Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(25)

There was no cure.

Never, in all of history, had a woman ever been so unequivocally screwed.





7


THE LOVER




PATRO

Augustus and Kharon stepped out of the locker room, Alexis sandwiched between them with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

Chthonic crowns gleamed atop their heads.

Emotions choked me.

Alexis was my mentee.

I was the one who’d housed her, clothed her, and guided her through the crucible. She was my charge. I’d helped her first. I’d introduced her to Sparta.

The SGC was this August, only a few months away, and since Alexis was still technically our mentee, her performance would in some ways be a reflection of us. We should be the ones by her side, preparing her.

Sure, in the beginning we’d been slightly hostile, me especially. And yes, she was nothing compared to Achilles. But there was still something between us—a nascent spark—potential energy.

Alexis wiped at her face, flashing her hideously expensive diamond.

It was a kick to the teeth.

A reminder.

I was standing before three Spartan royals, and I was … nothing.

A nobody.

Heart hammering painfully in my throat, I tasted the past.

Patroclus, your human heritage makes you weak. Stop struggling. The Gorgons are going to fix you. They’ll break the bitch out of you.

I was a spoiled human child, arrogant and haughty. Showered with toys and told I was superior because of my wealth and breeding.

Then Aphrodite came to collect me.

I was a tortured Spartan teen.

My fourteen-year-old self screamed inside my head.

He’d never stopped.

Torture makes the man was the infamous Gorgon tagline.

Sometimes I wondered if it would have been better to be born in rags because the fall would have hurt less. A pampered child doesn’t suffer well. Better to be nothing all along, than to think you were a somebody and have it all ripped away.

Alexis made a noise, and I came to a halt—I’d been stalking toward her mindlessly.

Two-colored eyes narrowed as she tilted her head to the side like she recognized something in me that I didn’t want her to see.

Shivers prickled down my spine. I felt sick.

Augustus slowly draped his arm over Alexis’s shoulders. There was a warning on his face. He reeked of danger.

Kharon smirked beside them as he pulled on his black creature cloak. “The locker room is all yours, honeys.”

His familiar greeting was acid on the open wound that once was our friendship.

How far we’d fallen.

“Fuck you,” I mouthed.

Kharon bared his teeth and reached for his chest holster.

Achilles moved in front of me protectively, and Alexis frowned as she looked between the three of us.

Skin crawling with sweat, I shoved past all of them and threw open the door, eager to wash the filth of training away.

Kharon’s taunting chuckles rang behind me.

Ripping off my clothes, I turned the shower up until it was scalding and scrubbed as hard as I could, digging the washcloth deep into my skin.

It wasn’t enough.

The dirt remained.

When the past rose up to choke me, as it always inevitably did, the only thing that ever helped was cleanliness—it was my religion, the only piece of my spoiled self that I had left. I’d always been obsessed with feeling put together.

Grinding my teeth, I scrubbed harder, reaching for more soap.

It was basically empty.

With a desperate groan, I chucked the bottle onto the tile floor.

I raised my fist to the wall and swung—Achilles caught my wrist.

Vermillion eyes softened as smoke rose out from his muzzle, water spraying across our naked flesh.

He smelled like fire and rage, like home.

Knuckles cracked as he gripped me tighter—DEATH was in stark relief across them. I flexed my hand—LIAR stared back at me.

I tried to yank away.

Achilles slammed himself forward, pinning me against the shower wall with his body.

Our chests heaved together.

Eyes locked.

He raised his hands between us. “You’re getting yourself all worked up,” he signed angrily. “It’s not worth it.”

I laughed miserably, choking on disbelief and angst as water sputtered off my lips. “You said you wanted her too.”

“I said,” he signed, “that I cared and viewed her as ours … our mentee.” His fingers moved slower. “I do, but you’re falling apart. You’re my priority. Not her.”

“So, you’re just giving up on us?” I scoffed, shoving against his wide, bronzed chest.

He flexed and leaned into my touch, his skin scorching hot.

“They’re our brothers!” His fingers slashed perilously close to my face. “You’re having nightmares about the Gorgons, you’re barely eating, you’re a mess—you need to stop this … before you get bad again.”

Fiery despair exploded in my gut.

Stifling a sob, I pushed him back with all my might.

He banged against the shower wall, bronze skin heaving as he stared down at me.

Hands fisting, his tattooed cock stood erect against his chiseled abs.

The beast of the House of Ares was back.