Destiny for Dionysos (Olympians Ascending, #3) Read online

  He rolls his eyes. “Can you at least pretend you’re curious?”

  “I’m curious,” I say. Worried is a better word.

  His grin stretches wider, lighting up his eyes. “I found you a new barmaid.”

  No. He doesn’t mean Moira. He can’t mean her. Someone else came, applied, was hired, and left in the time I spent in the back with Sei and Irine.

  It would make as much sense as Ares’ hiring a woman he talked to for all of thirty seconds. To work in my bar.

  Moira nods vigorously.

  I should keep my gaze on her face, but it slides down, to the long legs peeking beneath my bulky hoodie. Her skin glows with health and the remnants of a tan, and her high cheekbones accentuate the most gorgeous smile. Chaos, those lips can drive a man insane. And her eyes... Hazel eyes are so common, but the specs of light amber in her irises make them seem luminescent.

  A man could fall in love with those eyes.

  Fuck.

  “I promise to be so good, you won’t be able to make it a day without me,” she says.

  Did I groan out loud?

  “Say something.” Sei’s voice is in my head.

  “Who... Why... You don’t get a say on who works here.” I force a glare on Ares, trying to ignore Moira’s crestfallen expression.

  The asshole is cool as a cucumber. He gives the most bored little shrug. “You’ve been bitching at me since Argyro quit. I fixed it. Now get me a beer.”

  I wanna throw one, straight at his useless head. He won’t see it coming, since I’m not an enemy. That loophole always works for Hephaestus.

  “I can do it.” There’s a hint of pleading in Moira’s voice. “And I need the job. My boss just fired me because I wouldn’t... Because I said no.”

  Anger, raw and potent and blinding, expands in my chest, blocking out my breath. “Did he force himself on you?” I barely recognize the growl that crawls up my throat. I despise any sort of violence against women. This has nothing to do with who Moira is to me.

  Ares’ mouth drops open. He’s used to mellow-Denny. Everyone is. One more reason not to ascend. They don’t understand what I’ll be capable of, once I do. What I did before. They’ve read the stories, but I know the truth. I’m the one with the nightmares.

  “He tried. I kneed him in the balls.” Moira sounds casual, like getting sexually assaulted by her boss was no big deal.

  I hear the tremble in her voice, though, and I want to rip that guy’s spine out.

  She doesn’t let me linger on the subject. “Do I get the job?” she asks.

  “I should interview you too.” I should flat out turn her down, but she needs to finish her drink anyway. And maybe to feel warm and comfortable and safe.

  “Can you dry her stuff?” I ask in Sei’s head.

  “Easy,” he replies the same way. A heartbeat later, he sends me, “Done.” He sounds smug, and why wouldn’t he be? He didn’t even have to move, to suck the water out of her clothes and shoes.

  “We’re done.” Hades’ voice makes me snap my head toward the front door.

  The delivery guy looks at Moira. “Need a ride, hon?”

  He seems nice and friendly, but I’m not sending her off with a stranger. “She’s staying a little longer,” I say before she can answer.

  The guy bids us goodnight and leaves.

  Hades and Hephaestus watch me from beside a neat stack of crates.

  I stare back until they drop their gazes and start moving the boxes to the kitchen.

  Sei says, “We should go.”

  I throw a glance over my shoulder, to see Irine smirking, her arm looped through his. “Yeah. You need some peace and quiet, to interview Moira.” She bats her eyelashes at me.

  “I... You know me?” Moira asks.

  Can’t they all stand on one side of the room? If I keep whipping my head around, I’ll sprain my neck.

  “I told them your name.” Ares pushes from the bar. “That’s Irine, by the way. Big lug beside her is Sei, and of course, this is your new boss. Dionysos.”

  “Denny,” I correct instinctively.

  “I like Dionysos better.” Moira hops from the stool and comes closer, hand raised.

  I clasp it, and her palm disappears in mine. Her grip is firm, but her hand is frozen. “We need to get you warmed up,” I say, breaking contact. Wouldn’t do, to touch her for too long, and I don’t know how long too long is, when it comes to my soulmate.

