Page 25 of Art of the Hunt
Great. Instead of coming back as a lovely birch tree or a companionable dog, Orion returned to her in the form of a far too handsome police detective from Chicago.
Where was the fairness? The pain she’d felt after his death, the ache she could still feel, two thousand years later—it had nearly broken her, and she had zero desire to relive that. In fact, her grief over losing Orion was exactly why she kept all relationships with men purely physical.
Because, if her companion died, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d survive another heartache, eternal being or no. It had taken her so long to find her balance again after Orion’s death, and now he was possibly reincarnated as the detective who she’d decided was the perfect partner in her quest to continue to save humanity behind Zeus’s back?
She wanted to stomp her foot like a toddler who wasn’t getting her way.
Shedidstomp her foot. Because sometimes, that’s what one needed to get their emotions under control.
And then she patted her face dry, mentally cataloging the various outfits that might be appropriate for a drink with a man she shouldn’t have a drink with because even after two thousand years, she was not ready to deal with the possibility that Orion had come back to her.
She settled on a pink, floral sundress with a V-neck, cap sleeves, and a flouncy skirt. With a wave of her fingers, her silver hair was pulled from the braid she usually kept it in and draped in a wave down her back, and her face was bright, sun-kissed, her lips glossy.
She, too, cleaned up nicely.
With a smile, she headed out to greet Hunter.
He stared at her, his eyes going wide, his jaw dropping to his chest.
Apparently, shereallycleaned up nicely.
“Ready?” she asked when he didn’t move, didn’t blink, and she wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
He shook his head, like he was breaking out of a trance. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go. It’s been a long time since I’ve needed a drink this badly.”
“Is that good or bad?” They stepped into the elevator again, and she gave him an imploring look.
He rolled his eyes. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
“What the hell is happening here?”
The elevator slowed and pinged; the doors opened and three young women, all decked out similarly to Artemis, stepped into the box with them.
They eyed Artemis’s dress first, then all three zoned in on Hunter, and Artemis cursed herself for the surge of jealousy that bubbled up like hot lava.
She had no claim on this man. She didn’t want a claim, even if he was Orion incarnated.
Especially if he was Orion.
Hunter did nothing for the entire ride to the main lobby. He didn’t even smile at the young women. When the doors spread, one of them tossed him a contemptuous look, and they all three tottered away on spindly high heels.
“Lost chance there,” Artemis noted as she and Hunter walked through the lobby at a much more sedate pace.
“First of all, they’re at least fifteen years younger than me. And second, they were making you supremely uncomfortable. Why’s that?”
“So you like older women?” She did not need to know this.
“So you like avoiding my questions?”
“What are you talking about?” Artemis sputtered as they stepped out onto the sidewalk and turned right.
“You were as tense as that bow you somehow manage to produce whenever it’s convenient, even though there’s never anywhere on your person you could be hiding it.”
“I was waiting for them to hit on you, except you were giving offunapproachablevibes more succinctly than anyone in my three-thousand-year experience.”
He shook his head. “Not my type.”
