Wicked Beauty (Dark Olympus 3)

That’s the problem. If his impressive brain gets going on this tangled situation, he might decide that the end of this tournament is the end of our relationship. I know it’s selfish as fuck to want to keep him even while I’m married to someone else. It’s even more selfish now that I’ve had sex with Helen and there’s a distinct possibility of it happening again no matter what protests I make. Most of all, it’s damn near unforgivable that I can’t stand the thought of him and Helen together without me in the picture. No matter which way I look at it, we’re no longer speaking about a political marriage of convenience. Now it’s messy. It’s my fault, but there’s no easy fix for this.

Damn it.

“I’ll give you time, then.” The words come out dull. I turn and walk out the door. I’m too restless to try to sleep yet—if I’ll be able to sleep at all—so I head down the hall. Wandering the dark is something I used to do when I was a kid. Back then, I didn’t sleep a lot. It was a game, a way to battle my deep fear of the dark. The monsters can’t hurt what they can’t see, hear, sense. It wasn’t like the orphanage was bad or anything. I don’t know if any of the last Zeus’s Heras even bothered to mess with it, but the people in charge were nice enough. It wasn’t like the movies say. No one was trying to touch me or abuse me or use me for experiments to summon a demon or some shit.

Still, no matter how Ms. Hebe tried to ensure we were being raised as well adjusted as possible, sometimes the nights were…rough. Wandering the place after dark helped. Movement has always helped me.

It’s been a long time since I felt the compulsion, though. I don’t worry about the shit I can’t see anymore. I see what I need to, and I’m not the same scared little kid I was back then. I’m a warrior. There’s nothing life can throw at me that I can’t handle.

Or so I thought.

I’ve had Patroclus at my side since we were enlisted in Ares’s security forces at eighteen. His moms thought it would be good for him, with the structure and physicality and all. I had a chip on my shoulder and something to prove. I know everyone thinks we’re too different; they thought it back then, too. But even as teenagers, we just…clicked.

I don’t know what I’d do without him. Even though part of me always thought eventually Patroclus would move on to someone who stressed him out less, most of me never believed it would happen. Now, the possibility is all too real.

It’s late enough that the house is deserted, everyone in their beds and keeping out of trouble. Bellerophon or their people will have clocked my movement, even without me turning on the lights. They’re too good to let people get into trouble after dark. I’m not interested in getting into trouble, though. I just want to expel some of this awful feeling churning in my gut.

I’ve fucked things up. I knew that the moment I came out of the haze of lust on the floor next to Helen. Even then, though, I half convinced myself that Patroclus would roll with this the same way he rolls with all my other bullshit. Wishful thinking.

I see the way he looks at her.

He’s never looked at anyone like that…except for me.

I wish I could claim I slept with her solely because I wanted to and not because I was jealous of her and Patroclus. I wish I wasn’t that big of an asshole to do something so selfish just to keep them away from each other. Even when he’s fucked other people, it’s been all in good fun or satisfying a curiosity. He’s never watched someone walk across the room with a longing I can fucking feel even from a few feet away. He’s only been in close contact with Helen as an adult for a few days. How much stronger will that get in a week? In a few months after we’re married?

If he falls in love with her…

Yeah, I’m an asshole. I want to have my cake and eat it, too, and it’s not fucking fair. If I’d slowed down long enough to think about it, I’d like to pretend I would have made different choices. But then, I don’t like lying, do I?

I huff out a breath and open the sliding glass door to the back patio. The heat of the day has cooled, and the night air feels good against my skin. It doesn’t bring any clarity, though. This situation is so fucked up, and I’m to blame for a large slice of the pie. I know that, but it doesn’t mean I’m comfortable stewing over the mess I made. I’m a creature of action. Why sit around and twiddle your thumbs when you can do something about it?