Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(73)

“No,” Kharon said. “You won’t.”





27


SEXUAL TENSION & OTHER DRUGS




ALEXIS

“Say that again.” Kharon’s voice cracked through the room. In the torchlight, he looked satanic.

Actually on second thought, maybe I should have gone with my mentors?

“I’m going to sleep in the bathtub,” I said calmly. “I won’t sleep in the bed with—”

“Shut up.” Kharon slashed his tattooed hand through the air.

The Machiavellian dictator was back.

“You shut up,” I said. “I make my own decisions.”

Kharon smiled cruelly. “Carissima—” His blue eyes reflected the light strangely. “Our wife will sleep in the bed, not in the tub like a fucking animal … End of discussion.”

Augustus stood unnaturally still behind him, and there was something off about the way he was watching me.

His headache was gone.

Something has changed.

“Alexis.” Augustus said my name quietly, his voice velvety smooth.

He raked his eyes over me, from head to toe.

I like to praise. One could say he’s … cruel. Augustus’s description of their sexual proclivities haunted me.

Be strong.

I was done running from men who should be afraid of me.

Tipping my chin up, I met Kharon’s gaze. “What if I refuse? Are you going to hurt me? Break me? Trap me? Crawl across the floor while you—”

“SHUT UP!” Kharon tipped his head to the side, neck straining with pale tendons, a network of blue veins visible across his throat and jaw as he struggled for control.

“No.”

Kharon surged forward, crowding me until my back bumped into the unyielding wall—he pressed his elbows against the stone on either side of my face.

I was pinned.

Augustus adjusted himself as he watched us with hooded eyes.

“Fuck off, Karen,” I whispered, feeling faint.

Kharon leaned in, the scent of a rainstorm wafting off him. “No—I’ll fuck you, Alexis,” he purred.

I turned my face, so his lips were a hair’s width away. “Aren’t you supposed to be groveling for my forgiveness?”

He pressed his forehead against mine. “Oh, darling … are you asking me to crawl, again? We both know I’m very comfortable on my knees.”

Augustus stepped forward—Kharon shifted to the side to give him space—both crowded me; Augustus’s hips pressed against the right side of my body, and Kharon’s were flush against my left.

Badump-Badump-Badump.

Kharon’s calloused fingers rose to my collarbone and feathered over the diamond necklace—he dragged his nails up to my jaw, leaving a wake of fire, then wrapped his hand around my neck.

His skin was burning.

Tchaikovsky waved his conductor’s wand, and the cello played.

The sensitive skin on my neck prickled where Kharon was touching me.

“Good girl,” Augustus whispered hoarsely.

A droplet of sweat dripped slowly between my breasts.

Kharon’s fingers tightened around my throat infinitesimally.

Unable to stop myself, I reached up and traced my hand across the hard ridges of his chest.

Kharon groaned, fingers relaxing as he moved his hand down to my sternum, while his lips ghosted over the side of my neck in barely there kisses.

Everything was hazy, in a warmly delicious, scream-into-the-abyss-and-tear-at-your-scalp-while-you-spiral, hellacious sort of way.

Augustus wet his full lower lip.

I reached up and tangled my free hand in his long hair. It was shockingly silky.

Augustus surged forward—he kissed my open mouth, his tongue plunging deep—I tugged his hair, and a tortured growl ripped from his throat.

He tastes like lightning.

Kharon dragged his teeth down the side of my neck, then lapped at the aching flesh. My hand dipped lower, trailing over his torso.

Augustus kissed me harder—and I yanked sharply on his hair. He snarled, teeth nipping at my bottom lip.

Kharon bit down on the side of my neck, and I shivered, fingers splaying across his lower stomach—he panted as he kissed the mark he’d left.

It feels like we’re fighting.

“Enough.” Augustus’s voice cracked like a whip as he pulled away—yanking Kharon back with him. “Alexis will sleep in the bed, and we’ll worry about our arrangements later. We can’t afford to be distracted. We need to rest right now and mentally prepare for the opening ceremony.”

I struggled to catch my bearings.

Kharon tipped his head back to look at the rock ceiling. When he lowered it, his pupils were blown wide, black consuming the ice blue of his irises.

An otherworldly solar eclipse.

Augustus tossed his crown onto the bed and raked both his hands through his hair as he shouted a curse, his body taut.

The calm, composed man was gone, and the ferocious heir to the House of War seethed before me.

Kharon frowned, his eyes narrowed as he watched Augustus struggle. In reverse of their usual roles, he grabbed Augustus by his shoulders and shoved him into the bathroom.

The door slammed shut behind them—crash—and the walls shook, dust falling from the ceiling in a cloud.