Page 80 of Javier

“She told me the Greeks called Artemis ‘the virgin huntress.’”

Her face flushed into a deep crimson, and the lines of her jaw hardened. It’d taken some doing, but I’d succeeded at making her mad. Mad was the goal. The beginning of the end. Why, then, did I feel so damn wretched?

“Question for you.” If there was any warmth left in her darkening eyes, it now disappeared. “Since when is Muscled Peter Pan interested in Greek mythology?”

“Since I learned about you,” I bit back, ignoring her jab and feeling very much like Peter Pan about to eject sweet Wendy from Never-Never Land. “And, guess what?”

“What?”

“The full moon is about to rise,” I said. “Artemis is on the hunt.”

“Wow.” She glanced at me, looked away, then blinked as if her eyes burned. When she next managed speech, the fiery corona glittered around her pupil like a sun flare. “You’re talented. I think you just judged and insulted me at the same time.”

“It’s an objective observation.” I shrugged. “You’re certainly geared up for the job.”

“You prick.” The lines of her face hardened. “You just called me a slut.”

The full force of her outrage punched me in the chest. Gone was sweet Missy. In her place stood someone I didn’t know. And she was mad as a hornet.

My survival instincts kicked in. I suddenly felt like a drowning man. My chest. I couldn’t breathe right. I couldn’t stand her contempt, didn’t want her to hate me, and despite mydeliberate attempt to cut the cord, I couldn’t bear the thought that I was causing her pain or murdering the kindness in her.

I began to do some serious backstroking. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did.” Her face reflected the fiery colors of the sunset as she glowered at me. “You’re a first-class asshole. Your double standards are a load of crap.”

“Excuse me?” I stammered as if she’d kicked me in the balls.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” she spat, her voice as hard and precise as a honed blade. “Women stick to you like leeches wherever you go. And you love it. You fucking enjoy the attention.”

“Missy, language, please.” I channeled Sister Elsa, mostly because hearing profanity from her was as shocking as a slap to the face. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Well, fuck that,” she ground out. “Like it or not, this is the new me. Why should you hoard the rights to profanity, fun, and sex?”

“I don’t—”

“Because I’m a girl, right?” Her scathing glare should’ve singed the skin off my flesh. “Because I’m Mousy Missy, Prissy Missy, Baby Missy, Missing Missy, all that fuckery that showed up in your so-called profile.”

“The profile didn’t—”

“Fuck the profile,” she snapped. “According to it, I should be shy, quiet, agreeable, and demure at all times, just like my father would’ve wanted. Meanwhile, you get to be in control of everything and fuck whoever you want.”

“I—”

“Shut up,” she barked. “You’ve been fucking that broad with the big tits since the first day we got here. You’re the official slut around here. And you know what? I don’t care. In fact, Iaspireto the title.”

“What? No!” Where the hell had the Missy Astor I knew gone? “Angel, you’re not meat market material.”

“I’m no different from any other woman who chooses to be sexual however the hell she wants.” She straightened to her full height and jammed a hand in the air. “I’m tired of everyone thinking of me like a young girl or a chaste novice. I’m a full-grown, adult woman, and like you, I can fuck whoever the hell I want whenever I want.”

“Okay,” I said, attempting an emergency backstroke. “Simmer down, lady.”

She huffed like a wild bull in the ring. “You don’t get to tell me to simmer down.”

Fury twisted her face into a scowl that made me cringe. I’d gone at this all wrong and now things had gotten out of hand. To make matters worse, I didn’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t clarify what this was about.

“Angel, I—”

She bit out, “Don’t call me that!”

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