Page 176 of Blood of Hercules
“Ambrosia—it’s a tasteless spice in all the food that acts as an upper, but don’t worry, your half-human heritage should neutralize the effects. It impacts full-blooded Spartans the worst.”
“Oh, that’s good.” I grinned (I had no clue what I was saying).
One siren at the end of the table yelled to Lena, “I dare you to go make out with a Spartan—then tell him he’s ugly to his face.”
Everyone burst into laughter.
“You gotta do it,” I said. “That’s the rules.”
Lena rolled her eyes, flouncing out of the booth into the darkness. She pushed a random Spartan against the wall and kissed him thoroughly. The man melted in her arms.
“You sir—are hideous!” Lena yelled into his face.
Our table erupted into laughter.
Tears streamed out of my eyes as the Spartan looked at her with adoration.What an idiot.
“Do you want a drink?” Oron asked me as the bartender passed out shots at our table.
“No.” I tried to smile, but it ended with a grimace.
“How about a smoke?” The siren at the end of the table offered a cigarette.
“Nah.” I laughed. “I’m good—I feel great already.”
“Want to do Spartan drugs?” Another siren held up a white pill. “They make you hear colors and see music.”
Honestly tempting.
“Maybe later.” I laughed louder. Even feeling as good as I was, Iwas still aware that I wasn’t emotionally ready to dabble in hard drug use. It wasn’t my time—yet.
“She’s our big prude,” Lena said proudly as she slung her arm around my shoulder.
“Okay, next round!” Oron gathered the bloodstained knives and put them back in the center of the table. Cards were passed around, and we started to play.
Mid-game, he put his free hand on my arm. His chunky gold rings—decorated in siren spirit symbols—dug into my skin.
“You must try my drink,” he whispered. “It’s so good, you’ll love it.” He winked. “Just a sip.”
The bubbly feeling fizzled slightly. “No, th-that’s okay,” I stuttered.
“YOU LOST!” Lena shoved at my shoulders and hooted. “Finally.” The sirens held up their knives.
Darn it.
“As a punishment—” Lena tapped her lip. “—you have to get naked, like the rest of us.” The table laughed and heckled.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.”
“Do it! Do it! Do it.” They drum-rolled their hands on the knife-covered table. One siren winced, then laughed, showing off a cut from where she’d accidentally hit a knife.
“Fine.” I held up both my hands, then slowly lowered them to my thighs.
They leaned forward with anticipation.
In one swift move, I stood up awkwardly in the booth and yanked up my skirt—everyone screamed.
Laughing, I shimmied my hips, showing off the unflattering shorts that were built in under the toga, preserving my modesty.
