Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(81)

Ceres was right about Zeus. I saw the dice spark.

Also, Kharon just snapped a man’s neck.

Nothing was fine.

“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” Hades shouted as he stalked across the sand toward Zeus. His Chthonic eyes were bloody, and fog pulsed angrily around him. “My daughter cannot face twelve fucking labors.”

I’d never heard him swear before.

Persephone jumped over the edge of the stadium, landing gracefully. She sprinted toward the altar, her hand raised, finger pointing at Zeus.

“Fix this!” she screamed.

Zeus held his hands up in a surrender gesture. “I agree! This is wrong—I would never want my niece to have to face this.”

He’s such a liar.

“Roll it again,” Persephone demanded as she came to a stop beside Hades, who was now covered fully in rolling inky fog. “Now.”

“I would.” Zeus’s expression was pleading as he looked between them. “But it’s written into the laws of Sparta—you both know I can’t. I swear I want to. The odds … This is horrible.”

Déjà vu washed over me as my parents argued with Zeus in the middle of the stadium.

Ceres said the best plans were simple—ours was one of deception, not force.

I needed to get Zeus alone, and I needed to get him to talk. That meant he couldn’t suspect that I knew what he’d done. I wasn’t completely sure about the details, but I had a growing suspicion.

However, entrapment was easier said than done.

Twelve labors.

I’ll die on the sands.

Ceres was waiting for me back in the villa, and she believed in me.

With visceral terror pounding through me, I stood tall. “Zeus is right!” My voice rang, strong and clear.

Zeus turned slowly. “I … am?”

Everyone looked at me.

I needed to play the naive idiot, one last time.

“I’ll be fine.” I stared at Hades and Persephone, mentally pleading with them to trust me one more time. “I’ve been training—I’ll face the labors, all … twelve.”

“Are you sure?” Zeus asked, his gray eyes wide with what looked like concern.

I forced myself to act casual. “I can handle him … I mean them.”

Zeus’s expression didn’t change, but the corner of his mouth twitched down like he was confused. For the first time, he looked unsure.

Persephone nodded as she studied my face—she saw through me in a way that only a mother could. She grabbed Hades’s arm and whispered in his ear.

Murmurs erupted in the stadium.

I widened my shoulders.

Nyx hissed, “Oh, now this is going to be fun.”

No one fears the weak.

I would play Zeus’s game, until it was time to play mine.





30


THE ELDEST HEIR




AUGUSTUS

Poco was wrapped around my head, purring soothingly, and I leaned into his touch. I’d missed him so much that it hurt to think about our time apart.

Wall sconces burned low, and shadows crawled across the ancient coliseum stone.

We’d been locked in the room for hours, all of us lying in the one bed.

Alexis lay stiffly pressed against my back, her breathing shallow and harsh—buttons clicked as a faint green light illuminated the screen—she pressed her calculator while muttering about statistically unlikely events.

Kharon grumbled and shifted.

We were on either side of her, half hanging off the much too small mattress.

It should have been heavenly—it was tortuous.

The urge to wrap my arms around her and pull her close was driving me mad.

I wanted to touch, kiss, caress her.

But I also wanted to respect her—she thought what we had was just physical; I needed to prove to her that it wasn’t. She could have severed the bond between us with her blood, she could have chosen to stay in the room with Patro and Achilles—but she’d chosen us each time.

I couldn’t ruin the trust that was growing between us by being too sexually aggressive.

I had to keep my more physical nature under wraps.

For now.

Kharon swore under his breath as he punched at his pillow, and Alexis poked faster at her calculator.

She had to survive three rounds and twelve fucking labors; it was Kharon all over again, but somehow worse.

None of us could sleep.

Fluffy Jr. made a pained sound and kicked the bed in his sleep—my head jerked—the steel bed frame slammed against the stone wall. He’d been doing it for hours.

Alexis tensed, focusing on her calculator.

Something was seriously wrong with her protector, but at this point there was nothing we could do to help him. At least he was resting.

Poco chittered as he gnawed on my hair.

On top of the imminent danger that my wife was facing, she’d also been exposed against her will in front of the entirety of Sparta. I hadn’t missed the way the Olympian leaders had stared at her flesh hungrily, and they hadn’t been the only ones.

Catcalls and whistles had echoed around the stadium.

I’d memorized the face of a male siren who’d shouted, “Ride my face, Angelus Romae,” from the front row of the stadium.

He would die by my hand. Soon. Gruesomely.