Wicked Beauty (Dark Olympus Book 3)

“Stop hovering.”

I swallow my frustration and pace another lap around the living room. “I’m not hovering.” I am hovering. I have been since we got back to the rooms. I want to blame it on all the adrenaline with no output. That trial was too damn short, even with the opponents causing snags along the way. If I’d just been able to work hard, to expel some more energy, maybe I’d be able to settle down now.

Patroclus sighs and sets down his e-reader. He’s got glasses perched on the end of his nose, and he looks so adorably nerdy, I want to kiss him. Too bad trying would probably mean a black eye with how pissed he is right now. It’s not often my man gets riled, but when he does, it takes a long time for him to work through it. I have no one but myself to blame for the current shitstorm.

He gives me a long look. “You’re getting what you want. Why are you so upset?”

I hate it when he does this. Instead of admitting just how furious he is, he turns it around and talks to me as if I’m the one being ridiculous. It’s patronizing in the extreme, one of Patroclus’s shittier habits. The fact that he’s right only irritates me more. “I fucked up. Why don’t you just like…yell? Throw something? Fuck, punch me if it will make you feel better.”

“That’s abuse.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Then talk to me. Stop icing me out.” He’s barely spoken six words to me since last night. I hate it when he does this; he’s sitting in front of me, but he might as well be on another planet for all I can reach him. These kinds of fights don’t happen often, but when they do, they drive home how different we are. It serves as a reminder that one day Patroclus will get tired of my shit and ice me out permanently.

Not this time.

Not yet.

Please, gods, not yet.

“I’m sorry. I said I’m fucking sorry. I’ve said it a dozen times. What else do you want from me?” It’s not a fair ask, and we both know it, but I’m so frustrated, I want to shred something.

“Do you regret having sex with Helen?”

I start to say yes, but he’ll know if I lie because I’m shit at it. I hate lying. I’d rather keep my mouth shut and say nothing at all than lie. Neither is an option under his intense look. “No.” Gods help me but I don’t hate her as much as I thought I would, and I can’t blame the orgasm on that shift. She’s nothing like I expected, and yet somehow also everything that I expected. I don’t really get it, but I’m intrigued all the same.

And the sex was so fucking good. It was intense and a little terrifying, but I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again. When I become Ares and she becomes my wife, it’s almost a certainty.

“Which means you will do it again.” He considers me for a long moment. “And if I said I want to sleep with her…” Even as I try not to tense, I can feel my body locking up. Patroclus nods slowly. “Yeah, I thought so. You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Worse has been true, too.

“I know.” He picks up his e-reader again. “I am still angry with you. I can’t just snap my fingers and get over it, even if you’re not happy that I’m angry. It’s not how emotions work.”

There he goes being patronizing again. I exhale harshly. “I know how emotions work, Patroclus.”

He doesn’t look up. He just adjusts his glasses and leans back against the couch. “I need some time. I thought I’d made my peace with your pending nuptials, but I have to work through my side of it because it’s significantly more real now that Helen is more than just a theory.”

My stomach drops. Is it happening? Is this the end? It’s come at me too fast, too out of left field. I swallow hard. “What does that mean?”

“I love you.” He taps his e-reader, turning the page. “One fight doesn’t change how I feel, and it doesn’t change the plan. Just…give me time, Achilles.”

That’s the problem. If his impressive brain gets going on this tangled situation, he might decide that the end of this tournament is the end of our relationship. I know it’s selfish as fuck to want to keep him even while I’m married to someone else. It’s even more selfish now that I’ve had sex with Helen and there’s a distinct possibility of it happening again no matter what protests I make. Most of all, it’s damn near unforgivable that I can’t stand the thought of him and Helen together without me in the picture. No matter which way I look at it, we’re no longer speaking about a political marriage of convenience. Now it’s messy. It’s my fault, but there’s no easy fix for this.

Damn it.

“I’ll give you time, then.” The words come out dull. I turn and walk out the door. I’m too restless to try to sleep yet—if I’ll be able to sleep at all—so I head down the hall. Wandering the dark is something I used to do when I was a kid. Back then, I didn’t sleep a lot. It was a game, a way to battle my deep fear of the dark. The monsters can’t hurt what they can’t see, hear, sense. It wasn’t like the orphanage was bad or anything. I don’t know if any of the last Zeus’s Heras even bothered to mess with it, but the people in charge were nice enough. It wasn’t like the movies say. No one was trying to touch me or abuse me or use me for experiments to summon a demon or some shit.

