Page 14 of Sweet Obsession

Icarus watches with narrowed eyes as I pull the containers out and line them up on the counter. “Leftovers?”

I pause and give him a long look. “These leftovers are probably the best thing you’ll have eaten in recent memory. Don’t be a snob.”

His brows wing up. “If we’re back to throwing stones about being a snob, you’re the one who is a member of the most powerful group in this city. If anyone’s a snob, it’s you.”

I don’t bother responding to that. He’s obviously looking to provoke a reaction, and I know for a fact it’s not true. If anything, the criticisms lobbed my way are that I’m too different to fit in with everyone else. Ironic, that.

My entire life, I’ve been a square peg trying to fit in the round hole of societal expectations. I can fake it, I can shave down my corners, but it fits like a too-tight coat, like I can’t catch my breath.

Since I became Poseidon, I stopped having to try as hard. Because of that power. People criticize me for not being charming or witty or a number of bullshit things related to playing nice with the press, but I fulfill my duties better than the last three Poseidons combined. I don’t cause problems, and I stay out of the petty powerplays the rest of the Thirteen indulge in. The rest of the Thirteen mostly leave me alone, just like I prefer.

At least until Hera’s coup. Or attempted coup, as it were. She hasn’t quite pulled it off yet, and it worries me that she’s continuing with her plan despite the enemy literally at our gates.

A few minutes later, I set a warmed plate full of food in front of Icarus. “Eat.”

He makes no move to pick up the fork that I slide across the counter. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You can’t honestly expect me to eat a meal while you stand there staring. Besides, have you even had dinner?”

“I haven’t, in fact.” Stress has a way of annihilating my appetite, and it isn’t particularly intense during the day anyway. It’s late at night when my body usually decides to inform me that I haven’t given it nourishment in far too long. We’re hours away from that point, though.

Maybe he thinks it’s poisoned? I would hardly waste good food on that sort of thing, but it’s not like he knows me. I grab a second fork and take a careful bite of everything on the plate. “Satisfied?”

His smile is slow and a little wicked and makes my stomach flip. “Hardly. But it’s a start.” The words are smooth except for the barest edge. It takes me a few seconds to place the tone. Flirtation. But that doesn’t make any sense, even if he was talking about sex earlier to fluster me. He’s my captive. He rightfully hates me, and people may be all sorts of twisted up and do things against their better interest, but surely he draws the line atactuallytrying to seduce his captor…right?

“Share a meal with me, Poseidon.” His grin is still there, morphing into something playful. Does he realize it doesn’t meet his eyes?

Disappointment quells that small flip in my stomach. Icarus is a liar just like all the rest. I expected nothing less, but it still feels bad. All the same, he has a point about me needing to eat. It’s only when I’m standing across the island from him with my own full plate that he picks up his fork and begins to eat as well.

I expect the silence to be jagged and filled with peril, but it’s strangely comfortable. Icarus is moving stiffly, but he will be for quite some time with his injuries. I still can’t believe I misjudged Polyphemus so intensely. If I had known he was a danger to Icarus, I never would have left him in charge of our captive. That failure was paid for in Icarus’s blood.

Icarus takes another bite and shivers. “You know, this is amazing, even reheated. Your chef is something special.”

“Yes, Louis is.” This, at least, is a conversation easy to navigate. “He’s old enough to be a grandfather several times over, and I’m pretty sure his eyesight went out a decade ago, but his taste buds remain as youthful as ever.”

“Sounds charming.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” Charm and Louis hardly go hand in hand. He’s a cantankerous old bastard who treats me just like the two assistants I hired for him a while back. He’s bossy and snarls as often as he talks, and I enjoy spending time in his presence immensely—or I would if he wasn’there, in this damned house. Louis says exactly what he thinks, and he never couches his words in hidden meanings. I know where I stand with him at all times. It’sa relief.

“You know, Hera’s plan won’t work. Circe won’t be satisfied with anything less than fully sacking the city.”

There’s no reason to feel disappointed that he’s turned our conversation back to the pending attack. It’s why I kept him here, after all. I need the information held in his beautiful head. “Do you know Circe well?”

“No one knows Circe well. I know her less well than most. My father wasn’t exactly proud of me, and he took great pains to ensure I wasn’t exposed to more of the council on Aeaea than absolutely necessary. That went doubly true for Circe. He was certain I would embarrass him and endanger his upward mobility. I’m the ultimate disappointment as a son, you know.” The words ooze charm, but his smile still doesn’t reach his dark eyes. A truth within a truth. His father’s disappointment cuts him like a knife. His father who has been dead less than forty-eight hours.

Guilt stabs me. Somehow, in all this, I’d almost forgotten. Athena’s people took Minos’s body, and it wasn’t an Olympian who killed him, but all the same, I should have remembered. I push my plate away. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“No, you’re not.”

I shrug. “No, I’m not. But it’s the thing people say in situations like this. So I said it.”

Icarus surprises me by laughing. It’s not the calculated sound I’ve heard him make a few times when he attended the same parties I suffered my way through. It’s too loud, and he snorts. It’s cute.

He sits back in his chair. “I suppose itiswhat people say in situations like this. But to elaborate on what I said earlier, I maynot know much of Circepersonally, but I’ve had plenty of personal experience with people who interact with her daily. People talk. As a result, I know as much about her as anyone. She’s bent on revenge; I can’t imagine what you could possibly offer her that she wants more than Olympus burning.”

I understand it, at least in theory. I even met Circe once, long ago, at her wedding to Zeus. She was a beautiful bride, but that’s no surprise. Nothing but the best for that monster. Rumor had it that he saw her walking down the street and had to have her as his own. I don’t know why that translated into marriage for this particular victim, but even I could tell that she was filled with barely contained fury as she walked down the aisle to him. Throughout the reception, he kept her close, as if afraid she would try to escape. A few days later, they whisked away to their honeymoon.

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