1
Zeus
It’s all coming apart. Tonight should have been a victory that cemented my reign as Zeus and eliminated the threat against Olympus once and for all. Instead, four out of five Aeaean ships sailed off into the night, possibly about to turn around and attack us the moment we aren’t looking—and Circe has once again slipped through our grasp.
My father must be rolling over in his grave. The bastard might have been a monster of the most dangerous variety, but he reigned as Zeus for nearly fifty years of peace. More or less. I’ve held the title for less than a year, and during that time, the assassination clause has become public knowledge, resulting in unprecedented violence against the Thirteen, we’re facing an external enemy for the first time in Olympian history, the barrier that protected our city from the outside world has come down,andI’ve staged a coup with the other legacy titles, betraying everything Zeus is supposed to be.
Truly, a spectacular failure all around.
I sit in my car in my building’s parking garage for long enoughthat I start getting odd looks from the guards positioned near the elevator. It doesn’t matter how long I take or how deep and slow my breathing; there’s no banishing my father’s derisive voice from my head. He might be dead, but he haunts me still, even though this is all his damn fault.
There isn’t a neat solution to the Circe problem, and she wouldn’t evenbea problem if my bastard of a father hadn’t kidnapped her off the street, marched her down the aisle, and then attempted to murder her on their honeymoon. Up until very recently, we all assumed she was dead—another Hera fallen at the hands of a violent Zeus.
The worst part is that I don’t blame her for her determination to get vengeance. She was horribly mistreated by both my father and the rest of the Thirteen at the time. Not a single person tried to step in to help her.
But my father is dead and gone—at least to everyone who didn’t spend their entire lives being trained to become the next him. Of the Thirteen who held the positions when she was Hera, only three remain—Poseidon, Athena, and Hades. Even if there were more left, no one stands against Zeus. At least the Zeus my father was. She’s striving for vengeance against people who hold no blame in her pain. More than that, she’s endangering the civilians of the city.
What the fuck am I doing? I have all this power, and all I’ve managed to do with it is stumble around in the dark.
I sigh. I’m not going to solve this problem by sitting in my car and berating myself in my late father’s voice. There will be no peace up in the penthouse either, not withmyHera swishing about, plotting my death. She wasn’t successful in her most recent plans, butshe’s not a woman to give up easily. Sleeping peacefully at her side should be out of the question.
And yet it’s the only time I get any rest these days.
I shove out of the car and stalk past the guards, forcing myself to nod at them in greeting, and take the elevator up to the penthouse. It’s late enough that dawn is a short time away, so I don’t expect Hera to be awake. I sure as fuck don’t expect her to have company.
But as I walk through the door, there’s a deep voice intertwined with her more musical tones.
One of the first lessons my father taught me was that emotional reactions are handing a weapon to your enemy and exposing your throat.Hewas the enemy back then, but the lesson remains. No matter how Hera strives to incite my fury, I don’t react. I willnotbe my father and terrorize those in my household. The more my wife acts out, the thicker the ice I use to keep my temper under control.
I find her sitting on the couch with Ixion, one of the new guards who follow her everywhere. She acquired him and the other two from Ares at some point in the last two months. I approve of her keeping herself safe. I sure as fuck donotapprove of the way Ixion allows his thigh to press to hers.
They look up as I stop in the doorway. Hera gives me nothing, but that’s to be expected. People accuse me of being an ice king, but she’s all blades and no softness. She has one reaction to any given situation—strike first. She leans back and crosses one long leg over the other, which is right around the time I realize she’s wearing a robe and nothing else. Her dark hair is mussed a bit, too; she must have run her fingers through it recently.
OrIxionran his fingers through it.
Ixion gives me a smirk as ifhehas a better claim to the woman I married than I do. The fact that he might be right nearly has me reaching for the gun in my shoulder holster. I can even see what she finds attractive about him—he’s a white man with short blond hair, a neatly trimmed mustache, and the kind of muscular body that one gets from a life of work. The mustache alone should write him off, but he’s a handsome fucker and charming enough to make it work for him.
I hold his gaze for long enough that a bright pink takes up residence in his cheeks. Only then do I speak. “Get out.”
Ixion doesn’t immediately obey. He looks toherfirst, waiting for her nod, then rising easily to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early.” She even manages a smile for him, which is more than I ever get from her. “Have a good night.”
“You too.” He doesn’t shoulder check me as he walks past, but he clearly wants to. I let him have my back as I listen to him walk down the hall to the door. When Hera acquired her trio, I had Apollo look into them. They all held exemplary records with Athena before they resigned and came to Hera. There was literally nothing to criticize, no good reason to step in and demand she retain the guardsIhandpicked for her instead.
It irritates me deeply.
“Zeus.” I hadn’t realized there was warmth in her tone for him until there’s none for me. “You’re home late.”
If I were a better man, I wouldn’t relish the thread of jealousy beneath her question. It’s faint enough that I’m not entirely certain it’s real, but Iwantit to be real. I want Hera to care enough to worry about whose bed I might be spending time in. Because of that weakness, I can’t bring myself to address it directly. “And you hadIxion here late.” I make a show of looking at my watch. “He must be costing a fortune in overtime.”
“You have no idea.” Her hazel eyes flash. “Take a shower. You’re not coming straight from someone else’s bed to mine.”
“You first,Wife.”
“Gladly.” She’s off the couch and across the room in seconds, disappearing through the doorway leading deeper into the penthouse.
Hera represents another failure in my year as Zeus. Marrying her accomplished my goal of getting Demeter and her formidable alliances on my side, but if I had tentative hopes of this marriage being a true partnership—let alone something more—they died on my wedding night. My home has since turned into a battlegroundagain, each interaction another fight in an ongoing war. Sharing a bed? It’s just another facet of that.
