Chapter 36 Sleeping Arrangements
SLEEPING ARRANGEMENTS
Dazed, I trudged with the Chthonics into the symposium, deadly lightning still flashing in my mind.
Rock music had been replaced with tinkling harps and the crowd attendance was more sparse than usual—I missed the screeching guitars.
For how many Spartans and creatures were in attendance, the room was weirdly quiet.
Drex waved us over to where he sat with Achilles and Patro, all three of them looking miserable.
I went to take the chair next to Drex—Kharon pressed his hand to my lower back and guided me to a different seat across the table.
Augustus stood so close his shoulder brushed against mine as we moved.
Awareness coursed through me.
You’re in grave danger.
Our new closer proximity was a perilous thing because the abrasive edges of resentment were slowly melting away.
Food trays circulated and Kharon waved down waiters, piling my plate until it overflowed. I ate every piece, and the worry lines around Kharon’s eyes relaxed with each bite. The old Spartan adage that hung on a plaque on the symposium wall was correct—a starving man does not choose his meal.
Our table ate in heavy silence.
No one spoke about Zeus’s calamitous power, but we were all thinking it.
All around, Olympians chatted in Latin with subdued merriment, their extravagant togas shimmering as they spun across the dance floor. Coy smiles painted their lips; long-tailed, vibrantly colored birds sat atop their shoulders.
Strained laughter echoed as lights flashed, the reporters capturing a group of heirs and heiresses.
They’d recovered from their terror quickly.
Zeus is on their side. They feel protected.
Drex slumped lower in his seat across the table, scraping his fork across his plate.
“What’s your favorite food?” Kharon asked me abruptly.
I turned to him. “I don’t … understand the question.”
Kharon searched my face. “What type of food do you enjoy eating the most? Sweet, savory, salty? Augustus’s favorite is steak. Mine is sweets, like baklava or …” He trailed off.
Why is he staring at my lips?
Augustus leaned close like he was interested in the answer.
“I don’t have one.” I dug my nails into the top of my hand, a strange sort of shame filling my chest.
Both men frowned.
Do they think I’m purposely being difficult?
“I guess … I just like any food that you can … uh … have every day,” I said with a forced smile, then changed the subject. “What are your favorite colors?”
Neither answered.
Kharon shared a pointed look with Augustus. Long seconds passed, and Augustus shook his head, as if to tell him to let it go.
“Gold,” Kharon said softly, as he reached up and wrapped his pointer finger in one of my curls—he tugged at it.
My head filled with static.
He leaned closer. “Ask me … what my favorite color was before you.”
“What was your favorite color?” I whispered.
“Nothing.” He stared at me with cold intensity. “I didn’t notice colors before you.”
I forced out a laugh.
Kharon didn’t join me.
“Alexis.” Augustus’s eyes were dark as a moonless night. “Don’t you want to know what my favorite color is?”
“What … is it?”
“A shade of pure milky white I’ve only seen in one place.” He lifted his hand to my face, thumb tracing tenderly across my left cheekbone.
I leaned into his touch.
No one had ever complimented me on my injured eye. They said the contrast between them was cool, but no one had looked only at my ruined eye and thought it was beautiful.
Would he still think that if he knew the truth?
If he knew it was blind?
“I like yours too,” I said, holding his gaze, entranced. “They remind me … of the space between stars.”
Augustus looked shattered.
I opened my mouth to say something else, but my heart was beating out of my chest.
Augustus dragged his thumb lower and traced my lips.
“Fuck us.” Hermos threw himself down into the free seat next to Drex, and Augustus dropped his hand, the moment broken. “They’re still interrogating Agatha about Medusa, like she hasn’t been through enough already. Obviously she fucking knows nothing.”
Hermos picked up a shot of ambrosia and threw it back, then he picked up another one, and another as he stared down at the grain of the wood, eyes glazing over.
Drex gingerly patted his back, but Hermos gave no indication that he could feel his touch.
Patro and Achilles sat rigid, their expressions blank. Traumatized.
I slumped back in my chair, numbness returning.
Symposium, coliseum, or locked bedroom, the results were the same—we were imprisoned.
We retired as a group soon after with Drex half carrying Hermos, who was too drunk to walk on his own.
None of us said anything as the guards held open our cells—we voluntarily walked inside.
Self-determination was a peculiar thing, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t so sure that I possessed it.