  “That’s the spirit.” Irine shoulders past me and shakes Moira’s hand too. “Welcome aboard.”

  Sei follows, and then Hades and Hephaestus, who’ve left most of the crates by the door. They’re all super friendly with her. Not that they’re usually ogres—okay, maybe they are—but this is extra friendly. Sei must have let them in on who she is.

  Which would explain why they all scurry out the door, leaving us alone.

  Neat. Not.

  “I’ll make a fire.” I point to the fireplace in the corner, normally unused till at least mid-December. “Come tell me a little bit about yourself, while we thaw you out.”

  “I do feel like frozen goods.” Her laugh is... bright. The sound of sunbeams, bouncing off the still surface of a lake.

  Dude, am I coming down with a bout of synesthesia or something?

  She sits by the fireplace, and I build a decent fire, before sinking into an armchair across the table from her. I need the barrier, because my fingers are itching to touch her, and my touch comes with a side-effect that would make this situation even more fucked up.

  Before his ascend, Sei could sway people’s minds. Before Hermes bonded with Joy, he had enhanced senses and a super-speed I envied. My pre-ascension power is bringing down blockages to someone’s innermost wishes—wishes they might normally never act upon. I touch a woman, and her hang-ups dissolve. I can’t use my power to make someone desire me. Wouldn’t, even if I could. But if they already do, and I caress their knuckles a couple times, their inhibitions melt away.

  You could say I have a knack for unveiling desires. And if I unwittingly unveil Moira’s desire for me, resisting her will be near impossible.

  The precaution is probably not necessary. She just escaped a creep who wanted to leverage his status to coerce her into sleeping with him. She’s not thinking sex.

  I steeple my fingers and ask, “What did you do before?”

  She grimaces. “My last job was with an advertising agency. I was Key Accounts Manager.”

  I did not see that coming. “Why would you wanna go from that to tending bar?”

  She licks her lips, and I zoom in on the tip of her tongue. It looks like a strawberry, red and juicy and begging for me to taste it.

  No creeping out on the hot soulmate.

  “I won’t lie to you; I don’t see me sticking around for more than a year. But I do need that year to clear my head and plan my next steps. And I’m not going to up and leave without notice. If I find something else, I’ll give you ample time to find my replacement, and I’ll train them myself.”

  Not even hired yet, and she’s planning to leave. Which shouldn’t bother me. Shouldn’t make my jaw tighten and my shoulders bunch up.

  “Petros”—she clears her throat—“the asshole, who... Anyway, he said he’ll make sure I never work in advertising again. In a year, nobody will remember he blacklisted me. I hope.” There’s that dazzling smile again. I bet she tastes like the sun, too.

  Snap out of it. I pinch my inner thigh, to keep my dick from getting any harder. Doesn’t work. Pain can be delicious. Especially when I dole it out with my palm, on round, supple flesh.

  Fuck.

  “And you have bartending experience?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  She leans closer, elbows on the table and cheeks in her palms. “Ares said to tell you I do, but honestly, I’ve done it at parties, during college. I have a great palate for making original cocktails—which I know you don’t do here—and I know all the classics. You can try me, if you want.”

  B
et she doesn’t mean try bending her over the table and palming her asscheeks. “Nah, that’s okay.” And I sound almost nonchalant.

  Maybe I should hire her. I’ve always kept my hands off my staff, after all. And I’ll know where she is at all times. I’ll get used to her charm, and it’ll be easier not to think of her as a potential bedmate. Makes sense, right?

  Right?

  Chapter Three - Moira

  Dionysos is hawt. Like, panty-meltingly so.

  The whole family is gorgeous, weird-ass names and all, but the rest of them don’t have the smoldering eyes or the wicked smirk.

  And I’m not thinking of those things. Fate has smiled at me by practically tossing a job at my feet on the day I got fired. I’m not gonna mess up the opportunity. If Dionysos pays as well as Ares said, I can afford to rent a small studio in the area.

  I shift closer to the fire, so it warms my feet.

  “Do you live nearby?” Dionysos asks.

