Page 175 of Bonds of Hercules
“She’ll be fine.” Augustus grinned at me. “We’ll take care of her. She has us by her side now, right, my carus?”
Scales slithered around my neck. “Oh yeah, I’m sure he’ll take care of you with his—” Nyx paused for dramatic effect “—throbbing, engorged cock.”
I choked. “Neversay that again.”
“Never say what?” Nyx clicked her teeth together. “Cock and balls?”
Kharon scowled. “What is the echidna saying? Why are you hissing like that and making that face?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I’m just a pervert.”
They narrowed their eyes like they couldn’t figure out if I was joking, or if this was a cry for help.
It was both.
32
ELECTRIC ENERGY
ALEXIS
The symposium buzzed with energy.
Cameras flashed.
Spartan reporters captured Olympian leaders smiling and mingling with creatures in their finery.
It almost appeared like a normal affair.Almost, because guards milled about, glaring at us and holding up their sparking batons in warning.
I scowled back and Nyx hissed every time one got too close, gliding across my shoulders.
Beside me, Augustus and Kharon observed the party like they were plotting. Helen and Charlie had been sent back to their room, where food would be delivered because the event was apparently “adults only.”
I was waiting for the nudity and aggressive humping to start, in a purely intellectually tortured, eighteenth-century poet dealing with their sexuality sort of way.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t.
Entertain me, peasants!
Sighing from the fact that I was actually suffering from a mental breakdown and needed to seek urgent medical help, I leaned against a pillar.
Kharon and Augustus stood next to me, and our protectors were asleep at our feet.
I grabbed a glass of ambrosia off a tray and threw it back.
The liquid burned.
Heat spreading down my throat, I observed the celebration.
I’d seen the younger Chthonics at a booth somewhere, but since tensions were still high with Patro and Achilles—because my husbands had violently bound and gagged them—we stayed separate.
Artemis was the center of attention.
She sat at a table in the middle of the room with her legs spread wide, eyes roaming lazily over the crowd—her armor was still splattered in Cyclopes blood—Ares, Aphrodite, Erebus, Hades, and Persephone sat around her.
Artemis watched the partygoers with open contempt as they whispered and pointed at her.
A siren poured from a bottle of ambrosia into their glasses with a low bow, then backed away like her life was on the line. She turned, shoulders slumping with relief as she served the Olympian leaders at the next table.
