Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(28)

He clenched my thigh, nails digging through my cargo pants. “You should not be in the Assembly of Death. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

He didn’t think I was made for this.

Neither did I.

Sometimes what we were made for was different from what we wanted. The lines were blurring, and I needed to remember.

Pulling my head back, I squared my shoulders.

“I can look after myself.” I didn’t stutter.

All traces of the gentle, caring man disappeared. If he’d ever existed to begin with.

His face was a dangerous mask. “Let’s agree to disagree, wife.”

The devil incarnate was here to see me off to battle.

Augustus pressed his forehead against mine and our breaths mingled. The gesture was wrathful.

“You better keep yourself fucking safe.” His voice vibrated. “If you need to leap to safety, do it. Do you understand? Protect yourself at all costs … No one else matters. Only you.”

Zap. Our bond fired.

“Take care of yourself,” he said quietly. “Or there will be consequences, my carus.”

It was a threat.

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. His lips were featherlight—my skin burned, breath catching, as a fever spread through me.

“My precious wife—familia ante omnia.” Augustus kissed my forehead again.

I leaned into his touch.

Family over all.

“I think I just fell in love,” Nyx hissed dreamily.

He waited for my response.

Words bubbled up, but they died on my tongue. Augustus didn’t pressure me to speak, instead he offered me his hand and he pulled me to my feet.

My fingers tingled where he held them.

“Alex will be fine with me.” Patro’s voice broke the trance we’d both fallen under as he sauntered over with his arm wrapped around Achilles.

The muzzled man was glaring at me. Again.

“Don’t worry.” Patro smirked as he adjusted the buckle on the back of Achilles’s armpit harness. “She’ll be completely safe with us—we’re her mentors. Just like old times. When she used to live with us. You remember?”

Augustus straightened to his full height, looming above Patro. “Oh, I remember,” he said. “How you called her spoiled and pathetic.”

“People change.” Patro yanked harder on Achilles’s holster and repositioned a gun.

WSDL glinted on the handle.

War. Sex. Death. Lies.

It was all so disturbingly fitting.

Augustus’s expression was cold as he focused on me. “They’re young—they can’t protect you. Remember to use the pager and leap to safety.”

“Interesting,” Patro sneered, a cruel edge to his voice, like he was going in for the kill. “I’ve never heard a complaint about the Crimson Duo’s fighting ability before. We’re not losers.” He pointedly rubbed at his chest. “Unlike your partner.”

“Here, put these on,” Kharon said abruptly, breaking the tension.

I jumped.

He was standing in my blind spot, and I hadn’t heard him approach. It was as if he’d been summoned. Like Satan.

Hell and Hound sat at his feet, shaking their bony tails, and Fluffy Jr. threw himself at the dogs in greeting, the three of them pouncing on each other (wrestling violently).

Patro turned, giving us his back.

Achilles rotated with him, but he looked back over his shoulder, eyes blazing as he glared at me.

What is his problem?

“Here.” Kharon held out leather holsters filled with knives and guns for me to take.

I pointed to my already loaded chest and hip holsters.

“You need more,” Kharon said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Put them on now. Also, you need these handcuffs if you capture a Titan.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

Patro had already told me not to worry about handcuffing any Titans because he and Achilles would handle it.

My jaw clicked shut, and I held out my hands for him to give them to me.

Kharon ignored my outstretched arms. He moved into my personal space, fastening the buckles around my waist and thighs, black nails flashing.

The scent of a rainstorm made it hard to think.

Augustus watched us both with a heated gaze.

When Kharon finally stepped away, I gasped for air like I’d been running.

“This is a little overkill.” I was now a walking arsenal.

Pale features tensed, and for a second, Kharon reminded me of the grim reaper. The one I had nightmares about; the one that watched me sleep.

“I’ll decide what’s necessary for your protection,” Kharon said. “You’re the newbie and a woman. We’ve been soldiers for years.”

“That’s sexist,” I said.

“Exactly.” Kharon smirked and arched his brow, not even bothering to deny it.

I sputtered with outrage. He was such a walking red flag it wasn’t even funny.

I shook my head. “You’re horrible.”

A sinful grin split his face. “Carissima—when have I ever said that I was a good man?”

Flushing with a heat that I refused to identify, I turned and walked away from him.

I moved around Agatha, who was in a full front split touching her face to her thigh, and stopped beside Drex.