Page 96 of Nemesis

I’m on Reese’s arm, mine threaded through his and my hand on his forearm. As if this was a Victorian era instead of Ancient Greece—or modern society.

Saint follows like a shadow. His mask is made of bronze wings. Hermes, the messenger god. When he hosts, he has a staff of a similar make.

Saint has designed all the masks for Jace as Hades, Wolfe as Ares, and Apollo. As himself. He designed a litany of masks for Kora, too, especially when the guys were getting to know her. It was fun to see how different they could spin the theme of Persephone to match their own gods.

He designed one singular mask for me, back when Olympus was surging in popularity. He said something similar about notwanting me to have a generic mask, but I suspected it was Nyx’s doing. Now, I’m not so sure.

He designed many masks, including hers. He was right there with her for the first Olympus fight night.

He’s been here longer than anyone…

I shiver, and Reese tucks me closer against him. It seems automatic, and a part of my brain seriously balks. I shouldn’t be letting him get this close to me.

“All these people pay to get in,” Reese marvels. “To watch… fighting?”

I nod.

My brother appears at the top of the stairs on the left. The left and right sides meet at the center landing. He comes down with his staff, with his bare, gold-painted chest, his mask of horns and bone.

“Welcome to Olympus,” he booms. “I’m Apollo, your host for the evening.”

Pause.

His gaze sweeps through the room and lands on me. Then Reese.

His fingers flex on the staff, and it’s his only tell that he’s upset. Or annoyed. Or angry. Maybe a combination of all three? Either way, I’m going to hear about it later.

“We have an unusual predicament tonight, ladies and gentlemen,” he continues. He isn’t shouting, and yet his voice carries. “One of our fighters is ill. His opponent is requesting we find a suitable replacement.”

I suck in a breath and reach back for Saint. I grip his wrist, willing him tonotvolunteer.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to shake me off either.

“What are the odds it’s Kade?” Saint says in my ear. “Not the sick one—the one who wants a replacement?”

Reese twitches.

Fuck.

“Anyone?” Apollo drawls. “Our requirements are not normally so… lax. As I said: unusual circumstances.”

“I will.” Reese’s voice rings out from beside me.

I close my eyes, then force them open. I stare up at him, daring him to take it back.

But you can’t unring a bell.

Saint moves closer, prying my hand away from Reese. Freeing him enough for him to slip out of my grasp and move through the crowd. They part for him—but why wouldn’t they? He’s a hulking guy in a mask of fire.

Of course they would rush to clear a path.

Apollo meets him at the bottom step. They talk for a moment, and I turn to glare at Saint.

“You wanted him to volunteer,” I accuse.

He shrugs. His blue eyes are dark tonight, but the burn in his gaze is no less potent. “I think he should prove himself before you go falling all over him.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “You think that’s what this is?”

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