His arms were still around her, his muscles tightening as the words left Logan's lips. They had been a comfort to her, Octavian's embrace. The cold that had drenched her skin was met with the contrast of his warm skin, which sent a signal straight to her heart.

Laoise blinked.

She'd finished coughing, yet for some reason, her throat ached once again, as though she'd swallowed the entire river. Every inch of her screamed, and suddenly, the warmth Octavian had provided was now far too hot. It was burning her up.

"He didn't...I didn't..." Octavian began to protest, though his words died off, trailing into nothing. There was nothing he could say to undo Logan's words, she knew that. Because the boy had spoken the truth. The gross, ugly truth.

She jolted away, wiggling out of his grip and shoving herself onto her feet.

"Laoise," Octavian stood up as well, practically stumbling over his own long limbs as he stumbled through the sand to meet her. Through the moon illuminating him, his eyes sparkled with more emotion than she'd ever seen on him. The rage that typically accompanied him had vanished, replaced with pure, utter desperation.

Her gaze shifted, finding Logan. He was still on the sand, frowning. He was just as confused as she was, she could tell. Kids didn't lie often, she knew that. Not about those sorts of things, anyways. Logan especially, she wasn't sure he could tell a proper lie if his life was on the line.

"He misunderstood. Logan, he misunderstood what happened."

Laoise didn't realize she had spoken out loud until she'd closed her mouth again.

Octavian blinked, but the silence that followed him told her she was so very wrong.

True love's kiss, was what Logan had said. If Cupid was here, that was exactly the kind of stunt he would've pulled. But Godly magic wasn't without its limits, and a spell that required true love's kiss wouldn't have worked without that depth of emotion.

He had kissed her. He loved her.

It didn't matter that she was drenched. It didn't matter that she'd nearly drowned just minutes ago. It didn't matter that they were in the middle of nowhere. All Laoise knew is that she needed as much space as physically possible between her and Octavian.

Tears bit at her eyes, but she shoved them away. It wouldn't have made a difference.

"Laoise," Octavian called her name as she spun around.

Nothing he could've said would've changed the betrayal searing through her. He seemed to be aware of this as well, as he kept quiet, allowing her to walk away.

The sand bled into an array of trees, thick enough that the light of the moon barely provided any light for her. Thick enough that she could vanish for a minute, collect herself.

Only when she knew she was alone, far away from Octavian and Logan and their prying eyes did she burst into tears.

Her hand didn't move to wipe them away, as she leaned against one of the trees and sank to the ground. Instead, she brought her fingers to her lips, frantically scrubbing at them as though she could erase any remnant of Octavian on her.

It was wrong. All of it, it was wrong.

Love, intimacy, it was something she was destined for. She knew that. She'd known that at an age she shouldn't have. Her father basically damned her to it, to a life of sex and romance and being desired by nearly every man whose path she crossed. And maybe other girls would want that, would want to be wanted, but they'd change their minds after a lifetime of being viewed as a body and a body alone.

Octavian had been different because he hadn't wanted her. There had never been a moment between them where he'd tried to get her out of her clothes and into his bed.

The rough digging of the tree bark against her back barely registered to her, not when all she could focus on was the aching in her heart and the ringing in her ears.

Everything had been a lie. All this time, he hadn't viewed her as an ally. A rival. A friend.

Octavian, the one person she trusted to see her as something other than a bit of flesh to rut into, had been just like everyone else.

"Laoise."

Her head snapped up. "Go away."

"I just want to talk."

"I don't."

"Please?"

There was a desperation in his voice, but she knew it was a trick. All of it was a trick.

"Leave me alone," she commanded, though the unsteady nature of her tone did little to prove any dominance over him.

"It was either kiss you, or you died," Octavian insisted, a sharpness in his voice that had yet to appear. "Would you rather be dead, Laoise? Because I'm not sorry I picked one uncomfortable moment to keep you alive."

