, I go right back to that day. I wasn’t there—another thing he blames me for, I’m sure—but I remember it. I can’t scrub it out of my head.

He’s watching me just as intently, and Ihateit. That his gaze catches everything, and the knowing sneer creeps across his face. He’s realizing that I either forgot or blacked out the date, and now it’s another thing he can lord over me. It’s not my fault I’ve been focused on other things.

I inch closer. “Speaking of Nyx.”

Saint’s brows lower.

“How do you think she’d feel about you living on the brink of death for ayear?”

I’m close enough to touch him, so I fucking do. I press my finger into one of the bruises at his temple, pulling from him a long-overdue wince.

He catches my wrist. His hand, like his gaze, is a furnace.

“Don’t,” he says.

“Don’t what, Saint? Don’t hold a mirror up so you can see how ridiculous you look?”

He rises. He’s still got hold of my wrist, and he turns us so I’m between the counter and him. “Ridiculous? How about you, Artemis? When you fight and come back covered in bruises, you don’t find me touching all your sore spots.”

“Well, Saint, maybe Iwantyou to.”

My throat closes.

I didn’t mean to say that.

I didn’t mean to admit that I’ve been sorely deprived of touch in the last year—through his fault or mine, I’m not sure. It’s not like I was dating anyone. Flirting with men isn’t the same as being cared for by them.

“Maybe I want someone to fucking care,” I admit softer, twisting my wrist until his grip loosens. “MaybeI’ve just been languishing in this fucking town. I’ve had to watch you spiral like a sad little balloon, and I’m the sucker trying to keep you afloat. It’s consuming my life.”

“Shut up.”

“She’s not coming back.”Going all in on the hate today, Tem. “Nyx is dead and buried, and you’re acting like she gives a shit about anything that happens here.”

“Artemis,” he warns.

---