Electric Idol (Dark Olympus #2)(48)

“Not what?”

“A monster.” I smile a little. “I would know, being a monster myself. You might move among us, but you aren’t like us at all.”

She narrows her eyes. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s a compliment. It takes someone special to live among monsters and not become one.” We’re veering into conversational depths I don’t know how to navigate. I need to get us back on safer ground. “Hungry?”

She hesitates but finally says, “Yes. I was too nervous to eat before.”

Truth be told, I was, too. It seems silly to get nerves before a real wedding for a fake relationship, but nothing about this situation is as expected. I’m not supposed to want my new wife so much that I’m practically shaking with the restraint required to keep from kissing her again.

Or, if nothing else, it should only be lust coursing through me when I think of her. I sure as fuck shouldn’t be wanting to put myself between her and anything that would put that sad look in her pretty hazel eyes.

I clear my throat. “Let’s go back up to the penthouse. I’m reasonably sure that no one will fuck with us tonight, so we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

Psyche allows me to guide her to the door and down the hallway to the elevator. “They’re not supposed to fuck with us at all, not now that we’re married.”

I didn’t want to talk about this until later, especially after I just got done trying to reassure her, but Psyche is too savvy not to notice an awkward change of subject. I already know this woman well enough to know that she won’t let me distract her. She’d rather have the full truth out in the open so we can deal with it accordingly.

It still takes far too much effort to answer honestly. “This marriage means my mother won’t be able to follow through on the threats on your life. It won’t stop her from attempting character assassination.”

Psyche gives me a slow smile. “Let her do her worst. I can more than handle her in that field.”

I hope she’s right.





16


Psyche

Today has been filled with emotional extremes. I feel like I’m flying apart into a million pieces, and not necessarily in a good way. From those forty minutes in Eros’s bed to walking into the room that he thoughtfully pulled together into something resembling a real wedding. He’d themed the colors to my dress, for gods’ sake. That kind of attention to detail might only be so that we can sell this fully to everyone in the city, but I can’t help thinking that he did it in part for me.

I’m a fool.

To go from that to him casually mentioning that it’s likely his mother will continue with her vendetta, at least when it comes to my reputation…

Whiplash doesn’t begin to cover it.

Of course I expected this. We’ve talked about it, at least in passing. But a small part of me had held out hope that Aphrodite would turn away from this path once we were married. I really know better than to believe such a fantasy, but hope springs eternal. It seems rather naive to assume that, thwarted, Aphrodite would move on with her life and focus on some other potential victim.

Naive and selfish.

At least if she’s focused on me, Eros isn’t having to hurt other people. Now that the worst of the threat is removed, I can handle Aphrodite. I hope. In the arena of public opinion, I’m nearly as capable as she is. I have to believe that. I’m just so godsdamned tired.

I don’t manage to speak until we’re tucked safely back into Eros’s penthouse. “I suppose it was naive of me to think that this would be enough to dissuade her.”

He keeps his arm around me as we head into the kitchen. There’s a bottle sitting on the counter, and I pick it up, mostly to give my hands something to do. A pretty silver ribbon is tied around its neck, the tag simply saying From Hermes.

I examine the label. “She’s got expensive taste.”

Eros reaches around me and flips the tag over. The back reads: Totally stole this from Hades’s wine cellar. So, really, it’s from me, Hades, and Persephone.

That draws a tired little laugh from my lips. “Hermes is a menace.”

“She’s chaotic neutral personified. She’s pretty okay, though.” Eros takes the bottle from my hands and sets it back on the counter. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Psyche.”

“That’s rich coming from you, someone who intended to hurt me twenty-four hours ago.” Maybe that’s fair, maybe it’s not, but I don’t care either way. The events of the last two days are rapidly catching up with me. Too much has happened in too short a time. “If this was the plan all along, it’s not a half bad one. One cut for marrying Demeter’s daughter. A finishing move by killing her.”

“Stop it.” He takes my hands, his grip light but unavoidable. “Look at me.”

I don’t want to. I know how well Eros lies when he’s motivated. I can’t trust a single word, look, or gesture. But when I gaze up at him, he looks terrifyingly serious.

“Psyche, my mother might still be furious, but our reasons for getting married remain the same. She can spit her poison and try her manipulations, but she can’t harm you. I will not let anyone harm you. You’re mine now, and I protect what’s mine.”