Still, no matter how Ms. Hebe tried to ensure we were being raised as well adjusted as possible, sometimes the nights were…rough. Wandering the place after dark helped. Movement has always helped me.

It’s been a long time since I felt the compulsion, though. I don’t worry about the shit I can’t see anymore. I see what I need to, and I’m not the same scared little kid I was back then. I’m a warrior. There’s nothing life can throw at me that I can’t handle.

Or so I thought.

I’ve had Patroclus at my side since we were enlisted in Ares’s security forces at eighteen. His moms thought it would be good for him, with the structure and physicality and all. I had a chip on my shoulder and something to prove. I know everyone thinks we’re too different; they thought it back then, too. But even as teenagers, we just…clicked.

I don’t know what I’d do without him. Even though part of me always thought eventually Patroclus would move on to someone who stressed him out less, most of me never believed it would happen. Now, the possibility is all too real.

It’s late enough that the house is deserted, everyone in their beds and keeping out of trouble. Bellerophon or their people will have clocked my movement, even without me turning on the lights. They’re too good to let people get into trouble after dark. I’m not interested in getting into trouble, though. I just want to expel some of this awful feeling churning in my gut.

I’ve fucked things up. I knew that the moment I came out of the haze of lust on the floor next to Helen. Even then, though, I half convinced myself that Patroclus would roll with this the same way he rolls with all my other bullshit. Wishful thinking.

I see the way he looks at her.

He’s never looked at anyone like that…except for me.

I wish I could claim I slept with her solely because I wanted to and not because I was jealous of her and Patroclus. I wish I wasn’t that big of an asshole to do something so selfish just to keep them away from each other. Even when he’s fucked other people, it’s been all in good fun or satisfying a curiosity. He’s never watched someone walk across the room with a longing I can fucking feel even from a few feet away. He’s only been in close contact with Helen as an adult for a few days. How much stronger will that get in a week? In a few months after we’re married?

If he falls in love with her…

Yeah, I’m an asshole. I want to have my cake and eat it, too, and it’s not fucking fair. If I’d slowed down long enough to think about it, I’d like to pretend I would have made different choices. But then, I don’t like lying, do I?

I huff out a breath and open the sliding glass door to the back patio. The heat of the day has cooled, and the night air feels good against my skin. It doesn’t bring any clarity, though. This situation is so fucked up, and I’m to blame for a large slice of the pie. I know that, but it doesn’t mean I’m comfortable stewing over the mess I made. I’m a creature of action. Why sit around and twiddle your thumbs when you can do something about it?

Too bad there’s nothing to be done right now.

Patroclus doesn’t want to see my face again tonight, and talking to Helen isn’t going to change a single damn thing…

I hesitate. It might not change anything, but it’s still true that I don’t feel particularly good about how we left things yesterday. She seemed really unconcerned with the whole thing, but she’s a Kasios; she’ll have learned to lie from birth. Fuck. I should have remembered that. Patroclus would have remembered that, would have pushed for the truth instead of taking her at her word that sex was just sex and I wasn’t too rough with her.

I glance up at the sky. It holds no answers, but I’m not going to be able to sleep now. Maybe she’s still awake. We can talk or fight or whatever. Maybe she’ll actually be honest with me for once, and at least that part of this clusterfuck will be resolved.

Action plan in place, I turn and walk back into the dorm. It’s just as silent, just as dark this time, but I move faster, surer. I had the floor plan memorized the first night; it pays to know where the exits are, just in case. Working damn near ten years for Athena taught me that you never know when you might need one.

Back in our hallway, there’s still a light shining from beneath Patroclus’s door…but not Helen’s. I almost turn for mine, but I haven’t come this far to stop before I at least try to talk to her. I’m about to knock when I hear a thump on the other side.

There’s absolutely no reason for the small hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. This is one of Athena’s buildings, and our people have secured it. We’re the best. The champions are safer than Zeus himself. Helen probably just ran her shin into the coffee table or something.

