Earth Bound: A Hidden Novella Read online

  "She's strong," Heph said. "If she's sick, she should let Asclepias look at her. That's not normal for our kind."

  "That's what I said. She keeps putting it off." Nain paced back and forth, looking at nothing in particular.

  "Is the shifter around much?" Heph asked.

  Nain shot a look at him. "You think she's this torn up over him?"

  "You pretty much just said she was. I'm asking if he's around a lot."

  Nain grimaced. "He's around. Molly's barely said three words to him that didn't include the phrase 'fuck you asshole' since she learned about his government work. She should be more pissed at me about it. I suspected it and didn't say."

  "It was his place to tell her that. You would have looked like an asshole," Heph said.

  "That's what I keep saying," Nain said, exasperated. "Still feel like an asshole, though. I promised her no more secrets."

  "So don't keep any more or I'll kick your ass," Heph said, meeting the demon's eyes. "This one, I'll give you. This was between them. Anything else and I'll make sure you're buried so fuckin' deep nobody ever finds you. Yeah?"

  Nain nodded. Heph knew damn well the demon was strong, violent, and didn't take well to threats. He also knew that, in more ways than one, he had nothing to fear from Molly's mate. To just about everyone's surprise, he'd found he actually liked the ornery bastard, as long as he treated Molly right.

  "Do you want them to get along again, even?" Heph asked, picking up a bar of silver he'd be working with, turning it over in his hands. "You'd be okay with Molly and the shifter being around one another?"

  "I trust Molly," Nain said, his voice flat. "I know she loves me. I know she's mine."

  "You didn't say you trust the shifter," Heph pointed out.

  "I do. But I also know what it's like to love her and lose her. She sticks in your soul, makes it so nothing ever feels right again without her."

  "Fuckin' sap."

  "Dickhead."

  Heph laughed, and Nain shook his head.

  "Well, fun as this has been, I have plans. Bye now," Heph said, getting up and turning the overhead lights off.

  "Meghan's still at work," Nain said.

  "I know. I'm picking her up later and then I'm showing her the stars."

  "I do not want to hear about your love life," Nain muttered as he headed down the driveway.

  "Say hi to queenie for me," Heph called after him, and Nain gave him a wave before he climbed into his big black pickup truck.

  It still needed a tune up, and the way the engine groaned set Heph's teeth on edge.

  Nain and his truck and his marital issues were almost immediately forgotten once Heph went inside to start preparing for his night out with Meghan. The demon hadn't been lying; they'd been spending a lot of time together. He'd seen her at least a few times each week in the month or so since she'd started working for Molly, since that day they'd kissed in her garden.

  Gods, the woman could kiss.

  They'd both, in their own ways, put the brakes on a bit. There were still kisses, caresses. He couldn't touch her enough, and she seemed to crave it as much as he did. He saw, more often than he'd like, a reticence in her gaze, the sense that she didn't quite trust their time together. And, when he was honest, he knew he didn't, either. Not really. Not when she deserved so much better than a several thousand year old (he wasn't even sure how old he was anymore, he was that fuckin' old) outcast immortal with a gimpy leg and a jumbled mind.

  He headed out the back door and opened the garage. He looked at the two vehicles in there, both of which he'd restored himself, years ago. The first was a 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500, which he'd found in a scrapyard in Pittsburgh sometime in the 1970s. He'd had it everywhere with him: Pittsburgh, Berlin, the Aether, Cleveland, and, finally, Detroit. He'd lovingly restored every inch of it, from the headlights to the engine to its jet black paint job. He shifted his gaze to the other one. The one she had eyed with more than a little interest when he'd shown it to her: his 1934 Indian Chief motorcycle. Gunmetal gray, restored lovingly with his own two hands and hours upon hours of happy work during a time when he wanted to be anywhere but in the Aether among his own kind.

  She'd appreciate it, he knew. And the prospect of her holding onto him as he drove wasn't exactly a downer, either. He pulled the bike out, locked up the garage, and roared off down his empty street. As he drove through the city toward her house, he relished the scent of exhaust, the cool October air. They'd have a frost soon, he realized. He mourned Meghan's garden with all of its blooms. How could she stand it when it was all covered in snow? He wondered. He'd watched her work there during several lazy afternoons at her house. That garden was her solace, her own little heaven, the same way his workshop was for him.

  The woman needed a greenhouse, he decided. He'd maker her one.

  Then he shook his head. That was being presumptuous and overly hopeful on his part, even assuming they'd still want to be around one another once winter came. He drove the rest of the way to her house in broody silence, wishing he could just be normal with her. He'd never had to woo Aphrodite; theirs had been an arranged marriage, which was a dumbass idea in the first place. It was clear from the start that she wanted Ares; or just about anyone else, for that matter. He didn't know how to do this. It wasn't like a machine he could take apart and put back together again, or a bit of silver or gold he could transform into something that had previously only existed in his mind.

  He wished at times like this he could be as confident as Nain or even Brennan's cheating ass when it came to women. The only one more awkward in his relationship was Hades, and that was because he had no idea how to handle life with a Fury. Heph smirked as he turned onto Meghan's street. It was amusing to watch the Lord of the Nether fumble, for once.

