Page 87 of Crown of Olympus
Aros guided me into a series of sharp twists and spins, never once letting me falter. I felt free.
When I accidentally stood on his toes, he glanced down, then blinked at my choice in footwear and roared with laughter. It was contagious, infecting me down to my marrow. I laughed with him.
We moved around the room, fluid and fierce, commanding the floor with a fire neither of us cared to extinguish.
Aros thrust me into another spin, and suddenly I crashed into a wall of solid muscle shaped like a scowling storm-wielder.
My grin vanished.
Caelus tugged my hands from his chest and grasped them within his own. He glared over my head at Aros, daring him to argue. But Aros merely smirked, inclined his head, and melted into the crowd. Still, he never looked away. His eyes burned holes in my skin the entire time.
These gods and their testosterone,I internally sighed.
Caelus and I stood barely a breath apart, my heaving chest brushing up against his. The gentle friction teased, and my nipples tingled as they hardened. His nostrils flared as he glowered down at me.
Shit.
The music moved to something slower, and Caelus wrapped his ridiculously muscular arms around me in the guise of a polite hold, but filled with intimate intent. He pulled me close, bodies touching, thumb tracing circles over the exposed skin on my back.
He began to glide us across the floor like a pair of figure skaters, possessing a grace no behemoth like him should have ever been capable of.
I was awe-struck. Mouth agape, I followed his lead, feeling the weight of the crowd’s stares tenfold.
The son of the mighty Zeus had deigned to dance with the likes of me. He dared to cut in and steal me from violence’s grip —and by the look on Ares’ and Hera’s faces, both of their godly parents wanted to kill me for it.
Caelus growled, the rumble coming from deep in his throat.
“Don’t look at me like that, Nightshade.”
My brows pinched. “Like what?”
“Like I hung a moon in the Underworld’s sky just to make your realm a little brighter,” he replied, glancing skyward, then returned his electric gaze back to mine. It burned with such cold intensity that everything else faded into the background.
I opened my mouth to reply but was swiftly hoisted off my feet by the warm, calloused hands of the warrior god. Aros spun me in his arms so we landed chest-to-chest, our gazes clashing and breath mingling.
“I told you, darling. Wars.” He winked, inhaling deeply. “Better be careful there, my sweet lady of death. You’re making it hard to remember we’re supposed to be rivals.”
“What happened to Team Heroes?” I laughed.
“You know what? You’re right.”
Aros tilted his face to the roof, inhaling deeply. But before he could yell whatever he’d intended to bellow, a heavy presence pressed once more against my back.
Caelus’s telltale static sent shivers racing across my skin as he scooped an arm around my waist.
He hissed at his friend, “Don’t even think about it, Aros. We’re supposed to be subtle.”
Instead of a word-filled shout, Aros loosed a choking laugh.
“My friend, nothing we’ve done tonight has been subtle. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been the topic of conversation and speculation all evening,” he replied with arms thrown wide, encompassing the entire room. The crowd’s stares confirmed it. Most of the room’s occupants were, indeed, glaring at our trio.
Wordlessly, Caelus’ grip tightened. His fingers curled with a possessiveness that sent a thrill down my spine.
The crowd seemed to hold its breath as the dance became a battle of wills. Each god vied for my hand, my glance, my touch. Every step became a silent declaration of intent. Every touch a challenge, a game, a question, and an answer.
I was pulled taut between the two imposing males — tethered between Aros’ playful twirls and Caelus’ smooth spins. Breathless and slightly overwhelmed by their touch.
Thankfully, I was spared from further scandal when the ballroom broke in two.