All the rationalization in the world doesn’t change my instincts screaming that something is wrong. I’ve been a soldier since I turned eighteen. At twenty-two, Athena herself took me under her wing and taught me to trust the very instincts she’s spent years honing. I can’t walk away until I’m sure I’m wrong.

I try the door, and the handle turns easily against my palm. What the fuck? Something is definitely wrong. The time for hesitation is gone. I shove through the door and into Helen’s suite. The room is bathed in shadows, lit only by a single standing lamp next to the couch. That light is enough to catch sight of someone ducking into the door leading to Helen’s bedroom.

Someone damn near six feet tall with broad shoulders.

Someone who is not Helen Kasios.

I’m moving before I fully process the stranger’s presence, a decade’s worth of training and muscle memory kicking in. I rush down the hall on silent feet and shove through the door in time to see the figure standing over Helen’s bed.

A flash of metal in the moonlight. I can’t tell if it’s a gun or a knife, but it doesn’t fucking matter. I’m not thinking anymore. I’m reacting.

I throw myself at the attacker, wrapping one hand around their wrist as I tackle them to the floor away from the bed. They curse in a low voice and then the fight is on. They roll us, managing to come out on top. I’ve got a shitty grip on their wrist so I can’t force them to break their grasp on the weapon.

They jerk their arm down, breaking my grip, and scramble off me to stand. With the black clothing and black mask, they almost look like one of the opponents we faced today. All they’re missing is the owl on their shoulder. But this is not one of Athena’s people. I’d stake my life on it.

I barely get to my feet when they charge. This time, I’m ready. Going unarmed against a knife-wielding opponent isn’t exactly the best-case scenario, but it’s not outside my skill set. I dodge at the last moment, sliding my body just far enough out of the way to avoid the blade and grabbing their arm.

I’m so busy focusing on the knife that I don’t see their fist until they punch me in the face with it. It’s a good punch, so good I see stars for a half a second, which is all they need to kick my legs out from beneath me. I land on the floor with them straddling me, the knife still in their hand.

I react on pure instinct, getting my hands up around their wrist and stopping the blade mere inches from my chest. Fuck, they’re strong. They lean down hard on the knife, putting all their weight behind it, and it descends another inch.

What a ridiculous fucking way to die. Saving Helen Kasios from a godsdamned assassin. When Patroclus finally joins me in the underworld, he’ll never let me live it down.

A dull thump and the assassin goes limp on top of me. I’m so surprised, I shove them up before I realize what happened. Helen stands over us, a lamp in her hands and a fierce look on her face. I blink. She just…hit the attacker over the head. She saved me. Isn’t that a kick in the pants?

She goes to bring the lamp down again, but I throw a hand out. “Wait!”

“Fuck off! They have a knife!”

“We need to question them.” I grab the knife and toss it away. “We need to tie them up and go get Bellerophon.”

She hesitates long enough that I belatedly realize I’m not talking to one of my subordinates. No matter how well she accounted for herself in the first trial, Helen is not trained in combat, and this is probably the first dangerous situation she’s ever found herself in. Fuck.

“Helen.” I try to keep my voice low and even, the way Patroclus would, as I shove the assassin to the floor and yank their arms behind them so I can keep them pinned even after they wake up. “Take a breath.”

“I’m fine.” Her unsteady tone makes a liar out of her. She’s trying, though. I admire that despite myself.

“That was quick thinking with the lamp.” I adjust my hold on the assassin’s wrists. “Pretty sure you saved my life. Thanks.”

“Just returning the favor,” she says faintly. She gives herself a shake. “Bellerophon. Right. I’ll call them.”

I watch her as she staggers to the phone by the bed and picks it up. If she passes out or something, I’m not going to be able to do a damn thing about it without releasing the attacker, and that’s not an option. But Helen manages to keep it together as she speaks into the phone, giving a quick rundown of what just happened. “Yes, please hurry.” She hangs up and drops down to sit on the bed. Neither of us speak in the thirty seconds it takes Bellerophon and their people to all but bust down the door.