In the dim scarlet light of our bedroom, Kharon and Augustus seemed larger, more overwhelming.
They carefully took off their crowns and placed them on the floor next to mine. I hadn’t bothered to put it back on this morning.
We stared at the single bed.
Then at each other.
Emotions mixed with lust, crackling between us.
“I’m not s-sure …” I said, then cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m not sure … I’m ready for more—”
“Shut up, princess,” Kharon said softly. “We know—you don’t have to explain. We’re just going to sleep.”
I nodded, the lump in my throat relaxing.
“Can we … cuddle?” Augustus asked quietly as he stared down at me. His lips quirked up—he had a dimple in his right cheek.
It was such a small observation, but something seismic shifted inside of me.
“Alexis?” Augustus’s smile dropped. The dimple disappeared and suddenly I wanted nothing more in my life than to see it again. “What’s wrong, my carus?” He frowned. “Are you okay?”
I reached my fingers up and brushed them across the side of his face.
He closed his eyes, lashes fluttering as he tilted his head.
“You have a … dimple.”
“Do I?” He smiled wide, showcasing the little indent. “I had no idea—no one’s ever said anything.”
He glanced away like he was embarrassed by the admission.
How was I ever afraid of him?
My heart cracked as I realized what he’d just admitted. What did Ares do to you?
Augustus looked anywhere but at me. “So—can we cuddle?” he repeated.
My fingers pulled away from his face. “Of course,” I said.
Kharon climbed in first and pulled the covers back, opening his arms for me. I tentatively lay down, leaving a little space between us, but he pulled me back, so we were pressed snugly together.
Augustus joined us.
I expected him to back in, but he crawled forward, facing my front. He wrapped his arms around me and Kharon so I was sandwiched between them.
“Are you okay?” Augustus whispered, tucking his chin over my head as he draped his thigh over my leg.
“Yes.”
Pinned between them, I’d never felt so safe.
Augustus made a deep sound of contentment, his chest vibrating against my heart. Adam’s apple bobbing near my face, bronze skin close enough to kiss, I gently nuzzled his neck.
Augustus groaned hoarsely, like I’d done something scandalous, and held me tighter.
Kharon sighed with contentment into my curls, his stomach flexing against my back.
Poco chittered, the covers moving as little paws climbed over the three of us. He paused to sniff Augustus’s face and mine, then he wiggled his butt and settled into the space between our hearts.
Immediately, he purred.
“Good night, carissima,” Kharon said. “I can’t believe … this is real.”
I knew what he meant.
“Night.” Augustus yawned and shifted closer.
“Sleep tight,” I said, like I always did for Charlie and Helen.
Augustus pressed a kiss to my forehead.
Kharon’s chest vibrated against my back. “I don’t sleep, princess. But I’ll watch over you … I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
A gentle zap fired through our marriage bond and it felt … tender.
Darkness softly pulled me under.
For the first time, there were no nightmares, only warmth and a fragile sense of peace.
SGC DAY 7
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
“It’s time to wake up!”
I cracked open sleep-crusted eyes as guards pounded on the door and shouted.
Heat surrounded me.
Still sandwiched between my husbands, I tried to move, but arms tightened around me from behind. Kharon snored, fast asleep against my back, blissfully undisturbed by the commotion happening outside.
Augustus stared at him with a look of awe, then glanced down at me and grinned—flashing his tiny dimple.
The guards banged louder, and his expression fell.
“Kharon, we have to get up.” Augustus reached over and tapped him.
Kharon shifted and Poco popped his head up from where he’d burrowed deep under the covers.
I climbed out of bed.
Kharon sat up with a start, rubbing tattooed fingers into his eyes, black hair sticking out in every direction.
He blushed and avoided our gazes like he was embarrassed to be caught sleeping, and instead patted Poco’s fluffy head.
My heart skipped a beat. I’m in grave danger.
Sleepy Kharon was adorable in the morning, which was a devastating realization.
The door shuddered. “We’re leaving now!” an Olympian shouted.
We got ready quickly.
My husbands flanked me as the guards escorted us out of the room. This time, neither of them complained when I sat next to Charlie. However, they did massage my shoulders and rub my back.
It was nice.
The June day was warm and sunny.
Zeus can’t use his scepter. I sighed with relief.
The Dolomites towered majestically around the coliseum. They were covered in lush greenery and dotted with Moretti’s bellflowers.
