The skirts shift around my legs, slitting wide with each step. The mirror next to his bed betrays me, reflecting just how much the dress swallows me.

  It hangs too low around my ribs, and the belt doesn’t quite sinch at the waist enough to show off any shape I’m not even sure I have. The skirt is honestly kind of sexy, my knobby knees only ruining the aesthetic a little.

  My hair is still pulled back into a tight bun, baby hairs and wild strays sticking out in every direction.

  This is definitely the kind of dress that demands loose hair. I begin pulling the hair tie loose and turn around. “I look like a virgin sacrifice in a…”

  Hermes is staring at me with wide eyes and breathlessly parted lips, his cheeks flushed just enough to be noticeable. His gaze falls, slow and measured, like he’s seeing me for the first time again.

  His eyes lift to mine again before flicking away, his jaw tightening. He clears his throat like the silence offended him. “You look—” He swallows, and I can feel the blush creeping up my neck— “fine. Good. Very…standard Olympus.”

  Tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling, he grimaces like he’s embarrassing himself as much as he is me.

  “Thanks?” Turning back to the mirror, I comb my fingers through my hair. Lifting my arms exposes way too much side boob, and I cross my arms over my chest to keep from any incredibly unfortunate wardrobe malfunctions. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s still glaring at the ceiling, his hands on his hips. “Can you help me with this?”

  His gaze snaps to…the floor. By my feet. “What do you need help with?”

  “Uh…” What the hell is he doing? I never thought the term ‘My eyes are up here,’ could apply to a concrete floor. “Do you have a pin or something? It’s too loose around my ribs.”

  His eyebrows raise as he purses his lips. “Yep.” He shifts his weight between his feet and continues to look everywhere but me. “I do have one of those.”

  He doesn’t move.

  “Can you…grab one?”

  He meets my eyes for all of half a second before his head cocks to the side and the muscles in his neck tense. He takes a deep breath and straightens his posture. “I—Yeah. One second.”

  He turns away to fumble with one of his fully stocked shelves. A moment later, he reemerges with a gold coated safety pin.

  I watch in the mirror as he comes to stand behind me. “Here?” he asks quietly, his breath tickling my shoulder as he bunches the fabric at my back.

  I nod in response, swallowing hard.

  The fabric tightens around my waist, pulling the gap at my ribs back so it’s less…booby. “Is this good?”

  His fingers are warm as they brush against the bare skin of my back. A shiver runs up me as he puts the pin between his teeth and folds the fabric over.

  “That’s good,” I whisper, watching as he takes the pin from his mouth and secures it in place.

  His eyes flick up to mine in the mirror, and I step sideways to look at him next to me. Side by side, I feel a pang of something in my chest.

  He’s a god. He looks like one. His usual toga has been replaced with an off white, one shouldered wrap. A thin gold belt that matches the one on my dress wraps around his waist.

  He smiles softly when he catches me staring. His hand appears on my upper back, right under the crisscrossing chains.

  “You already look like you belong,” he says in a surprisingly honest tone.

  I open my mouth to respond, but a heavy knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.

  “If you two aren’t out of this room in the next ten seconds, I’m calling Athena to come and drag you out!”

  Hermes turn to me with an exhausted looking grin. “I guess that means our time is up.”

  “Right.” Straightening my posture, I roll my shoulders back and try to appear as not-mortal as possible, earning a scoff from him.

  He strides over to the door and tugs it open.

  A man with all the grace of a goat on stilts stumbles into the room, like he was leaning on the door. He nearly falls flat on his face but catches himself on one of the shelves and stands back to his full height.

  He’s in the gaudiest outfit I have ever seen, and it is unbelievably attractive.

  A deep wine-red jacket…robe thing matches his very tight pants. His curly haired chest in on full display, with a purplish maroon shirt buttoned loosely under the robe. His ears are lined with gold hoops, matching the necklace around his neck and rings on his fingers.

