Electric Idol (Dark Olympus Book 2)

“Are you ready?”

“Almost.” I finish buttoning up my shirt and check my appearance in the reflection. I look fine. Better than fine. This is a new suit, one of Juliette’s designs, and the fit is so damn superior, I see why she charges what she does. The deep purple should be ridiculous, but it looks great. One wouldn’t know by looking at me that my stomach is a mess of nerves.

Psyche leans against the doorway. She’s as picture-ready as always, wearing a bright floral top with a deep-pink skirt that bells out to stop just below her knees. “Stop stalling or we’re going to be late.”

“We could always skip it.” I stalk toward her. “I could strip you out of that cute skirt thing and lose track of time.”

“Eros.” She smiles, though her hazel eyes are serious. “You have nothing to be nervous about. It’s just dinner at my mother’s.”

“It’s Sunday dinner at your mother’s, with your entire family.” It’s also the first one we’ve managed to make in the month since Aphrodite was exiled. As Zeus feared, my mother created more than enough trouble on her way out. She named Eris as her heir, which sent the entire upper city into wave after wave of whispers. I hadn’t even realized Eris was working beneath Aphrodite, though apparently she’d been doing it for years. Her appointment means two of the Thirteen are from the Kasios family, which has everyone speculating on how that will affect the power balance going forward.

Eris, of course, hasn’t seen fit to reassure anyone. I suspect she’s thriving off the chaos.

Demeter has been busy putting out political fires and circling the new Aphrodite warily, trying to figure out where they stand. And now Ares is sick, and it’s not looking like he’ll recover…

Yeah, shit has been fucked up in Olympus.

Ironic that it’s been the happiest month of my life.

As I follow Psyche out of our room and into the kitchen to grab the wine I bought to bring to dinner, evidence of that happiness is everywhere I look. The key bowl Psyche bought at the winter market in the lower city with its jaunty color scheme of pink, yellow, and teal. The matching personalized glasses—a tumbler for her and a wineglass for me—on the drying rack, the stylized script etched into it reading Hers and His. She has entirely too much fun taking photographs of us drinking from those for her social media.

The dining room table always has fresh flowers on it, and they always seem to match whatever Psyche is wearing when she buys them. Even though I tease her about being vain, I love it. It feels like she leaves a little piece of her in the penthouse when she’s out.

Every room has little things added. Extra pillows in our bedroom. A knit throw blanket in the living room, along with a stack of books that, judging from their broken spines, she’s reread many times.

I stop in front of my favorite addition. Psyche rolls her eyes, but she’s fully grinning now. “Every time!”

“We look good. It’s a shame not to appreciate it.” On the wall in the foyer, there’s a larger-than-life print of the photo from our wedding. It’s my personal favorite of the bunch, one of our first kiss as a married couple. Hermes did us a solid and ducked out of the way, though I didn’t realize it at the time.

“You are such a sap.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “Come on, Husband. We don’t want to be late.”

I loop my arm around her waist as we head down the elevator to the parking garage. It’s so fucking easy being with Psyche, listening to her detail her plans to champion a new designer Juliette recommended who specializes in plus-sized clothing, that I forget to be nervous until we’re parking outside her mother’s building.

My chest gets tight as I stare at the front door. “What are the odds she decides to poison me?”

Psyche raises her brows. “We can pretend that you’re actually worried about that if you like.” She reaches across the center console and takes my hand. “Or we can talk about the real issue.”

“Don’t tell me Demeter isn’t capable of poisoning someone.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I give her a look. “Is that supposed to be reassuring? You’re enjoying this.”

“Only a little,” she admits. “It’s so rare to see you nervous.”

“Psyche.”

“Eros.” She squeezes my hand. “I love you. My mother might have resisted the idea at first, but she’s made her peace with it. She won’t be more difficult than normal at this dinner, and homicide is stricken from the list of possibilities.”

Psyche’s family is important to her. The most important thing to her. She loves me, but her sisters are her bedrock. Even her mother, for all that they clash, holds a vital role in her life. If I can’t make peace with them, true peace, it might become a wedge in the future. It might hurt her.

I swallow hard. “Let’s go.”

She releases me long enough to get out of the car and then reclaims my hand as we head into the building. I can pretend it’s simply for the joy of touching me, but it’s obvious she’s offering her silent support. I appreciate it.

I’ve faced down innumerable dangerous situations. I’ve killed people. I’ve swum with the worst predators Olympus has to offer without blinking.

Of course it would be a family dinner that has me so nervous, I’m in danger of being sick.

Demeter’s apartment is identical to what it looked like the last time we were here, one of the many trips to transport all of Psyche’s wardrobe to our place. The spare bedroom already looks like a perfect replica of hers here, so I’ve commissioned a contractor to remodel the entire space as a closet. It’s a surprise for her birthday next month. Once she approves the design, we’ll start construction.

I expect Psyche to lead the way into the kitchen where I can hear Demeter and Persephone talking in low voices, but she veers away from that door and hauls me up the stairs. I curse when I catch my toe on a stair. “If you wanted a quickie, we could have done it in the car instead of your mother’s house.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. I want to show you something.”

