Electric Idol (Dark Olympus Book 2)

Helen Kasios lives in the same building as the rest of Zeus’s family. I’ve never been there before. Usually when the past Zeus entertained, he did it in Dodona Tower. The new Zeus has entertained plenty since he took over, but it couldn’t be clearer that he’s just going through the motions. He doesn’t crave the spotlight the way his late father did. Even when he was still called Perseus, he seemed more focused on the business aspect of things than his father ever was. The forty-day mourning period has come and gone, and people are already whispering about how resistant he seems to marrying someone and finally filling the Hera title. The last Zeus might have been monster incarnate, but he was charming and charismatic. He left large shoes to fill.

Of his four children, his youngest son, Hercules, managed to escape Olympus entirely. Perseus is now the new Zeus. And Helen and Eris are, as Eros said, insular. They’ve never crossed me that I’m aware of, but we haven’t gotten close enough to each other to create friction.

That changes tonight.

Tonight, when Eros wants me to try.

Does he realize what he’s asking of me? I glance at him in the elevator next to me, perfectly put together in a dove-gray suit and cream button-down shirt that offsets his golden skin. He catches my eye and gives our linked hands a squeeze. Yes, I suspect he knows exactly what he’s asking of me.

I’ve survived—thrived, even—in Olympus because I kept my distance and trusted no one outside my family. I took the lessons I learned in the first year here and never looked back.

Now I’m swimming in deeper waters than I’m comfortable with. As the elevator doors slide open, revealing a classy hallway with lush gray carpet and soothing blue walls, I have to acknowledge that I’m not a shark at all. I’m a minnow playing dress-up.

I hope I can survive the night without getting eaten.

“Breathe,” Eros murmurs.

Right. Breathe. Relax. Smile sweetly. Don’t let them scent weakness.

I’m sure that’s not what he intends to say, but I take it to heart all the same. Between one step and the next, I box up all my fears and insecurities and tuck them away. They’ll still be waiting for me at the end of the night. I can ignore them until I’m back in the penthouse, those strong walls between me and the rest of the city.

The hallway contains four doors, and Eros leads me to the one at the end. He barely knocks before it’s flung open by a glittering Helen. Literally glittering. The golden stuff coats her exposed skin—and there’s a lot of exposed skin around her tiny dress of the same golden color—and even her long light-brown hair. It turns her beauty otherworldly, as if a literal goddess has wandered into our presence, but the squeal she gives when she sees us shatters the illusion. “You’re here!”

She bounces up onto her toes to give Eros a kiss on the cheek, and I barely have time to process the hot flash of jealousy before she grabs my hand and pulls me forward to give me the same treatment. “I’m so happy to see you.” She all but drags me into the apartment, leaving Eros to trail behind us.

I get flashes of the place. Elegant people in evening wear draped over equally elegant couches in the living room. A color scheme that makes me think of the stormy ocean—gray wooden floors, moody blue walls, lots of white and sandy-colored furniture. It’s completely at odds with the shining woman attached to my hand.

She hauls me into a spotless kitchen with a full bar set up on the counter. “Pick your poison.”

I almost say red wine, almost fall back to some sweet drink that will make my teeth ache. But I promised Eros I’d try, and so I take a tiny leap of faith. “Bourbon.”

The smile Helen gives me is just as dazzling as her glitter-adorned body. “That’s my girl. I knew I liked you.”

“Correction, Helen; that’s my girl.”

I nearly breathe a sigh of relief when I realize Eros has joined us. He’s got a strangely indulgent smile on his face, and I can’t tell if he’s faking it or not. Just like I can’t tell how much of Helen’s enthusiasm is really her. Persephone does a beaming sunshine thing when she’s in public, and this kind of reminds me of that. But it’s less soft warmth and more lightning in a bottle. I get the feeling she might explode at any moment in frenetic energy that is as likely to harm as it is to entertain.

Helen waves Eros’s comment away as she pulls out a bottle of bourbon that’s outstandingly expensive. “She might be wearing your ring—it’s gorgeous, by the way—but you’re practically a brother to me, so that makes her family.” She beams at me. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”

I blink. “You have a sister. She’s standing right there.” I point at Eris, who’s wearing an ink spill of a dress and has her head close to a Black woman in a gorgeous—and tiny—red dress. I belatedly realize I recognize her as well. Hermes catches me looking and gives a cheery wave.

Helen snorts. “Eris isn’t a sister. She’s chaos personified.”

