Page 17

17

Icarus

There’s no reason for Poseidon’s lack of trust to sting. He’s shown every evidence of being a smart man, and a smart man would never trust someone like me. Someone who was, until a few days ago, an enemy to him and his people.

But it does sting.

As I follow him through the day, witnessing the way he interacts with his people, that awful feeling in my chest only grows. He shows every evidence of being a good person. He knows every single one of his people’s names. As we make the rounds, checking on the stations they’ve set up to keep watch on Circe’s people, he pauses to ask them about family members and friends, about spouses and children, to inquire on the health of sick people in their lives. So many little details, all stored in that impressive brain of his.

And they love him for it. It’s there in the way their eyes warm when they catch sight of him, the way their spines straighten as if they want to ensure they make him proud. It’s certainly there in the way their distrust for me blossoms when they catch sight of me at his back.

I didn’t know you could be a leader like this.

There’s plenty of shame inside me as I marvel at that realization. The rest of the Thirteen rule by an ever-shifting combination of fear and ambition and even lust. Hermes wasn’t wrong. It’s fucked. The leaders back on Aeaea mostly just rule by instilling fear. Fear and power, the combination that sends the masses to their knees.

But not Poseidon. Again, I wonder at how he came to take this title. I highly doubt he had anything to do with the death of his uncle and cousins, but even in my short time here in Olympus, I’ve heard about what kind of man his uncle was. He fit right in with the Thirteen, using his position to abuse and terrify those under his command—and even those who weren’t. To have him gone, replaced by this man?

Honestly, I’m surprised no one has slipped a knife between his ribs. It seems like offering the possibility of a different way of ruling is something the rest of the Thirteen would want to discourage. Permanently.

It’s what my father would’ve done. It’s what he had done, more than a few times over the years. Oh, he kept quiet about it. He had his reputation to protect, after all. He might have chosen to rule by fear, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be disliked. It’s a strange conundrum, but he danced at the knife’s edge with legendary skill.

Now the only place he’s dancing is his grave. My thoughts slow. Did he even get a grave? I have no idea. It didn’t occur to me to ask.

“Poseidon?”

He steps away from the pair of people he’s been speaking to in low voices and crosses to me, his expression concerned. “Is everything okay?”

It’s a testament to my conflicted feelings that I don’t laugh in his face. Nothing’s okay. It hasn’t been okay for a very long time. I’m not certain it’ll ever be okay again. But this is Poseidon. He’s not trying to be irreverent or sarcastic; he genuinely wants to know. Gods, he truly is too good.

It’s almost enough to make me second-guess my plan to seduce him until he’s emotionally compromised and chooses to keep me safe, to stand between me and any threat that will inevitably come. Almost. But my self-preservation is too strong. I thought I didn’t care if I lived or died, but apparently the drive to live is too strong. I always was a coward.

I swallow hard and fight against the instinctive desire to shy away from whatever answer I’m about to receive. “What happened to my father’s body?”

He frowns. “He’s in the morgue. There hasn’t been time to figure out a proper burial process, and Theseus wants nothing to do with the entire situation, but it didn’t feel right to ask you when things were still…” He motions vaguely.

“When I was still captive?”

“Yes, that.” He shifts closer and lowers his voice. “Obviously, sending him back to Aeaea isn’t an option currently, but if that’s something you want to do, we’ll see about preserving him until we can make it happen. If Olympus is—”

“I don’t care,” I cut in. Strangely, it’s even the truth. “He was a monster, and not even a redeemable one. The only reason he died is because he tried to kill me, and my sister defended me. So no, I won’t be carting him back to Aeaea, regardless of whatever his wishes might have been. Toss him in the dumpster for all I care.”

He frowns. “You don’t mean that.”

“In fact, I do.” I think I mean it. My chest is a tangled mess of emotions I don’t dare name. I should hate my father. I should not be mourning a man who was willing to pull the trigger and end my life. The one who made most of my life a fucking agony. Ariadne insists there was a time when he was a good father, but I think that’s just a fiction she clings to because the truth is far too bleak for my sunny sister. Our father has always been a monster. And while maybe he offered her kindness initially when she was still a good, obedient daughter, I never had that privilege.

I disappointed him the moment I was born too small, too weak. I spent my entire life trying to twist myself into a form that he would approve of, only to discover that there was no approval. There never would be. I couldn’t train out my very existence, and that was the thing my father most objected to. Me.

The wave of understanding is quickly followed by another of rage, so strong that it makes me quiver. Somehow, in all this, I didn’t realize how angry I am. I would’ve never come to this fucking city if I hadn’t been dragged along in service of my father’s ambition. Maybe my life wasn’t great back on Aeaea, but at least I was free. At least Ariadne was free. Now look at us.

Well, she actually is free this time. That’s no small miracle, and I hold that kernel of relief next to my heart. It doesn’t do anything to combat the mess that I am, but maybe in the future it will.

“Icarus…he’s your father.”

“Did you cry when you put your uncle in the ground? Your cousins?” The question snaps from my lips without me having any intention of speaking it.

Poseidon rears back as if I slapped him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“An uncle isn’t a father, but a monster is a monster. So I’ll ask you again—did you shed a tear when you put your uncle in the ground?”

