Goddess of Love (Goddess Summoning #5)(73)

"L ittle one, don't cry! Everything will be well. You'll see."

"Get - me - a - Kleenex!" Pea said between sobs, pointing to the bathroom that was attached to the master bedroom.

Vulcan pulled on his jeans and rushed into the bathroom.

Pea took a deep, calming breath and managed to shout, "The little paper cloth things in the pink box!" Like the God of Fire would know a Kleenex if it jumped up and bit him. Vulcan reemerged from the bathroom with the box. He handed it to her, and then he sat on the edge of her bed, watching her as if he expected her to combust at any moment. Pea blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She took another deep breath, which she was pleased to note, only had one little hiccupping sob in it. Then she leveled her gaze on Vict - She gritted her teeth and mentally corrected herself. She leveled her gaze on Vulcan, ancient God of Fire. Quietly, in what she considered a calm and reasonable tone of voice, she spoke.

"Okay. I don't know how you do things on Olympus or under Olympus or wherever. But here, in what Venus and I'm sure you, call the modern mortal world, girlfriends do not fall in love with each other's husbands. Not unless they're very, very stank and quite ho-ish." She sighed at his confused expression. "Just take my word that I'm not stank or ho-ish, nor would I ever want to be. Which means I cannot fall in love with my girlfriend's husband."

Vulcan's smile was slow and sexy. "You love me. You just said you love me."

"Hello! Did you hear the rest of it?"

His grin stayed in place. "Venus and I don't live together as husband and wife. Our marriage was a mutually agreed upon arrangement - one that hasn't worked out particularly as planned for either of us. She didn't lead you to believe she loves me, did she?"

Pea chewed her lip. "No. She said she was married, but that it wasn't like a real marriage."

Vulcan nodded, and didn't look in the least bit upset by his wife's description of their nonmarriage. "And isn't she with another man at this moment?"

"Maybe." Weirdly, she felt like she might be telling on Venus if she said more. Vulcan lifted one brow up. "Maybe?"

"Okay, yes. She's out on a date."

"Which is perfectly fine with me."

"This feels wrong."

Vulcan took her hand again. "Would it feel better if Venus and I agreed to revoke our marriage?"

"I don't know...." Pea shook her head, feeling close to tears again. "This is happening so fast."

"But Pea, little one, we've already talked about that. The speed at which our love is happening is not important. It's the love itself - the connection we feel in our souls - that is important." He leaned forward and cupped her face in his hands. "Look into my eyes. See the truth there. I have existed alone for what you would consider an eternity. Until I glimpsed you through my thread of fire just days ago, I was convinced the only way I could have peace was to become as the ram and Chiron."

Pea's eyes widened. "You were going to die and become a constellation?"

"Yes."

"But you can't! You're immortal."

"So was Chiron, but as with the centaur, I can die if Zeus wills it."

"No!"

Vulcan smiled and caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. "Only now I can't die and retire to the constellations because I've found my home, and it is here with you. If you will have me."

"But your realm - the forge..."

"All problems that can be conquered if you love me."

Pea met his eyes. She knew he was an ancient god, yet somehow that knowledge changed nothing. She hadn't loved his supposed mortal shell. What she'd responded to from the first moment she'd looked into his eyes went beyond the physical and had less to do with mortality than eternity.

"I do love you," she whispered.

"Then we'll figure out everything else. Together."

"Together," she repeated before his lips met hers and she lost herself in the taste and touch, magic and heat of him.

Griffin woke up like he always did - without an alarm clock. Something wasn't right. He glanced at the digital dial of his bedside clock. Five-thirty in the morning. He had to be at the fire station by seven. Plenty of time. Smiling, he turned over, automatically reaching for Venus. Her side of the bed was empty. That's what was wrong. She was gone. He pulled on his boxer shorts. She wasn't in the bathroom. He went to the edge of the loft's balcony and looked down. Relief washed through him when he saw her sitting on the couch staring at his sculpture. Cali Alley Cat was curled up beside her and Venus was absently stroking her. But his relief was short lived. Venus was crying. Silently tears were falling down her cheeks. The windows of his living room were just starting to be lightened with predawn, and Venus was framed in the muted, dovelike colors of early morning. The artist in him responded before the man. Her beauty was extraordinary, especially with the touch of sadness softening her features. She should be painted and sculpted. Poetry and songs should be written about her.

Then the man took over from the artist. She was crying. Had it been him? Had he somehow made her sad? Was she regretting their lovemaking? The thought made him feel sick. Venus was the most incredible woman he'd ever been with and he didn't want her to regret one moment with him. He wanted her to spend the future with him.