That surprises a laugh out of me. “I have one of those, too.”

“Callisto.” She says the name like she’s savoring it. “I wish she’d come around more. She seems interesting. You all do.” She passes me the bourbon and pours a glass of red wine without asking Eros what he wants. Helen presses it into his hand and rounds the counter to stand a little too close. I’d take it personally, but I get the feeling that it’s just how she is with everyone. She rakes her gaze over me. “You look outstanding. You always look outstanding.”

I glance down at myself. I chose my dress carefully tonight. It’s a deep-green wrap dress that makes my breasts look great and maximizes my curves. “Um, thanks.”

“Oh, I’m obviously not telling you anything you don’t already know, but it’s still nice to hear, right?” She waves it away. Someone knocks on the door before she can continue. “I’ll be back. Enjoy the party!” And then she’s gone, trailing glitter behind her.

I feel like I’ve just been tossed around by a tornado and deposited somewhere completely different than where I started. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant experience, but it was disorienting in the extreme. I take too large a drink of my bourbon, but my nerves are in danger of getting the best of me. “Is she always like this?”

“No.” Eros shrugs. “When she entertains, she ramps up.”

Easy enough to read between those lines. She’s got a public persona the same way we do. From what I’ve observed, she likes people to underestimate her, and they see a happy, pretty fool and don’t look beneath the surface. I just hadn’t realized her energy level was so…high. “I see.”

Eros shifts close and pulls me into his arms. It feels horribly natural, as if we’ve been embracing much longer than a few days. I don’t tense and I manage to smile up at him as if deeply in love. The warmth on his face never ceases to set me back on my heels, but I manage to mask my response. He leans down to speak in my ear. “An hour or two and then people will drift off to other parties or clubs.”

Honestly, it’s not a big ask to play this role with him for a few hours. This party might be filled with people I’ve spent years avoiding, but Hermes is the only member of the Thirteen in sight, and so it’s still better than the events at Dodona Tower my mother insists on dragging me to.

I turn in Eros’s arms. He doesn’t let me go; he simply tucks me back against his chest and rests his chin on the top of my head. I don’t understand why this feels as intimate as the embrace, but I’m not going to break his hold just because my heart is racing as if I just ran up a flight of stairs.

And then my attention lands on the man across the living room, and I forget all about Eros. “That motherfucker.”

His arms tense around me, tugging me back a step when I would break free. “I didn’t know he’d be here.”

Orpheus.

The asshole whose selfishness not only broke Eurydice’s heart but put her literal life in danger. They were dating seriously before that night, and she loved him with everything she had. The breakup has hit her hard, but Orpheus hasn’t missed a beat in the intervening months. Every time I turn around, he’s making headlines in MuseWatch with his partying and hooking up with one gorgeous person after another. Current speculation is that he’s on the rebound and soothing the pain of a broken heart, but it’s bullshit.

If he really loved Eurydice as much as he acted, he wouldn’t have set her up. At the very least, he would have apologized for the harm he’s caused.

Instead, he’s here, wearing a designer suit and leaning against the wall next to a woman I recognize. Cassandra. From the smile on his handsome face, he’s got his charm cranked up to a thousand. I might hate him, but even I have to admit it’s a lot of charm. His mother is a Korean model who puts even Aphrodite to shame and his father is a Swedish businessman of some sort.

For her part, Cassandra seems bored by the whole experience. She’s about my size, with a fall of brilliant red hair and a generous mouth that naturally turns down a little at the edges. She also has a reputation for taking no shit.

“Let me go,” I say quietly.

“Psyche—”

I down the rest of my drink and turn to face Eros. I know this is a mistake, but I don’t care—which seems to be a running trend with me these days. The alcohol is already buzzing my thoughts, feeding the anger I’ve been nursing for far too long. “Eurydice almost died. You weren’t there that night. Persephone was. The man chasing her had a knife. The only reason she was in that position at all was because Orpheus sold her out to Zeus.” Eros has his carefully blank expression in place. I hate it. I hate that he can keep his eyes on the endgame while I’m ready to pull a Callisto and find a knife to stab Orpheus with. “Let me go,” I repeat.

For a second, I think he won’t do it, but he finally releases me long enough to drape an arm over my shoulder. Between one blink and the next, his playboy smile is back in place. “Let’s go have a chat.”

