Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2) — Chapter no 32

32

ELECTRIC ENERGY

ALEXIS

The symposium buzzed with energy.

Cameras flashed.

Spartan reporters captured Olympian leaders smiling and mingling with creatures in their finery.

It almost appeared like a normal affair. Almost, because guards milled about, glaring at us and holding up their sparking batons in warning.

I scowled back and Nyx hissed every time one got too close, gliding across my shoulders.

Beside me, Augustus and Kharon observed the party like they were plotting. Helen and Charlie had been sent back to their room, where food would be delivered because the event was apparently “adults only.”

I was waiting for the nudity and aggressive humping to start, in a purely intellectually tortured, eighteenth-century poet dealing with their sexuality

sort of way.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t.

Entertain me, peasants!

Sighing from the fact that I was actually suffering from a mental breakdown and needed to seek urgent medical help, I leaned against a pillar.

Kharon and Augustus stood next to me, and our protectors were asleep at our feet.

I grabbed a glass of ambrosia off a tray and threw it back.

The liquid burned.

Heat spreading down my throat, I observed the celebration.

I’d seen the younger Chthonics at a booth somewhere, but since tensions were still high with Patro and Achilles—because my husbands had violently bound and gagged them—we stayed separate.

Artemis was the center of attention.

She sat at a table in the middle of the room with her legs spread wide, eyes roaming lazily over the crowd—her armor was still splattered in Cyclopes blood—Ares, Aphrodite, Erebus, Hades, and Persephone sat around her.

Artemis watched the partygoers with open contempt as they whispered and pointed at her.

A siren poured from a bottle of ambrosia into their glasses with a low bow, then backed away like her life was on the line. She turned, shoulders slumping with relief as she served the Olympian leaders at the next table.

Apollo smiled up at her as she poured for him, and she blushed.

He winked seductively, popping a grape into his mouth.

The siren stumbled like she’d almost fainted.

Spartans and creatures constantly approached the Olympian table, bowing low and kissing the top of the leaders’ hands.

Zeus didn’t pay them any attention.

His gaze was locked on the Chthonic table, sparks leaping from his eyes.

At his feet, his lion swooshed its tail back and forth with agitation.

Lights flashed across Zeus’s face, cameras shuttering.

Why is no one naked yet?

I was bored.

And a little drunk.

Where is my granny (Demeter)? I pouted when I couldn’t find her because I really wanted to give her a big hug.

Worst-case scenario, meemaw killed me; best-case scenario, meemaw

killed me.

It was a win-win.

While the scene wasn’t openly hedonistic, dim sconces cast shadows across the dozens of people dressed in finery, and there was a strange

undercurrent in the room.

Hooded gazes.

Licked lips.

Lingering fingers.

On second thought, this would be a very awkward place to meet up with a grandma. I prayed we did NOT cross paths.

An Olympian heir approached all three of us, unbuttoning his shirt as he neared.

“Don’t even fucking try it,” Kharon warned him, stepping in front of me protectively.

“We should see what he’s working with first,” I said, just to annoy Kharon. “Before we turn him down.”

From the death glare Kharon shot back at me, he did not find this funny.

Men just don’t understand comedic timing.

The Olympian smirked, undeterred. “Don’t worry … I’ll do a foursome. I love to share.” He winked.

“We’re open to it,” I told him (we definitely weren’t).

Kharon gently kicked me.

“Pull his pants down so we can see his penis,” Nyx hissed.

I kicked Kharon back, not gently.

“We are not open.” Augustus’s tone promised violent dismemberment.

“How would you describe yourself in the bedroom, introverted or extroverted?” I asked the man, like I was taking a sexual survey.

“He’d describe himself as … violently slaughtered,” Kharon said casually.

Kharon chuckled as the Olympian turned and melted back into the crush of bodies like his life depended on it (he definitely could not handle all three of us).

“He probably had a small penis,” Nyx hissed as she twined slowly around my neck. “That is not good enough for us.”

“There is no us in this scenario,” I hissed back.

“If we were men,” Nyx said, “I’d have a bigger dick than you.”

Before I could think of an appropriate response (amicide—killing a friend), a woman in a pink toga and small laurel crown sauntered up to

Kharon with a coy smile. The matching pink bird perched on her shoulder squawked with agitation in my direction.

“Leave,” Kharon ordered.

