Wicked Beauty (Dark Olympus Book 3)

I’m still at war with myself when someone knocks on my door. I recognize Achilles’s brisk impatience and bite back a sigh. I hate fighting at much as he does, but I can’t just turn off my feelings because they’re inconvenient. Obviously I don’t want to be this twisted up when we need to be focused, but nothing about this situation with Helen is logical. Not my attraction to her. Not Achilles’s attraction to her. Not either of our jealousy.

I don’t understand it. I doubt I’ll get the opportunity to even try now.

I open the door and stop short. Achilles, quite frankly, looks like shit. It’s more than the exhaustion on his face. He looks like he just came to my room after being in a brawl. His shirt is torn, his hair is askew, and I’m nearly certain someone punched him in the face.

Dear gods, don’t tell me he slept with Helen again.

I swallow hard, tasting bile and jealousy. “What happened to you?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You look…” I stop myself before I accuse him. It’s not fair to jump to conclusions, even if logically it’s impossible to divorce him showing up at my door looking like this from the last time he did, from what he confessed immediately upon my letting him into my room. I finally try for a neutral enough question. “Who punched you?”

“Who punched…” He touches the spot and winces. “I forgot they landed a strike. Sloppy of me.”

My stomach drops. This isn’t a confession. This is something else. I straighten. He only left my room an hour or two ago. What trouble could he have possibly gotten up to in that time? Obviously more than I could have anticipated. He wasn’t brawling with the other champions; he’s too focused on Ares to get baited into a fight, and even if he did, he would already have been dragged from the dorms. He wasn’t with Helen, or he would still have that kicked-puppy guilty look on his face. “Achilles, what the fuck is going on?”

“Someone tried to kill Helen.”

“What?”

“I was going to her room to apologize and caught them about to attack her. Bellerophon is getting answers.”

Shock lances me. The words don’t make any sense. Someone tried to kill Helen? And Achilles was there and… I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and force myself to focus. “Did you recognize them?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “White guy, the sort of looks that are instantly forgettable. But they weren’t one of Athena’s, and they weren’t on any list we have of problems.”

Athena keeps an ongoing list of people who are considered dangerous in Olympus. Not the normal kind of danger that the Thirteen or the powerful families can bring. Her list is filled with people who are either loose cannons or willing to cross all sorts of lines with the right amount of money involved. If I’d had to take bets about the attacker’s identity, it would be on that list.

That it’s not… “That’s going to be a problem.” Unknowns can throw everything into a tailspin, especially during an event as important as this tournament.

“Yeah. I know.” He shifts from foot to foot. “That’s actually not why I’m here, though. She’s freaked out and won’t admit it, so she’s staying in my room tonight.”

It’s already happening. He’s already moving on with her.

I shut the irrational thought down. My fears don’t make sense. His moving Helen into his room does. If we were trying to secure someone after an attack, this is exactly the proper protocol to follow. The fact that he had sex with her a little more than twenty-four hours ago is immaterial. Except it doesn’t feel immaterial. “You’ll both stay here,” I find myself saying. “It will be easier to protect her if it’s both of us.”

Achilles studies my expression. For once, he’s not jumping into action. I hate that we’re moving so tentatively around each other, but I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t shut off my emotions any more than Achilles can shut off his ambitions. Maybe if we weren’t all piled on top of one another from this tournament and stuck in this building, it would be easier to navigate the thorny situation. I don’t know. All I know is that the thought of either Achilles or Helen in danger makes me break out in a cold sweat.

He finally exhales in a rush. “You sure?”

No, but I’m not about to let that stop me. “Yes.”

For a moment, I think he might press me on my answer. I don’t know what I’ll say if he does. This situation is so damned messy. I probably should have anticipated it, but I’m quickly learning that some variables are beyond comprehension. “Then you come to us. We’ve already hauled all her shit in there, and she’s unpacking now.” He makes a face. “She’s a lot like you when it comes to living out of a suitcase, apparently.”

