Electric Idol (Dark Olympus 2)

“Not as much as you’re going to regret this marriage.” Her tone goes just as cold as mine. “What were you thinking, Eros? I send you to remove the girl and you marry her? Have you lost your mind?”

“Plans changed.”

“Not mine.”

I know that. I don’t know why I’m reaching out now, hoping that I can work a miracle and change Aphrodite’s mind. Still…I have to try. Reacting in fear will just give her a larger target to aim at. I have to be cold, colder than I ever have before. “I never ask you for anything. I’m asking you for this. Leave Psyche alone.”

She’s silent for so long, a foolish part of me starts to dare to hope that this is the moment things change. That, for once, my mother will put my needs above her selfish desires.

I really should know better after a lifetime of being her son. Finally, Aphrodite says, “I see that she’s gotten to you. Pity.”

“Mother.”

“Do not say ‘Mother’ in that tone of voice. Not to me.”

Something akin to panic tightens my chest. “Let me have her, and put this behind us and I’ll never question you again. That’s what you want, isn’t it? A good little fixer who stops giving you attitude.”

She takes a slow breath, and when she speaks again, she sounds almost calm. “Everything I do, Eros, I do for love.” She hangs up before I can formulate a response.

I stare at my phone. “Fuck. Fuck.” I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. I knew it, but I still tried. I close my eyes, but an image imprints itself on the back of my eyelids, of Psyche’s body bent and broken, her hazel eyes gone blank with death, the thing that makes her her gone forever. I press my hand to my chest, hard, trying to breathe past the pain the image brings. I won’t let it happen. I know all my mother’s tricks. I just need to hold her off until we can come up with a plan to neutralize her for good.

I know how to neutralize her. She’s the one who taught me.

I can’t do it. I thought I had no lines left to cross, but not even I can kill my own mother. No matter how evil she is. Not even to keep Psyche safe.

I leave the safe room with slow steps that increase in pace the closer I get to the living room. Psyche’s only been out of my sight for ten minutes. She’s fine. I know she’s fine. But I don’t breathe easy again until I walk into the room and find her exactly where I left her.

What the fuck is happening to me?

I gather her up into my arms, ignoring her sleepy protest that she’s too heavy, and carry her into our bedroom. We end up in bed, me spooning her as she sinks back into sleep. I press my hand to her upper chest, counting her slow inhales and exhales until my nerves finally settle enough for sleep to take me.

24

Psyche

Helen Kasios lives in the same building as the rest of Zeus’s family. I’ve never been there before. Usually when the past Zeus entertained, he did it in Dodona Tower. The new Zeus has entertained plenty since he took over, but it couldn’t be clearer that he’s just going through the motions. He doesn’t crave the spotlight the way his late father did. Even when he was still called Perseus, he seemed more focused on the business aspect of things than his father ever was. The forty-day mourning period has come and gone, and people are already whispering about how resistant he seems to marrying someone and finally filling the Hera title. The last Zeus might have been monster incarnate, but he was charming and charismatic. He left large shoes to fill.

Of his four children, his youngest son, Hercules, managed to escape Olympus entirely. Perseus is now the new Zeus. And Helen and Eris are, as Eros said, insular. They’ve never crossed me that I’m aware of, but we haven’t gotten close enough to each other to create friction.

That changes tonight.

Tonight, when Eros wants me to try.

Does he realize what he’s asking of me? I glance at him in the elevator next to me, perfectly put together in a dove-gray suit and cream button-down shirt that offsets his golden skin. He catches my eye and gives our linked hands a squeeze. Yes, I suspect he knows exactly what he’s asking of me.

I’ve survived—thrived, even—in Olympus because I kept my distance and trusted no one outside my family. I took the lessons I learned in the first year here and never looked back.

Now I’m swimming in deeper waters than I’m comfortable with. As the elevator doors slide open, revealing a classy hallway with lush gray carpet and soothing blue walls, I have to acknowledge that I’m not a shark at all. I’m a minnow playing dress-up.