I never expected to get married. It’s not that I have an issue with monogamy, though I’ve only flirted with it in the past. Something as relatively permanent as marriage is more than just a relationship. It’s more than sex, more than moving someone into your space and figuring out how to share it. It’s a partnership. An alliance.
But as I stand before the altar, Hermes bouncing on her toes in her silver three-piece suit, it just feels fucking right.
I refuse to examine that sensation too closely.
Instead, I focus on the door opening and Psyche walking through. On the expression on her face as she takes in what I’ve spent the last few hours putting together.
The room isn’t large, which is an asset for this event. There are two pews on either side of the aisle, each capped with a bouquet of crimson roses tied with a shining silver ribbon, a perfect match for her dress thanks to the swatch Juliette provided. The aisle itself is a deep red runner in the same shade. As I watch, Helen walks up to Psyche and hands over another, larger bouquet of the same arrangement.
The shock on Psyche’s face deepens as she looks around the room. I see her register that everyone is wearing some variation of red, black, and silver. Even Hades, though his black-on-black suits seem to be the only clothing he owns. A photographer who I hired edges around the room, the snap of his camera the only sound for one long moment.
Then the music rises, a variation of the wedding march that sounds almost like a dirge. From her small smile, she finds it as fitting as I do. Almost like an inside joke between just the two of us.
Psyche takes the first step toward the altar—toward me—and meets my gaze. Her smile widens, and even as I tell myself it’s all for show, I can’t help the warmth that blooms in my chest. I know this isn’t what she wants. If she’s like Helen and Eris, she’s had plans for her wedding from when she was a little girl, and I hardly expect that those plans included marrying the son of her mother’s enemy in front of an audience of five.
I can’t change that, but the least I can do is give her this gift. Something photograph-worthy. This wedding might not be a good memory, but at least the publicity in its aftermath won’t embarrass her.
She and Demeter make their way to the altar and stop a few steps away. Hermes clears her throat, looking delighted by this whole experience. “Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?”
“I do.” Demeter moves forward and places Psyche’s hand in mine. She smiles sweetly as if delighted to be here, but her low words drip poison. “If you do anything to bring my daughter harm in any way, I will gut you and leave you for my pigs.”
I’ve heard rumors about Demeter and her pigs, but I’ve never been able to substantiate any of them. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“See that you do.” She presses a kiss to Psyche’s cheek and then moves to sit next to Persephone in the front row.
We stand before the altar, and all I can do is stare at Psyche. This woman, this brilliant and fierce creature, will be mine in truth the moment I slip my ring on her finger, the moment we both say “I do.” This was only meant to be a way to keep Psyche among the living, but sometime in the last twelve hours, it’s turned into something else altogether. I will keep this woman safe.
Fuck, I’m just going to flat out keep her.
I barely listen to Hermes, barely manage to repeat the proper words to get this thing done. My hands actually shake as I slip the giant diamond onto Psyche’s ring finger. I’m undone.
For her part, my new wife doesn’t seem to have the same problem. Her voice is perfectly even as she repeats the same vows. Her fingers are cool against my skin as she slips the ring on. She smiles sweetly at me, and I surprise myself with how badly I want it to be real.
“You may kiss the bride.”
I don’t hesitate. I step forward, closing the distance between us, and cup her face. If I were a better man, I’d never touch this woman with hands that have committed such violence, but I’m selfish right down to my core. I kiss her, filling that one moment with so much promise, she’s melting against me.
Someone—I think Eris—clears her throat, and I manage to lift my head, though I don’t drop my hands. I smile down at Psyche. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she whispers.
“We did it.”
She wraps her hands around my wrists and gives me a little squeeze. “We’re not done yet.”
With that in mind, I lace my fingers through hers and we turn to face the room. Helen and Eris have careful expressions in place, as if they still can’t quite believe this happened. I expect I’m going to hear it from both of them later when they have more time. Demeter has an excellent poker face, but I’ve seen her use that same serene smile before systematically cutting her opponents off at the knees. Hades glowers, but he always seems to glower. Persephone beams, but I don’t miss the promise of violence in her hazel eyes.
This marriage is going to set off all sorts of chaos.
Strangely enough, I can’t wait.
