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Even Achilles is acting slightly out of character, his temper shorter than normal ever since I gave him the rundown on what happened with Helen last night.

If I’m going to be perfectly honest, my reactions are off as a result of her presence as well. I can’t stop examining my unexpected attraction to the woman from different angles, as if hyperfocusing on it will bring clarity. It would be easier if the only thing that drew me was her beauty. That would make logical sense. Unfortunately, it’s…messier…than that. I feel a connection with her because of our history, ancient though it may be. I desire her now. Fuck, I respect her for entering the tournament and taking her fate into her own hands, even if it’s complicated my life.

The bottom line is I feel drawn to her. It’s not convenient and it’s not logical, and the battling desires between wanting to follow my original plan and wanting to go knock on Helen’s door to just be closer to her are making me want to crawl out of my skin.

I am not a man who is at war with himself. I run scenarios. I use logic and reason. Emotions play into it—I’m human, after all—but they don’t rule me. My brain does.

Until now, when I can least afford to alter my course.

A knock on my door has my heartbeat speeding up, and I curse myself for the fledgling hope that it’s her. It’s not. Of course it’s not. Helen has no reason to seek me out. We haven’t spoken in more than twenty years aside from last night, and that was a conversation of circumstance. She’d been caught putting her name in as a champion and wanted to persuade me to silence. She probably hasn’t given it another thought.

A second knock is in the brisk tempo I recognize as Achilles’s preferred way of announcing he’s about to enter a room. I bite back a sigh and open the door before he decides to knock it down. He nearly bowls me over entering the room. “That woman is a menace.”

I stare. “You went to talk to Helen.” Why am I surprised? Of course, the first chance he got, he immediately went back on his determination that we stay away from her. Achilles has his endgame in mind, and he won’t take kindly to Helen throwing a wrench in the gears. Naturally, he decided to see if he could talk her into resigning. If that’s all it was… I push the thought away. I have no reason to doubt him. “You should have asked me first. She’s not going to change her mind.”

“I thought I could talk her out of it.”

I huff out a breath and head for the little kitchenette positioned in the corner of the living area of this suite. I’d have to walk through Achilles’s room to be sure, but I’d wager the suites are all laid out the same. Main door into the living room with a small couch, television, and coffee table. Kitchenette tucked against the far wall with sink, mini fridge filled with snacks and a small selection of alcohol, and a microwave. Short hallway back to the bedroom and bathroom with its ridiculous shower and deep tub.

The couch is sturdy enough. I don’t bother to be gentle when I sit. “Told you so.”

“I don’t need you to fucking manage me, Patroclus.” But he follows me over and drops down beside me with a grunt. “She’s going to get hurt.”

“It’s probable.”

“You good with that?”

I give him the look that question deserves. He knows damn well I’m not good with it, but at least in this situation, I have to mimic Achilles’s determination and drive. I can’t afford to care about Helen. She’s barely more than a stranger to me now, anyway. It’s not logical to care about her, beautiful or no, history or no. “I highly doubt it will be serious. Even the new Ares will have to answer to Zeus, and no one wants to piss him off by seriously injuring his little sister.”

Achilles catches my hesitation. “But?”

“But…” I really don’t want to get into this, but it’s been nagging me from the moment the champions put their names forward “But we don’t have much information on the two non-Olympians. I can’t completely rule them out as dangerous.”

“Either way, we both need to stay away from Helen. She’s off-limits.” He gives me a long look. “Agreed?”

Some irrational part of me wants to push back, but that doesn’t make sense. We don’t have many ground rules, so when one of us requests something like this, it’s important for the overall health of the relationship to respect that request. I can’t remember the last time it happened. Maybe a few years ago when I asked Achilles not to pursue Cassandra. That time wasn’t out of any jealousy, though. I just noticed the way Apollo looked at her—still looks at her, if the last event we attended is any indication. No one needs Apollo gunning for them.

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