The credits from the second movie had barely finished before Xavier had queued up another. Calypso had lost track of the plots hours ago—something about star-crossed lovers in the first film, followed by a comedy about hunters falling in love while clearing a gate. Now they were halfway through an action thriller that involved a lot of explosions and very little coherent storytelling.
Not that she was paying much attention. The weight of her concerns pressed down harder than the warmth of Xavier's lap beneath her.
Calypso shifted slightly, adjusting her position. Xavier's hands rested on her waist, his fingers splayed across the silk of her loungewear. When had that happened? She couldn't remember him putting them there, and she certainly couldn't remember when she'd stopped caring about their proximity.
"That's not how Essentia works at all," she muttered as the on-screen hero suddenly developed a new power mid-battle. "The scriptwriters didn't even try for accuracy."
Xavier's chest rumbled with a low chuckle beneath her. "Pretty sure accuracy wasn't their primary concern when they decided the villain should have chainsaw hands and face."
Calypso stared at the screen without really seeing it, her thoughts circling back to Dominic Black. No soul escaped her system. None. She'd processed billions, and while she might have been careless with paperwork and protocols, the actual soul transfers themselves were flawless.
"It doesn't make sense," she said, more to herself than Xavier.
"The plot?" Xavier gestured toward the screen with his chin. "I stopped following about twenty minutes ago when the helicopter turned into a submarine."
Calypso shook her head, silver hair sliding over her shoulders. "Dominic Black. Something's wrong with him—with his existence. That soul signature shouldn't be possible."
Xavier's hands stilled on her waist. "You think another god is messing with your system?"
"That's just it—I can't tell." Frustration edged her voice. "I've been trying to reach Olympus since we got back, but it's like hitting a wall. No connection at all."
She turned to look at him, pink eyes troubled in the television's flickering light. "This isn't Greek. Whatever's coming through those gates—it feels different. Older, maybe. Or just... foreign."
"You gods have territories? Like cosmic turf wars?" Xavier raised an eyebrow.
"It's complicated." Calypso's fingers plucked at a loose thread on the couch cushion. "Pantheons have...jurisdictions. Overlapping sometimes, but generally respected. This feels like an intrusion."
She laughed, the sound brittle even to her own ears. "Some goddess I turned out to be. Can't even call home for backup."
Xavier's fingers tightened slightly on her waist. "You've got me. For whatever that's worth."
The simple statement shouldn't have comforted her. Xavier Valentine was a mortal—a reincarnated assassin with a video game combat system and a penchant for trouble. Hardly divine reinforcements. Yet something in her chest loosened at his words.
"Worth something," she admitted quietly after twenty minutes, then turned to ask him, "Do you think we should—"
The question died on her lips. Xavier's head had tipped back against the couch, his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep, white lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks in the television's glow.
"Typical," she whispered. "The one time I want your input."
She considered waking him, or at least extracting herself to let him sleep properly. The movie was boring anyway—predictable action sequences interspersed with wooden dialogue. She should get up, maybe continue her attempts to contact Olympus.
But his hands remained at her waist, warm and secure, and she was getting more disinclined to move. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her was hypnotic, comforting in a way she hadn't experienced in...centuries.
Calypso leaned her head against his shoulder, her own eyes growing heavy. This was dangerous territory—not just the physical closeness, but what it represented.
What it might become.
She knew better. Gods and mortals never ended well. How many times had she watched that particular tragedy play out? How many souls had passed through her domain, carrying the scars of divine entanglements gone wrong?
And Xavier was no ordinary mortal. His "Input Buffer" ability was designed to grow stronger through combat experience, yes, but the "Soul Bonds" ability complicated everything. To reach his full potential, he would need connections—romantic connections—with others. Multiple others.
The thought sent a cold spike through her chest that she refused to acknowledge as jealousy. Gods didn't get jealous of mortals. It was beneath them. Beneath her.
If only...
Calypso cut the thought off before it could fully form. There was no point in wishing for impossibilities. They had a mission: close the gates, break the entanglement, return to their separate existences. Everything else was a distraction.
She should focus on enjoying this moment of peace before classes started and their hunt for the gates began in earnest. Before Xavier started forming those necessary bonds with others. Before whatever was interfering with her divine connections made itself known.
Just this moment. Just for now.
The movie's final explosion cast Xavier's sleeping face in golden light, highlighting the delicate fan of his white eyelashes against his skin. Calypso reached up, her fingers hovering just above his cheek before she thought better of it and pulled back.
"You're going to be trouble," she whispered. "More than you already are."
On screen, the credits began to roll, bathing the apartment in shifting blue light. Outside, Metro City continued its perpetual hum of activity, crystal towers glittering against the night sky.
But here, in this moment, there was just the two of them—goddess and mortal, bound by cosmic forces neither fully understood, finding an unexpected peace in each other's presence.
Calypso's eyes grew heavier. Just for a little while, she told herself. Just until the credits finished. Then she'd move.
Her head nestled more comfortably against Xavier's shoulder as sleep began to claim her. His hand shifted in his sleep, arm curling more securely around her waist.
Just for a little while.