  My stomach clenches when he swipes a lock of long, dark hair from his face. As his dark crimson eyes meet mine, he offers a slow smile.

  He looks like sin incarnate... And I feel it. I shouldn’t, but I do. Heat coils low in my belly and—wait. What the fuck?

  I have a nearly unshakable urge to throw myself at him. I can imagine it now. Tossing everything with Hermes down the fucking drain. It would be so easy. This dress has hardly earned the right to even exist. I could just…lose myself in him.

  “Can we not do this?”

  My gaze snaps to Hermes, who’s glaring at Dionysus like he owes him rent.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dionysus says too easily, sending a wink in my direction.

  The conviction finally returns to me, and I can feel the burning red in my cheeks. Hermes shoos Dionysus out the door and wraps his arm around my shoulder, leading me out behind him.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I am not the lusting type and, even if I was, why would I be drooling over tall, dark, and clumsy instead of the winged man that had his tongue down my throat half an hour ago?

  “God of ecstasy,” Hermes whispers in my ear as we follow behind Dionysus. “Catch him on the Earth side, and he always has a pack of naked men and women trailing him.” When I curl my lip, he tightens his arm around me. “So don’t feel bad. It happens to the best of us.”

  Dionysus bounces on the balls of his feet with each step, his robe dragging the ground behind him. I bet that thing is filthy. Then again, this is a divine palace. They probably have people to sweep pretty regularly.

  We round the corner out of the hallway of gods’ chambers and into that first room with the echoing walls. The music I heard before resonates through the room, along with the soft hum of conversation.

  “Looks like we’re already late for the party,” Dionysus says in an exasperated tone, turning toward an exit on the far wall, opposite the one with the statues.

  “You okay?” Hermes asks, squeezing my bare shoulder.

  “Hopefully,” I respond with a deep breath. My stomach is in knots and my knees are shaking, but I’m here. This is what I wanted, right?

  A glance at Hermes proves that yes, this is what I want. Not the gods inevitably waiting to tear me apart, but the man who looks at me like I’m worth something.

  Dionysus reaches for the double doors and pulls them both open dramatically, letting them slam against the painted walls.

  It’s dark out already. Wasn’t it, like, noon when we got here? There’s no way it’s already night. Or maybe there is. This isn’t Earth. I think. Maybe it is. I don’t know how shit works here. Maybe the sun is an illusion.

  Hermes leads me through the exit, as my eyes adjust to the lighting. There’s at least fifty torches lighting a huge circled off area, inside which there’s more people than I’ve ever seen in one place. The same bark-skinned nymph things, the naked fairy-looking ladies, a handful of normal human appearing people. It’s a hodgepodge of anything and everything, all of them swaying slowly to that soft tune Apollo was playing earlier.

  Dionysus swerves sideways, Hermes dragging me along with him. Just outside the torch-lit circle, there’s a concrete, or marble maybe, patio, lit by floating orbs or blue and green.

  Apollo is standing at the far corner, plucking the same lyre I saw him with before. Next to him is a long table with twelve seats, seven of which are occupied. At the head is a girl who looks no older than sixteen, curly silver hair bouncing around her shoulders as she laughs at something.

  “Just play nice,” he murmurs, sliding his arm off my shoulder to take my hand. “Be honest. They’ll know if you’re lying and use it against you later. But don’t overshare.”

  A woman with shoulder length black hair and a sharp nose twists in her chair to stare at us with wide eyes. Her hand flicks the man next to her, who turns around as well. His scowl is as prominent as the scar across his left eye.

  “Why are they looking at us like that?” I whisper, clenching my hand tighter around his. They’re all turning to look at us now. Is this what it’s like to be the new kid at school? Or maybe what the pig feels like when it’s carried to the dinner table.

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  Hermes’s grin only grows as he watches them watch us. “You’re the first ever secret I’ve kept from them.” His shoulders roll back, and his wings spread wide. “I do believe you’re going to be the talk of the night.”

