Hera's P.O.V.

As I sat there listening to the spray of the shower, my jitters multiplied. Jace was barely ten feet from me, readying himself for our agreed-upon sexual encounter, but now I felt more unsure than ever.

Last night when I’d challenged him—called him out on his cocky opinion that after just one night, women fell hopelessly in love with him—I’d felt sexy, brazen, emboldened by the alcohol, spurred on by the illicit undertones of our late-night conversation. Now, stone-cold sober and with nothing to do all day but think it over, I no longer felt fun and flirty. Every negative possible consequence had replayed through my brain for...