Now to find a way to get Demi away from everyone without drawing attention to it. I seriously thought about letting some of the horses loose to cause a distraction. But then—the clear night sky fractured. Clouds rolled in fast and furious, like someone had ripped open the heavens. The stars vanished in a blink. The wind whipped around us, sharp and sudden, snatching hats and any sense of calm.
Some of the women screamed. Miles was calling to save the equipment. Everyone scattered, running for cover—except for Demi and Cassie. They didn’t flinch. They knew exactly what this was. It was the damn gods. Zeus, if I had to guess.
But . . . maybe this was just the distraction I needed. Had Zeus gifted this to me?
Carter played the hero, grabbing Cassie’s hand.
“Come on! We need to get out of here.”
Cassie hesitated, her gaze flicking between Demi and me. Then she nodded—like she knew. Like she understood she needed to leave us alone. How odd.
And just like that, it was Demi and me. Alone in the eye of the storm. Her fiery hair whipped around her face, wild and untamed, as if the wind answered to her. She looked like a vision—a goddess mid-summoning, as if the chaos belonged to her.
Lightning cracked somewhere behind us. The air pulsed with electricity; something dangerous was in the air. And in that moment, instinct took over. I ran toward her, heart pounding.
I grabbed her hand, and miraculously, she didn’t pull away. Not that the Cupid in me was going to let her go without a fight. He needed to know her heart. But first, I needed to get us to safety. As soon as I thought it, I caught a glimpse of the nearby forest, which seemed entirely unaffected by the storm.
“This way,” I shouted above the noise, not caring about the rest of the cast or crew, who should have been my chief priority. But the connection between Demi and me was undeniable, all-encompassing. My only thought was getting her to safety.
Which, as far as my heart was concerned, was probably the least safe thing I could do.
Chapter XXI
Roman
Assoonaswecrossed into the forest, the chaos vanished. Like someone had flipped a switch. No wind. No thunder. No screaming cast members. Just silence. Heavy and foreboding.
Demi pulled away from me, panting, shaking her head like she was waking from a dream.
And though the connection between us severed, the remnants lingered—a phantom warmth in my hand, a hum in my chest where the void used to be. And I realized something: every time we touched, the ever-present emptiness inside me dulled. Not gone. But quieter. She filled something in me.
That was unfortunate.
“We need to go back and help,” she said, panicked.
I grabbed her hand again, not ready to lose the tether. “Don’t,” I said. “I have a feeling that if we go back out there, chaos will ensue again.”
“What? Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I gestured to the unnatural calm around us, like we’d been placed in a bubble where time ceased to exist. “The gods are meddling again. They wanted to give us this moment.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she stammered. But the blush on her cheeks betrayed her. She knew I was right. She had to feel the way the air unnaturally shifted around us. “Why would they want that?” she whispered.
I shrugged. “I don’t have a clue.” But I felt it in my bones. It was almost as if the trees felt it too and were holding their collective breath.
She stared at our clasped hands, and for a second—just a second—she squeezed tighter. Her brow furrowed. Then she pulled away, abrupt and wide-eyed, as if the connection startled her.
Oh, hell.
I’d forgotten she could read me like a book.
“You need to stay out of my mind,” I snapped.
“I can’t read your mind.”
“You know what I mean,” I grumbled. “It’s unfair that I can’t read your feelings and you can read mine.” It came out more juvenile than I intended. Embarrassingly so.
Her lips twitched. She was trying not to laugh. She probably thought I was behaving like a twelve-year-old.