Hermes makes a happy sound. “I now present to you, Mr. Eros Ambrosia and Ms. Psyche Dimitriou.”
Demeter stands and crosses to us. “Congratulations.” She takes my hands, her nails digging into my skin even as her expression remains happy. “Welcome to the family.”
This was the plan, but I can’t help a shiver of unease. There’s no going back now. We can only live with the consequences. “Thanks.”
“Family dinners are Sundays. No exceptions. See you next week.” She presses a quick kiss to Psyche’s cheek. “We’ll talk later.”
“Of course.” My wife doesn’t look shaken in the least.
Wife.
Mine.
I wrap that possessiveness surging through me in chains of silver and shove it deep. There’s no space for feeling this right here, right now. Behind us, Hermes gives a giggle that raises the small hairs on the back of my neck. “Now you’ve really done it. Aphrodite is going to be so pissed.” She nudges my shoulder as she walks around me and grins at Psyche. “Good luck with that. Hope you survive to your first anniversary. I left a gift for you up in the kitchen. Enjoy!” She skips down the aisle, moving with the bouncing joy of a child despite the fact that she’s at least as old as I am, if not older.
Persephone and Hades are next, though he stands a few feet back and glares at me while she gives her sister a hug. “Call if you need anything.” Persephone looks at me. “If you fuck with my sister, my mother’s pigs will be the least of your worries.”
We watch them leave the room and I chuckle. “Charming family you have.”
“You’re lucky Callisto didn’t show up. She probably would have beaten you over the head with the closest blunt instrument.”
I glance at her. “Everyone in Olympus thinks you’re such nice girls.”
“Everyone in Olympus sees what they want to see.” She narrows her gaze as Helen and Eris approach. “Case in point.”
Both women have the Kasios family features. High cheekbones, Roman noses, full lips. Helen is built a little more petite than Eris, and her hair is a lighter brown with red undertones, but no one would look at these two and assume they’re anything but related. Eris is gorgeous, but Helen is… There are no words for what Helen is. She’s got the kind of flawless beauty that brings cities to their knees and sends entire armies to war. She doesn’t play it up—if anything, she downplays it—but she still commands the attention of any room she walks into.
Eris raises a dark brow. “Congrats, I guess. Though, since Aphrodite was conspicuously absent, I don’t like your odds at experiencing a blissful honeymoon period. She’ll be meddling the first chance she gets, and she plays dirty.” She gives a wicked grin. “How long do you give them, Helen?”
Helen smacks her sister on the shoulder, her smile strained. “Can you save the doomsday talk for the day after the wedding, at least?”
“Where would be the fun in that? Things are finally getting interesting.”
I open my mouth, but Psyche beats me to the punch. She leans against me and smiles at the two Kasios sisters. “You’re underestimating Eros if you think Aphrodite can get the best of him.”
Eris opens her mouth, but Helen elbows her and glares. “That’s enough.” She turns a brighter smile on Psyche. “We haven’t gotten to know each other, and I’d like to. I’m having a party next Friday. Both of you should be there.”
“A party.” I feel the way Psyche tenses, but she doesn’t show it outwardly. Still, I can’t help giving her a little squeeze as I say, “I was under the impression you’re under house arrest.”
“And yet I’m standing right here, my house nowhere in sight.” Helen’s smile takes on a mean edge, her amber eyes lighting up. “My brother is getting a little too high and mighty since he became Zeus. We might be related, but he doesn’t own me. If I want to have a reasonable sized group of friends over for some light revelry, I’m going to do it.”
Eris laughs, the sound promising all sorts of trouble. “If it pisses him off, all the better.”
“Don’t act like you’re above doing exactly that!” Helen nudges her sister. “He told you to behave, too, and you spent all yesterday day drinking with Dionysus.”
“I like Dionysus.” Eris shrugs. “He knows how to have a good time, he keeps his hands to himself, and he has the sexiest friends. It’s a win-win.”
As much as I normally enjoy their bickering, I am ready for this part of the event to be over. “We’ll see you next Friday.”
“Good.” Helen loops her arm through Eris’s and tows her sister down the aisle and out the door.
Now all that’s left is the photographer.