“Nice government drone,” I said.

The woman looked at me like I was deranged, then shook her head and recovered her composure.

“Hello,” she purred at Kharon and Augustus as she leaned forward, impressive breasts spilling out the top of her toga.

“Get out of here!” Nyx clicked her teeth. “Skanky whore.”

I choked on the two lamb sticks I was attempting to eat at the same time (I didn’t remember grabbing them off a tray).

“You can’t just say that to people,” I whispered down to Nyx. “It’s so misogynistic.” A chunk of meat fell out of my mouth.

The woman looked at me again like she suspected I was crazy. She was very astute.

Nyx sighed and slithered down to my waist. “Please—women have already reclaimed the word whore. It’s not rude. It’s a fact.”

I squinted. “Wait … when did we reclaim it?”

Nyx made a noise like she thought I was the biggest idiot. “Uh, during the apocalypse. Where have you been, Alexis?”

Hell stood up from the floor with a yawn. “Belly … rub?” he asked me.

“Kharon will do it,” I said back.

“Walk away—or my hellhound will bite,” Kharon threatened, his eyes cold. “I’m a one-woman man … and she’s standing beside me.”

“Rub … now?” Hell growled with excitement, getting worked up at the thought and lying on his back.

The woman stumbled back in a scared rush.

Kharon bent down and patted Hell’s rib cage. “Good boy—way to scare

the mean lady.”

I was surrounded by idiots.

“I’m going to try and murder them again,” Nyx hissed as she slithered off

my shoulders. “Wish me luck.”

I did not.

Kharon turned to me slowly as our animals tussled violently (mine strangled, while his wagged their tails).

“Why … weren’t you mad at that woman?” Kharon asked.

I shrugged. “Uh—why would I be?”

Kharon turned so I was pressed back against the pillar, his body covering mine. “I will only do monogamy … My mother might be cruel, but the House of Artemis does not sleep around in relationships. We are absolutely devoted—or we are nothing.”

I struggled to speak, my brain fuzzy from his proximity. “Technically,

isn’t monogamy a one-to-one ratio of—”

Kharon slammed his lips against mine.

“Quiet, Alexis.”

I opened my mouth to argue, and he plunged his tongue inside.

His taste was headier than the ambrosia and the effects more pronounced.

“Enough … Do this later,” Augustus said gruffly. “You’re causing a scene.”

Kharon pressed his hips against my core and turned me, so my back was pressed flush against Augustus and my side was against the pillar—he made a guttural sound and grabbed my hips from behind.

Kharon fisted my curls and tilted my head back harshly.

Augustus jerked his hips against my ass.

I melted (a small voice in my head wondered if meemaw was watching, and if Sparta had a witness protection program).

Augustus leaned down and pressed kisses to the sensitive skin below my ear. His voice dropped an octave. “If you keep kissing her like that against me, I’m going to lose all control and slaughter everyone in this room for watching. Then I’m going to fuck her on the floor.”

Kharon stilled, his breath ragged as he pulled his lips away from mine.

He swore under his breath as he stepped back, icy eyes full of heat.

Augustus flexed his hips one last time, then released his grip on me.

All three of us were struggling to breathe.

Augustus made another harsh noise as he raked his hands through his hair, messing up the long two-toned locks.

“That wasn’t a funny joke,” I said, my mouth swollen from Kharon’s aggressive kiss, neck tingling where Augustus had pressed his lips.

Augustus’s midnight eyes hardened. “What are you talking about?” His voice was gritty.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “The killing everyone and then …” I trailed off, unable to say the words.

I discreetly squeezed my thighs together.

“Fucking you,” Kharon purred as he dragged his thumb across his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared down at me hungrily.

“Yeah, that.”

Augustus frowned. “Who said I was joking?” A vein jumped in his temple and his hands shook as he clasped them behind his back.

He looked undone.

I forced out a laugh. “Har, har, very funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” Augustus said softly, the quiet tenor of his voice more disturbing than if he’d yelled. “I meant what I said.”

He took a step toward me.

Ozone filled my nose.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned away from my husbands. My head was fuzzy, and it had nothing to do with the ambrosia.

Lights started flashing blindingly in my face.

Click. Click. Click.

Fluffy Jr. whimpered with distress, and I acted on instinct, dropping to my knees on the floor, covering his face, as I glared up at the two reporters.

