Chapter 14 Zeus
Zeus
My wife doesn’t make it home in time for dinner. I should have expected that. Not just because of how tumultuous our relationship is, but because of everything that happened today. My losing control in the bar. The fucking video being released not an hour later. Everything.
I should be more understanding. If I were a better man, I would be. But as the minutes tick by into hours, all I can hear is Atalanta’s voice in my ear.
Do you know where your wife is?
Foolish of me to think she would come to me for comfort.
She hates me. She’s told me so often enough to have it inscribed on my bones.
The only time she lets down her mask is when she’s orgasming, and even then it’s done in the dark.
If she’s looking for comfort, she’ll have gone to her mother, her sisters, or… her lover?
That thought of her in the arms of another drives me out of my fucking mind.
Not enough to lose control, though. The only time she actually manages to get under my skin so effectively is when she’s in the room with me.
So I don’t dump the entire dinner that I ordered catered—her favorite—in the trash.
I meticulously pack it away and store it in the fridge.
Even as I go through the motions, I can hear my father’s mocking laughter in the back of my mind.
Telling me I’m a fool, a cuckold, a little bitch.
Why bother with this small act of kindness when she’s in someone else’s bed?
I don’t have an answer now. I don’t think I ever will. This marriage is nothing more than a sham, no matter what high hopes I harbored in my deepest, darkest heart. Shattered now. And I have no one to blame but myself.
I’m so focused on my mental spiraling that I almost miss the sound of the door opening. My body acts before my brain has a chance to decide what avenue of approach I should take. There’s no space for strategy with my emotions riding me so hard.
The sensation only gets worse when I stride through the doorway and find my wife shrugging out of her coat, looking deliciously rumpled.
Even as I tell myself not to, I search for signs of someone else’s touch.
I am not sure if I don’t find any because there’s none to find, or because there’s still evidence of my hands on her, my mouth against her skin.
She doesn’t jump when she sees me, but there’s resignation in the slump of her shoulders that hits me right in my fucking heart. “Oh. You’re home.”
“I told you to be here for dinner. That was hours ago.”
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Why am I accusing her when I should be asking her how she’s doing? My mouth opens, and more poison spills out despite how tumultuous I feel. “Or did you really go to your lover?”
Her brows slam down and there she is, my vicious, furious wife. I shouldn’t crave this side of her the way I do, but it’s familiar territory. If I’m shit at comfort, at least I know how to draw her into a fight.
“You are unbelievable.” She stalks toward me, tossing her coat to the side. “Here’s a hint, Husband. If you actually want information, maybe start with questions instead of accusations.”
“Fine.” Gods, I can’t stop myself even as a small part of me is yelling to slam on the brakes. It’s too late. It was too late from the moment she accepted my proposal. “Did you go straight from coming all over my cock to fucking Ixion?”
Hera is magnificent in her fury. She glares up at me, her hazel eyes sparking the way I’m addicted to. Even her sneer is perfection. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. After that little show we put on, all of Olympus knows I’m not satisfied.”
She’s so close that one harsh breath could bring us chest to chest. I grab her hips and eliminate the distance between us, wishing I could eliminate the emotional distance as well.
It will never happen, but at least I have the physical.
“Lie to yourself if you must, but don’t fucking lie to me.
I know what you look like when you come. ”
“Do you?” She tilts her head and slides her hands up my chest, leaning close enough to speak directly into my ear. “Or am I just very, very good at faking it?”
One moment I’m standing here, trying to process the audacity of her lie, and the next I have her pressed against the wall. Damn it, no. It’s not supposed to be like this. I start to pull away, but she hooks the back of my neck, holding me close.
I shake my head, hard. “Hera—Callisto—hold on. Wait. This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”
Her sad smile strikes right to the very heart of me. “We don’t know how to be anything else but this.” Her nails prick my skin. “Take it out on me—and I’ll do the same to you.”
I dig my fingers into her hips, as if that contact would be enough to ground me instead of tossing me right off the edge of reason. “The video. I had no idea—”
“I know.” That simple statement goes so far and yet nowhere near far enough.
I drop my head to press my forehead to hers. “Are you okay?”
“No. Not by a long shot.” She slides her free hand back down my chest to hook in the band of my pants. “But having an uncomfortable, awkward conversation isn’t going to make me feel better. I can’t bear to think anymore. I might lose what’s left of my mind.”
I don’t know if she means to hurt me with that statement, but it does hurt.
How can it not when it highlights my inadequacy?
I will never have the right words to make the people I care about feel better.
Not my sisters, sure as fuck not my wife.
No doubt the video spun her out as much as it did me, and instead of allowing me to talk it through with her, all she wants is a good fuck.
So be it.
But first, there’s one thing I have to know. I hate myself for the vulnerability exposed by my even putting my worry into words. “Hera. Callisto. Wife.” I close my eyes and inhale deeply. “Is there a lover? Is it Ixion?”
“Do you have a lover? Maybe several? I see the way Ganymede watches you. Not to mention all the little Hera hopefuls, wishing you’ll follow in your father’s footsteps and shove me down a flight of stairs so they can step over my still-warm body to accept your ring.”