"It isn't about the kiss," she hissed, for the first time, looking up to meet his eye. He stood hovering a few feet to her left, shifting his weight from foot to foot with his arms crossed. He was always taller than her, but with her on the ground, he practically towered over her.

It took everything in her not to shrink. Instead, she simply stared up at him, watching his brow crease.

"What was it about, then?"

She shook her head, tearing her gaze away from him. Suddenly, the grass beneath her was far more comfortable.

When it became evident she would not speak, Octavian continued, "Logan thinks you're mad at him."

"Tell him I'm not."

"You're mad at me, then?"

Another shake of her head, her exhaustion overwhelming the wall she could typically easily hold up. Typically, she could lie, pretend he had offended her greatly, make him feel guilty. But instead, all she could do was speak the cruel, honest truth. "No. The only person I'm mad at right now is myself."

Though she wasn't looking at him, she could feel a rustling from where he was standing. Then suddenly, his shoulder was brushed against hers. He'd sat down too, pressing his own back against the massive tree, wide enough to support them side by side.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Octavian said, his voice just above a whisper. "You shouldn't be mad at yourself for drowning."

"It isn't about that. It has nothing to do with me drowning, or that stupid kiss."

He was silent for a moment, contemplating this. "Then why are you mad at yourself?"

"Because I trusted you, and I shouldn't have."

"What?" Octavian inhaled a sharp breath. "Laoise, you can trust me. After everything we've been through, after I risked my life for you, you can trust me. You know this."

"Bullshit."

"Bullshit?" He repeated, irritation thick in his tone. From where their shoulders were brushed together, she felt him stiffen. When she didn't elaborate, she expected him to yell. To snap, to insult her, as he so often did. But instead, he threw his head back and laughed. "How can you say that? After everything? I nearly died for you, and you have the nerve to say you can't trust me?"

"How can I? This entire time, you've..." She gulped, her breath shaky. "...wanted me. I thought...I thought we understood each other. Respected each other, in a sick sort of way. But I was wrong. I was so fucking stupid, to think this would go any other way."

"I'm confused," he confessed, any outward anger melting away as his voice grew wary. "What are you talking about? Why would any of...well, how I feel about you, mean I don't respect you?"

"Don't play coy, Octavian."

"I don't understand what you want me to say!"

She bit down on her lip, observing him as he rose onto his feet once again. This time, she did the same, using the tree as support to balance herself as she stood up, a head shorter than him.

"I want you to admit what you want from me. I want you to say the truth, and all of it, so we can finish this stupid fucking quest and I never have to see your face again."

He flinched, for the first time in their countless arguments expressing any sort of hurt from her words. "It doesn't matter."

"Why not?" She demanded, taking a step towards him. "Why can't you give me this one thing, after lying to me?"

"You've spent this entire conversation insulting me, and you think I'm going to confess my feelings for you?" Octavian scoffed, folding his arms over his chest as his irritation returned to him. Even so, he could not mask the hurt etched into his face. "Do with them what you will. Again, it doesn't matter. We'll finish this quest, and when we're back at camp, we won't ever have to speak again."

He moved to turn around, when Laoise cried out, "Why am I suddenly the bad guy? You're the one who hurt me, not the other way around! What right do you have to be upset?"

Octavian pivoted, eyes narrowing. "Did you not hear a word I said? You've just told me that I'm untrustworthy! You said you never want to see me again! I'm not going to grovel at your feet for something that's hopeless."

"At least you know that," she exhaled a breath, struggling to contain her own red hot anger, the betrayal that had boiled into hostility. "Maybe it's all I'm good for, but it's never happening. Not with us."

For a long moment, he was silent, simply staring at her through a gaze impossible to read.

Then, he frowned. "Laoise, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"You want to fuck me!"

"What?!"

Ignoring his outraged cry, she continued her furious tirade. "Maybe I should have listened to you, when you said sex was all I'm good for. I thought...I thought you'd just said it to be mean. To get under my skin. I didn't think you thought that way."