  “Yes.” The lie is out of my lips before I realize it. Why don’t I want this stunning man to know I’m out of a home as well as out of a job? Because I don’t want him pitying me? Maybe because his growl before made my pussy clench with need, and if he lets out that sound again, I’ll forget how much I need this job, and crawl over the table to him. Or perhaps under it.

  “Good. Shifts are seven in the evening to 3 am. We usually start cleaning up at two, so you don’t need to stay overtime. We do get lingerers, but I take care of those. We don’t open Mondays, and you get one more day off. Argyro—your predecessor—used to take Tuesdays, which would save me the trouble of redoing the schedule, but if you’re set on a different day—”

  “Tuesdays are fine,” I say.

  He rolls his eyes. “Will you let me finish my hiring speech?”

  “Oh. This is your hiring speech?” No celebrating till he confirms it.

  “It is.”

  I beam at him. “Does this mean I’m hired?”

  “Duh. Bring your ID, proof of past employment, your social-security number, and a copy of the first page of your bankbook tomorrow, to make things official. Technically, I should also have your resume and references on record, but I won’t need those since you haven’t tended bar professionally.”

  “This was the shortest interview ever.” And I didn’t double-check what Ares said about the money, damn it.

  “Shorter than the one with Ares?” Dionysos asks.

  I scrunch my nose. Pretend to consider it. “Second shortest.”

  “Good. I usually close up. If you do stay late, you get paid overtime. I don’t skimp on these things. Your tips are your tips, and you need to come in one Monday every couple months for a few hours, to help with inventory.” He nods, more to himself than me. “I think that’s all. Any questions?”

  “Umm... my salary?”

  “Right.” He rubs his face. “How’s a thousand a month?”

  “Is that in my pocket or including social-security charges and stuff?”

  “In your pocket.”

  Well, that’s a couple hundred more than I made before.

  He tilts his head, and his brown curls clear the corded muscle of his neck. He’s freaking ripped. “What do you say?” he asks.

  “When do I start?”

  He sits back, pecks bulging as he crosses his arms. “Actually, can you come in tomorrow? It’s a one-time thing; I don’t plan on stealing your day off on a regular basis. You’ll get paid for overtime, you can help Phaedra—since Nancy called in sick—and you’ll train on the job, on a slow day.”

  “Sure thing.”

  He’s watching me. Why is he watching me? Should I get up and leave, since we’re done? My shoes are almost dry, finally. Only my shoes. “Shit. I should have brought my clothes near the fire. They’ll never dry in—”

  He covers my hand with his, but withdraws it like he was stung. “It’s okay. Irine turned on the dehumidifier before she left.”

  “When? I didn’t see her going into the staff bathroom.”

  He gives me a slow blink. “It’s—uh—remotely controlled.” Is he lying?

  I’m suddenly intensely aware I’m alone in a darkened bar with a stunning yet huge stranger.

  I don’t feel threatened. Should I? I tilt my head and study Dionysos as he sits back in his chair. He seems utterly relaxed. Is this murdery-relaxed, though, or happy-go-lucky bar-owner relaxed?

  He pulls his hair back from his face and secures it in a knot at the top of his head with a black band he slips off his wrist. “Come.” He unfolds his so very tall and impossibly wide frame from the chair, and wiggles his fingers at me. “Lemme show you around, and then we’ll check on your clothes and close up.”

  I’m tempted to take his hand. Experience another shot of the rush that sped up my arm when we shook hands. But holding hands with my new boss can only lead to badness.

  Or so much goodness.

  Nope. None of that. I just quit a job—or was fired—because I wouldn’t sleep with my boss. Not gonna drool over this random, panty-meltingly hot stranger.

  The fire is nice, and I’m in no rush to get away from its warmth, so I reluctantly stand and stretch. The hem of my borrowed hoodie tickles, as it glides up my thighs. Shit. I forgot what I’m wearing. I shove my fists in my pockets and drive the material back down. Hope I didn’t flash him.

  My cheeks burn. Need a distraction. “What’s back there?” I tilt my head toward the door he disappeared behind earlier.

  Deep, slow breaths. He didn’t see anything. The table was between us.

  And I’m imagining the ribbon of silver swimming in his eyes. Must be a reflection of the light. The light that’s warm and yellow and nowhere near silver.