Something in my chest flutters in a truly worrisome way. I lean back just enough to catch her gaze. “Are you jealous?”
“How could I possibly be jealous?” She almost pulls off a flat tone, but there’s a thread of something else in her words. Something I resonate with. “I don’t even like you.”
“Right. How could I forget?” I focus on gentling my grip and sliding my hands down to cup her round ass. “Answer my question. Then I’ll answer yours.”
The moment stretches out between us, poised with the possibility of changing everything.
I’ve never lied to her, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been perfectly honest, either.
I haven’t touched anyone from the moment I accepted her deal—and I won’t as long as I wear her ring on my finger—but I understand the reputation that goes hand in hand with my title.
Philanderer. Murderer. Monster. Why wouldn’t she assume the worst?
It’s not as if we’ve had a single honest conversation in the duration of our marriage.
I see the exact moment she decides to cut the fragile peace between us. Her smile goes sly even as her gaze goes distant. “Why stop at one lover, Husband? It takes so many to keep me fulfilled.”
The most fucked-up thing? I don’t know for sure if she’s lying.
I want to believe she is, that she just wants to get under my skin and strike to the very heart of me.
But I’m not certain. And because I’m not certain, the monstrous part of me that I fight so hard to keep under wraps rises to the surface with a roar shaking me to my bones.
I release her hip to grip her jaw in a way designed to make her knees buckle.
Because no matter what the fuck she’s doing when she’s not with me—or who she’s doing—she can’t deny the moments we share in the dark are real.
“I know the feeling. I’m insatiable. How could one person possibly fulfill my needs? ”
“I hate you,” she whispers.
“We are in perfect agreement there,” I lie. Things would be so much easier if I actually loathed her, if I didn’t crave an intimacy we’ve never managed to share. Not that we’ve tried.
She slides her other hand down to the band of my pants and undoes my belt in a quick, practiced move. “You’re lucky I don’t shove you out a fucking window.”
Suddenly, I’m so sick of this shit. I release her and step back.
She stumbles a little, and it takes everything I have not to reach out to catch her.
Hera rights herself before I have a chance to, which is perfectly on brand.
She doesn’t need me. She never has. Maybe it’s not fair to want to be needed by her, but I’m not feeling particularly fucking fair right now.
I stalk to our living room, leaving her to reluctantly shadow my steps.
None of the massive windows that overlook the city open, but the door out to the balcony does.
I shove it wide and step out. It’s a little after mid-October, but the wind reeks of winter, harsh and cutting and so cold that it makes my face prickle.
I turn around as Hera steps through the door and hold my arms out wide.
“Here you go. One good shove and your Zeus problem is no more. That’s what you want, isn’t it?
That’s why you’ve gone through the trouble to coerce Poseidon into treachery, to work with Ariadne and the Minotaur to bring down Dodona Tower, no matter what other people might have been hurt in the process. ”
“No one else was going to be hurt,” she snaps. The wind whips her hair around her face, almost as if its embodying her anger. “I made sure of that, even if the plan didn’t end up working out.”
It’s fucked that her finally admitting her treachery is a strange sort of comfort.
I take a step back until the railing digs into my ass.
“Well, now you can be truly sure of it. It’s late.
No one will be walking down the sidewalk.
If you want me dead, then have the fucking decency to do it yourself.
” To topple me from the height of the tower I’m supposed to rule… just like my father.
For the first time in our marriage, my wife actually looks lost. She blinks those big eyes at me, her beauty so sharp it takes my breath away. It’s unforgivable that, even now, I want her so desperately I can barely think past it.
“Zeus…”
“No, you don’t get to call me by that title. You don’t get to pretend Zeus is all I am. Say my name, Wife. Don’t be a coward now.”
Instead of rising to the gauntlet I’ve thrown, her lower lip quivers.
It’s the tiniest movement, quickly quelled, but I see it—and she knows I see it.
“I should do it.” She crosses to me and fists the front of my shirt.
“There are so many people in this fucked-up city who want you dead, me first among them. You’re a fool to give me this opportunity. ”
I am. I can’t pretend otherwise. And yet I don’t move, waiting to see what she’ll do. Even as her grip tightens on me, the pressure of her knuckles against my chest growing, I’m not entirely certain if I’m going to let her shove me over the railing or not.
But she doesn’t do it. She stares up into my face and shakes her head slowly. “I hate you.”
“I know.” The two words come out almost as an apology. They certainly feel like one.
Even so, I don’t expect her to go onto her toes and slam her mouth to mine.
The wind screams around us, but I stop feeling the cold the moment her tongue slides into my mouth.
This means something, though I can’t think clearly enough to figure out what.
A reprieve, possibly. It’s certainly not proof that Callisto doesn’t have the audacity to commit murder.
We both know she has audacity in abundance.
I break the kiss with a low gasp. “Say yes, Wife.”
For once, she doesn’t fuck around. She’s already backing up, tugging me with her. “Yes. Now. Hurry.”
I sweep her into my arms and carry her into the relative warmth and safety of our home.