“Okay.” It will give me some time to process, to get my head on straight. “I’ll be over shortly.” I wait for him to leave and then start the process of repacking. It gives my hands something to do, and my mind races ahead. I can’t deal with thinking about Achilles and Helen and what he was doing in her room to stop that attacker. Apologizing, he said. Achilles doesn’t lie, so that must be what it was. I hate the doubt that worms through me.

Better to focus on the larger problem at hand.

Who wants Helen dead?

Zeus and Aphrodite are her siblings. Hermes and Dionysus are her friends. Hades isn’t the type to send an assassin, no matter what the greater population believes. Athena wouldn’t do it, not during a public tournament where the champions are under her protection. I doubt she wants another Kasios at the table, but she has no reason to believe Helen will be victorious, not with Achilles in the mix.

The others? Harder to say. Artemis isn’t above murder, though she’s careful to keep her hands clean publicly. The same can be said of Apollo, though I wouldn’t put money on him being a possibility. Hephaestus is a harder read. He’s smart and strategic, and he might have looked ahead and decided not to take his chances with Helen becoming Ares. I don’t think our new Hera has that kind of power, but her mother, Demeter, might. Poseidon rarely concerns himself with power plays and politics, so he won’t be bothered one way or another.

And that’s just the Thirteen.

There are dozens of powerful families who weigh the push and pull of Olympus politics and make moves behind the scenes. Paris and Hector belong to one of them. So do Atalanta and Ajax. So do I.

And then there are the non-Olympians. It doesn’t seem logical that they would be behind this, though. If you’re going to waste the resources on an assassin, why not take out one of the more dangerous competitors? Achilles or Hector or even me would be a smarter target. No matter how determined Helen is, when it comes to the combat trials, she’ll be eliminated. She simply doesn’t have the training or the strength to beat out all the major players.

By the time I have my things back in the suitcase to change rooms, I still have no answers. I can’t even effectively narrow down potential candidates. It’s not my job to. Not this time. Bellerophon and Athena will take care of it, starting with questioning the attacker. I have the utmost faith in them.

I’d rather be chasing this mystery than walking through Achilles’s door, but there’s no other option. No matter how messy my chest is right now, the fact remains that he needs me, and I won’t hesitate to be there for him. We’ve done bodyguard duty more than a few times over the years, and it’s best scheduled in pairs so someone is always awake with the client. As tonight proves, assassins don’t usually stick to business hours. We can’t discount the possibility of there being more in play, so vigilance has to start tonight.

I take a breath and open the door.

The first thing I see is Helen, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. Every time I’ve interacted with her, even when she was obviously out of sorts on the treadmill, even when we were both children, she’s seemed larger than life. That presence is nowhere in evidence now. It’s so easy to forget how small she is. Athletic, yes, but she’s barely five six, if that. Right now, with her huddled on the couch, she seems even smaller. If the attacker was my size, or Achilles’s, she wouldn’t have stood a chance.

The thought leaves me cold.

She looks up and blinks those amber eyes at me. She’s paler than normal, her perfect features drawn and exhausted. Even her hair is a bit of a mess, the dark strands tangled with sleep. She still smiles when she sees me, a little movement that seems almost fragile. “Hey.”

My heart starts racing, which is the most ridiculous response. I should be worried about her safety or her proximity to Achilles or something. Instead, I’m standing here, trying to pretend my palms aren’t sweating because she’s smiling like she’s happy to see me.

I clear my throat. “Hey.”

She pulls the blanket a little more firmly around her. “He roped you into this, too?”

“I offered to help.” I set my suitcase down. Now that I’m here, I’m realizing I didn’t need to repack things. I could have just popped over to the other room to change and get ready each day. That would be the logical thing to do, instead of spending time and energy repacking and unpacking to move across the hall. Another clear indication that I’m not thinking clearly. Damn it.

Achilles comes out of the bedroom. “Two ways in and out. The window in the bathroom opens, but it’s not big enough for an adult to get through. The bedroom’s going to be a problem, though. The window is practically a door, and the lock is bullshit. It’s an access point we can’t secure properly.”

Which means one of us will have to be in there with her.