Psyche smiles at him, some of the tension bleeding out of her body. Here, she’s in her element. “Thank you so much for attending. I’d like a few staged shots in addition to what you already have.”
He smiles. “Sure.”
I zone out a little as they discuss options. It takes ten minutes before they settle on four shots and then another thirty to get pictures both Psyche and the photographer are satisfied with. He looks up from his camera. “These are great. I can have them cleaned up and to you by tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” I’m already eyeing the exit. How fast can I get my new wife out of here?
Psyche puts her hand on his arm. “It wouldn’t be amiss if you used this moment to your advantage, Claude.” She leans in, smiling sweetly. “If you’re going to sell off one of these photos, use the one at the altar, please.”
He goes a little green around the edges. “I wouldn’t… I didn’t…”
“We know how Olympus works.” She pats his shoulder. It’s a light touch, but he weaves unsteadily on his feet as if it were a right hook. “Just ensure it’s that picture or I’ll be rather upset with you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers.
“You may go now.”
We watch him practically sprint from the room. I barely wait for the door to close to start laughing. “You’re terrifying.”
“Oh, hush.”
“Truly. You fit right in with your vicious mother and your violent sisters.”
Psyche smacks my shoulder. “I am not terrifying. And let’s not throw stones when your mother took a freaking hit out on me.”
I drape an arm around her shoulders. Not because anyone is watching; simply because I want to. This easy banter between us feels good after the tension of getting all the pieces in place for the wedding. “Can you honestly tell me that your mother has never had anyone killed?”
“I—”
“Honestly, Psyche.”
She glares. “Unconfirmed.”
“Exactly. You have to be at least a little bit of a monster to survive and thrive in Olympus. That goes triply for members of the Thirteen themselves.”
“You’re not wrong, but it’s irritating all the same.” She gives the door a long look. “The upper crust of the city likes to pretend we’re more cultured or refined than anywhere else in the world, but the opposite is true. I mean, look at us. We just got married so your mother will stop trying to have me killed.”
There’s not much to say to that. She’s right. “I know.”
“So, yes, maybe we all have to be a little bit monster to survive this city.” Her eyes dim, a frown pulling at her lips. “Even more than a little bit if I’m going to be perfectly honest.”
“There’s no shame in it.” I stroke my thumb over her bare shoulder. Gods, why is she so soft? Ten years in Olympus, and she still has most of her heart intact. She’s able to mourn the small parts of herself she’s sacrificed to thrive, but the city hasn’t worn her down until she barely recognizes herself. I envy her in that. Maybe I do have some soul left, because I can’t stop myself from trying to chase away the sorrow written across her features. “You’re not one, you know.”
“Not what?”
“A monster.” I smile a little. “I would know, being a monster myself. You might move among us, but you aren’t like us at all.”
She narrows her eyes. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“It’s a compliment. It takes someone special to live among monsters and not become one.” We’re veering into conversational depths I don’t know how to navigate. I need to get us back on safer ground. “Hungry?”
She hesitates but finally says, “Yes. I was too nervous to eat before.”
Truth be told, I was, too. It seems silly to get nerves before a real wedding for a fake relationship, but nothing about this situation is as expected. I’m not supposed to want my new wife so much that I’m practically shaking with the restraint required to keep from kissing her again.
Or, if nothing else, it should only be lust coursing through me when I think of her. I sure as fuck shouldn’t be wanting to put myself between her and anything that would put that sad look in her pretty hazel eyes.
I clear my throat. “Let’s go back up to the penthouse. I’m reasonably sure that no one will fuck with us tonight, so we might as well enjoy ourselves.”
Psyche allows me to guide her to the door and down the hallway to the elevator. “They’re not supposed to fuck with us at all, not now that we’re married.”
I didn’t want to talk about this until later, especially after I just got done trying to reassure her, but Psyche is too savvy not to notice an awkward change of subject. I already know this woman well enough to know that she won’t let me distract her. She’d rather have the full truth out in the open so we can deal with it accordingly.
It still takes far too much effort to answer honestly. “This marriage means my mother won’t be able to follow through on the threats on your life. It won’t stop her from attempting character assassination.”
Psyche gives me a slow smile. “Let her do her worst. I can more than handle her in that field.”
I hope she’s right.
