Radiant Sin(96)

“I’ll be safe.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She steps back and then our brother is there. He doesn’t hug me; he’s not really the hugging type.

He just looks at me and nods. “Do what you have to do.”

Helen makes an angry sound, but she’s never really understood Perseus—now Zeus—the way I do. He’s ruthless to a fault and clinically cold, both traits our bastard of a father encouraged, but he’s never railed against his role in this city. Not like Helen. Not like Hercules. I wince a little at the thought of our youngest brother. He’s not here. He was invited, of course, but he’s made it clear he’s not returning to Olympus, even if our father is gone.

I try not to hold that against him. He’s happy and that’s enough for the others. It has to be enough for me, too.

“I always do what I have to.” I turn away from what remains of my family and walk with my new husband to the elevator that will take us up to the honeymoon suite. The doors close and I’m alone with Hephaestus for the first time.

I don’t know what I expect. Threats or more taunting, perhaps. He says nothing. The silence unnerves me, but this is a weapon I’m familiar with. My father didn’t utilize it often, but when he did, it was so bad I almost preferred his fists. He would ignore us when we made him a special shade of angry, would act as if he couldn’t see or hear us for hours and sometimes days. Perseus always seemed to find that almost a relief, but it made me crazed. When I was fifteen, I destroyed an entire room while shrieking at my father, and he sat there staring mildly out the window and drinking his coffee the entire time.

I shudder. I’m not fifteen any longer. Control has been hard-won, but it exists. The doors open before I can make a liar out of myself, and I charge forward, leaving Hephaestus to follow behind.

The honeymoon suite is lovely. Everything about this historic hotel is lovely; it’s why I picked it for the wedding. That and the fact that every member of my family going back generations has been married here.

In my father’s case, multiple times.

I stare at the tasteful cream decor and my stomach twists. Best not to think about that. Or the fact that my brother and sister-in-law occupied this same room for their political marriage back in May. I shudder. Tradition is a trap, but I’ve gone too far to back out now.

Hephaestus steps around me and makes a beeline to the kitchenette. There’s a bottle of whiskey there with a jaunty bow around it that seems to be made entirely of glitter. Even before he picks up the card and snorts, I know who it’s from.

Hermes. Up until two weeks ago, I considered her one of my best friends in this world. Now, I don’t know what to believe. My brother thinks she’s a traitor, and she hasn’t done much to disabuse him of the belief. Even though I know she’s playing at deeper games than any of us first realized, I still can’t quite believe that she means this city harm or that she’s really allied with Hephaestus’s family.

Maybe that makes me naive. I’ve been accused of worse.

I swallow past the complicated feelings her name brings and cross to join Hephaestus at the counter. “Give me that.”

“I’ve got it.” He rips at the bow almost violently.

I barely resist the urge to snatch it out of his hands and pick up the card instead. Hermes’s sprawling handwriting greets me.

Enjoy the wedding night, you two love birds!

I sigh and toss it aside. “Always playing games.”

“She’s an Olympian. It’s what your people do.” He finally gets the bow off and drops it to the counter with a disgusted grunt. The bottle top soon joins it. Hephaestus takes a long pull directly from the bottle. Another time, I’d make a biting comment about his manners, but right now I need the same fortification he obviously does.

No. Damn it, no.

I am not some weak princess, married off against her will. This wedding is my design. If this were a story, I’d be the cunning queen, or even the evil witch. I am not helpless and I am not innocent.

If Hephaestus needs liquid courage, then that means I’m the one coming out on top of today, no matter his nasty little trick with Adonis earlier. I still take the bottle from his hand and lift it to my lips, holding his gaze all the while. One swallow, then two. I stop myself there and set it on the counter with a clink. “Shall we, dear husband?”

He shakes his head slowly. “You really are Olympus’s wh—”

“I’m going to stop you there.” It takes everything I have to resist clenching my fists…and perhaps driving one right into his face. “This marriage can be as awful or as pleasant as you choose.” Lies. I have every intention of making each day a new torment for my dear husband. Anything to keep him distracted from the new power he stole with his title. It would be ideal to learn about the rest of his family’s plans, but that’s for others to discover.

My only aim is his suffering.

He looks at me as if he’d like to toss me out the nearest window. The feeling is entirely mutual.

I resign myself to a torturous experience and turn for the bedroom. “Let’s get this over with.”

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Acknowledgments


I will never ever get over my amazement and gratitude over the overwhelming support readers have given this series. We wouldn’t have made it to book four without you, and I hope you enjoyed a slightly softer turn around Olympus. Suffice to say, we’re ramping things up with the next book!