I hesitate. “You know Orpheus?” Even as I voice the question, I realize how ridiculous it is. They don’t exactly move in the same circles, but there’s no way they haven’t interacted before now. Apollo has been in his position for years now, so his younger brother Orpheus has been attending the same parties Eros and I have. It’s how he and Eurydice met.

“Well enough.”

I don’t know what game he’s playing at, and it’s almost enough to distract me from my rage. Almost. I let Eros guide us toward Orpheus. He’s so focused on Cassandra, he doesn’t even look up until we’re right next to him.

The way he blanches when he sees me almost makes me laugh. Or it would if I wasn’t so busy trying not to scream. Eros gives my shoulder a little squeeze, his expression still perfectly relaxed. “Orpheus, you know my wife, right?” He glances at me, all charming playboy. “Wasn’t he dating your little sister?”

“Wife?” The man looks like he might be sick. “I didn’t know you were dating.”

“Not dating. Married.” Eros’s tone shifts, and the small hairs rise on the back of my neck. “I suppose that makes Eurydice my sister now, doesn’t it?”

Orpheus sways a little. I can’t tell if he’s drunk or just that afraid of Eros. Maybe if I was a better person, I wouldn’t get a petty thrill from the fact that he’s nearly peeing his pants, but I want him to suffer. I turn to Eros and press my hand to his chest. “That’s definitely what it means.” I smile, letting an edge work its way into my expression. “I know how protective you are of your family, darling.”

“I am. I really, truly am.” He leans down a little, not quite getting in Orpheus’s face but the threat is there all the same. “I’d be exceedingly put out if someone were to harm sweet little Eurydice. You understand, don’t you?”

Cassandra stirs to life. Her dark eyes, enhanced with black eyeliner sharp enough to cut, narrow. “Are you threatening Apollo’s little brother?”

“If I am?”

Her lips curve. “Don’t let me stop you.” She pushes off the wall and waves an idle hand in Orpheus’s direction. “Good luck with that.”

“Wait—”

I shake my head, anger still overriding my control. “Learn to read the room. You’re not wanted here. Get out.”

“Helen invited me.” Even his sneer is attractive. If anything, the knowledge makes me angrier.

Eros looks over his shoulder. “Helen.”

She appears at our side as if by magic. I half expect a cloud of glitter to cascade from her body and dress, but it all stays in place. She has a carefully neutral look on her face. “Is there a problem?”

“Orpheus has overstayed his welcome.”

“Oh, that.” She laughs, a merry tinkling sound. “Leave now, Orpheus.”

He draws himself up, but if he thinks he can intimidate these two, he’s more of a fool than I thought possible. “My brother will hear about this.”

“Will he?” Helen cocks her head. “Is he also going to hear about the fact that you were chasing Cassandra around like a creep who doesn’t understand the word ‘no’? Because personally, I think Apollo would be very interested to hear about that.”

Ah. So the rumors about Apollo and Cassandra are true, at least when it comes to his interest in her. From what I’ve seen, she’s given him about as much attention as she gave Orpheus—as in only enough to escape his presence whenever he shows up. The fact that they work together only seems to complicate the issue.

Orpheus seems to realize he’s outmatched and glares. “You can’t treat me like this.”

“Sweetheart.” The softness in Helen’s tone hides a vicious dagger. “Look around this room. Every one of us is related to the Thirteen in some way. You’re not special here. Go play with your groupies and don’t bother showing up for one of my parties again. It will be horribly embarrassing to require security to show you out.”

He curses but turns and leaves, the eyes of every person in the room on him. It’s only when the door shuts behind him that Helen flips her hair off her shoulder. “Gods, he’s such an asshole. Why did I even invite him again?”

“Because you said he’s an asshole whose face you’d like to ride,” Eros says mildly.

“Ah. That.” Helen snaps her fingers. “Right. I forgot.” She gives me an apologetic look that seems genuine. “Obviously I wouldn’t have touched him while he was with your sister, but I have horrible taste in men and better than questionable taste in women. It can’t be helped.”

“I…see.” I don’t hold it against her. Why would she care about Eurydice’s emotional health? They don’t know each other, and it’s every person for themselves in this city—especially in this crowd. I paste a smile on my face. “No hard feelings.”

“It’s cute when you lie.” Her smile goes sharp. “I meant what I said just now. He’s dead to me. No more parties, no face-sitting. You’re practically family at this point, and family sticks together, for better or worse.”

I can’t trust her. I can’t trust anyone in this room, including Eros. But as I let Helen tow me to the dining room table to start a drinking game, I find myself wishing that I could.