Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(88)

I winced at the loud feedback in my ear.

“He’s fine,” I said defensively, hating the way they were looking down at him with disgust. How dare they judge.

Kharon and Augustus shielded us with their bodies.

“Don’t speak to our wife,” Augustus ordered, his voice dangerous. “Leave. Now.”

“Or we’ll make you.” Kharon pulled up the hood of his cloak.

Lights flashed in quick succession as the reporters backed away. “Are you aware that the video of you slicing off your ear and giving it to Hercules has gone viral with the humans?” one asked provocatively. “Are you concerned humans will view us as barbaric because of your … extreme action?”

Kharon clenched his jaw. “No. I don’t give a fuck what they think. I’ll do much worse for my wife … Nothing is off-limits.”

The reporters stepped back. Lights flashed.

“Do you want to make a statement?” the other asked.

“Yes,” Kharon said icily. “I’d cut off my fucking head and give it to Alexis if that’s what she needed. I’d also cut off yours if that’s what she wanted.” He chuckled darkly.

The reporters visibly paled, but they kept their cameras held high.

“Did you have something to do with Medusa’s escape? She’s your sister,” the female reporter taunted, refusing to be intimidated. “We heard a rumor that the Chthonics broke her out of the Underworld, and you all are harboring her—”

“That’s false.” Augustus rolled his shoulders back. “You should know how … dangerous rumors can be.”

Kharon cracked his knuckles.

“We got all we need,” the one reporter said with a glare. They turned their cameras to the Olympian table.

I sagged with relief, still kneeling beside my protector.

Sparta was exhausting. Everyone was so hostile.

Augustus offered me his hand.

I laid my fingers in his and our marriage bond sparked inside my sternum.

All three of us gasped.

Calluses scraped against my skin, and for a second, he did nothing but flex his much warmer hand around mine as he stared down at me.

Augustus yanked me up to my feet.

“Uh … wow,” I said eloquently.

Their expressions didn’t change.

If you ever need to make an awkward situation more uncomfortable, I’m your girl.

I leaned across Kharon to grab a glass from a tray—he rested his hand on my lower back, and my skin prickled with awareness—I threw the ambrosia back.

Once again, the liquid burned my throat deliciously and I let out a moan of enjoyment.

Augustus swore under his breath, and I peered over at him in confusion; his eyes smoldered, jaw tensed.

Why is he so worked up?

Kharon pressed against my back and led me to a booth—the three of us slid in—they scooted in on either side of me.

Under the table, both their hands settled on my upper thighs.

Shadows concealed us.

My breath quickened as Kharon’s fingers slowly pulled back the fabric of my toga, tracing a circle on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Augustus just palmed the top of my left thigh, his nails digging deep into my flesh.

They were so warm it was overwhelming; my thoughts turned hazy.

The ambrosia made it hard to think.

It was nice.

Augustus dragged his nails up my leg, until his fingers lingered dangerously close to the fabric at the juncture of my thighs. Both their hands touched as they stroked me like they were playing an instrument.

Augustus pressed a soft kiss to my temple, then pulled away with a groan like I’d scalded him.

Skeleton-tattooed fingers grabbed my chin harshly and pulled my face close. “You’re playing with fire, carissima,” Kharon whispered, his voice gritty.

The ambrosia settled into my stomach, bringing the heat to a fever pitch.

If I’m going to die in this tournament, I might as well live.

Music played.

The room buzzed with energy.

We were hidden in the shadows where no one could see us.

A horrible, brilliant, disastrous idea struck me.

“I want you both to fuck me,” I blurted out eloquently.

Kharon’s long lashes fluttered, cheekbones sharpening, as his fingers tightened around my chin.

“Excuse me?” Augustus straightened, his pupils expanding, as he searched my face for answers. “What did you … just say?”

“Fuck me,” I repeated, louder with the confidence only a drunkard could muster.

Kharon’s grip became painful. “Why?”

My peril is imminent and I’m horny.

Since saying the truth would most likely not go over well, I settled with a casual “We might as well.”

Kharon searched my face, disappointment flashing in his eyes.

“No.” He dropped my chin.

I almost fell over.

Augustus’s hands studied me.

Whoa. Everything was spinning.

“Why not?” I giggled into my palm as both men glared at me.

“You’re not ready for us,” Kharon said harshly, and it didn’t sound like he was just talking about sex.

Augustus’s stubble scraped against the side of my face as he leaned close. “You’ll also be sober when we make love to you.”