Blood of Hercules (Villains of Lore Book 1)

Augustus: Present day

Click. Click. Click.

My dress shoes echoed against Italian marble. I carried my new bride against my chest, up the grand stairway of our villa.

Kharon walked beside me, and his expression was smug.

My face mirrored his.

We’d won.

Our plan had come to fruition.

We were married to Alexis—bonded for life with a Chthonic Spartan who was our equal. We were more powerful than ever. It was the most glorious feeling in the world. She was perfect for us.

Perfectly ours.

My smile fell.

Pride morphed into rage.

Alexis had panicked when she’d realized the depths we’d sunk to wed her. Her pupils had blown wide, and she’d tried to get away from us. Her fear had been unmistakable, and I was glad she’d passed out before she’d hurt herself.

That wasn’t all.

Her wrists were covered in old, jagged scars, and Persephone had said she hadn’t been born with two differently colored eyes. We’d also found her sleeping in a Kronos damned cardboard box with her brother.

Alexis was keeping things from us—unseemly things—things we needed to slaughter people over.

Her silence was unacceptable. She would reveal every one of her secrets, and then we would torture whoever hurt her. Brutally.

That was how this was going to work.

My hands cramped, and I forced myself to soften my punishing hold. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to scare her. The problem was I didn’t want to do a lot of things in life, but I still did them.

I hadn’t asked to be born with such . . . violent inclinations.

But I had been.

Kharon leaned down and petted the invisible heads of his vicious hellhounds.

We had both been raised in the crucible of power. Kronos had forged us with wrath and savagery.

I had a feeling that when Alexis woke up—it would be war.

Guns were strapped to our thighs beneath our ceremonial togas for a reason. We were always ready for conflict. She would learn there was no escaping us.

Ever.

“Amore et melle et felle es fecundissimus,” I whispered down to the sleeping angel in my arms.

Kharon nodded in agreement as he adjusted the weapon holster under his toga.

Love is rich with honey and venom.

It had never been more true.