"I don't!" He stepped towards her once again, voice echoing through the night. "I've never once thought that way."

"You-" Laoise began, but Octavian cut her off.

"I have never thought of you like that. Not when we first met, and certainly not now. I was...I was being cruel, when I would say that. I wanted a reaction out of you. Any reaction, any attention you gave me, I would've killed for it."

It was her turn to be confused, her anger simmering as she glanced back and forth between him and the ground. "You wanted my attention?"

"Laoise, what do you think being in love with you means?"

"It means you want my body, just like everyone else. It means I'm nothing to you but jerk off material."

She had never seen him appear as appalled as he did in that moment, his jaw dropping and his eyes growing wide.

At his shock, her confusion only grew, followed by a wave of shame that crashed into her. "It's all I'm good for, Octavian. It's all I've ever been good for. But I thought it was different with you."

Another long pause fell between them, filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing.

"I don't want to fuck you, Laoise."

She blinked.

"Well, I mean...maybe I do. Someday. In the far, far future. But that's not all I want from you. That's hardly anything I want. I want you, not your body. I want...I want to watch a movie with you. I want to share a huge thing of popcorn, and hold your hand, and laugh at the funny parts and let you cry on my shoulder during the sad parts. I want to know you, all of you. I want to see you at your best moments, and at your worst. I want to make you laugh so hard you cry. I want you to get so angry at me that you throw something at my head and swear never to talk to me again. I want you to cry in my arms because something upset you, and let me cheer you up after, help you forget it ever even happened. I want to share a bed with you - not to fuck you, but to be vulnerable with each other. To see you unguarded, unmasked. And yes, someday, I want to have sex with you - but only if you want to. And if you don't, I'll still be faithful. I'll respect it. I won't pressure you, ever. I'll die a virgin if it means being able to call you the woman I love."

"You..." She began, her voice trailing off alongside her train of thoughts.

The presumption that she'd only be wanted for the physical things she could provide had stuck with her since she was old enough to know what sex was - and an age far too young, at that. But as swiftly as the understanding had built in her, it melted away, revealing the barest of intentions to her.

"I don't give a shit what your father says," Octavian continued, fists clenching at the reminder of the blasted God who had cursed this life upon her. "Cupid - he thinks that it's all you're worth, because he's under the same impression about himself. But he's more than that, than sex and appearance and seduction. And so are you. Those sirens, you wouldn't have been able to save me from them if I didn't mean this."

Her brow furrowed together, an array of words forming in her mouth, though all she could get out was a measly, "What?"

"The sirens," he repeated. "Their trance can only be broken by the voice of the person their victim loves. Not is infatuated with, or wants to screw, but loves."

"I don't..." she gulped, her mouth dry. "I've never...I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Now you do," he shrugged. "I...I haven't treated you well. I'm sorry for that. I just...part of me knew you'd think the worst, if I did. I was a dick to you, because I wanted to be different. And I thought if I behaved like every other guy around you, I wouldn't get your attention. Just getting you to look at me was enough, even if you were glaring, because your focus was on me and me alone."

"I liked it."

"You did?"

She nodded. "It was different. Like I said. We were different. I liked our dynamic, because it meant you saw me as something else. Something better than what my father had in store for me. I...I never thought about a romance, or anything like that, because it never occurred to me that I'd have the opportunity to have one."

"I don't expect anything from you, Laoise. If you want to, we can go back to how we were a few hours ago, bickering and snapping at each other constantly."

Her head shook, her flaming red hair dancing around her shoulders as she did. "We can't do that."

Octavian grimaced. "I'm sorry."

Again, she shook her head. "It isn't your fault. But things are different now. They have been since the sirens. We can't just go on pretending that they aren't."

"What do you want to do?"

"Find Logan. He's probably worried about us." She gave him a wobbly smile. "Figure out what to do about our boat. Get a new one, maybe. Find Brigid, kick her ass. And then, when we're back at camp...we'll figure everything out then."