Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Ixion nods. “With how he stormed out of here this morning, I figured you wouldn’t be far behind.” His brown eyes search my face just as they do every time he sees me, looking for evidence that my husband has hurt me. Finding none, his shoulders relax a little. “Where to?”
Going to meet Circe with only my trio as backup is ill-advised. I know that. I should damn well turn around and go back to the privacy of my home until I can get my head on straight. Or I should call one of my sisters or my mother for more security. I don’t. “Wine About It.”
If he’s surprised I’m asking to be taken to a little bar in the theater district at this hour of the morning, he gives no sign of it. But then, Ixion never reacts to anything I ask him to do or witness. If I were a better person, my heart would hurt at the fact that his loyalty has been purchased solely because I took care of orphans.
The drive takes no time at all. Normally, the streets would be clogged with cars and pedestrians, but the city is mostly a ghost town now.
It’s not until Ixion pulls into the empty parking lot that I pause long enough to wonder if Wine About It will even be open. But when Ixion pulls at the door, Nephele and Imbros flanking me, it swings easily before his touch. Imbros touches my shoulder before I can follow Ixion inside. “Wait, please.” Ze is always so damned polite. Ze is shorter than I am, with a thick body, dark-brown skin, and long locs pinned back from zir face.
On my other side, Nephele peers in the door and waits for Ixion’s all clear. She’s the same height as Imbros but built deceptively delicately—deceptive because I’ve seen her take a man twice her size to the ground when he came at me too quickly—with light-brown skin and shoulder-length black straight hair. She nods and motions me forward. “We’re good.”
I don’t tell them that they’re being too cautious. Even before Circe’s siege, her machinations had Olympus in chaos. She orchestrated the revelation of a little-known clause that allowed anyone who assassinated one of the Thirteen to take their position. The results were to be expected—seemingly endless attempts to murder the current Thirteen. I’ve dealt with less than the others, but some people really want to take my place in my husband’s bed.
If they’d asked me, I’d tell them that they’re more than welcome to him.
I ignore the twinge the thought brings and step through the door into the low light of the bar. I haven’t been here in years, not since my sisters and I held season tickets and would stop by after every show. It was always loud and packed and filled to the brim with energy of people high off the excellent performances we just watched.
Now, it’s as empty as the streets.
The bartender is the same old man it’s always been, though I can’t for the life of me remember his name. He smiles when he sees me but doesn’t rush over. It’s the first normal reaction I’ve had in a long time. I value it greatly.
I take one step toward the bar, but Imbros edges into my path. Ze nods to the curved booth in the corner. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll grab…” Ze clears zir throat. “Drinks? Food?”
“Iced tea.” I haven’t been able to eat much in the last couple of weeks, due to… Gods, I can barely think it. My hand twitches, wanting to press to my stomach, but I muscle down the urge. I can count on one hand the people who know about the little parasite currently clinging to my uterine lining, fucking up my entire system. Nothing smells right. I no longer have access to my nightly wine or the joints I would smoke on the balcony to unwind. I hate it.
Except…I don’t. Not entirely.
My throat burns and I blink rapidly, hurrying to the booth and the relative privacy the shadows there offer. Godsdamned fucking hormones. I’ve never lost control emotionally before, and I’ll be damned before I do it now, embryo or no embryo.
Nephele slides in next to me, careful to keep a bit of distance between us, but Ixion just leans against the half wall next to the booth. Ready to leap into motion at the first sign of danger.
Nephele glances at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about.” I learned a lot of lessons growing up as the eldest daughter of a mother like mine, and the first among those is that you can’t trust anyone but family. Nephele’s offer seems to be her genuinely wanting to make sure I’m okay, which is honestly nice. I still can’t quite manage a smile. “But thank you.”