Page 175 of Blood of Hercules
The sirens all nodded in understanding because abstinence was sexy and mysterious. At least in my mind, that was what I thought would happen.
In real life?—
“NO!” Lena cried out like someone had been shot. Then all the sirens in the booth started wailing. Nyx joined, just for the drama.
I sank lower into the booth and wished I could disappear off the face of the earth.
Nearby Spartans paused fornicating to see what all the commotion was about.
I should have kept the bandage on.
Lena pointed at me accusingly. “So,youare the repressed prude. Why have you chosen to live such a miserable life?”
Because I’m scared of people. Touch. Sexuality.
Shrugging, I mumbled under my breath, “There wasn’t much choice involved.” The phantom aches worsened.
It wasn’t easy to lose your virginity when you lived in a cardboard box and absolutely loathed being touched.
Instead of letting it go, the sirens perked up at my answer.
“We can change that. Do you want to fuck? Now?” Oron placed his hand on my thigh.
Jumping away from his hand, I nearly crawled out of my skin. “No.”
Oron shrugged, still smiling.
“Can we please play the card game?” Changing the subject, I looked at Lena pleadingly.
“Of course.” She nodded, expression grave. “Oh, big, beautiful prude.”
I pursed my lips and decided to be flattered.
At least I’m big and beautiful. It could be worse... maybe.
“So the eight knives go in the middle of the table,” Lena explained. “But there are nine of us, so we pass around the cards until people get four siren spirits or four Spartan Houses of the same colors. If you do, you snatch up a knife and anyone can grab one—the person who doesn’t get a knife, must do a dare set by the rest of the table.”
“So we fight over knives?” I asked, sure I was misunderstanding.
All the sirens nodded with excitement.
“Exactly,” Lena said. “The fun part is when it gets violent and people tussle.”
“Oh,” I said, unsure how to put my feelings into words.
This is either going to be great fun—or a bloody disaster.
Two hours later, I screamed with laughter as I wrenched the last knife out of Lena’s hands before she could fully get it.
“Not fair!” she yelled. “How the heck do you keep grabbing them by the sharp side?”
I shrugged and wiped my hand off on my toga. A few cuts on the fingers were nothing in the grand scheme of things. Heck, I barely noticed them.
“Why do I feel so—bubbly?” I asked no one in particular.
“Oh, that’s the ambrosia in the food and drinks,” Lena said casually.
I turned to her. “The what?”