  When he pulled into Meghan's driveway, he felt his stomach twist, just as it did every time he was near her. He took a breath and climbed off of the bike, glanced at the front door just as Meghan opened it.

  Oh, holy Gaia.

  She was dressed comfortably, as he was. Jeans that fit her curves in a way that had him on the verge of drooling. A soft gray sweater that flowed over her body like a caress. Her long mahogany hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and, when her gaze met his, she gave him that small, shy smile that never failed to set his heart pounding.

  She approached, pulling on a dark wool jacket as she did, and all he could do was stare.

  Okay. Maybe he was a bit of a sap as well.

  "It's about time you're going to let me ride it," she said, and Heph choked, and turned away, almost ashamed of the places his mind had gone with her words. When he turned back to her, she was blushing, but laughing as well.

  "Dirty old man," she murmured with a smile, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

  "Do I still get a kiss?" he asked.

  "Do you even need to ask?" she asked softly, putting her arms around him. He lowered his lips to hers, and the second he tasted her, felt her warm lips meet his, he completely lost the ability to think.

  This. He'd never, in his entire existence, had anything like this. This warmth, this sweetness. He'd had women before Aphrodite, of course. Many, many women. His offspring littered the mortal realm. He had no idea how many, what their names had been.

  In some ways, he was very much his father's son, and it sickened him. Life with Aphrodite had taught him a thing or two. Mostly, it had taught him that he was really better off when he kept to himself, and so was just about everyone else. Until Molly had shown up in the Nether, set everyone's world upside down, and sent his life on the path toward Meghan.

  He'd never experienced anything like what he felt with her. And he knew he was clumsy and awkward. Out of practice. It just didn't seem to matter. Her lips were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, warm, giving. Sometimes, it was a soft whisper, a caress, the merest touching of her luscious mouth to his. And other times, like this moment, she kissed him hungrily, greedily, sucking and nibbling his lower lip as he kissed her
. As her fingers twisted in his hair, bringing him closer, as she kissed him deeper, he pulled her warm body closer to his, and she let out a tiny moan that heated his entire body.

  He made himself pull back from her, lingering, fluttering soft kisses over the corners of her mouth. He straightened, still holding her close to him, the need to touch her, to hold her overwhelming all his senses.

  And the way she was looking up at him... that dazed, desirous look in her eyes, the way her lips curved up in a half-smile as she studied him... it was enough to nearly make him forget himself.

  "I'll have to remember to bring the bike more often," he said, and she laughed.

  "So we're going star-gazing. Where?" she asked, running her hands up and down his upper arms.

  "There's a really nice place on the shores of Lake Michigan," he said.

  She looked at him questioningly. "That's a really long ride from here, Hephaestus," she said.

  He smiled. "Well. We'll rematerialize most of the way, and then ride the bike for the scenic part of our trip."

  "Always thinking," she said, and he nodded.

  "Ready? He asked, and she nodded, holding him closer. He knew she wasn't fond of traveling this way, and neither was he, really, but when you had an ability like that at hand, why not use it? He dreamed of zipping her to Paris, London, Istanbul, anywhere in the world she wanted to go. Someday.

  Heph put one hand on the bike, focused on the road he wanted them to appear on. He focused on a particular treed area, where they could appear without anyone seeing, and he let his power grow. He felt Meghan tremble, just a little, in his arms, and he held her tighter.

  Within moments, they were standing in a wooded area. The air around them was different, cleaner; the sky above was clear and vibrant blue. He glanced down at Meghan to see her looking around.

  "I hate the way that feels, but you can't deny its convenience," she said, and he nodded, bent and claimed her lips for just a moment. And she kissed him back, happily.

  That was something he couldn't get used to. This fact that she welcomed his kisses, his touch, and had never once shoved him away. The fact that, just as often, she was the one reaching out for him, touching his hand, his arm, for no reason other than the fact that she could.

  He stepped back, forcing himself to, reminding himself they were here for a reason. He dug into the bag and pulled a helmet out for her.

  "What else is in there?" Meghan asked as she put the helmet on.

  "Blanket, food, a thermos of tea."

  "You think of everything," she said.

  You have no idea, he thought to himself. He watched as she swung her leg over the seat, climbing onto the back of the bike.

  Oh, gods.

  He forced himself to stop staring, climbed on as well. The second he was on, her arms were around his waist, her warm body pressing into his back.

  "Is this okay?" she asked.

  He grinned. "Better than okay." He started the bike, and they pulled onto the highway. The early evening was quiet, and, very soon, the waters of Lake Michigan sparkled to their left. Meghan shifted her hold on him, one arm around his waist, gripping the front of his shirt just a little, the other resting on his upper thigh.

  Within moments, every single part of his body was aching for her. He took a deep breath. It was going to be a long ride.

  Meghan sat, hands on Hephaestus' body, admiring the hard feel of his muscles beneath her fingertips. The bike rumbling beneath her was enough to drive her insane.