I hate how my stomach drops. I must have a masochistic streak, because volunteering to put myself in close proximity with these two already stings. I don’t know what prompted Achilles to offer to have her stay with him instead of bringing in a pair of Bellerophon’s people as bodyguards. Sometimes, I have no idea how that man’s mind works. No, that’s a lie. I know exactly what he was thinking. He probably decided we’d do a better job of things than anyone else. This was already complicated, and we just made it even more so.

It’s too late to change our minds, though. “I’ll take first watch.”

For a second, I think he might argue, but he finally nods. “Works for me. The couch is comfortable enough.”

“It’s really not,” Helen mutters.

He shrugs. “I’ve slept in worse places.” Achilles studies her for a long moment. Does he realize how transparent his expression is? He keeps saying he doesn’t like her, but he looks at her like she’s this strange creature he doesn’t understand and yet wants to keep safe. He’s always had a desire to protect those who can’t protect themselves, but this is different. Finally, he says, “You want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

Another shrug. His casual body language doesn’t match the intent look in his eyes. “Most people get shaken up after being attacked. Have some shit on their mind.”

“I’m not most people.”

I should say something, but it feels like they’re having a moment I’m barely part of. My feet stay planted, and my mouth feels sealed shut.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re not most people.” Achilles nods, and his expression goes devastatingly gentle. “Go to bed, princess. You can get back to fighting everyone who looks at you sideways tomorrow.”

Her smile firms up a little, losing the fragile element. “I don’t fight everyone who looks at me sideways, Achilles. I just fight you.”

“Guess I’m special, then.”

“Guess you are.”

I turn away, unable to bear witness to what feels like such an intimate moment. To be reminded of the future I’m destined for, to be perpetually on the outside looking in. Easier to busy myself hauling my suitcase into the bedroom and making quick work of unpacking it again. Staying in motion is usually Achilles’s go-to, but I’ve never appreciated it as much as I do now. The rhythm of unpacking calms me, even if it doesn’t soothe the ache in my chest.

I’m nearly done when Helen walks into the room. She’s obviously just come from the shower, her skin dewy and flushed, her hair wet and slicked back from her face. She’s wrapped up in the blanket again, but I get a hint of a silky pajama strap over one smooth shoulder. I focus on her face, but there’s no reprieve for me there. She’s too fucking beautiful and somehow only seems to get more so every time we interact. It’s not fair.

How am I supposed to keep my heart intact and my head on straight when she looks at me like this?

She sits carefully on the bed and offers me a tentative smile. “You really are type A, aren’t you? Everything in its place.”

“Yeah.” No reason to deny it. It’s the truth. Being organized makes me feel a modicum of control over a world where I will never be a big fish. Power isn’t something I’ve craved for myself, not like Achilles has, but being close to him means his big moves make big waves sometimes. I’ve mostly learned to surf them, but occasionally the stress gets to me. Organizing soothes me the same way planning and strategizing does.

Helen looks a little better than she did in the living room. She’s regained her color, and she’s not huddling in on herself anymore. Still, I can’t help asking, “Are you okay?”

“I’m getting there.” She tucks her feet up under the blanket. She seems younger like this, more vulnerable. More like the girl I used to know. I don’t know how to deal with it. I want to wrap her up and protect her, but I already know her well enough to realize that she won’t accept it. It’s honestly a little shocking that Achilles managed to get her to agree to staying in his suite. He probably steamrolled her when she was feeling off-center. He’s good at that.

“You’re safe here. We won’t let anyone touch you.”

“I’m getting that impression.” Helen sighs and looks at me directly. “You’re upset with me.”

“Why would I be upset with you?” The words come out too quickly, too harshly.

Her smile goes a little sad, a little bittersweet. “Because I had angry sex with Achilles.”

“We have an open relationship.” Again, the right words. Again, the wrong tone.

“That’s what I told myself, but it doesn’t mean I was in the right.” She huddles further under the blanket, but she doesn’t drop my gaze. I respect that, even though I’d be able to think a lot clearer if she wasn’t looking directly at me. “It wasn’t like I set out to do it, but intentions don’t really matter. Actions do. I’m sorry.”

