Electric Idol (Dark Olympus #2)(31)
A divine smell draws me into the kitchen to find Eros finishing up a hash with potatoes, peppers, and fried eggs. It’s heavier than what I’d normally eat for breakfast, but I accept the plate he passes over and take a seat on one of the stylish iron stools that flank the kitchen bar. They’re not exactly comfortable, but they are pretty. I take a few bites, enough that Eros stops watching me and digs into his own meal.
We eat in a strangely comfortable silence, interspersed by our respective phones buzzing with notifications every few seconds. Eros gives his a dirty look. “How do you put up with this shit?”
“It’s necessary.” I learned early on that power is the only thing the upper crust of Olympus respects and that I’d never attain it by trying to imitate them. I had to go my own way while still playing the game—a careful balance that exhausts me more often than not. But it was working, at least until Aphrodite turned her vengeful gaze in my direction. I scroll through the notifications. Several are from my mother, growing increasingly irate. Another few are interview requests. “How long do you want to make them wait for interviews?”
He hesitates and finally says grudgingly, “I bow to your expertise in this.”
Surprising that he’ll willingly give up even this much control. I ignore the strange flare of warmth in my chest at the trust he’s placing in me. “I say we give it a week. A few pictures of the wedding, a few outings where they see us being the loving couple in public, and they’ll be so frothing at the mouth to get an exclusive scoop that they won’t bother to ask hard questions.” I have just the interviewer in mind for it, too, but I haven’t heard from her yet.
“Okay.” He stretches and then his hand lands lightly on the spot between my shoulder blades. I don’t flinch this time; I’m too busy trying not to melt as he trails his fingers over the nape of my neck. “I like your hair up.”
“I assure you that your preferences have absolutely nothing to do with how I’ll dress or act in the future.”
Eros chuckles, the sound low and strangely happy. “You are a constant surprise, Psyche. I like that, too.”
I don’t shrug off his hand. Even as I tell myself it’s practice for being in public, I know I’m a liar. I like the weight of his palm against my skin. I like how tenderly he traces his fingers down my spine. Believing that he’s actually affected and not simply adjusting to me the same way I’m adjusting to him…
He’s not. I’m no psychologist, but if Eros is a sociopath, I wouldn’t be surprised. He doesn’t seem to have the moral brakes most people do. Or maybe that’s just a side effect of being raised from birth by Aphrodite. Nature or nurture, the bottom line is that if he has emotions beyond amusement and irritation, he keeps them hidden deep down. And lust. We can’t forget about lust. Eros has that in spades.
Even so, this is all a lie, a game, even.
I don’t look up from my phone. “Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t want you dead.” He says it so simply, I flinch.
“What’s so special about me that I get spared?” He has bodies in his past. He’s admitted as much. “Is it because I’m Demeter’s daughter?”
He snorts. “No, that’s hardly a mark in your favor.”
“Then why?”
Eros stares hard at his plate. “I’ve done a lot of stuff I’m not proud of, hurt people who I thought were enemies at the time, only to find out later that the only thing they’d ever done wrong was to piss off my mother.” He shrugs. “After a while, it didn’t matter what they’d done, only that she commanded them to be punished.”
I still don’t understand. “But she commanded me to be punished.”
“Yeah, she did.” Eros stabs a piece of potato. “But like I said, I don’t want you dead. This is the only other way.”
I have no reason to trust him. None. He’s given his word, yes, but Olympus is filled with liars and cheats. Even my mother has been known to commit to a shady deal when the situation calls for it. Everyone in the city thinks that she and Hades have an alliance; they don’t. Instead, she traded her help for Hades’s attendance at six events each year. He shows up at her side, and people make the assumptions my mother wants them to make. It’s not the truth, though. The upper city might have forgotten how far she was willing to go to return Persephone to her engagement with the old Zeus, but Hades hasn’t.
My mother is arguably one of the gentler hands when it comes to Olympian power games. Aphrodite has neither a soft touch nor a subtle bone in her body. Eros wouldn’t have survived this long in this city without being a little bit of both liar and cheat. I certainly haven’t. There’s plenty he’s not telling me about his motivations. For all that, I trust that he’s as intent on this marriage as I have to be. All the other details will fall where they may.
It’s our job to ensure they fall where we want them to.
My phone buzzes as a text comes through. A welcome distraction from how good it feels to have Eros touching me.
Persephone: We’re meeting in an hour at Poppy’s. She’s furious about that photo. Between the one last night and the other, she thinks you’ve been secretly dating behind her back. Good luck.
Our plan is working. This is what I wanted. So why do I feel so sick about it?