  A heavyset woman braids what looks to be literal wheat through her dark hair, seemingly unphased by the chaos around her. When she spots me, her mouth splits into a wide smile, her eyes flicking between Hermes and me.

  “Who’s that?” I ask, doing my best not to stare as she continues to burn me with her gaze.

  “Demeter,” he responds, his voice embarrassingly loud against the silence that’s fallen over the table. “Persephone’s mother.”

  I’m going to vomit. This is actually insane. I watched the first Percy Jackson movie. Persephone is kind of famous among the not that interested in Greek mythology crowd.

  I feel like I’m walking into a room full of celebrities. People who should be untouchable, who shouldn’t exist outside of the tv screen. A part of me is almost giddy with the feeling. Most of me is not. I don’t know what the feeling is. Not quite dread, not quite fear.

  Inferiority. A feeling of not-belonging. I’ve gotten so used to blending in that suddenly having so many eyes on me feels like an act of rebellion against myself.

  The others go back to talking and bickering and laughing amongst themselves as Dionysus pulls out a chair and slides into it, kicking his feet up on the table.

  “Don’t be tasteless,” An older woman at the other end of the table grumbles at him. She’s long and plump, her hair tied up with a line of peacock feathers.

  Dionysus just points at his mouth and shrugs. The woman looks like she’s going to explode already.

  Hermes stops in front of a plaque labeled with something I can’t read, and pulls the chair out, motioning for me to sit. He takes the seat next to me. He throws the plack on the ground behind him.

  Thank god the seat on the other side of me is unoccupied. I’ve had enough god-influence for one day.

  I grasp his hand under the table, and he squeezes my fingers before bringing my hand into his lap.

  “Hermes,” comes a voice like honey. Across from us, a woman wrapped in what can only be described as a poor attempt at a scarf leans forward, fully exposing her chest to the table. “aren’t you going to introduce us to your pet?”

  Pet?

  I glance around the table, suddenly feeling tiny. Everyone’s eyes are on me.

  I am a fucking idiot. They’re glaring at me like I’m something to be devoured. Like I’m a lamb for slaughter.

  I look back at Hermes, suddenly wishing the dress had been left loose so I could actually breathe.

  He raises an eyebrow at the woman, a smirk pulling at his lips. He doesn’t respond, just glances over at me like I’m supposed to do the talking.

  The woman’s mouth curves into a little smile. A kind of smile that somehow flirts the line between seduction and murder. “I believe you’re meant to answer when a woman asks you a question.”

  His wings stretch wide as he leans back in the chair, crossing his legs. “Oh sorry,” he starts, his tone mocking. “I didn’t realize declarations of jealousy constituted a response.”

  Her smile tightens as her eyes flick to me. “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you? How is it you came to meet our dear messenger?”

  “Aphrodite,” Hermes interjects in a sing-song voice. “It’s not very becoming of you to interrogate other ladies tonight, is it?” He turns his attention to the curly haired girl at the head of the table. “We’re all here to support womanhood, aren’t we?”

  “Precisely,” she responds, her plump lip catching in her teeth as she tilts her head. “I’m simply trying to get to know your…friend.”

  Her blue eyes bore into mine like she’s trying to dive inside my brain. I think she is exactly what people are referring to when they say poisoned beauty. Honestly, her little quips are kind of pissing me off.

  I’m not a pet. I’m here because these people are sitting around while Hermes is withering.

  Even so, I can’t find my voice. It’s probably the fact that there’s nine pairs of eyes on me, waiting for me to say the wrong thing.

  “Why do you all look like someone pissed in your lemonade.”

  A thick New York accent pulls my attention. A woman, maybe a few years younger than me comes up behind Aphrodite and pats her on the shoulder.

  She flicks a strand of long dark hair over her shoulder with one hand, a goblet of dark wine in the other, and perches herself on Dionysus’s lap. Her eyes find me and she offers a smile. “I’d shake your hand, but I don’t want to. What’s your name?”