“Hercules—what’s wrong with your protector?” one shouted.

I winced at the loud feedback in my ear.

“He’s fine,” I said defensively, hating the way they were looking down at him with disgust. How dare they judge.

Kharon and Augustus shielded us with their bodies.

“Don’t speak to our wife,” Augustus ordered, his voice dangerous.

“Leave. Now.”

“Or we’ll make you.” Kharon pulled up the hood of his cloak.

Lights flashed in quick succession as the reporters backed away. “Are you aware that the video of you slicing off your ear and giving it to Hercules has gone viral with the humans?” one asked provocatively. “Are you concerned humans will view us as barbaric because of your … extreme action?”

Kharon clenched his jaw. “No. I don’t give a fuck what they think. I’ll do much worse for my wife … Nothing is off-limits.”

The reporters stepped back. Lights flashed.

“Do you want to make a statement?” the other asked.

“Yes,” Kharon said icily. “I’d cut off my fucking head and give it to Alexis if that’s what she needed. I’d also cut off yours if that’s what she wanted.” He chuckled darkly.

The reporters visibly paled, but they kept their cameras held high.

“Did you have something to do with Medusa’s escape? She’s your sister,” the female reporter taunted, refusing to be intimidated. “We heard a rumor that the Chthonics broke her out of the Underworld, and you all are harboring her—”

“That’s false.” Augustus rolled his shoulders back. “You should know

how … dangerous rumors can be.”

Kharon cracked his knuckles.

“We got all we need,” the one reporter said with a glare. They turned their cameras to the Olympian table.

I sagged with relief, still kneeling beside my protector.

Sparta was exhausting. Everyone was so hostile.

Augustus offered me his hand.

I laid my fingers in his and our marriage bond sparked inside my

sternum.

All three of us gasped.

Calluses scraped against my skin, and for a second, he did nothing but flex his much warmer hand around mine as he stared down at me.

Augustus yanked me up to my feet.

“Uh … wow,” I said eloquently.

Their expressions didn’t change.

If you ever need to make an awkward situation more uncomfortable, I’m your girl.

I leaned across Kharon to grab a glass from a tray—he rested his hand on my lower back, and my skin prickled with awareness—I threw the ambrosia back.

Once again, the liquid burned my throat deliciously and I let out a moan of enjoyment.

Augustus swore under his breath, and I peered over at him in confusion;

his eyes smoldered, jaw tensed.

Why is he so worked up?

Kharon pressed against my back and led me to a booth—the three of us slid in—they scooted in on either side of me.

Under the table, both their hands settled on my upper thighs.

Shadows concealed us.

My breath quickened as Kharon’s fingers slowly pulled back the fabric of my toga, tracing a circle on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Augustus

just palmed the top of my left thigh, his nails digging deep into my flesh.

They were so warm it was overwhelming; my thoughts turned hazy.

The ambrosia made it hard to think.

It was nice.

Augustus dragged his nails up my leg, until his fingers lingered dangerously close to the fabric at the juncture of my thighs. Both their hands touched as they stroked me like they were playing an instrument.

Augustus pressed a soft kiss to my temple, then pulled away with a groan like I’d scalded him.

Skeleton-tattooed fingers grabbed my chin harshly and pulled my face close. “You’re playing with fire, carissima,” Kharon whispered, his voice gritty.

The ambrosia settled into my stomach, bringing the heat to a fever pitch.

If I’m going to die in this tournament, I might as well live.

Music played.

The room buzzed with energy.

We were hidden in the shadows where no one could see us.

A horrible, brilliant, disastrous idea struck me.

“I want you both to fuck me,” I blurted out eloquently.

Kharon’s long lashes fluttered, cheekbones sharpening, as his fingers tightened around my chin.

“Excuse me?” Augustus straightened, his pupils expanding, as he searched my face for answers. “What did you … just say?”

“Fuck me,” I repeated, louder with the confidence only a drunkard could

muster.

Kharon’s grip became painful. “Why?”

My peril is imminent and I’m horny.

Since saying the truth would most likely not go over well, I settled with a casual “We might as well.”

Kharon searched my face, disappointment flashing in his eyes.

“No.” He dropped my chin.

I almost fell over.

Augustus’s hands studied me.

Whoa. Everything was spinning.

