Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(107)

The heavy door slammed shut.

Fluffy Jr., the hellhounds, and Poco were squeezed into the narrow space at the end of the bed, snoring in an adorable pile of fur and bones.

The lump on Fluffy Jr.’s back still had a faint blue hue, but he wasn’t whimpering, just sleeping soundly. It suddenly struck me that we’d both been glowing lately. Is it connected?

Silence stretched.

My husbands were both looming above me, waiting.

I studied the bed, barely big enough for the three of us, courage flagging.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Pick a number,” Kharon ordered as shadows settled into the sharp edges of his face. “One … or two?”

Augustus clenched his hands into fists.

A sinister aura filled the room.

“Two?” I offered tentatively.

Kharon opened the bathroom door and held it for me, his smile cruel.

“The shower it is.”





39


THE PATRON SAINTS OF SIN




ALEXIS

“I need to get something off my chest …” I trailed off with a quiver, hugging my knees to myself, words dying in my throat.

Confidence had drained away.

I was fully clothed on the closed toilet seat, afraid if I took off my toga, my flesh would come off with it.

Hair frizzy, I had a narrow field of vision, and a ringing in my left ear. I was too quiet, wary of touch, abrasive when I should be soft, gentle when I should be ferocious.

A scalding stream of water sprayed behind us inside the empty shower, sputtering through ancient pipes as a single candle flickered.

Kharon and Augustus dominated the small space; we barely fit.

Sirens flashed inside my mind.

DANGER. Do not touch the predators.

“Speak, carissima.” Kharon loomed above me, his eyes a piercing, fatal blue—the shade of frozen lips, stretched across chattering teeth, in a Montana winter. The color of hypothermia. “Say your piece.”

I was mute.

“Alexis.” Augustus rolled my name in his mouth like he was caressing it. “Darling … please.”

Steam mixed with shadows, casting both of them in darkness.

Merciless, malevolent gods.

“I’m afraid.”

Kharon arched his brow as he stared down at me. His skeleton tattoos were a stark reminder—the sheer depth of his depravation.

“This is who we are,” Kharon said coldly. “Who you are.”

“You’re not good men,” I whispered.

Kharon’s lips curled up, canines flashing. “No—we’re not … but you already knew that.”

Augustus studied me silently.

They offered no platitudes, no promise that they would be gentle, normal lovers.

Kharon tilted his head to the side—there was a puckered scar where his ear used to be.

Terror receded.

Augustus held my gaze, unblinking. “We were fashioned by Kronos to be your husbands—we’re one soul, torn into three pieces. Don’t be afraid of our love.”

I recoiled, porcelain digging into my back. “You … love me?”

Augustus breathed shallowly, his eyes hypnotizing pools of ink, an unfathomable shade of sin. “I knew it when I watched you battle a Titan, your face determined—at peace—as you sacrificed yourself to help some pathetic humans who you didn’t even know.”

Air sputtered from my lips.

“I knew it—” Kharon said. “When I woke up the day after our wedding. You were gone, the world was colorless, and my heart was missing, ripped clean from my bloody chest.”

A rushing echoed in my ears.

Feel the fear, and act despite it.

I released my knees. “I’m ready.” I straightened my spine, hoping if I said it, it would become true. “To fuck.”

Kharon stood taller. “We … won’t be making love,” he said in a low voice. “Until you survive your rounds in the arena.”

Augustus wet his lower lip.

“But,” Kharon said, seeing the dejection on my face. “We’ll give you a taste of what’s to come after you successfully defeat your labors.”

“Do you trust us?” Augustus asked softly.

I shouldn’t.

“Yes.”

“Stand up,” Kharon ordered. “Now.”

The air became charged with depravity.

I planted my feet and rose to my full height, tilting my head back, daring him to act.

Slowly, with only centimeters between us, I pulled off the straps of my exercise toga. Cool air blew against my bare back, skin pebbling—the material fluttered to the floor.

Kharon made a raspy, hungry sound.

With lowered lashes, Augustus pulled down his toga, revealing endless planes of rigid bronze—I looked down—his thick cock bobbed against his lower stomach, metal glinting on the tip.

Augustus held out his hand for me to take.

He guided me into the steamy spray.

RIPPPP.

Kharon tore off his toga and followed.

Warmth radiated across my back as long piano fingers traced over blue diamonds. They trailed down my spine, out across each rib, like he was painting my bones.

My nerves screamed at his gentle touches.

Augustus faced me under the hot spray, all wide shoulders and barely constrained power—tentatively I traced my fingers over the network of raised veins that covered his forearms. They were smoother, silkier than I’d thought they’d feel. Intoxicating.