CHAPTER 64: [64] WHATEVER WE WANT TO BE

Calypso melted into the embrace. Xavier’s arms felt like an anchor in a storm she hadn’t known was raging inside her. The warmth of his body seeped through her clothes, reminding her of just how cold immortality had been.

"This is nice," she whispered.

Xavier’s chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. "See? Just a hug. Nothing world-ending."

"Yet," Calypso added, unable to help herself.

She felt rather than heard his soft laugh. "Always the optimist."

Neither moved to break the embrace. Instead, Xavier slowly shifted backward until he sat down, pulling Calypso with him. She followed him down, unwilling to break contact. Before she realized what was happening, they were lying side by side on the mattress, arms still wrapped around each other.

"We couldn’t even keep this up for a week," Calypso said, her voice somewhere between amusement and resignation.

"Keep what up?"

"The distance." She adjusted her position, making herself half-draped across his chest. "The whole ’just acquaintances’ thing."

Xavier’s hand moved to her back, tracing small circles between her shoulder blades. "Maybe we’re overthinking it."

"Overthinking is what keeps gods from destroying the universe on a whim," Calypso countered, though she made no move to pull away from his touch.

Her fingers found the edge of his shirt collar, absently playing with the fabric. This close, she could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the slight curve of his lips as he watched her. His purple eyes tracked her movements with an intensity that made her skin tingle.

"What happens in this apartment stays in this apartment," Xavier suggested. His hand continued its gentle exploration of her back, each circle growing slightly wider. "Outside, we’re just Xavier and Calypso, cousins and classmates."

"And in here?" Calypso asked.

"We’re whatever we want to be."

Calypso’s hand slid from his collar to his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken beneath her palm. Her own pulse raced in response.

Take what you want. Gods don’t deny themselves pleasure.

Xavier shifted beneath her, his body responding to her proximity in ways neither could ignore. His hand drifted lower on her back, hesitating at the curve where her spine met her hips.

Calypso started moving against him, a slow, deliberate press of her body that drew a soft sound from Xavier’s throat. That sound. That sweet, sweet sound. She wanted to hear it again.

And again.

And again.

"We need rules," she said, even as she moved again, savoring the friction between them. "Boundaries."

Xavier nodded, his pupils dilating as he looked up at her. "What kind of rules?"

Calypso struggled to think clearly with his hands on her, with the heat building between them. "No public displays. Nothing that would compromise our cover."

"Agreed." His voice had roughened, the single word carrying a weight of restraint.

"And nothing..." She paused, searching for the right words. "Nothing that would make this more complicated than it already is."

Xavier’s hands stilled on her back. "Define ’complicated.’"

"No false promises. No pretending this is something it can’t be."

Something flickered in Xavier’s eyes—disappointment, understanding, or perhaps both. "Because you’re a goddess and I’m mortal."

"Yes."

His hands resumed their movement, but slower now, more thoughtful. "So physical comfort is acceptable, but emotional attachment is off-limits?"

Put so bluntly, the proposition sounded cold, even to Calypso’s ears. Yet what alternative did they have? Every divine-mortal romance throughout history had ended in tragedy—mortals transformed, abandoned, or destroyed by the very power they’d fallen in love with.

"I don’t want to hurt you," she said.

Xavier’s lips curved into a sad smile. "Bit late for that, isn’t it?"

Calypso had spent centuries observing human emotions, cataloging them like specimens in a divine museum. But feeling them herself—experiencing the sharp ache in her chest at Xavier’s words—was entirely different.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, meaning it more than she’d meant anything in centuries.

Xavier reached up, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "Don’t be. I knew what I was signing up for."

"Did you?" Calypso asked. "Because I certainly didn’t."

His hand lingered near her face, thumb brushing her cheek. "That’s what makes life so interesting."

The casual deflection was so quintessentially Xavier that Calypso couldn’t help but smile. Even now, with desire humming between them like a live wire, he maintained that air of unaffected charm. But she saw past it now, recognized the armor for what it was.

She leaned into his touch, turning her head to press her lips against his palm. The simple contact sent another ripple of wanting through her, stronger than before. Xavier’s breath caught, his body tensing beneath hers.

It would be so easy to give in. To take Aphrodite’s advice and claim what she wanted. Xavier wouldn’t resist—his body made that abundantly clear. They could lose themselves in each other, find temporary relief from the impossible situation they’d been thrust into.

But Calypso knew better than most that temporary solutions often created permanent problems.

With effort that would have impressed even Athena, Calypso pulled back, creating a small space between their bodies. "We should eat something."

Xavier blinked at the sudden change of subject, then nodded slowly. "You’re right."

He made no move to get up, his hands still resting on her hips. Calypso was equally reluctant to break contact, even as she recognized the necessity.

"I’m not hungry," she admitted. "But we should eat anyway."

"Always practical," Xavier said, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Even as a goddess."

Calypso sat up, immediately missing his warmth. "The universe doesn’t run on empty stomachs."

Xavier followed suit, running a hand through his white hair. "I don’t feel like cooking. Do you?"

Calypso shook her head. The thought of standing in their small kitchen, trying to maintain distance while preparing food, seemed impossible after what had just transpired between them.

"I could go pick something up," Xavier offered, reading her thoughts with uncanny accuracy. "That Japanese café we saw on Blade Street looked good. What was it called, Leblanc?"

"You want to go alone?"

Xavier stood, straightening his clothes. "We both know we need a minute to breathe, Calypso. I’ll stay within the two hundred meters."

He was right, of course. The apartment suddenly felt too small, the air between them too charged. A brief separation might help clear her head.

"Bring me extra gyoza," she said, trying to sound normal. "And don’t flirt with the waitress."

Xavier placed a hand over his heart. "I would never."

"You would and you have." Calypso crossed her arms, fighting a smile. "I’ve seen you in action, remember?"

"That was business," Xavier countered, heading for the door. "This is dinner."

Calypso watched him collect his wallet and keys, noting how he moved as if he was trying to reset the atmosphere between them. She appreciated the effort, even as part of her mourned the lost moment.

"Xavier," she called as he reached the door.

He paused, looking back at her. "Yes?"

Calypso opened her mouth, then closed it again. What could she say? That she wanted him despite knowing better? That she was terrified of what these feelings might mean? That in nearly three thousand years of existence, she’d never felt so conflicted?

"Don’t forget the spicy sauce."

Xavier’s expression softened. "I won’t."