Page 51 of Art of the Hunt
“Yes.”
She canted her head. “Why do you need proof?”
His eyes narrowed. “You keep insisting that you’re a god. And in my world, in my entire existence, I have always believed that you—they, whatever —was a myth. Not real. But the problem is, too many things don’t add up. And I can’t stand it when I can’t solve a problem. I’ve tried and tried to explain away everything, but I can’t anymore.”
“If you can’t explain it, why do you need proof? Humans believe in that one”—she pointed at the ceiling— “without proof.”
“For every one of us who believes without question, there are just as many whodoquestion their belief. I don’t want there to be any doubt in this case.None.”
“We aren’t talking about magic now, are we?”
He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “We are absolutely talking about magic.”
No, we aren’t. She opened her mouth, prepared to argue further, although in truth, she ought to be trying to figure out how to convince Hunter that when she’d slept with him, it had been entirely him. She had been all in. Orion hadn’t crossed her mind, not after it had occurred to her that Hunter wasn’t him. She’d closed that chapter and happily opened a new one. All she’d been able to do was focus on the intense connection between her and Hunter, the amazing pleasure she was receiving—and giving.
And as soon as it was over, she’d wanted to do it again. She practically craved the man at this point.
Oh shit. She was in lo—
“Sister,” a voice boomed across the wide expanse of the bar.
Artemis winced. Crap. Could her intensely broody brother have picked a less perfect time to show up?
The answer was no.
A beefy hand landed on Hunter’s shoulder, and Artemis winced again when it squeezed. Hunter, to his credit, did not flinch. Did not move. He just stared at Artemis, no doubt trying to carry on this conversation despite Apollo’s rather inconveniently timed intrusion.
“Apollo,” she said, a note of warning in her voice.
He finally released Hunter’s shoulder and waved at the bartender before grabbing a chair from another table and flipping it around so he could straddle it.
“Who are you?” he asked, his gaze dragging up and down Hunter’s person.
“Hunter James.” He cleared his throat and thrust out his hand to shake. Apollo glared at it for a long moment before Hunter dropped it to his thigh.
Euryale strutted over with a trayful of shots. More tequila. She lined up six tiny glasses in the middle of the table. Hunter snagged one before she’d even finished placing the last one on the wooden surface.
Artemis suspected he was nervous. Smart man. With humans in the bar, at least there was only a slim chance of Apollo summoning a giant scorpion to destroy him.
Unfortunately, there were plenty of other ways Apollo could scare him off.
“Next time,” Hunter said, “order us a round of beers. Apparently, I can now drink as much as I want without any adverse effects.”
Apollo’s head whipped up, his golden eyes staring at Artemis. “What is this man saying, sister?”
Shit.“Maybe we should—” She started to suggest they change the subject, but Hunter was on a roll.
“It’s true, right? I can drink and eat whatever I want and it won’t affect me. No heart attack, no flab, no type two diabetes.”
“You’ll still get a hangover if you drink too much,” Artemis clarified.
“You gave him immortality?” Apollo shouted, causing most of the patrons of the bar to glance their way. All but the college boys over by the pool tables. As far as they were concerned, nothing else in the world existed but Nike and the succubi.
“I can explain,” Artemis said, although why she needed to explain anything to her twin brother was beyond her. Technically, she’d been born first. She shouldn’t have to justify anything to heryoungerbrother.
Except that brother had only her best interests at heart, even if his means of ensuring no harm came to her were convoluted.
“I was dying,” Hunter spoke up. “She saved my life. Again. I think that was the third time, wasn’t it?”
