Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(77)

“Don’t,” Kharon whispered under his breath. “Don’t stop touching me … please.”

I retightened my grip.

His jaw worked back and forth, and he was staring down at me like a starving man, eyes smoldering.

My heart sped up.

We were standing in front of the powerful Spartan leaders who ruled the world, preparing to compete in what was rumored to be the most dangerous competition on earth, and my husbands were eye fucking me.

My face flushed.

Are there support groups for perverts?

Augustus’s dark lashes fanned across his tan skin. “Are you okay, my carus?”

I nodded.

Nyx slithered up from where she’d been sleeping on my leg, and tightened around my arm. “You should have sex with them already—it’s getting weird.”

No, it’s been weird.

Feeling exposed—and like a deviant with a man problem (both were true)—I tried to ignore my husbands, but their hands on my neck and lower back were like brands.

The sun sank fully behind the mountains.

“We will now begin the ceremony—” Zeus paused, and torches lit with a whooshing sound throughout the arena “—with the revelations of the victors and reading of the labors.”

I jumped as claps echoed thunderously all around.

“Labors?” I whispered.

Augustus leaned down. “The number of labors is how many competitors we have to face during our fight—we all fight once, but the more labors you get … the more rounds you have to survive. The rounds get progressively harder, physically and mentally.”

Oh, how wonderous.

This entire experience (my life) was becoming increasingly more unfortunate.

Maybe I should just leap away. How bad can treason and imprisonment really be? Guilt hit me. Ceres would beg to differ.

Zeus pulled a small velvet pouch out of his coat pocket and dumped two gold dice onto the altar.

“We welcome Ajax of the illustrious House of Hermes, this year’s honorable enforcer.” Zeus pointed to a guard wearing a small laurel crown.

Ajax stepped forward, rainbow peacock crest sparkling on the lapel of his black suit as he stepped up beside the altar.

Why do they need an enforcer?

Fate put on a pair of purple reading glasses, and held her clipboard out.

“Will the Chthonic leaders please step forward?” Her voice boomed around the stadium. The tenor was even more commanding than Zeus’s.

The crowd quieted.

Hades, Artemis, Erebus, Aphrodite, and Ares stepped forward and slowly sauntered as a group up to the other side of the altar.

“Per tradition,” Zeus said as he held up a die, showing off the five dots. “As there are five of you, do you each accept your labors—will you each fight against five adult Cyclopes?”

“We do,” Hades said calmly, fog swirling around his feet.

Augustus leaned down again and whispered in my ear, “The leaders always fight five Cyclopes to start the competition. They’re so powerful that it’s more ceremonial than anything else.”

I nodded up at him, grateful he was giving me some context.

Hades had planned on giving me a debrief of the SGC the week before the competition, but that was before the accelerated timeline.

“Now—their revelations!” Zeus spread his arms wide, face up to the sky.

I looked up at Augustus for an explanation, but he was staring at Kharon with a nervous, worried expression.

Purple eyes flashed as Fate tapped her clipboard. “Artemis.”

Artemis smirked. She grabbed the V-neck of her toga, turned in a circle so everyone in the stadium could see, and … ripped the material wide, exposing the bare, unblemished skin of her sternum.

Scarlet mist glittered around her in a dangerous shimmer.

“Revelation,” Zeus announced. “Zero defeats.”

Artemis looked smug as she tied the ripped top of her toga so it covered her chest, and walked back to stand in our line, a haughty sneer on her face.

“Ares,” Fate called out.

The infamous leader of the House of War stepped up and unbuttoned his suit jacket. Folding it neatly, he placed it on the altar, then deftly unbuttoned his white shirt and shrugged out of it.

His head was shaved down the middle, and the crimson rings around his irises flared. Layers of bronze skin rippled as he slowly turned in a circle.

Long jagged scars slashed across his lower back and the thick ridges of his stomach, matching the scar across his lips.

“Revelation—zero defeats!” Zeus shouted.

Hades was called forward, and he also shrugged out of his suit jacket. I looked away, because I didn’t want to be scarred for life, and Zeus announced he also had zero defeats.

“Erebus!” Fate yelled.

Kharon stiffened, his grip tightening around my neck.

Erebus stepped up to the altar, his mask gleaming menacingly in the golden light of dusk.

He parted his cloak, revealing combat pants and a plain black T-shirt. He was probably the only person in the stadium not dressed in ceremonial clothes.

Erebus gripped the neck of his shirt and ripped down.

The stadium gasped.

Every inch of Erebus’s pale lithe torso was covered in old and new raised claw marks. It looked like he’d been attacked by hundreds of wolves, repeatedly.