I break our kiss, ignoring his sound of protest as I drag my mouth down his chest and stomach to take him into my mouth. The tremors in his thighs confirm it won’t take long to get him off, which is just fine with me. I’m not any more interested in teasing tonight than he was. I suck him down hard, working him with lips, tongue, and that little edge of teeth he likes sometimes.
“Holy fuck, Achilles. I—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish, at least not verbally. He comes in my mouth, and I moan as I drink him down. I don’t stop there. Fuck, I don’t stop until he tugs my hair, pulling me off his cock. “Damn.”
I press a quick kiss to his lips. “See. Nothing to worry about.”
“I never said there was anything to worry about.” There’s a smile in his voice now. “But I’ve apologized and you’ve very effectively staked your claim.”
“Yeah.” I grin, completely unrepentant. “Now, bed.”
“Bed,” he agrees.
We brush our teeth and do some minimal cleanup before climbing back into bed. This time, when I pull him back against me, he’s relaxed and sleepy. He’s still Patroclus, though. I think the only thing that will shut off that big brain of his completely is fucking him damn near into a coma. A single orgasm barely slows him down.
I’m not remotely surprised when he runs his fingers over my forearm and says, “I tried to talk her out of competing.”
“I bet you did.” I tug him closer. “I take it that went over well.”
“Not even a little bit.” He sighs. “It’s going to complicate things.”
I tighten my grip on him as if I can keep him by my side with sheer strength. “It doesn’t complicate anything we don’t want it to. I don’t give a fuck if she came on to you. She’s off-limits.”
“I know.” His tone goes dry. “I was talking about the tournament. Having the prize compete for the title is…messy.”
“Oh. Right.” I close my eyes. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”
“Always so confident.” He brings my hand up and kisses my wrist. “But you’re right. This won’t be enough of a hiccup to ultimately affect things. No matter what else is true of Helen, she’s not a warrior. She doesn’t have a chance against you.”
Damn straight.
Not in the arena. And not with my man.
6
Helen
I’m so nervous, I feel like I’m going to puke. No matter how I acted with Patroclus last night—and I refuse to think about that self-destructive behavior too closely—the fact remains that I’m having second thoughts about the intelligence of my decision. It seemed like a good idea when I was riding a wave of fury and indignation, spurred on by Callisto’s tempting words. Even Athena didn’t blink when I showed up at her office and put my name forward.
In the cold light of day, doubt creeps in.
Even though the announcement of the tournament was televised, this is the official opening ceremony. It’s held where the rest of the tournament will be—in the arena next to the barracks. I pace back and forth between the concrete walls. I can hear the murmur of the audience creeping in from the arched doorway leading to the arena floor itself. I’m sure my brother and sister will be with Athena in the box seats specifically for announcers and the like. The other candidates will come in through the arch opposite mine, so this entrance is blessedly empty.
Once I step out and declare myself a champion, there’s no going back.
I move to the arch and peer out. This building is a traditional arena format, the flat oval in the middle deceptively small compared to the tiered seating rising around it. I’ve seen it converted to a stage for concerts and even an ice rink sometimes in the winter. Right now, it’s covered in sand with a line of thirty-six short podiums that are obviously for the champions to stand on.
The last Ares had a thing for the arena, and he put on regular events and tournaments showing off his people’s expertise. They’re great entertainment; when I was little, my favorite thing was watching his soldiers stage mock battles or one-on-one fights. Seeing those powerful people at the height of martial competence woke something in me.
Maybe that was when I started down this path, though it’s been rocky from the start. My father had strong opinions about the kinds of activities his daughters should participate in. Any kind of martial arts was right out. Eris chose ballet, which proves she’s an asshole with a masochistic streak. I’m not much better, though, because I chose gymnastics. I competed when I was in high school, but I was never going to be one of the greats. Still, it served its purpose in keeping me in peak physical condition. I kept up a good portion of the training even after I graduated, which means my upper body strength is deceptively good for my frame, and my endurance is top notch.
Both helped when I took up mixed martial arts. Six months is nowhere near long enough to come close to mastering it, but between my physical skills and the basics, I can manage. I hope.
Right now, it’s all theory. I have an idea of what the trials will be since they seem to follow a similar format each time the title of Ares switches over, but there are too many variables. Besides, guessing at what the trials may be is all well and good, but the true wild cards are the champions themselves.
The lights dim and a roar goes up from the crowd. I lean a little farther out and follow the spotlight to where my brother and Athena stand in the box. He’s wearing a suit that’s, naturally, perfectly tailored and the exact right shade of gray to play up his lighter coloring. She’s wearing a three-piece suit as well, deep maroon and with shoulders sharp enough to cut.
If Perseus is bothered by my absence, no one unfamiliar with him would be able to tell, but I know him well enough to see evidence of his displeasure in the way his eyes have gone ice cold. If my public mask is being aggressively bubbly, Perseus’s is the exact opposite. The more he’s feeling, the less he shows. Right now, his expression might as well have been carved from stone. He’s furious.
Callisto stands at Perseus’s shoulder and Eris at Athena’s, both wearing black dresses. The perfect unified foursome. The box seats circling the arena all belong to the various members of the Thirteen, but none of them are currently being spotlit on the giant screens strategically positioned around the area.
My brother holds up a hand and the arena instantly quiets. “The trials begin the day after tomorrow. Tonight is for you to get to know your champions.” He glances at Athena. “But first, let’s show our support for the woman running this whole enterprise. Athena.” He politely claps as the arena goes wild.
Athena is one of the members of the Thirteen who usually avoids the public eye. As the commander of Olympus’s special forces, she prefers to do her work in the shadows without showing her hand.