  He was so careful with her. So controlled. She sighed and looked at his back, studying the strong line of his shoulders, his dark hair. She knew, from staring at him almost relentlessly since they'd been seeing one another, that he likely had that focused, intent look on his face, his dark eyes taking in everything around them. She rested her hand on his thigh, smiled a little when she felt his breath hitch at the touch.

  She loved this about him. That he was careful, that he cared about her enough to not push, despite the fact that it was more than obvious that he wanted her. She loved that her touch affected him, always.

  They'd been almost chaste with one another. Kisses (oh, the kisses....) and embraces. She wondered when his patience would run out.

  She had a feeling that, once let loose, Hephaestus' passion would be an inferno. Evidence was there, every single time he kissed her, every time he looked at her with those dark eyes, as if he could devour her in a heartbeat. The strength in those strong, calloused hands, in his huge, muscled body.

  And Meghan wanted it. And if she thought for an instant that she was truly good enough for Hephaestus, she would have happily given herself to him already.

  If she didn't have the freaking goddess of love herself to try to live up to. Meghan grimaced.

  They rode for a while longer, then Hephaestus pulled the bike down a quiet road that led right to the waterfront. There was a cabin, a wooden porch swing, a dock went out several feet into the lake.

  "This is beautiful," Meghan said, getting off of the bike and pulling her helmet off, grateful for the cool air blowing through her hair. "Whose is it?"

  "The demon has a few places like this throughout the state," Hephaestus answered. "He never goes to them, according to just about everyone, but he has them. Molly told me about this place and I figured it would be perfect for trying to get a good view of the Northern lights," he finished.

  Hephaestus started pulling things out of the bags, and Meghan took a blanket from him. "Why does he have places he never goes to?"

  Hephaestus shrugged. "Molly says he bought places like this over the years during times when he considered getting out of the business, retiring and becoming a hermit. He never actually went through with it. I don't think he ever will. Not unless Molly wants to."

  "I kind of doubt that would ever happen, then," Meghan said, following Heph as he headed toward the beach.

  "I think you're right," he agreed. They spread out the blanket, and Meghan looked around. The sun had just started to set, last light of day glimmering off of the water. Crickets chirped all around them, the birds heralded the end of yet another day. She could feel so much life, she felt full to bursting with it, nearly breathless. She'd thought she was in touch with Earth in her garden, on her little (now gone) farm. This... this was Nature at its fullest, and she was nearly dizzy with it.

  She opened her eyes to see Hephaestus watching her. "You look like you're having a religious experience or something, love," he said softly.

  She smiled. "I kind of am. I had no idea... everything's so alive," she said. "That sounds crazy, huh?"

  He sat down on the blanket, took her hand as she sat beside him. "Not at all. Remember, I've known Demeter and Persephone for most of my existence. You should hear the two of them prattle on about nature this, and Gaia that," he said, and she laughed, then shook her head.

  "You seem so normal, and then you say something like that and it reminds me of what you are. I can't quite wrap my mind around it," she said.

  Hephaestus was unpacking the other bag he'd brought with him. He'd already set out a large thermos (her tea — she was more than looking forward to that!) and was in the process of pulling more containers out. She'd already noticed cheese, crackers, and fruit. "I don't think anyone would consider me 'normal' in any measure," he said. "You've been to my house."

  She laughed. "Yeah, but I like your house. It makes my house look less crazy." She couldn't stop smiling, giddy from the Earth magic flowing through her, giddy from being in this beautiful place with the one person who'd made her feel more alive than she'd ever felt in her life.

  "It's a good thing I didn't bring wine instead of tea. You'd be impossible to bring down to Earth, I think," Hephaestus said with a laugh.

  "I feel drunk," she agreed. "This is so crazy."

  He walked around, gathering branches from the wooded area behind the cabin, urging her to sit and enjoy her tea when she started getting up to help him. She settled back down and watched him. That limp.
It was obvious he'd had it for a long time, and the occasional wince indicated that it bothered him. She wondered how that worked, with a god. Why didn't it heal? Why did he have to live this way.

  She'd put off asking him because it seemed rude, but when he sat down with a grimace, she set her tea down.

  "Stretch your leg out," she said.

  He watched her. "Why?"

  "Just do it. Please," she said, and he did, eyes still on her face.

  She lowered her hands to his thigh, started gently, then more firmly massaging the hard muscles there. "Does your thigh bother you, or your knee, or... what hurts?" she asked, focusing.

  "All of the above," he said after a moment.

  Meghan nodded and continued massaging his leg, working in small, firm circles from his upper thigh, down toward his knee. He was so warm to the touch. "Can I ask you something?" she asked after a while, moving down to his calf.

  "You can ask me anything you want," he said, and she glanced up at him when she heard the roughness in his voice. She glanced up at him, found him watching her intently, his entire body tense.

  "Is this bothering you?" she asked.

  "Opposite of bother, love," he said, and she smiled. "What did you want to ask?"

  "How did this happen? And why won't it stop hurting you? That seems ridiculously unfair."

  He was silent, and she thought he might not answer.

  "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she said softly.

  He shook his head a little. "No, I do. I want you to know me. I just want to figure out how to say it in a way that doesn't sound like I'm whining or pitying myself, because I'm not."