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11
Patroclus
I know what happened the second I see the look on Achilles’s face. He’s so used to being in the right that when he knows he fucked up, he acts like a dog who chewed up my favorite pair of shoes. He walks through the door into my rooms with his shoulders bowed, and he won’t meet my eyes. Considering where he just was and the familiar flush to his skin, I can take two guesses to figure out what he’s done. He all but confirms it when he finally speaks. “I screwed up. I’m sorry.”
No need to ask for clarification. The evidence is right there in the scratches on his forearm and the faint perspiration dampening the dark hair at his temples.
He had sex with Helen Kasios.
I drag in a slow breath, but it doesn’t help because all I can smell is the faint scent of fucking still clinging to him. Achilles takes a step toward me, but I hold up my hand. “Go take a shower before you try to tell me you’re sorry.”
He curses and veers toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. From the back, I can see more scratches peeking out at the neck of his T-shirt. My stomach twists. I have absolutely no logical reason to be upset about this. We’re not exclusive. Achilles fully intends to win Ares and that means marrying Helen. Demanding that he not sleep with his wife is a ridiculous ask and unfair. I knew what I was signing up for when I fell in love with this man.
He was never meant to be only mine.
But all the logic in the world can’t quell the awful feeling twisting in my stomach. Tighter and tighter, harsher and harsher. I don’t mean to speak, but as he opens the bedroom door, the words slip free. “You hate Helen.”
Achilles glances over his shoulder at me. “‘Hate’ might be a strong word.” He has the grace to look ashamed, but there’s still a relaxed line to his shoulders that speaks of good sex.
The thing in my stomach twists harder. Achilles and I have been together too long to have a relationship free of ups and downs and occasionally intense fights. This feels different. Everything about this feels different. He’s occasionally selfish and impulsive; sometimes I’m selfish and distracted. Neither of us is ever cruel, but I don’t know what to call this except cruel.
“Were you that angry that I was helping her stretch? That fucking jealous? What happened to us not doing jealousy, Achilles?” It’s never been a problem before, but surely he understands this is different. Everything about his reactions to her are as outside our norm as my reactions to her. Achilles might play the golden fool sometimes, but he’s too smart to pretend he doesn’t understand why I’m upset.
His expression goes stony. “This is different.”
“Yeah. Exactly. This is different. So why did you do it?” I rush on before he can answer. For once, my mouth is moving faster than my brain. “Is it because you’re going to marry her? It’ll be your ring on her finger, so she’s just for you?” The words are out before I can call them back. I’m feeling sick enough that I don’t want to call them back. “You said she was off-limits less than twelve hours ago.”
He stares at a point over my right shoulder. A sure sign that I’m not going to like what comes out of his mouth next. He doesn’t disappoint. “She’s already getting to you.”
“You fucked her. Anyone looking at the evidence would say she’s getting to you.”
He clenches his jaw. “She knows exactly what she’s doing, too. She’s trying to cause a rift between us.”
I curse and turn away. I can’t look at him right now, not when he’s being so damn stubborn and misguided. Not when he’s being a fucking hypocrite. “Stop blaming her for your actions. Did she tie you down and fuck you, Achilles?”
“No,” he grinds out.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. It took the two of you to have sex, and I’m not in a relationship with Helen. I’m in one with you. She didn’t put down a ground rule and then promptly break it in a jealous rage after we both agreed to it. She isn’t putting all our goals and plans in jeopardy because of her impulsiveness. She isn’t the problem.”
“Patroclus.”
I reluctantly turn to face him. Achilles looks angry, but that’s no surprise. For as long as I’ve known him, he’d rather be angry than upset or regretful. It’s an easier emotion for him. I thought we’d gotten past him doing that to me, though. I’d thought a lot of things up until we became champions. Now I’m not sure what the truth is. “I changed my mind about the shower. I need you to go.”
