Hera exhaled. “You’ll still need a unanimous decision. Politics, after all. But I think you’re close. And frankly…,” she arched an eyebrow. “I’d rather have you two on Olympus than some of the immortals who were born there.”
That pulled a small laugh from Apollo and a surprised smile from Geri.
“So rest for now. The final vote will be held soon. But you’ve done well—both of you.”
Geri let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Apollo gave her hand another squeeze, and this time, she looked at him, unable to stop the smile that broke over her face.
They weren’t finished yet.
But for the first time…it felt like they might actually make it.
Hera vanished in a shimmer of golden light, leaving behind the faint scent of citrus and spice. Geri turned to Apollo, her fingers still linked with his. Through their bond, she could feel the ease radiating from him, like sunlight warming her skin on a cold day.
“That was surprisingly easy,” she said, brows lifted. “She wasn’t what I expected.”
Apollo smirked. “Well, she’s not as feisty as before, since Zeus was banished.
“I’m still not sure she was part of that scheme or not,” Apollo added with a shrug, “but anyway—”
He leaned in and kissed her, his lips brushing hers with warmth and certainty. The pressure was gentle, but it carried the full weight of everything they’d survived—every choice, every confession, every risk. Geri melted into it, her doubts momentarily quieted. The kiss didn’t promise that things would be easy, but it reminded her she wouldn’t be alone.
Geri’s wolf stirred at the kiss, rising to the surface with a contented hum that pulsed beneath her skin. The connection between them thrummed like a heartbeat, strong and sure. Her wolf, who had once been wary and restless, now settled with quiet satisfaction, pleased by the strength of their bond. It wasn’tjust the kiss—it was everything behind it. The trust. The loyalty. The love. For the first time in a long while, Geri felt steady. Grounded.
She took a breath and asked, “When is Aphrodite coming?”
Apollo glanced at the clock on the wall and replied, “In a couple of minutes.”
Geri groaned lightly and let her head fall back against the couch. “Why did we agree to have it all done in one day?”
He chuckled, that easy, golden sound of his. “Better to get it all done, and then the council can vote.”
“I guess,” she sighed, not entirely convinced.
Apollo didn’t argue. Instead, he reached for her again, gathered her into his arms, and held her against his chest. She didn’t resist—how could she? His hold was solid, reassuring, like a tether pulling her out of her own storm. His warmth seeped into her bones, and it felt good,so damn good, to be held like this. To not have to carry everything alone. And in that quiet moment, pressed against his heart, she wondered how she ever thought she’d go through life as a lone wolf.
Aphrodite materialized in the center of the room in a shimmer of rose-gold light, her voice lilting as she said, “Hello, lovebirds.”
“Aphrodite,” Apollo greeted with a smile, though his arms remained firmly wrapped around Geri.
The goddess of love floated across the room with effortless grace and sank into the armchair across from them. Her long, golden hair seemed to rearrange itself like liquid light around her as she settled in, pooling around her in soft ripples.
Geri couldn’t help but admire her. Aphrodite looked radiant, otherworldly. Ethereal beauty in motion. But when Geri’s gaze met the goddess’s, her breath caught. There was something sharp and focused in her eyes, something far moreserious than her glowing exterior let on. After a beat of silence, she asked, “What would you like to know?”
Aphrodite crossed one long leg over the other, resting her hands lightly on the armrests of the chair as she regarded them both with a calm, unreadable expression.
“I’ll be honest with you,” she began, her voice velvet smooth but carrying weight, “the council is watching this closely. If we approve immortality every time someone claims to be in love, we’d be overrun with golden apples and impulsive soul bonds.
“So, let’s start with something simple,” her gaze flicked between them. “Why each other?”
Geri hesitated, unsure how to put into words what had felt so much larger than speech. She glanced at Apollo, who gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
He turned to Aphrodite. “Because she sees through me,” he said simply. “She doesn’t care about the god, the songs, the temples. She’s the first person ever who learned about the truth—and didn’t run when she got it.”
Aphrodite arched a brow and turned to Geri. “And you?”
Geri swallowed. “He’s…not who I expected. He’s stubborn, annoying, too confident sometimes,” Apollo gave a mock-wounded expression, and she nudged him with her elbow, “but he never gives up. Not when things get hard. Not when I push him away. He made me feel safe even when I didn’t want to feel anything at all.”
“That’s very poetic,” Aphrodite’s lips curled slightly, but her eyes stayed sharp. “But relationships aren’t just grand gestures and wolf bonds. What happens when it gets hard? When he’s off in another realm for months? When you fight?”