“Why not?” I giggled into my palm as both men glared at me.

“You’re not ready for us,” Kharon said harshly, and it didn’t sound like he was just talking about sex.

Augustus’s stubble scraped against the side of my face as he leaned close.

“You’ll also be sober when we make love to you.”

“Uh—I said fuck.” I winked.

Neither of them smiled at the joke.

Tough crowd.

Augustus’s hand lingered on my thigh, his fingers hovering closer to my core. He was sending mixed messages.

Kharon leaned in. “When you’re sober, we’re going to dominate you so thoroughly … that you won’t remember your own name.”

“So much talk.” I clicked my tongue. “No action.”

Kharon’s smile was all teeth. “Don’t worry, darling. I will punish you.

For hours.”

I grabbed at the edge of the table as the room started to spin. “Blah, blah, blah. All Karen does is make promises he can’t keep.”

He muttered something about sadomasochism and bondage.

Boring.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my calculator—I clicked the side.

“Dear Diary,” I whispered into it. “Karen is saying weird, perverted things, but he refuses to have sex with me. I think he’s a creep. Also, I need to find a Spartan man who is willing to—”

Kharon snatched it out of my hand. “Dear Diary, if Alexis touches another man, I will disembowel him in front of her and—”

I grabbed it back. “Dear Diary, fine then. I will find a Spartan woman to have sex with. Also, I think—”

“Dear Diary,” Kharon yelled into the speaker as he tried to wrestle it out of my hands. “If Alexis touches anyone who is not me or Augustus, I will kill—”

“Dear Diary, don’t listen to that rat bastard! This is not his diary—”

“Dear Diary, it is now. I’m commandeering it because Alexis is the most infuriating, stubborn woman I’ve ever—”

Augustus snatched the calculator away. “You’re both cut off.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but a male siren came by with a tray and placed glasses on the table with a clank.

“Thanks, baby girl,” I said to him, then I threw back another shot of ambrosia.

The siren hurried away looking disturbed.

“Be careful. You don’t want to drink too much,” Augustus warned.

I wiggled my fingers in the air. “They’re antennas.”

Augustus pressed the back of his hand to my forehead like he was checking to see if I had a fever.

“I’m an anglerfish.” I pushed his hand away. “I’ve lured you both in with my glow. My blood—it yearns to poison you and … I’m hideous.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kharon snapped.

Augustus hit his arm but tilted his head as he stared at me. “Do you have some type of … aquatic obsession? Weren’t you going on about a … whale, or something equally ridiculous, during the crucible?”

I scoffed. “Next time I have a personal realization, you will not hear

about it.”

“Thank Kronos,” Kharon muttered.

“Shut up, Karen,” I said.

“Alexis, if you call me Karen one more time …” He stared down at me with frightening intensity, his alabaster features sculpted from ice. “I will

throw this table at you.”

There was a long pause.

“Sure you will … Karen.”

His eye twitched like he was having an aneurysm, and I waited for him to

make good on his promise.

I smirked. “I knew you wouldn’t do it.”

He grabbed the edge of the table and lifted slowly.

Augustus reached across me and slapped him. “Get control of yourself.

What the heck are you doing?”

Kharon tried to shove him away and the two of them grappled across me.

I smacked my hands at them (yay, we’re fighting).

“Theoretically,” I said in the chaos. “If I was selling my kidney, how

much would you give me for it?”

They stopped fighting and turned to me.

I kept hitting them (very fun).

“For the last time, you’re not selling your organs for money!” Kharon banged his fist on the table and the empty shot glasses fell over. “Alexis, what is actually wrong with you?”

My jaw dropped at his audacity. “Wow—I’m just trying to have a little financial independence in the middle of an apocalypse.”

“You’re wearing a three-hundred-million-dollar necklace.” Kharon pointed at my neck. “You’re financially independent.”

“Fine,” I said calmly. “I’ll sell you the necklace and my toe. How much do you want? Onetime offer.”

Kharon’s face turned red as I arched my brow and waited.

“No deal,” he spat, then muttered under his breath, “Obviously.”

“And you run a business?” I said. “More like into the ground.”

Augustus laughed, then hid his expression behind his hand as Kharon shot him a death glare.

He refused to talk to either of us the rest of the night.

Nyx was right.

Men should be seen, not heard.

I enjoyed his silence.