She needs to sleep.
I just hate the source of her relief.
“Nothing.” I turn back to where my car idles at the curb. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” Even as he asks the question, he moves to follow. He really is a cocky bastard. I could have murdered him several times over.
Unlike the greater Olympian population, I know what’s required to trigger the assassination clause. If I killed Hephaestus and took his place, I could marry Eris. There would be no one standing between us…
Even as the thought crosses my mind, I discard it. I’m not a murderer. I’m capable enough, even years after training with Athena, but I’ve always lacked the coldness she requires in her people. It’s why I didn’t last more than two years with her before she sat me down and gently—for her—told me that I’d be better suited for another line of work.
The assassination attempts on the Thirteen won’t go away. If anything, they’re going to get worse as time goes on and people become bolder. Too many people saw the attack on Athena. It’s being actively televised right now, a spray of glass and her people pulling her down to the ground and covering her with their bodies.
There will be another attack, and soon.
Maybe it’s naive, but I don’t want to be part of the problem.
“Adonis?”
Gods, but I like the rough way he says my name. I open the car door for him. “We’re going to your building and seeing your people.”
“They aren’t my people.” He glares, but he slides into the seat all the same.
I shut the door and circle around to the driver’s seat. “Yes, they are, and the sooner both you and they make their peace with that, the better.”
14
HEPHAESTUS
I don’t want to go to my building. My building. The very label makes me want to curse. It’s not mine. Of all the titles I could have taken, Hephaestus is the one least suited to me. Everyone who works for the title is so damned smart, and the few times I’ve darkened the doorway of this building, I’ve felt like a lumbering oaf.
“This is a mistake.”
“You can’t keep ignoring your responsibilities.” Adonis doesn’t look at me. He’s tense, almost angry, and I find it interesting that he’s obviously trying hard not to direct it at me. What a novel concept.
I deserve his anger, I guess. I married his woman, and I’m sleeping with her, which seems to be the more upsetting development. There’s a thread there to tug on, but I’m weirdly reluctant to do it. At the end of the day, there’s only our deal holding Adonis to me, and there’s nothing real stopping him from walking away.
It’d be better for him if he did.
I cross my arms over my chest. “They’re doing just fine without me.”
“Undoubtedly.”
I glare. “Then why bother going in there? It’s a waste of time.”
Adonis sighs, a nearly soundless exhale. “Because you are Hephaestus.”
“Theseus.” I don’t know why I argue. He’s not wrong, but I hate that fucking title in his mouth.
He finally turns to face me, and I’m struck all over again by how beautiful he is. More than any other person I’ve met, except maybe Helen. Certainly more beautiful than my wife.
Adonis snaps his fingers. “Stop looking at me like that. This is business.”
Right. I should know better than to forget. There might be a spark of attraction between us, but I’m an enemy of Olympus and Adonis is its beloved son.
When he seems satisfied with how I’m looking at him, he continues. “You are Hephaestus,” he repeats. “You took the title, and now you have to own it. That means dealing with the responsibilities that come with it.”
“Seems like there’s nothing but responsibilities with this shit.”
“Now you’re beginning to understand.” He smiles grimly. “The Thirteen might be the most powerful people in the city, and they might abuse that power regularly, but they are also the ones who keep the city running. You are now responsible for keeping the city running. You can’t do that if you’re hiding from your people.”
I know what he’s attempting. He’s trying to leverage my pride to get me to do what he wants. I’m fucking irritated to discover it’s working. “It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it’s not. The last Hephaestus was hardly universally beloved, but he was good at his job.”
I’m not beloved or good at my job.