He stares at me for so long, I’m sure he won’t answer. Or, worse, that maybe he’ll pick me up and toss me into the surf I can hear crashing against the rocks below. But those are the actions of another man, not Poseidon. I really should know better by now.

“No,” he says slowly. “I didn’t shed a tear for my uncle or my cousins. We weren’t close, which would be reason enough I suppose, but the truth is exactly what you stated—he was a monster.”

I don’t ask him if he killed his family. That may be the quietest rumor that’s ever run through Olympus; my father’s reports say it died out a very long time ago. Anyone who’s spent five minutes in Poseidon’s presence knows that he’s not the type of person to coldly murder an entire family, no matter how monstrous. It was pure shitty luck that the illness that swept through that household was fatal.

Or maybe one of his uncle’s many victims decided to take matters into their own hands. More power to them.

“Exactly. And I won’t cry over my father.” Probably. But if I do, I’ll be damned before a single person witnesses it. He may have believed me weak my entire life, but I’ll die before I allow that weakness to be witnessed by others. Not again. Never again.

Poseidon inhales slowly and then exhales just as slowly. “I have three more stops to make, but if you want to go back to the house—”

“No. I’ll come with you.” If my thoughts are this tangled while in his presence, they’ll only become worse when I’m alone. I know from experience that they tend to grow thorns and claws and fangs, all the better to tear into me and heighten my anxieties about everything that could and will go wrong. It’s why I’ve never been on good terms with sleep. There was a time when I could use sex to exhaust myself enough to sleep properly, but I haven’t had that luxury since arriving in Olympus.

For a moment, it seems like he might argue, but he finally shrugs and leads the way back to the SUV. It takes us about an hour and a half to get through the last three stops, and they proceed just like the previous ones. It’s a wonder that Poseidon’s people don’t fall to the ground and worship at his feet. They certainly follow him around with stars in their eyes. Maybe it would make me sick if I wasn’t in danger of doing the same.

It says something about the level of damage my father scarred into me that I’m still seeking approval in all the wrong places. I should be angling for a way to escape, to follow my sister to freedom, and yet I’m standing here with my hands in my pockets staring at a giant, redheaded man whose approval I’m willing to twist myself in knots for. And yeah, I want to fuck Poseidon too, but for once the lust is almost secondary. I don’t understand it. Maybe I really am grief-addled. It’s been said to happen.

When it’s finally time to head back to Poseidon’s residence, I climb in the passenger seat and twist to face him. “Why do you keep that house? You obviously hate it.”

He freezes. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s your uncle’s house, right? You inherited it when you inherited the title. But if I don’t miss my guess, it’s been relatively untouched since you took it over. You haven’t changed a single damn thing, have you?”

He still hasn’t looked at me. “Do you have a point that you’re trying to make?”

Oh yeah, I’ve definitely struck a nerve. “My point, as you so sweetly put it, is that you’re not going to relax if we’re not in an environment where you feel comfortable. I can’t relax if you’re not relaxing.” It’s not, strictly speaking, true. Somehow, though, I think he won’t bend to my will if I tell him I’m deeply curious about what a home crafted by Poseidon might look like. He’s an enigma of sorts, and I can’t help wanting to pick him apart and see how his brain works.

He leans back against his seat and taps his finger against his thigh—a sure sign of his agitation. But I don’t retreat, and I don’t take my words back. I simply wait for him to work through the puzzle I’ve presented.

Finally, he says, “Truth be told, most days I stay the night in an apartment in the shipyard. I work long hours, and the commute to the house feels like too much at the end of an exhausting day.”

This might be the first lie he’s ever told me. But I understand lies of the heart, so I don’t call him on it. I simply settle back into my seat and buckle my seat belt. “That sounds much more relaxing than that big, echoing house. Let’s go there.”

He shoots me a stern look. “If you’re thinking of escaping, it won’t work. The shipyard is more intensely manned than anywhere else along the coastline right now. Especially with the sentry stations I’ve set up. You’d be caught immediately.”

He’s so damn cute . “Good thing I have no intention of escaping.”

“You…don’t.” If anything, he looks even sterner. It makes a delightful shiver shoot down my spine. “Icarus, we said no lies.”

“Technically, that was only for the game of questions.” I continue before a bruised look can take up residence on his handsome face. “But I’m not lying. I wasn’t thinking about escaping even a little when I suggested we go to your apartment.”

He hesitates long enough that I have no doubt he’s playing through several scenarios. Apparently none of them satisfy, because he finally says, “Then what were you thinking about?”

“Sex.” I say it bluntly just to see his reaction.

Poseidon doesn’t disappoint. His blush is visible even in the intermittent passing streetlights. “I— What— You—”

“I’m deadly serious.” I lean over and press my hand to his cock and my mouth to his throat. He jolts in surprise, but makes no move to dislodge me. I smile against his skin. “My intentions, if you must know, are to strip you down, beat you until you go limp and make that delicious whimpering sound, and then fuck you until you forget your own name. How does that sound?”

He swallows hard and his cock goes rigid beneath my palm. When he finally manages to speak, his voice is hoarse with wanting. “That sounds good. Really good.”