I have the sudden urge to twist it around my fist just to see if it’s as soft and thick as it looks.
With a small grunt, I wrench my attention from her to him.
Fuck.
He’s tall, lean, all nervous energy barely contained. He keeps glancing at her like she’s the answer to a question he’s too afraid to ask. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for her. I can practically taste the want rolling off him in waves.
They’re delicious.
I keep my distance, and they don’t notice me. It’s not surprising, given how wrapped up they are in each other. They walk together, the awkward longing a palpable thing between them. They’re close, but not touching. She bumps into him, and he steadies her, his hand lingering on her waist a second too long. Her chest rises and falls in a rapid rhythm, her cheeks pink. His fingers flex. But then he pulls away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
Interesting. So very, very interesting.
I keep following them, watching, observing. Their wishes aren’t just words. They’re alive. Pulsing with the kind of longing that doesn’t fade, doesn’t dilute, doesn’t lie. I’ve felt millions of wishes in my time. Most are fleeting—lust, infatuation, the desperate grab for something shiny and new. But this? This is different.
I can feel the purity of their wishes in my bones. The truth of them. Anabel’s wish trembles with fear. She wants him—Gods, she wants him—but the thought of ruining what they have terrifies her. And Cole? He doesn’t just want her. He loves her. And that love is tangled up in so much doubt, so much hesitation, that it’s choking him.
They’re both so afraid of speaking the truth, of reaching for what they crave. Afraid of the hunger between them.
I exhale a slow, deep breath, and the air around me shimmers. My magic hums in my veins. I close my eyes and extend my senses outward. There’s something about this wish. It’s important somehow, but I can’t grasp on to exactly why.
In any case, I’m going to answer their wish. I don’t usually get involved in human wishes, but there’s something about these two…Something that calls to me.
If they’re too scared to take what they want, then I’ll give them a push. I’ll help them find their way to each other, help them to overcome their fear and their nerves and show them everything they could have. It’s right at their fingertips. And based on the desperate flavour of their wishes, it won’t take much. They don’t even need a push, not really. More of a nudge.
I follow them into their hotel lobby, no one paying me any attention. They head straight for the elegant wine bar off to the left, so I do, too. The heavy wooden door shuts quietly behind me, and I take in my surroundings, all polished wood and flickering candlelight. They still haven’t noticed me.
They make their way to an empty booth, and Anabel slides in, her skirt riding up and giving me a glimpse of creamy skin.
Cole hovers beside her, close but not touching, like he’s afraid she might bolt if he leans in too far. He slides in across from her, and his fingers drum against the table, restless. She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, her lips parted like she’s about to say something, then thinks better of it.
I take a seat at the far end of the bar, close enough to watch, to feel the heat of their longing, but far enough that they won’t notice me. I order a glass of Chianti and settle in, watching them.
They’re both so gorgeous, so sweet and young, that it almost hurts to look at them. They’ll make an absolutely stunning couple.
As I sip my wine, I can’t help but let myself imagine what it would be like to be between them.
To have her softness pressed against me, to feel his hesitant hands finally losing that careful control. Because as much as he wants Anabel, there are hidden desires there, too. Gods, whatwould it be like to be the one they look at like I’m the answer to everything?
I swallow hard.
No.
I’m not here for that. I’m here to nudge, to guide, to make sure their wishes come true. That’s all.
That’s all there ever is for me.
The loneliness settles in my chest like a stone. Centuries of watching, helping, and then leaving. Never staying. Never being chosen. I’ve seen every kind of love, every desperate confession, every stolen kiss. And yet, here I am, alone.
Jupiter doesn’t like us gods getting involved with mortals. It’s too messy, too complicated. Which only leaves the pantheon of gods for me, romantically speaking, and I’m related to most of them, so…no thanks.
The God of Love and Sex, doomed to spend eternity as an outsider. It’s a bit pathetic, really.
I shake my head, forcing the thought away. This isn’t about me. It’s about them.
It can only be about them.
Two