Down below, Hermos stalked into the arena with a fifteen-foot-long spear that tapered into a sharp end.
Boos chorused.
Our section cheered.
The gate was lifted and four male Gorgons stalked out—each had a single snake protruding from their bald skulls like hair, but Hermos’s was by far the largest—they wielded swords.
The number of snakes and their length symbolize how powerful a Gorgon is. Augustus’s crucible lesson on Gorgons came back to me. Having more than one snake is extremely rare. Their paralyzing bite does not work on their own species.
Hermos cracked his neck back and forth as the four Gorgons charged in a blur of swinging swords.
“Snake scum!” chorused around the stadium.
Screams echoed.
What felt like forever later, but was probably only a few minutes, Hermos tipped his head back and bellowed with victory.
Pale, blood-splattered muscles straining, Hermos planted the spear in the middle of the sandy arena: four Gorgons were skewered through their stomachs, hanging limp on his spear.
Nyx slithered around my neck. “Okay, now this is too far,” she hissed, sympathetic for the snakes. I shielded her head so she didn’t have to look.
Charlie nudged my side, distracting me from the carnage. “I’m glad you’re sitting next to me,” he signed.
“Me too.”
We leaned closer.
Agatha stood up and clapped in the row before us—our section tensed—she had two black eyes. Thick black and green bruises also covered every inch of her arms and legs. The purple chain marks around her neck were from Hermos, but the rest of the wounds were new.
Agatha had cannibalized her labors without them laying a single finger on her.
The bruises were from her interrogation.
The Olympians had tortured her, and it was all because of Medusa.
Head spinning, I fought the urge to retch. Everything became hazy and nightmarish.
Time drifted away from me.
I remembered sitting in the symposium.
The rest was a blur.
Later, I lay beside my husbands in bed.
Kharon fell asleep first.
I woke up in the middle of the night as something moved beneath me. It took me a few groggy seconds to realize I was no longer lying on the mattress.
Kharon had pulled me on top of him like a blanket.
His arms and legs were wrapped around me, holding me in place.
He snored loudly, chest rising and falling.
Augustus grumbled and shifted closer, adding his arms around my back as he pulled us both close against him.
Poco was curled up in a ball on my back. My scalp prickled as he tugged on my hair and chewed on it.
I turned my head.
Augustus was lying in a contorted position, half on top of both of us, and his dimple was showing—he was smiling in sleep.
My expression matched his as I drifted back to sleep.
SGC DAY 8
The next day arrived, sunny and bright.
Another miracle.
Down below on his podium, Zeus was once again dressed in all white, and, mercifully, his scepter was missing. Zeus’s lightning strike felt unreal, like it had happened in another life.
I sat between Drex and Charlie, holding on to my little brother while Nyx slithered up and down my legs.
Kharon played with the ends of my hair.
I glanced back—Augustus was staring at me. “It will be okay,” he mouthed.
Fear filled my lungs. Fluffy Jr. was back in the bedroom because he hadn’t woken up this morning, his hump more distended than ever.
“Patro … Patro … Patro,” chanted all around, and Achilles sat ramrod straight beside Drex, watching the arena like a hawk.
Patro stepped out into the sand holding a scythe, electric grid shimmering above him in the sunlight.
The crowd hollered.
Patro flashed a cocky smile, as Poppae walked at his side with her jaguar hackles raised.
The gate opened—gasps echoed—two male Nemean jaguars prowled out.
They were three times larger than Poppae, who was already bigger than a normal jaguar.
Patro calmly twirled his scythe. If he was scared, he didn’t show it.
Achilles leaned forward in his seat, hands fisted, knee bouncing.
Patro sprinted forward and raised his weapon with Poppae running beside him.
The opposing jaguars leapt at him, both soaring impossibly high.
Patro jumped to meet them, flying twenty feet up into the air.
They clashed midair.
It happened in a blur—claws swiped, a scythe swung, animals howled, blood sprayed.
A few seconds later, Patro and Poppae stood with the pieces of two Nemean jaguars spread out around them.
There was a moment of silence.
The stadium erupted.
Patro looked up to the stands—he blew Achilles a kiss—then he bowed dramatically.
Achilles sat rigidly.
“He goes next,” Drex whispered with trepidation as he pointed at Patro’s lover. “Tomorrow—Achilles’s muzzle comes off.”
We both grimaced.