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“Stop staring at Helen’s ass,” I mutter right back.
He lifts his brows, his silent censure making me even snarlier. Patroclus holds the door open for me and follows me into the dim interior of the dorm. I barely notice the expensive furnishings and the tasteful color scheme. All I can see is the golden sway of Helen’s hips and ass as she walks in front of us. Surely she’s putting a little more swing in each step to torment me in revenge for that little stunt I pulled with the podium.
I’m not going to apologize for it. I saw an opportunity and I took it. Simple as that. There’s really nothing else to say.
“Achilles, control yourself.”
Normally, I embrace Patroclus’s calming effect. Right now, I kind of want to shove him into a room and fuck him until I’m all he can think of, instead of a certain spoiled princess. Gods, I’m fucked in the head over this. I thought last night would be the worst of it, when shock tangled up with jealousy and made my head spin. Apparently I was wrong. I should be concentrating on what comes next and mentally preparing, but all I can think about is those two together.
It would be quite the sight. Fuck, if she was anyone else, I’d make a case for Patroclus and her allowing me to watch…maybe to participate a bit, too. But she isn’t anyone else.
She’s Helen Kasios.
Precious princess of Olympus.
Sister to both Zeus and Aphrodite. Future wife of the next Ares.
Fucking her is out of the question. Getting near her at all is out of the question, a fact that complicates the current situation because someone is going to knock her out of the competition, which means there will be bad blood between her and whoever that may be. It can’t be me. Fuck, it can’t be Patroclus, either, because he’s a permanent fixture in my life and will be even after I become Ares. Creating animosity between her and either of us is a terrible idea.
She’s put every single champion in a truly shitty position, and she doesn’t seem to care. Which just lines up with what I know about her. Selfish, pampered princess. She decided she didn’t want to be the prize, so she threw a tantrum and entered the competition herself, despite being outmatched and outgunned. She has no fucking chance of winning. Frankly, it pisses me off.
She pisses me off.
“Stop glaring,” Patroclus repeats.
“No one here to see it.”
Bellerophon turns down a series of halls to one that has three offshoots. They point to the first one. “Three people in here. Room choice is up to you, but don’t get precious about it.” We all wait for those three to peel off and head down the short hall to the pair of doors on either side and then walk to the second hallway. “Three more.”
It happens so quickly. They peel off and then there’s just three of us left. Me. Patroclus. Helen. Fuck.
“Last three.”
Helen doesn’t look at any of us, marching down the hallway. I hate how gorgeous she is. Her short golden dress seems designed to catch every ray of light, molding to her athletic body and giving a truly excellent view of her round ass. If I remember correctly, she used to be a gymnast or some shit like that. Looking at her body, I believe it.
A day ago, I’d have said my attraction to her isn’t a bad thing. I plan to marry the woman, after all. Attraction is near enough to liking someone that we could have made something work.
Now I’m not so sure.
Helen glances over her shoulder, lifting her brows when I jerk my gaze to her face. “This one’s mine.” She opens the middle door and steps inside, closing it with a click that feels final. Did she choose that room so she’d share a wall with both of us? I highly doubt it. No matter how pretty her smile, she’s obviously not that savvy if she’s here in the first place.
Bellerophon crosses their arms over their chest. “Is this rooming arrangement going to be a problem?”
“No,” I answer quickly. Too quickly.
They give me a long look. “I wasn’t aware you have history with Helen.”
“I don’t. We don’t.” I don’t give a fuck if Patroclus used to be sandbox playmates with her. That was a long time ago and it’s ancient history now. He feels no loyalty to her. “This is fine.”
“It is fine.” Patroclus shakes his head. “The room arrangements change nothing.”
That’s the problem; my man had a plan and nowhere in that plan did it include us competing against Helen herself. Knowing Patroclus, he needs some quiet time to get his thoughts in order and figure out an updated strategy. He thinks best when I’m not “hovering” as he calls it.
