Page 12 of Sweet Obsession

Her voice demonstrates none of the emotion brimming in Poseidon’s. “On the contrary, I must. We have no naval forces. We have no defense. The only way forward is compromise with a healthy dose of trickery.”

He actually takes a step back, as if her words are a physical force battering against his big body. “You sound like Hermes—and we both know she’s a traitor.”

“Dowe know that? Because the more we find out about Circe and her reasons for hating this city, the more I wonder.” Hera looks particularly elegant this afternoon. In her interviews, she tends to favor menswear or sharply designed dresses that fit her lean form. What she’s wearing now is almost a gown. A dress fit for a dark queen, the black fabric hugging her chest while leaving her shoulders bare and then billowing out around her stomach and hips to fall in smooth lines to the ground. All she needs is a crown to complete the picture.

I wonder about Hermes too, but she’s not my problem and neither are her motivations. Most importantly, she’s not here to be an asset to help me accomplish my aims.

“Are you listening to yourself?” Poseidon rumbles. “The only reason I agreed to work with you is for the betterment of Olympus. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Itiswhat I want.” Her voice is so cold, I can’t tell if she’s speaking truthfully or crafting an artful lie. “We have an opportunity to stop this entire invasion before it gets properly started. To save lives. That is whatyouwanted, isn’t it?”

She’s boxed him in rather neatly, if I do say so myself. It’s increasingly clear that Poseidon’s greatest weakness is the perception of his honor. If it’snotan act…

I have no idea how he’s survived as long as he has when he wears his emotions on his face and in his hands. Or, more accurately, in his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. It’s obviously an expression of discomfort; he might as well have posted a neon sign above his head saying as much. If he wasn’t in a legacy position, he never would’ve become one of the Thirteen.

He probably would’ve been happier that way.

“Fine,” he says flatly. “What do you have in mind?”

Her gaze flicks over his shoulder, catching mine.Caught.Fuck. Her smile widens, a pleased cat inviting a mouse to come play between its paws. “We have an eavesdropper—and just who I wanted to see. Come down, Icarus. You may as well have a voice in this conversation since I intend to utilize your resources.”

Poseidon whips around, and I’m not expecting the betrayal that flickers over his face…or the strange guilt that flickers in my chest in response. I have nothing to feel guilty for. He’s my enemy, just like everyone else in this godsforsaken city. My goal of surviving Olympus means the only rule I hold to is doing whatever it takes to come out on top and escape with my life. I don’t have another choice.

I wish I could say that I float gracefully down the staircase, but the truth is that I white-knuckle the banister and take each step slowly to avoid my knees buckling. Every breath is agony, and my body isnoton board with all this moving around. When I finally come to a stop on the ground floor, it’s everything I can do not to pant for breath and shake. Only a lifetime of training keeps my body steady and my haggard exhales trapped in my lungs. I even manage a smile. “Hera herself. I’m honored.”

“I want a meeting with Circe. How do I contact her?”

“Hera!” Poseidon roars.

I ignore him, keeping my attention on her. “So abrupt.” The more I speak, the smoother my tone becomes. I know how to do this. How to flirt and charm and take everything while giving the bare minimum. I have at least some of the knowledge she needs, andwhile I’m obviously not immune to torture, blunt doesn’t seem to bethisHera’s style. “You’re not even going to buy me breakfast first?”

She flicks her long dark hair over one shoulder. On anyone else, the move might seem flirtatious. With this woman, it’s a threat. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I don’t have time to waste with this song and dance. If I have to drag you out of here by your hair, then I will. Your father had a way to contact Circe. How did he do it?”

This, at least I have the answer to. I shrug. “It’s this deliriously clever device called the telephone. You should try it sometime.”

“You do have a quick mouth, don’t you?” She moves closer to me, and even with the new clothing now covering my body, I somehow get the sensation that she sees my wounds. I barely have a moment to tense before she grabs the back of my neck and presses her hand to my chest. Hard.

It happens so quickly, there is no bracing for it. Agony sends me to my knees, and Hera follows me down, bending to keep the pressure on my wound. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Her voice is perfectly even while I’m fighting not to scream. “How do I contact Circe?”

“That’s enough.” Just like that, it ends. Hera’s still in front of me, still gripping the back of my neck, but the hand causing me so much pain has been removed. Poseidon has his fingers wrapped around her wrist, and he holds her touch several precious inches away from me. “Let him go.”

“I knew you were soft, but I didn’t think you were suicidal.” He releases her so she can rise to her feet and take two cautious steps backward. Somehow, it doesn’t look like a retreat when she does it, but more like a recalculation. Hera examines her wrist. “I shouldkill you for that.”

I don’t miss the way Poseidon half steps in front of me, shielding me with his large body. “I didn’t hurt you, and you know it. I simply stopped you from hurting him.” For all his firm words, his finger has started that tapping on his thigh again. “Icarus.”

I jolt. Has he ever said my name before? Surely he has. And yet it feels different this time. It feels, somehow, like he’s reached out and touched me. Dangerous. Ill-advised. I know better than to fall for the good-cop, bad-cop act. I’m not entirely certain Poseidon has the duplicity to pull off that sort of ruse, but I can’t entirely rule it out. It’s possible they’re manipulating me. I have to keep that in the back of my mind.

Poseidon glances over his shoulder at me. “Do you have her number?”

“It’s hardly something my father would just give out.”

He narrows his amber eyes. “So youdohave it.”

Dammit, I thought that non-answer might distract him. But then again, pain is making me slow, swirling my thoughts as if they were molasses. If I give them Circe’s number, what use do they have for me?

No, I can’t afford to think like that. Circe is hardly going to entertain a compromise at this stage of the game. I don’t know her overly well, but I know enough of the moves she’s made to be sure of that. Giving them the phone number ensures they continue to believe I have information they need. They’ll call her and be shut down immediately, and then they’ll come back to me for more. This is the right move. I’m sure of it.

I stagger to my feet, ignoring the way Poseidon starts to reach out to help me. “Fine. You can have it.” I rattle it off, watching asHera wastes no time pulling a phone out and typing in the number. I half expect her to make the call right then and there, but she slips her phone back into the pocket of her dress and nods.

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