“I thought Thor would ignore my map and go his own way,” he says eventually.
My mouth falls open. “Loki!”
“What?” He pushes hair from his eyes. “The bastard keeps accusing me of tricking him, so I decided I would. He accused me of creating a misleading map, so he got one.”
I can’t believe what he’s saying—that he’d threaten our chances like that. I stare. I have no idea what to say myself.
“I saw Skoll’s map and their route was wrong as well. I was pretty sure they’d get lost too. I didn’t think I’d cause any big issues.”
“Didn’t you think before you did such a stupid thing?” I hiss.
His eyes tell me what the others said on the mountain—Loki doesn’t think about consequences. He acted in anger. Maybe people are right and Loki does have bigger issues than liking a joke.
“No. I guess I don’t give a crap.” But his expression tells me a different story. He regrets his move. Too late now. “Oh well, at least Thor won.”
I blink at his nonchalance. I misjudged him. Badly. “I’m really pissed with you, Loki. I thought you were our friend.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not.”
Wow.
Okay.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“The way the guys treat me. They don’t really accept me. I bet they think they’re better than me because I failed the selection trial.”
“I don’t think that’s true at all. You’re paranoid.”
Loki snorts. “Am I?”
“Yes. I trusted you and look what you did to me. To us. I thought you were my friend.”
Loki’s eyes widen. “I am.”
“Friends don’t do what you did.” I turn my head away.
33
ARTEMIS
I don’t hear Loki’s response as I catch sight of Dion staring at where our hands connect. He lifts his eyes to mine and the dark, predatory look I saw the first time we met is in them. I don’t think Dion likes rivalry and I think he likes to hunt as much as I do, and there’s no doubt I have his attention. I’ve made the rounds at the party, speaking to friends and enemies, but he’s the type that wants the focus on himself.
So easy to manipulate.
Eyes still on mine, Dion uncurls himself from the sofa and moves across the room. I feel his hand ghost over my lower back and the bottle is taken out of my grip. I glance to the side and find Dion taking a swig of the drink, before offering it back.
“Looks like you’re having fun over here.” Dion glances at the three guys nearby, but seems more interested in my proximity to Loki. “What are you chatting about?”
Loki glances at me, wide-eyed, begging me not to say anything. “Just dealing with assholes like Eros.”
“I’m sure Artemis can hold her own around them.” Dion points to a small table covered in glasses and bottles. “Loki, can you get some glasses? Maybe we can teach Artemis not to drink from bottles.”
I pout and poke him before taking another big swig as Loki walks away with a protest about being treated like Dion’s servant.
My body prickles with an awareness of Dion that I didn’t feel with Loki, and my skin tingles when he takes my hand to lead me away from the taunting guys.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says in a low voice.
“Talking to Loki?”
“No. You’re playing games with me.”
“Do you think?” I ask, not minding when he slides his arm around my lower back, his fingers tickling my waist. “What sort of game is that?”
“Cat and mouse?”
We’ve reached the room’s edge, and I’m careful Dion doesn’t back me into the corner as he wants. I swallow more champagne. “I don’t think I’m the mouse, Dion.”
The grin lingers on his face but his eyes confirm his confusion. Dion isn’t used to being hunted—no, he’s always the one capturing prey, but I don’t know how to be any other way. I see something I want; be it a beast, or a game, or this very, very handsome man standing next to me who thinks he has me in his sights.
Wrong. He’s in mine and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove this will be on my terms.
“Is that how you want to play this?” His mouth is close to my ear and my body reacts accordingly. Butterflies create chaos in my belly. Electricity charges in my limbs.
“Only if you promise not to cry when I win,” I say, biting down on my bottom lip.
His grin turns wicked and he steps off the platform, taking my bottle with him and vanishing into the crowd. I understand what he wants me to do.
The hunt has begun.
DION
She claims she’s the huntress and that means I’m her prey. I’ll play the role and let her chase me as long as she wants. It’s not a trap. We both want the same thing. I want her and she wants an excuse to let me lose.
Yeah, I’m game.
She gives me a head start, and I slip through the party away from the crowd and interested eyes. I stay twenty paces ahead but leave a breadcrumb trail behind me. The empty bottle. The mother-of-pearl button from my shirt collar. A coin from my pocket. Finally, my tie.
Going into the Trials I had faith Artemis was a good ally. That she could hold her own or at least be a support to the others. She proved one thing in that challenge.
Never underestimate that goddess.
She confirmed it again when she walked into the party radiating with confidence. Jealousy, a feeling I’m not used to, flared in my chest when she touched the guard at the door. I reacted badly, pulling the female next to me on my lap. It was pathetic—definitely below me.
I secure the tie to the sconce hanging at a dead-end of a long hallway. A tapestry hangs at the end, hiding an ancient and musty stairwell. Rarely used. It’s there that I wait, thinking about how she looked tonight. Her dress had a roman flair, swaths of white and blue fabric molding perfectly over her breasts. The strips narrowed on her back, making a lattice of rope to view her flesh. Her skin looks soft. The skirt hit her knee, short enough for me to fantasize about exploring the expanse of her inner thighs.
I shift, realizing I’ve wound myself to a place of discomfort. I mutter a prayer of thanks when I hear her footsteps on the stone floors. We’ll find out in a moment if the cat caught the mouse or if the mouse laid a trap.
Either way feels like a win.
ARTEMIS
The god of pleasure likes to play games, I think, tracking his clues. Not complicated ones. No, he so desperately wants to be caught. In the forest I would give up on such a weak challenge and search for something more difficult. But here? Now?
I think it’s time.
The silk tie hangs from a sconce that splits the hallway in two paths. I remove the slip of fabric and follow the one to the right. It’s long and winding and proves to be a dead end. There’s nothing but a tapestry depicting a battle scene hanging on the flat, back wall.
A chill races up my spine. A draft? Or paranoia. It comes to me that it’s foolish to walk these halls alone at night. My brother, a champion and warrior, was killed in this very academy. It’s presumptuous to think my life isn’t in danger.
So yes, dumb as shit to be alone. But at least I am not unarmed.
I remove the slim blade holding up my hair, allowing the length to tumble over my shoulders and down my back.
Carefully, I touch the walls, looking for a loose stone or unmarked door. Nothing gives and I pause, assessing the cramped space. If I’m guessing right, I think we’re near the men’s dormitory.
A cool breeze circles my ankles and I glance both ways, looking for where the draft originates. I notice the fringe moving slightly at the bottom of the tapestry. Quietly, I walk over and touch the edge.
A hand, warm and surprising, touches mine and I scream—yelp, really—and yank the fabric panel to the side.
“Dion!” I whisper shout, holding the blade to Dion’s neck. “You scared the piss out of me. I told you not to do that.”
“You’ve got to stop holding sharp objects at me.”
“You have to stop scaring me.”
I yank back and twist my hair back up, slipping the blade back in my hair. He reaches for me again and pulls me into the stairwell.
“I found you,” I say, chest pounding from both the fright and Dion’s proximity.