We have laws for a reason, though, and everyone knows what happened the last time a member of the Thirteen turned against another. The last Hades—and his wife—were murdered, leading to thirty years of Olympus assuming that title had disappeared entirely. Those deaths were the reason we have the law against killing one another in the first place. It’s supposed to safeguard both titles and their families.
It’s supposed to mean that if anyone violates it, the full weight of the other members of the Thirteen will come down on them.
Admittedly, that would mean I’d see consequences for my part in my mother’s schemes, but it’s a small price to pay to ensure Psyche stays safe.
Strange how my priorities have shifted so much in such a short time.
I glance over to where my wife is staring out the window with a contemplative look on her face. Or maybe not so strange at all. I’m a selfish bastard. She matters to me, so of course I don’t want her harmed. It’s as simple and complicated as that.
When we make it up to my penthouse, Psyche slows in the entranceway and stares at the statue for a long moment. “My plan might not work. If Zeus and the others admit that Aphrodite did this, then they have to deal with it, and it’s much easier to look the other way.”
I walk up behind her and slip my arms around her waist, gently pulling her back to rest against my chest. “Hades will help you.”
“I know. My sister will ensure that.” She sighs. “But ultimately Hades is one man. Even with my mother involved, that’s two of thirteen. Those aren’t winning odds, no matter which way you look at it.”
She’s right. I close my eyes and inhale her cookie scent. We have to make this work. My mother is smart and savvy and ambitious, but when she has her sights set on someone, she becomes obsessed to the point where she sees nothing else. She will back down if we can get enough members of the Thirteen in our corner. I believe that. I have to believe that. But… “If our plan fails, I’ll take care of it.” No matter what means are necessary. I don’t want to. Fuck, I don’t want it to get to that point, but I won’t let her hurt Psyche. That is my line in the sand, the one I will not cross, no matter who else pays the price. Even if it means I pay the price.
Psyche turns in my arms and clenches my shirt in her fists. “No, Eros. I won’t let you do that. Not even if it means my life.”
She’s serious. Her sincerity is written there on her pretty face. Gods, this woman kills me. I pull her closer, as if the press of her body against mine is enough to banish my dark thoughts. It doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t work. I let out a bitter laugh. “I lose regardless.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you figured it out, Psyche? I care about you. Losing you will hurt me.”
She shakes her head. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not.” I take a slow breath and rest my forehead against hers. “When I’m with you, I feel human. I flat out fucking feel. Do you understand what that means for a person like me? I thought those parts were dead and buried so deep that they’d never see light again. I had to cut them down in order to continue to do the things required of me.”
“Eros…”
But I’m not done. “Even with that, I don’t know if I’m really capable of love, not in the way a normal person is. It doesn’t matter. I care about you, and no amount of rationalizing that away is going to change the truth of it. So don’t bother.”
She lets out a little sound that might be a laugh—or possibly a sob. “We’re such a mess.”
“I think that goes without saying.” I run my hand up her back. “I promised to keep you safe, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“What about you?”
I blink. “What do you mean, what about me?”
She leans back enough to look up at me. “Who’s keeping you safe, Eros?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
She makes that strange little sound again. Now that I can see her face, I recognize it as a laugh. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? You’re so willing to cut your heart out to keep me safe, it never occurred to you that I’d feel the same way.” She tugs on my shirt. “I won’t let you bear the cost of hurting your own mother. We’ll find another way.”
“There might not be another way.” It pains me to admit as much. This situation would be so much simpler if I truly had no heart to cut out, if I were as without feeling as my mother aspired to make me. “I don’t want to argue. I’m stating facts.”