  “Oh, that’s the back room.” His voice drops an octave, and his tone turns suggestive. Or I’m imagining things.

  “Is that where you stuff things out of sight?”

  Dionysos bites his lips and hangs his head, to look at me through lowered lashes. He’s about to say something naughty. I see it in the quirk of his lips, before they settle in a tight line. Is it me, or is he avoiding my gaze? He rubs his neck with one hand, looking at his boots, then shuffles his feet across the room and opens the door. “It’s more a spare bedroom, instead of a storage space. In case one of the girls is too tired to drive home at the end of the shift.”

  That’s not the whole truth, though. His eyes say there’s more to the story. I take in the room. A cot, a mini-bar, a sink, an electric radiator, a wall-mounted TV, and a small desk with a sturdy-looking chair. “You never crash here?”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t need to. My place is right upstairs.” His eyes widen comically. “Never tell any of the patrons that.”

  “Why? Are you afraid one of them might stalk you?”

  He doesn’t answer, but his half-shrug says it’s not out of the question. In the small space, his cologne permeates the air. It’s not one I’ve smelled before. Woodsy, with a hint of... grape? Fuck, does he smell like wine?

  Would explain why I crave his taste.

  Has he sampled his wares more than he should have? That would make me alone in a darkened bar with a stunning yet huge, drunk stranger.

  “I should be going,” I say.

  “Let me check if the rain stopped.” He exits the room ahead of me and strides to the front door. The sound of water pelleting the glass reaches my ears as soon as he cracks open the door. Soundproofing in here kicks ass. Yet another reason I should be leaving—nobody can hear me scream. But how can I go, in this weather? My car is at the Halandri metro station, and the bus schedule is not reliable even when the weather is nice.

  I’m not sure what I’ll find when I get to my apartment, anyway. Meh, it’s not my apartment any more. Petros may have already been by and tossed my stuff out on the street. He may still be there. I shudder. I don’t want to deal with him alone.

  Moving out won’t be much trouble; the furniture came with the apartment. I can pack my whole life here in three suitcase
s. Four tops. And then what? Move back in with my aunt and uncle? They’re a far cry from the Dursleys, but they weren’t exactly happy to be putting me up for the six months I was in Athens before I found a job and a place of my own. Can’t blame them. Their youngest just left for college, when Mom shipped me to them. They didn’t get any time to enjoy their empty nest. I can imagine their faces when I show up with my luggage. Again.

  “You can’t leave.” Dionysos shuts the door on the rumble outside. “Not until the rain at least slows down.” He bites his bottom lip. “Guess I could call Sei.”

  I wave him off. “I don’t need a ride. I’ll call a taxi. I have money.” In my soaked shoulder bag. Shit shit shit. I didn’t check if any water got in.

  “What?” He meets my gaze. “Oh, I didn’t mean... Never mind. Listen, if you can wait for the grill to heat up, I’ll make us two of the juiciest burgers you’ve ever had. We’ll wait out the rain, and then I’ll call you a cab.”

  A burger sounds good. I haven’t eaten since this morning. But I was supposed to be leaving.

  He reaches for my arm, but drops his hand before he makes contact. “What happened with your old boss... It’s not going to happen here. Ever. I’d never lay a hand on someone who doesn’t want me, and I’d especially not make a pass on someone who works for me. I really do only want to feed you.”

  I should be relieved, not sad, that he won’t hit on me. What’s the matter with me? I was sexually harassed less than an hour ago. Shouldn’t I feel worse? Shouldn’t my sexual appetite be subdued, if nothing else? I remember reading somewhere that everyone reacts differently to trauma. Or maybe I’m not traumatized. I didn’t feel threatened by Petros, even when he was throwing actual threats my way. I felt indignant. How dared he treat me that way?

  Then again, I am fortunate enough to have a fallback scenario. If all else fails, I can move back to Halkida. My parents are well off. I won’t starve; I’ll just eat humble pie. If my livelihood really depended on my job with Marinos Advertising, if I couldn’t afford to knee Petros in the groin and walk away... If he were strong, and not a shrimp of a man with an overinflated ego...

  A shudder skips down my spine.