  Hermes leans sideways, his curls tickling my temple. “That’s Callie. She’s Dionysus’s mortal.”

  My breath catches, relief washing over me like a flood. “You’re not…” One of them? Actively look at me like you want to devour me whole?

  “Nope,” she responds, swirling the wine around in her goblet. “I’m a normie, just like you. Your name?”

  The table leans inward, like everyone’s waiting to hear something horrible come out of my mouth.

  I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “Alira.”

  “Alira.” My name rolls off her tongue like she’s deciding whether to believe me or not. She takes a sip of wine before handing the glass to Dionysus, who immediately lifts it to his lips. “It’ll be nice to have another normal human around here.”

  “Isn’t that incredible?” Aphrodite interrupts, her palms pressing into the table. “Two mortals at one table.”

  Hermes shoots her a venomous grin, his tongue dragging along the bottom of his teeth. “Careful,” he starts, his voice smooth as silk. “Your inner beauty is starting to show.”

  Dionysus snorts into his drink, wine spilling over the sides of the goblet.

  Aphrodite cocks her head to the side, her smile turning to acid. “Funny. You seemed to quite enjoy my inner beauty when it my name on your lips.”

  What?

  I tear my gaze away from her to turn to Hermes. His smile falters just slightly. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t defend himself. Or me. Just lets the words settle between us.

  He…slept with Aphrodite? The literal embodiment of beauty? That does fucking wonders for my self-esteem.

  “Ladies.” The girl at the head of the table glares at the two of them, her mouth pulled tight. “If you’re going to spend all night bickering, do it away from my festival.”

  Her festival? That is Artemis? She looks like a child. Not a stag-turning-man-hater.

  “Sorry,” Callie responds with a pinched grin.

  Aphrodite rolls her eyes dramatically, grabbing the crooked-nosed man’s hand and pulling it into her lap. His glare softens as he looks over at her, raising a scarred eyebrow.

  “On that lovely note,” comes a soft voice from Artemis’s side, “I believe it’s time to start the festivities, Sister.”

  Apollo strides past Artemis, grasping her shoulder as he does. The bearded man in the gold wheelchair rolls out of his way, until he finds his seat. Right next to me.

  I want to barf.

  He sits like he’s practiced this a million times, then turns to face me with a kind smile “I apologize for the informal introduction earlier,” he says in a soft voice, leaning in closer. He reaches out a hand toward me. “I’m Apollo.”

  His eyes look exactly like his brother’s. The same dancing gold irises, the same crinkle in the outer corners. But, where there’s a deep exhaustion in Hermes’s eyes, Apollo’s are wounded. Sad in a way that feels cruel on someone who creates such beautiful music.

  I nearly forget all normal human formalities until he glances down at his hand. “Oh!” I pull my hand from Hermes’s and wrap it around his. “Alira.”

  His grin cracks open the same way Hermes’s does. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  He doesn’t have dimples.

  Neither did the statue of Hermes.

  I turn back to him, studying the somberness painted across his features.

  They didn’t even use his face for his own statue. They used Apollo’s.

  Hermes forces a smile like he’s watching me connect the dots in real time.

  “I don’t believe anyone told you to speak,” Artemis announces as she stands.

  Apollo just shrugs in response, earning a chuckle from Dionysus.

  Eleven of the twelve seats are taken, leaving a single seat next to the peacock lady open.

  I’d ask Hermes, but something in me feels a little betrayed. He didn’t tell me about Callie, which is a massive oversight. He didn’t mark me, whatever that means. He had divine sex with Boobies across the table.

  He told me this place would eat me alive. I assumed he meant in a watch your back way, not a question why you even came here in the first-place way. At least Apollo’s nice, I guess.

  I glance around the table, trying to make a mental tally. Aphrodite, crooked nose guy, Dionysus, girl with the short hair, Artemis, Apollo, wheelchair dude, Hermes, Demeter, and the peacock princess.

