Electric Idol (Dark Olympus #2)(71)

For a moment, I think she’ll keep arguing, keep digging, but she finally nods. “We need to talk about next steps.”

“Not yet.” I take her hand. I enjoy touching her so much, and not even in a way that’s confined to sex. It still feels a little baffling that I can do it whenever I want. This casual intimacy might be a small thing, but it’s an experience I’ve never had before. More, touching her calms me in a way I’m not prepared to deal with. “I want to show you something.”

“Eros.” She gives an exasperated sigh. “I don’t think showing me your dick right now will solve any of our problems.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” I lead her to the locked door across from my safe room and pull her to stand before me. “Pay very close attention and memorize this.” I type out the code slowly. “Repeat it back to me.”

Psyche does, flawlessly. “What is this?”

Instead of answering with words, I push the door open and nudge her in ahead of me. I don’t let her get far before I turn her back to the door. “This is reinforced. It can take machine-gun fire without punching through, at least long enough for Ares’s people to show up. The walls are the same.”

Her eyes go wide. “That’s a lot of reinforcement.”

“It’s a safe room. If you’re home alone for some reason and get spooked, come here. I keep several burner phones charged, so you can call out for help.” I motion to the bright-red box near the door. “This will call Ares’s forces.”

If anything, her eyes get wider. “Not the police?”

“The police are for civilians.” It stands to reason that she’d default to the police in a situation like this, though. The current Ares and Demeter don’t get along, so of course she won’t trust his private military with the safety of her family, even if that’s their official role. Most of the Thirteen have some sort of private security they contract for themselves and their families, but we can’t trust Aphrodite’s people for obvious reason. No, it has to be Ares.

She gives herself a little shake. “I suppose that’s fair.” Psyche turns and looks at the trio of monitors set up around my chair, at the filing cabinets. “This isn’t just a safe room.”

“No, it’s not just a safe room.”

She glances at me. “You’re putting an undeserved amount of faith in me by giving me access to all this.”

I shrug with a nonchalance I don’t feel. “I promised that I’d keep you safe. That promise extends to when you’re not in my presence. This is one of the safest spots this side of the River Styx. Not even Hermes can get inside.”

She looks at the room with new appreciation. “That is safe. I swear that woman is half ghost and can sift through the vents.”

“Nothing so exciting. She’s just an excellent thief and hacker.” She was long before she became Hermes, but that part isn’t known publicly. In fact, not much at all is known publicly about her. She prefers it that way.

“You talk like she’s a friend.”

“She…is. Or as near to it as one gets in this city.”

Psyche’s smile is bittersweet. “Olympus continues to be quite the qualifier.”

“It’s home.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” She presses her lips together as if not sure what to say. “Thank you for showing me this. I promise to try not to abuse it.”

That draws a laugh from me. “I appreciate your attempt at restraint.” We go back into the hall and I have her input the code enough times that I’m sure she can do it under duress. We’ll do this in a couple of days to be sure, but it’s the bare minimum I can accomplish right now. It does little to combat how loose around the edges I feel at the thought of my mother’s knife pointed in Psyche’s direction. I promised that this marriage would change things, and in the end, it’s changed nothing.

Aphrodite has made a liar out of me.

We end up taking the time to change into more comfortable clothing before retreating to the living room to talk strategy. As much as I don’t want Psyche’s idea of “organization” spilling all over the master bedroom, part of me intensely dislikes the way we have separate closets. I don’t know what the fuck that’s about. As she pointed out before, plenty of couples have separate rooms, and we have hardly anything resembling a traditional relationship.

Still.

Psyche sits on the other side of the couch, and I allow that space, but I reach down and grab her feet, lifting them to perch on my thigh. Her frown morphs into surprise as I take one foot and begin to massage it. “Oh gods, what are you doing?”

“Those heeled boots were sexy, but they look uncomfortable.”

“They are uncomfortable, but that’s the life of an influencer.” She melts down against the couch until she’s almost prone. “I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

I dig my thumb into her arch, causing her to emit a damn-near-sexual moan. “Sure you can. We need to come up with a new plan.”

She makes another little whimpering sound and rallies. “Pause.”

I go still. “What? Pause? What are you talking about?”

“Just…pause.” She pulls out her phone with a look of utter concentration on her face. “Can you tilt your head a little to the left so you catch the light? Yes, like that.”