Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(80)

When he made it back, he buried his shaking hand at the base of my head, fingers tangling roughly in my curls as he breathed deeply to steady himself.

“Fuck the Olympians,” he whispered.

I nodded. “Screw all of them.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

Augustus’s name was called and he casually untucked his shirt and undid the buttons as he walked forward with a pleasant, calm expression.

His posture was relaxed.

He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Revelations—” Zeus shouted. “Zero defeats.”

Sparta cheered loudly.

People stood up and clapped as they chanted his name.

The Olympian leaders smiled at Augustus as he spun lazily in a circle, showcasing the unblemished tan skin of his chiseled chest.

He wasn’t just the Chthonic golden boy—everyone loved him.

Augustus’s black, soul-consuming eyes locked on mine as he turned, and they radiated danger.

How did he deceive them all into thinking this version of him is real? The hostile, depraved glint in his eyes was unmistakable.

Couldn’t they see it was all an act?

Zeus stared down at the altar. “Two rounds—six labors!” The crowd cheered louder.

I felt sick.

Augustus sauntered back over to us, his expression affable. The shirt hanging open revealing the deep grooves of his Adonis belt was slightly distracting.

I blushed as his hand settled on my lower back, fingers splaying possessively.

“Our last competitor,” Zeus announced with a smirk.

“Hercules!” Fate called.

Once again, the crowd fell silent.

It took me a second to remember—that was me.

I walked quickly toward the altar—Zeus’s gray-eyed stare was intense—Ceres’s warning washed over me.

I bumped against the edge of the altar and stumbled back.

The weight of everyone’s stares was suffocating; the quiet was oppressive.

Zeus cleared his throat.

“Expose your sternum.” A voice growled to my left and I jumped as Ajax appeared in my blind spot.

It was strange being slightly taller than a man, since I was used to looking up at Chthonics; I’d forgotten that I was a large woman.

It was a nice reminder.

Stepping away from Ajax, I pulled at the high neck of my toga. Right. I just needed to show my clavicle. Easy.

The fabric didn’t budge.

“Fuck.” Swearing under my breath, I tugged, but my clammy hands slipped across the silk, which was surprisingly durable.

Of course I’d get the toga made with exquisite craftsmanship.

Dear God, why do you keep doing this to me?

“You can do it,” Nyx hissed encouragingly. “Just tense your core and rip.”

Face flaming with heat, I pulled harder and nothing happened. Panic and embarrassment were an inferno inside my sternum.

This was hell.

I stared down at the layers of my toga and started to pull my arm from a sleeve. I just needed to get a different angle.

RIPPPPP.

It took me a second to process that hands were violently holding the top of my toga open.

Air blew across my stomach.

Ajax held the torn fabric, exposing the lacy pink bra I’d borrowed from Helen all the way down to the bow on the top of my underwear.

His knuckles were pressed against my exposed chest.

“Release me,” I said.

Ajax snarled something in my face, but I couldn’t hear it over the rushing in my ears—I grabbed at the silk, roughly pulling it from his hands.

The dice clattered across the altar. Wait, why are they sparking with electricity?

“THREE ROUNDS—TWELVE LABORS!”

Zeus’s voice was like a gunshot in the too-quiet coliseum.

What?

Ajax said something and stepped toward me, but I couldn’t hear him over the whooshing in my ears.

He reached for me.

I raised my fist to throw a punch, twisting my hips for power and—

Ajax’s neck snapped to the side.

My fist hung suspended in midair.

Kharon was holding Ajax’s twisted head—he threw the limp body down—Ajax’s skull hit the side of the altar with a loud crack. Augustus moved in front of me protectively.

“Oopsie,” Kharon said. “My bad. I slipped.”

The crowd screamed.

“I’ve always liked that Karen man,” Nyx hissed sarcastically as she slithered around my shoulders.

Hermes lunged at Kharon, but Hera held him back.

“Oh please,” Kharon said as he gestured to Ajax’s crumpled body. “He’ll be fine … He dishonored my wife—he’s lucky I didn’t decapitate him.”

He kicked Ajax.

Something cracked.

“I slipped again,” Kharon drawled.

I hunched over with my hands on my knees, and Augustus gently grabbed my chin and tilted my head up. “Alexis, breathe. You’re going to be okay, darling—we’ll make sure of it. Everything is fine.”

“It was a statistically unusual event,” I said with a gasp, needing Augustus to understand. The mathematical odds were truly devastating. There was a one in thirty-six chance of rolling a twelve, which meant there was less than a 0.05 chance.