Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” Hera breathes. “This is a problem.”
She has no idea. “It might be a good idea if you go to the countryside with Psyche and your mother. Eurydice is safe enough with Persephone behind the lower city barrier.” For now. “If you’re worried about what Zeus is planning—”
“I’m not going to flee on the possibility that he’s finally got his shit together.” Sharp footsteps echo down the line. She’s pacing.
I knew that suggestion was a long shot, but I had to try. Hera’s the one person who can blow this plan right off the tracks, and while I’d like to think that she values her family more than she hates her husband and the city, I can’t be sure. “Well, I don’t know where he is. Is that all you needed?”
“Don’t get bitchy with me now.” She inhales and exhales slowly. When she speaks again, she sounds more like herself. Controlled. “I’m concerned about Hermes.”
“Everyone is concerned about Hermes.” And they should be. She was pretty clear with her endgame when she broke into my kitchen. I don’t necessarily disagree with her goals, but there’s a reason I refused to work with her. Her methods are just as suspect as the rest of the Thirteen. Which I suppose proves her point. “And no one can find her, so there’s not much to be done about it.”
I glance at Icarus. He’s fully awake now, watching me with large dark eyes. What little relaxation we claimed through the…claiming…of each other is gone. He lies there, tense and silent. I don’t stop to think. I set my phone down on the bed between us and put it on speaker.
She continues to pace, the sound echoing through the phone. “I think she’s working with Circe.”
“I don’t.” That, at least, I know to be true. If she was working with Circe, then we would likely all be dead and scattered among the ashes of the city. “It doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, you’re fucking Icarus right now, so I don’t think we can stand on your character judgment.”
I sigh. “Is there an actionable step you’re requesting, Hera? Or did you just call to yell at me over things neither of us can control?”
“You are such an asshole.” She hangs up.
Icarus props his head on one hand. “She’s going to be a problem.”
“Zeus’s problem. Not ours.” I wish I believed it. I never should have allowed her to convince me to join in that ill-fated coup attempt. It’s been nothing but trouble, pulling me deeper and deeper into the messy politics and backstabbing—literal and otherwise—that I’ve spent most of my time as Poseidon avoiding.
“If you really believe that, big guy, I have an ocean-front property in Arkansas to sell you.” He leans over and brushes a kiss to my lips. “You’ll handle it. I have no doubt about that.”
I huff out a laugh. “You have more faith in me than I deserve.”
“I have exactly as much faith as you deserve.” He kisses me again, longer this time. It’s surprisingly sweet and sincere enough to worry me.
I pull back and search his face. He’s still a better liar than I’ll ever be, but I’m starting to be able to read the real emotions beneath the careless mask. He…means it. He really has that much faith in me. It scares the shit out of me. “I don’t deserve you.”
Icarus chuckles awkwardly and sits up. “I think you’ll find that the situation is reversed. Hera is right, you know. As soon as the Thirteen and the rest of Olympus find out you’re fucking me, any credibility you’ve gained over your tenure as Poseidon will be gone. They’ll call you a traitor and worse.”
“Fuck them.” The words burst out of me, far stronger than I intended. I didn’t intend to say them at all. “I never signed up for any of this, and I’ve still done my duty to them for most of my life. You’re the only person who’s actually seen what I need and tried to give it to me. You’re the only person who’s seen me.”
“Poseidon.” I hate the way he says my name, like I’m a silly teenager experiencing puppy love instead of a man who’s seen the backside of forty. Icarus turns away, his shoulders hunching a little. “I know the sex is good, but it’s just sex—and good kink. You’re experiencing emotions that are the result of that, not because of me.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He flinches and spins to face me. “Excuse me?”
I stand and cross to him in two steps. He backs up and I shadow him, stalking him across the room until his back hits the wall. Icarus stares up at me with wide eyes, nothing like the sweetly sadistic Dominant he is when we engage in a scene. Both are him, but the other is at peace with how much I want him. This version needs more assurance. Is it any wonder? He’s experienced so much trauma in the last few weeks—watched his abusive father die and his beloved sister sail off without him. Of course he doesn’t believe that I might have actual feelings for him.