They both keep saying sorry as if that changes what happened, and I have a feeling that they’d both do it again if the circumstances lined up. And why not? They haven’t done anything wrong or violated any agreement. I’m the fool who let my feelings get tangled up with a woman I barely know. I have never, not once, reacted to Achilles being with someone else the way I’m reacting to him being with Helen. It’s a me problem, not a them problem.

The logic makes sense in my head.

What comes out of my mouth is something else entirely. “That’s not going to stop you from doing it again.”

She blinks. “I have no intention of fucking Achilles again.”

“You had no intention of fucking him the first time.”

“You’ve got me there.” She fiddles with the edge of the blanket. It strikes me that this is the first time I’ve seen Helen fidget. “He’s irritating, isn’t he?”

I try not to bristle, but I can’t help it. Fuck, I’m a mess right now. “He’s a lot of things.”

“Yeah.” Her expression goes contemplative. “I don’t want to hurt you, Patroclus. I never did. I’ll try really, really hard not to fall on Achilles’s cock again.”

I shake my head and stalk to the window. Achilles is right; it’s impossible to secure properly. It’s large, and while it doesn’t face the fence, it would be all too easy for someone to perch on the roof across from us and shoot her through the glass. I shut the curtains. “You’ll be safe tonight. Hopefully we’ll have some answers tomorrow.”

“Why are you doing this?”

I turn to face her. “What?”

“This.” She motions vaguely at the room. “I’m a big, glaring problem between you and Achilles, which is reason enough to want to put distance between me and both of you. But we’re also competing for Ares. It’s in your best interest to let the attacker scare me off. So why help me? It can’t be because we were friends a lifetime ago. Why try to make me feel safe when it runs counter to your goals?”

That’s a good damn question. If I were more ruthless, maybe I’d do exactly that. I don’t want Helen hurt, but fear never killed anyone. That’s the problem, though. I don’t want her afraid, either. Achilles has always accused me of having too soft a heart, and it’s never been more apparent than right now. Even though it fucking hurts to have both of them in the same space, to see their obvious connection, I can’t hurt her to save my own feelings. “I’m not willing to stand by while people are terrorized just to reach my goals.”

“That’s naive, don’t you think?”

I stare. She’s not being snarky. She’s asking a serious question. “There’s always another way.”

“Even if there’s another way, sometimes it’s easier to be the bad guy and save yourself the trouble in the future.” She doesn’t look away. “You’re very smart. You must have played out all the scenarios. If I make it to the final trial, whoever eliminates me will earn my enmity forever. If it’s you or Achilles, that will endanger your ability to act effectively as Ares. Surely you’ve considered this.”

I have. I don’t know why it’s surprising that she has as well. She’s more than proven herself to be as intelligent as she is ambitious. It’s still strange to have my own thoughts mirrored back at me. I clear my throat. “There’s always another way,” I repeat.

“But—”

“Go to sleep, Helen. I’m sure Bellerophon will have information tomorrow.”

For a second, she looks like she might argue with me, but she finally drops the blanket and crawls up to climb under the covers. Her black pajama set is… Holy fuck, I shouldn’t be staring, but I can’t stop. The sleep shorts are split up the sides to reveal tantalizing glimpses of her hips. And that tank top barely covers the essentials, riding up to reveal her toned stomach and pressing tightly enough to her breasts that they’re in danger of escaping. She’s not trying to be seductive, and yet seduction is there in every move she makes.

I jerk my gaze away. What the fuck am I doing? Ogling her after she’s just had a traumatic experience. Ogling her after she slept with Achilles. Ogling her when she’s not for me, has never been for me.

“Patroclus?”

The tentativeness in her tone brings me back to myself. I give myself a shake and cautiously look at her. Thankfully, Helen is fully covered now, the blankets pulled up to her pointed chin. I breathe what I hope is a soundless sigh of relief. “Yeah?”

“The bed is huge and you’re making me nervous standing there. Can you sit or lie down or something?”

