Page 9 of Gilded Gods

I watch Ares and Ophelia bicker like old lovers, going back and forth until I want to throat-punch them.

“Do you think you two could stop arguing for five seconds?” I ask before we eat dessert. “You’re giving me a fucking headache.”

Ophelia rolls her eyes. “No one is chaining you to that chair.” She throws out her hand toward the dining room entrance. “You’re free to go.”

Ares runs a hand across his jaw like he wants to pin her to the table and eat her for dessert. These two are going to be fucking by the end of the week. Either that or they’re going to kill each other.

Trying to be the peacekeeper of the group, I say to Ophelia, “No, I think I’ll stay and enjoy your company. It’s been so lovely.”

Ares snickers. “It has, hasn’t it?”

“Got something to say to me?” Ophelia asks him, twirling a dark lock of hair around her finger.

She’s sexy without effort. This is the first time in years I have felt attraction toward a woman. After what happened to me in college, I can’t even touch a woman.

But I want to touch her.

The Drakos are our marks, not our family. I don’t need some sassy girl fucking with my plans. Ares would worship her body like a temple in a heartbeat. He might kill her afterward, though. Or maybe she would kill him.

Mom digs through the bag from Mykonos. She hands plastic containers to Belen, and he flips open the tops of the desserts, telling us to dig in. They went all out for the celebration. There’s everything from baklava and rizogalo to loukoumades and galaktoboureko.

My mouth waters at the loukoumades. I’m a sucker for a good doughnut, especially one dipped in honey.

Ares doesn’t make a move because God forbid he eats sugar. He’s too obsessed with his body and what he puts into it to enjoy himself. Besides, he says that carbs slow him down in the ring. Well, shitty carbs, anyway. Anything fried and slathered in something that isn’t all-natural or organic would never go into his mouth.

Atlas grabs a piece of baklava and eats the pastry with one hand while drawing with the other. Ophelia is having a face-off with Ares, and I wonder if she’s waiting to choose a dessert until he does. I’m curious if she’s insecure about eating around people. She barely touched her dinner.

I grab a doughnut from the container and hold it in front of her mouth. “Open up. You need to eat.”

Her eyes widen right before she gives me a look like she’s going to punch me in the face. “I can afford to skip a meal.”

I glance at her face before letting my eyes lower to her tits, and when I reach her stomach, she wraps her arms around herself. “I said take a bite. You barely ate your food.”

Her gaze flicks between Ares and me. Then she opens her mouth and lets me place the doughnut on her tongue. She only accepted the dessert to sayfuck youto my brother.

“That’s a good girl,” I tell her. “Now, eat something before I keep force-feeding you loukoumades.”

ChapterSix

OPHELIA

Dinner is a blast.Every woman’s wet dream–aka Ares–is ogling me. I got Apollo feeding me doughnuts because he doesn’t think I’m eating enough.Like I can’t afford to skip a meal? I nearly laughed in his face.

Thankfully, Atlas is too busy drawing on his lap under the table to notice me. He made a few comments earlier but has retreated into a creative bubble. I watch his hand move quickly across the page and wonder if he rubs his cock at the same pace.

What is wrong with me?

All of the Demetriou brothers are ridiculously hot. They can have any woman they want. So why do Apollo and Ares look at me like I’m their snack?

I hate them.

I want them.

It’s annoying.

What I wouldn’t give to have Apollo feed me again like I’m some goddess or have Ares’s full lips pressed to mine as he fucks me with his inked fingers under the table.

Fuck.

---