I walk them out and lock the door behind them. Only then do my shoulders slump, weighed down by all the things both said and unsaid. No one believes I can pull this off. Not my enemies. Not my family. Not even my friends. No matter what words they mouth, they’re all waiting for me to fail. They’re sure of it.
I turn away from the door and plod down the hall with heavy steps. I need a shower and about eight hours of sleep.
Maybe the world will make sense in the morning.
13
Achilles
“Stop hovering.”
I swallow my frustration and pace another lap around the living room. “I’m not hovering.” I am hovering. I have been since we got back to the rooms. I want to blame it on all the adrenaline with no output. That trial was too damn short, even with the opponents causing snags along the way. If I’d just been able to work hard, to expel some more energy, maybe I’d be able to settle down now.
Patroclus sighs and sets down his e-reader. He’s got glasses perched on the end of his nose, and he looks so adorably nerdy, I want to kiss him. Too bad trying would probably mean a black eye with how pissed he is right now. It’s not often my man gets riled, but when he does, it takes a long time for him to work through it. I have no one but myself to blame for the current shitstorm.
He gives me a long look. “You’re getting what you want. Why are you so upset?”
I hate it when he does this. Instead of admitting just how furious he is, he turns it around and talks to me as if I’m the one being ridiculous. It’s patronizing in the extreme, one of Patroclus’s shittier habits. The fact that he’s right only irritates me more. “I fucked up. Why don’t you just like…yell? Throw something? Fuck, punch me if it will make you feel better.”
“That’s abuse.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Then talk to me. Stop icing me out.” He’s barely spoken six words to me since last night. I hate it when he does this; he’s sitting in front of me, but he might as well be on another planet for all I can reach him. These kinds of fights don’t happen often, but when they do, they drive home how different we are. It serves as a reminder that one day Patroclus will get tired of my shit and ice me out permanently.
Not this time.
Not yet.
Please, gods, not yet.
“I’m sorry. I said I’m fucking sorry. I’ve said it a dozen times. What else do you want from me?” It’s not a fair ask, and we both know it, but I’m so frustrated, I want to shred something.
“Do you regret having sex with Helen?”
I start to say yes, but he’ll know if I lie because I’m shit at it. I hate lying. I’d rather keep my mouth shut and say nothing at all than lie. Neither is an option under his intense look. “No.” Gods help me but I don’t hate her as much as I thought I would, and I can’t blame the orgasm on that shift. She’s nothing like I expected, and yet somehow also everything that I expected. I don’t really get it, but I’m intrigued all the same.
And the sex was so fucking good. It was intense and a little terrifying, but I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again. When I become Ares and she becomes my wife, it’s almost a certainty.
“Which means you will do it again.” He considers me for a long moment. “And if I said I want to sleep with her…” Even as I try not to tense, I can feel my body locking up. Patroclus nods slowly. “Yeah, I thought so. You’re a fucking hypocrite.”
“I’ve been called worse.” Worse has been true, too.
“I know.” He picks up his e-reader again. “I am still angry with you. I can’t just snap my fingers and get over it, even if you’re not happy that I’m angry. It’s not how emotions work.”
There he goes being patronizing again. I exhale harshly. “I know how emotions work, Patroclus.”
He doesn’t look up. He just adjusts his glasses and leans back against the couch. “I need some time. I thought I’d made my peace with your pending nuptials, but I have to work through my side of it because it’s significantly more real now that Helen is more than just a theory.”
My stomach drops. Is it happening? Is this the end? It’s come at me too fast, too out of left field. I swallow hard. “What does that mean?”
“I love you.” He taps his e-reader, turning the page. “One fight doesn’t change how I feel, and it doesn’t change the plan. Just…give me time, Achilles.”