I almost choose the chair by the window. I even take a step in that direction before my brain decides to provide all the reasons Helen might have suggested I take the bed, too. I discard the ridiculous ones—she intends to ambush me, or she intends to seduce me. The most likely motivation is because she’s still scared out of her mind and my proximity would be a comfort.

I try not to look into the request. She’s already proven herself to be intelligent and strategic. It’s logical that she would believe one of Athena’s people wouldn’t want her dead, even a fellow champion. That’s all.

Still… “Are you sure?”

She nods and reaches a pale arm out to pat the bed next to her. “Please.”

I gingerly sit on the indicated spot and inch back to lean against the headboard. The bed is plenty big enough for both of us and probably Achilles too… I pause. No. Following that thought to its inevitable conclusion is a mistake. Even so, it surprises me when Helen scoots over until she’s nearly pressed against me. I’m over the covers and she’s under them, but I can feel the heat coming off her body. Or maybe that’s the overactive imagination I seem to be developing on the spot.

I clear my throat, desperate to focus on anything but the fact that Helen Kasios and I are in a bed together. I am on bodyguard duty. The only thing I should be thinking about is keeping her safe, not how good she looks in her sexy little pajamas.

In desperation, I say the only thing I can think of. “Who would want you dead?”

“I can think of a few people.” Did she inch closer? I can’t be certain. I can’t see her face properly in the deep shadows cast from the lamp behind the bed. “No one’s really happy I’m participating in this tournament. We’re also operating under some rather large assumptions that they wanted me dead instead of just scared enough to drop out.”

I start to protest, but she’s right. “Are you considering dropping out?”

“Fuck no. This is the only chance I have to be something other than a prize to be passed around as best suits my brother and future spouse. If I’m Ares, they have to take me seriously.”

I know what Achilles thinks of Helen and her charmed life, but it strikes me that it would be awful not to have control of your own fate. Regardless of our origins, both Achilles and I have made our choices again and again without anyone forcing our hands. No one has tried to marry us off to secure some kind of alliance or refused to acknowledge anything about us beyond our looks. “I suppose a diamond cage is still a cage.”

“Yes.” The word is little more than a sigh. “Patroclus?”

“Mmm?”

The tiniest hesitation. When she speaks again, she sounds soft and tired and not at all the fiery woman I’ve dealt with up to this point. “I really didn’t mean for things to get out of control with Achilles. I…like you. I’ve always liked you. I never would have hurt you on purpose. I just…” She gives a bitter laugh. “I get reckless when I’m hurting, and I was feeling vulnerable after… Well, if you hadn’t stopped the treadmill, I probably would have run myself into the ground. It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I truly am sorry.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that, but I get the feeling that Helen doesn’t open up to anyone, so I can’t leave this confession hanging. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” Ridiculous that all I want to do is comfort her, hold her until that fragile shake in her voice disappears. I should be clinging to my anger, but it all feels like too much effort right now. I lean against the headboard and close my eyes. “It’s okay, Helen. We’re good.”

“Oh. Good.” Her voice goes faint, as if she’s falling asleep. “The funny thing… I want to sleep with you. I don’t even like Achilles. Mostly.” She yawns. “But I would happily climb you like a tree.”

Desire shoots through me, as intense as it is inappropriate. Knowing the attraction I feel is reciprocated… Does it even matter? Achilles should be my first priority. Even if I wasn’t his first priority when he fucked Helen.

When was the last time I took something—someone—solely because I wanted to without worrying about how he’d feel about it? He is the selfish one, the brash one, the one with a heart he’s all too happy to give to anyone who catches his fancy. Yes, he keeps part of himself for me and me alone, but even when I’ve indulged with other people, it’s been about a moment’s pleasure rather than chasing a connection.

I feel a connection with Helen. I don’t know if it’s lust or the potential for something more. Up until this moment, I had resigned myself to it remaining unexplored. But Achilles pulled that trigger first, didn’t he? It’s not as if he can blame me for making the exact same selfish choice he made…

I drag in a rough breath and guide my thoughts away from the brink. “Go to sleep, Helen. I’ll watch over you tonight.” And tomorrow?

Tomorrow, we’ll see.