Chapter 32 Electric Energy
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.