I’m so focused on my mental spiraling that I almost miss the sound of the door opening. My body acts before my brain has a chance to decide what avenue of approach I should take. There’s no space for strategy with my emotions riding me so hard.
The sensation only gets worse when I stride through the doorway and find my wife shrugging out of her coat, looking deliciously rumpled. Even as I tell myself not to, I search for signs of someone else’s touch. I am not sure if I don’t find any because there’s none to find, or because there’s still evidence of my hands on her, my mouth against her skin.
She doesn’t jump when she sees me, but there’s resignation in the slump of her shoulders that hits me right in my fucking heart. “Oh. You’re home.”
“I told you to be here for dinner. That was hours ago.”
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Why am I accusing her when I should be asking her how she’s doing? My mouth opens, and more poison spills out despite how tumultuous I feel. “Or did you really go to your lover?”
Her brows slam down and there she is, my vicious, furious wife. I shouldn’t crave this side of her the way I do, but it’s familiar territory. If I’m shit at comfort, at least I know how to draw her into a fight.
“You are unbelievable.” She stalks toward me, tossing her coat to the side. “Here’s a hint, Husband. If you actually want information, maybe start with questions instead of accusations.”
“Fine.” Gods, I can’t stop myself even as a small part of me is yelling to slam on the brakes. It’s too late. It was too late from the moment she accepted my proposal. “Did you go straight from coming all over my cock to fucking Ixion?”
Hera is magnificent in her fury. She glares up at me, her hazel eyes sparking the way I’m addicted to. Even her sneer is perfection. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. After that little show we put on, all of Olympus knows I’m not satisfied.”
She’s so close that one harsh breath could bring us chest to chest. I grab her hips and eliminate the distance between us, wishing I could eliminate the emotional distance as well. It will never happen, but at least I have the physical. “Lie to yourself if you must, but don’t fucking lie to me. I know what you look like when you come.”
“Do you?” She tilts her head and slides her hands up my chest, leaning close enough to speak directly into my ear. “Or am I just very, very good at faking it?”
One moment I’m standing here, trying to process the audacity of her lie, and the next I have her pressed against the wall. Damn it, no. It’s not supposed to be like this. I start to pull away, but she hooks the back of my neck, holding me close.
I shake my head, hard. “Hera—Callisto—hold on. Wait. This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”
Her sad smile strikes right to the very heart of me. “We don’t know how to be anything else but this.” Her nails prick my skin. “Take it out on me—and I’ll do the same to you.”
I dig my fingers into her hips, as if that contact would be enough to ground me instead of tossing me right off the edge of reason. “The video. I had no idea—”
“I know.” That simple statement goes so far and yet nowhere near far enough.
I drop my head to press my forehead to hers. “Are you okay?”
“No. Not by a long shot.” She slides her free hand back down my chest to hook in the band of my pants. “But having an uncomfortable, awkward conversation isn’t going to make me feel better. I can’t bear to think anymore. I might lose what’s left of my mind.”
I don’t know if she means to hurt me with that statement, but itdoeshurt. How can it not when it highlights my inadequacy? I will never have the right words to make the people I care about feel better. Not my sisters, sure as fuck not my wife. No doubt the video spun her out as much as it did me, and instead of allowing me to talk it through with her, all she wants is a good fuck.
So be it.
But first, there’s one thing I have to know. I hate myself for the vulnerability exposed by my even putting my worry into words. “Hera. Callisto. Wife.” I close my eyes and inhale deeply. “Is there a lover? Is it Ixion?”
“Do you have a lover? Maybe several? I see the way Ganymede watches you. Not to mention all the little Hera hopefuls, wishingyou’ll follow in your father’s footsteps and shove me down a flight of stairs so they can step over my still-warm body to accept your ring.”
Something in my chest flutters in a truly worrisome way. I lean back just enough to catch her gaze. “Are you jealous?”
“How could I possibly be jealous?” She almost pulls off a flat tone, but there’s a thread of something else in her words. Something I resonate with. “I don’t even like you.”
“Right. How could I forget?” I focus on gentling my grip and sliding my hands down to cup her round ass. “Answer my question. Then I’ll answer yours.”
The moment stretches out between us, poised with the possibility of changing everything. I’ve never lied to her, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been perfectly honest, either. I haven’t touched anyone from the moment I accepted her deal—and I won’t as long as I wear her ring on my finger—but I understand the reputation that goes hand in hand with my title. Philanderer. Murderer. Monster. Why wouldn’t she assume the worst? It’s not as if we’ve had a single honest conversation in the duration of our marriage.
I see the exact moment she decides to cut the fragile peace between us. Her smile goes sly even as her gaze goes distant. “Why stop at one lover, Husband? It takes so many to keep me fulfilled.”
The most fucked-up thing? I don’t know for sure if she’s lying. I want to believe she is, that she just wants to get under my skin and strike to the very heart of me. But I’m not certain. And because I’m not certain, the monstrous part of me that I fight so hard to keep under wraps rises to the surface with a roar shaking me to my bones.
I release her hip to grip her jaw in a way designed to make herknees buckle. Because no matter what the fuck she’s doing when she’s not with me—orwhoshe’s doing—she can’t deny the moments we share in the dark are real. “I know the feeling. I’m insatiable. How could one person possibly fulfillmyneeds?”
“I hate you,” she whispers.
