Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Chapter 2
Zeus
There are several things in life that I've always known for certain.
I would pay taxes.
I would live every day of my life trying to contribute to the type of society that everyone deserves.
I would die before that society ever comes into existence.
I would never set eyes on Zayne Harmond before I left this world for whatever afterlife exists.
When I say that my entire world has just been turned upside down in a way I never fathomed would happen, I don't do it in jest or overexaggeration.
He's a phantom from a past life I've spent more time than I'd like to admit trying to forget, despite the fact that there's always the hint of a shadow in the back of my mind where I've tried to keep him trapped for the last fifteen years.
The shift in the room the second he opened the front door was immediate, and my reaction to the sight of him was entirely out of character for the man I've spent a very long time becoming. In fact, my reaction, more than the bomb he just dropped in the middle of the room, probably turned more heads.
A tremor runs through me as I watch him chat with Hemlock and Zara, and the only thing I can do is sit here with my fists clenched. It took me a very long time to learn how not to resort to violence, something which was always my first response when I was younger, but those instincts feel as if they're crushing me under their weight. It's nearly as heavy as the eyes looking in my direction and darting away when I sweep my gaze around the room.
Nyx, the insolent bastard that he is, is the only one who holds my gaze for a second, but I see no change in his eyes from any other time he has looked in my direction. If I didn't know the asshole, I'd think he hated me after the news he was just told, but the guy always looks the way he does toward everyone he comes into contact with. So I guess he just doesn't give a fuck. I've never seen the man act any differently.
Denying I knew the man was clearly a mistake, but I never imagined he'd blurt what he did, especially to a group of people he didn't even know. Zayne was in the closet as a teen, but it was a different time. Not many kids who came from the backgrounds we did would flaunt their homosexuality. It just wasn't talked about because being anything other than straight was unacceptable.
It was unlikely that anyone in our circles would resort to violence like some people in the world would face if their sexuality were exposed. The cruelty would be less in-your-face. It would come in the form of no invites to parties and whispers of gossip and disdain behind your back.
"You good?"
My fists clench tighter as I turn to look at Ace, a man I've always respected not only for the work he does to make the world a better place, but also for his fortitude in facing some pretty tragic losses along the way. That respect may wane a little if he's going to approach me with questions about my sexuality or my history with Zayne fucking Harmond.
"I've been better," I answer honestly.
His smile is soft, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening with what I can only read as either sympathy or concern. I don't want either from him or anyone else. There are so many things in this fucked-up world for people to worry about that what I have going on shouldn't even register on anyone's radar. I've always hated being the center of attention, but the Marine Corps taught me that backing away into the shadows instead of facing shit head-on is too dangerous for everyone involved. But I'll be damned if I'm going to have any sort of interaction with the man of the fucking hour in front of an audience. He's already said enough to implode my life as it is.
"Is this going to be a problem?" Ace asks, and I hate that he's standing beside me.
I know he's not towering over me to try to get me in line or as a warning. Cerberus doesn't work that way. They're more of a "let's figure this out together" sort of organization than a "pulling rank" one, but knowing that doesn't negate the fact that I feel talked down to right now.
"Can you like fucking sit, or something?" I growl as I look back up at him.
The change on his face is instant, and I fight the urge to apologize, because being sorry all the time was another thing I had to overcome as an adult.
He pulls in a deep breath, lips forming a flat line as he rounds the edge of the sofa and takes a seat beside me, giving me just enough room that I don't feel smothered.