“Is it your—”

“Eros,” she hisses, but she’s obviously trying not to laugh. “Focus.”

“I’d say I’m remarkably focused right now.” The banter eases some of my tension. No matter what else today brings, this is the same. I let Psyche drag me along like her favorite toy until she stops in front of the picture wall. “Look.”

This isn’t the same as when I was here the first time. There are two new additions. The first is a black-framed photo of Hades and Persephone. She’s wearing a white wedding gown that looks remarkably traditional. There’s even a veil covering her blond hair. He, of course, is in a black-on-black suit, but he’s not wearing his customary dour expression. Instead, he’s staring down at his bride with an indulgent smile on his face. She’s beaming at him, practically radiating light. It’s so sweet it makes my teeth ache.

Psyche tugs my arm. “Yes, yes, my sister looks lovely. This one.” She points to the second addition. There, next to the photo of Hades and Persephone, is one of me and Psyche. This one isn’t from the ceremony but from the photos we posed for after the fact. I’m holding Psyche close and have one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand tipping her chin up with the obvious intention of kissing her. She looks soft and happy and perfect.

And me?

My heart’s in my eyes.

I don’t miss the significance of this photo being here among these other happy photos of the Dimitriou women. Demeter might not have welcomed me to the family with open arms and sweet words, but by hanging this photo, she is welcoming me into the family.

I laugh, my throat a little tight. “Well, fuck.”

“What?”

I can’t really put this strange sensation into words. I’ve never had a family before, or at least a family where every interaction isn’t transactional. A warm welcome, even this small, makes me feel strange and awkward, like I don’t know what to do with my hands. “Your mother has a pointed way of welcoming someone into the family.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Psyche leans against my arm. “Hey, you.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

I press a quick kiss to her bright-pink lips. “I love you, too. Now let’s go down and greet your mother properly.”

We find the entire Dimitriou clan in the kitchen. And Hades, which surprises the fuck out of me. He lifts his brows when he sees me but otherwise seems content to occupy a corner away from the women moving around one another like a terrifyingly well-oiled machine. Psyche gives my hand one last squeeze and joins them seamlessly.

Eurydice stirs what appears to be marinara sauce while chatting with Persephone, who removes hot rolls from the oven. Demeter tips steaming noodles into a strainer, gives it a good rinse, and weaves around Persephone to dump them into the sauce. Callisto is chopping vegetables for a salad with a speed that makes my stomach shrivel up. Psyche washes her hands and then starts transferring the chopped vegetables into the giant salad bowl filled with lettuce.

I inch back until I’m even with Hades, safely on the other side of the peninsula counter. “Are they always like this?” I murmur.

“Yes.”

No one bumps into each other. No one even hesitates. And they manage it while all talking at once. It’s overwhelming in the extreme. Not just the sheer competence; it’s the fact that I can feel their love for each other in every word, every movement.

“So this is what family really looks like.” I don’t mean to say the words out loud. I sure as fuck don’t mean for Hades to hear them.

He huffs out a dry laugh. “Yeah, it shocked the fuck out of me, too, the first few times. You get used to it.” He hesitates. “It’s even kind of nice sometimes, especially when they let you help.”

It strikes me that Hades is another person in Olympus who wouldn’t have much in the way of family experience. His parents died when he was a little kid. I glance at him. “Brave to step into that tornado.”

“Just wait until you’re in the middle of it.”

Strangely enough, I can’t wait.

Within ten minutes, the women have us hauling food to the table. Dinner is just as much a whirlwind as the preparing seemed to be. Psyche and her sisters talk over each other, with Demeter interjecting dry comments at regular intervals. It’s chaotic and more than a little overwhelming.

But Hades is right. It’s…nice.

I can feel the love they hold for each other, even when Persephone and Callisto start bickering over a misremembered instance of sibling injustice. I’m content to pick at my food and soak up the energy. This is what family feels like. What home feels like.

I like it.

Once everyone’s eaten their fill, Hades clears his throat. “We’ll do dishes.”

“Smart boys.” Demeter’s smile is knife-sharp. “We’ll be in the living room.”

Hades heads into the kitchen and the women whisk out of the room. All except Psyche. She glances after her family and takes my hand. “Are you doing okay? I know we can be a lot at first. If we need to leave—”

“I’m good.” The love I feel for this woman about bursts out of my chest. Of course she’d pause to check in on me, to offer to leave early even though she’s obviously enjoying herself. I squeeze her hand. “Better than good. Go enjoy your mother and sisters. We’ll be in once we’ve finished the dishes.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

She finally nods, her lips curving in a slow grin. “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. I have a surprise for you when we get home.” She leans close and lowers her voice. “I bought some new lingerie. Play nice and I’ll let you tear it off me with your teeth.”

“You little asshole,” I breathe. I have to adjust my pants a little, which makes her smirk. Even her damn smirk is sexy. “Just for that, I am going to tear it off with my teeth, strip by lacy strip.”

“Oh no, not that,” she says, deadpan.

I laugh. It’s big and freeing and banishes the last of the nerves that clung through dinner. A beautiful wife who is everything I never dreamed of deserving. A loving family that seems all too ready to draw me into their circle. I really am the luckiest son of a bitch in Olympus.