They rush into the bedroom and flip on the lights, already issuing orders. “Secure the attacker and transport them off the property, and do it quietly. Athena will want an update immediately.” They turn to us. “Achilles and Helen, please wait a moment and then I’ll speak with you in the living room.”

I don’t offer to help. They have things well in hand…except for the fact that there’s a godsdamned assassin on the property. “How the fuck did this happen, Bellerophon? This place is supposed to be secure.”

“I plan on figuring that out,” they snap.

I move out of the way while their people slap zip ties on the attacker and haul them to their feet. They’re a white dude with nondescript features, short dark hair, and narrow blue eyes. They blink blearily, taking in the room and everyone in it. I tense, ready for them to say some shit, but they only glare silently at us as Bellerophon’s people haul them out of the room.

Bellerophon makes a face. “I have to call Athena. Give me two minutes.”

“Yeah. No problem.” I watch them leave and exhale slowly. Things happen fast in combat situations, but I’d come to Helen’s door prepared for a tough conversation and ended up in a fight for my life. I glance at her. She’s got that thousand-mile stare going on. Shit. I drop down onto the bed next to her. “You good?”

“No.”

Her honesty surprises me. I would have thought she’d try to play it cool even though I can feel the bed vibrating with the force of her shaking. I twist to face her. She’s gone even paler than normal. I’m pretty fucking sure I can hear her teeth chattering. “Helen—”

“I’ll be okay in a minute.” Even her voice sounds wrong, thready and weak. “Just…just give me a fucking minute.”

“You just had a scare of a lifetime. No one’s expecting you to waltz through an attempt on your life without, uh, having an emotional reaction. It’s okay to fall apart.”

“It’s really not.” She stiffens. “And I’m not falling apart. It’s adrenaline letdown. I’m fine.”

Fuck, I’m terrible at this. I always, always say the wrong thing no matter how hard I try. Patroclus would know words that would put her at ease and reassure her. I’m better at action. With that in mind, I reach over, pick her up, and set her on my lap. She makes an angry hissing sound, but she doesn’t immediately punch me in the face.

“You’re safe.” There. That’s nice and neutral. When she doesn’t try to move, I wrap my arms around her. Even precious princesses find hugs comforting, right?

Slowly, breath by breath, she relaxes against me. That, more than anything, tells me how fucked she is in the head right now. She should be fighting and clawing and running her mouth, but instead, she’s shaking like a kitten. My chest gives an uncomfortable lurch, and I hug her a little tighter. “You’re safe,” I repeat.

“Funny, but waking up to someone trying to kill you doesn’t exactly translate to safe.” She rests her head against my shoulder. “I still don’t like you. I think.”

“I don’t really like you, either. Much.”

She exhales slowly. “I don’t know why you’re in my room right now, but thank you for being here. I…” A little shake rocks her body. “Just…thank you.”

The door opens and Bellerophon walks back inside. They don’t comment on my holding Helen, which is just as well. I don’t know what I’d say in response. Instead, they assume an at-ease posture. “We’re still not sure how they got in, but we should have answers by morning.”

Another little shake from Helen. “Forgive me if that’s not comforting.”

If they don’t know how this person got in, there’s nothing to stop others from doing the same. The thought leaves me cold. I might not like Helen—much—but I don’t want her dead. “You’ll stay in my room.”

She tenses. “That’s not necessary.”

“Yeah, I kind of think it is.” I nod at Bellerophon, who’s watching us with a carefully blank look on their face. “They’re going to be occupied dealing with this and patrolling. Plus, I think you’d rather have me as a babysitter than some stranger.”

“You’re barely more than a stranger.” But she makes no move to get up. As much as I want to press, I’ve learned at least a little patience from being around Patroclus for so many years. Sometimes, the best way to win an argument is to sit down and shut up and let them see that you’re being logical. I’m rarely the logical one, but it’s been known to happen once in a blue moon. I know I’m right this time.

It takes Helen roughly thirty seconds to realize the same thing. “Fine. I’m willing to stay in your room.”

The breath I release isn’t in relief. It’s really not. I sure as fuck wouldn’t be losing sleep worrying about her if she hadn’t agreed to this. I give her one last squeeze and set her on her feet. “Get your shit, princess. Time to switch rooms.”