  Unfortunately for me, she’s already glaring at me when I mark her off my mental list.

  Her eyes narrow, and a second later, the familiar pounding of wings erupts in my head. Even as my brain threatens to explode, I hold her gaze. Something about female pride or divine staring contests tells me looking away first is like admitting guilt. I don’t even know what I’m on trial for.

  Iris appears at her side, silver bodysuit and rainbow wings on full display. Peacock Princess tears her gaze away from me finally to whisper something, and Iris’s eyes flick to me before she nods curtly.

  She says something in return that I can’t hear before she brain blenders me again and flies away.

  “Who was Iris talking to?” I ask, pressing my thigh against Hermes’s as if that can save me from whatever the hell is going on here.

  His jaw sets tight as he tightens his grip on my hand. “Hera.”

  Fucking fantastic. The peacock crone is the queen, and I just stared her down like she’s the wicked witch out to steal my metaphorical dog. Will anything pleasant happen tonight, or am I just going to continue making nameless enemies until I’m inevitably thrown into hell or something for making eye contact with the wrong asshole?

  “Alright!” Artemis announces from the other end of the table, clinking her glass with a silver spoon. She clears her throat and slowly looks around the table. “Every year, I somehow manage to forget how much I hate all of you.”

  Laughter erupts around the table.

  Callie catches my gaze and rolls her eyes dramatically.

  “So go do something else,” Artemis continues in a deadpan. “I’m tired of hearing your voices.”

  “Does that mean we’re allowed to speak?” Dionysus calls loudly, plucking the glass of wine from Callie’s hand and draining it.

  Artemis offers a loathsome smile. “Of course not.” When no one moves, she sighs loudly and places her goblet on the table. “Go away. All of you.”

  Hermes thrums his fingers against the table and rolls his shoulders as he stands. He pulls me upright with him, and his hand leaves mine to press into my back.

  He wordlessly leads me away as the other gods continue to glower in our direction.

  Once we’re far enough away from the table of Pantheon pettiness, I let out a long sigh and tilt my head back, staring up at the starry sky. “That was terrifying,” I say breathlessly, still holding back the urge to vomit up all the food I haven’t eaten.

  He scrubs a hand across his forehead, his expression tired. “That wasn’t about you,” he says quietly, pulling me toward the circle of toward the circle of torches. “Aphrodite just hates when men look at any woman except her.”

  A humorless chuckle pushes out of him as we step inside the lit circle, the half-naked, weird-skinned creatures still dancing like there’s no other care in their world. “You should’ve seen her reaction when Dionysus first brought Callie here.”

  “Also,” I start as he leads me toward what looks like a fully stocked bar, “who the hell was the angry dude next to her? He looked like he wanted to skin me alive that whole time.”

  His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth as he glances back at the long table, now mostly void of occupants. “That was Ares,” he says through a laugh. “And he probably did.”

  “Great. Can’t believe I’m making so many friends on my first day.”

  His wing stretches out to wrap around my shoulder, and his fingers trace absentmindedly up my spine, sending a shiver through me. “Don’t feel too bad,” he whispers, leaning in close so his breath tickles my ear. “There’s only a handful that even pretend to like me, and I’ve been here thousands of years.”

  I scoff as we reach the bar-table. “Surprisingly, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” It seems like Aphrodite likes him a whole fucking lot. Is that what that was? Was she trying to get under my skin for taking her man, or something? I’m not actually some kind of god-home-wrecker, right? That’s not what this is. He’d definitely tell me if that’s what was happening. I hope.

  His hand leaves my back as he reaches for a bottle of the same Nectar he brough to my apartment that first night. “Care to drink your nerves away?” he asks, holding the bottle out in front of us.

  In the moonlight, it glistens like an ocean of stars, swirling around as if it’s alive.

  “God, yes. I would very much like to do that.”

  With a grin, he pops the cork and offers the first drink to me. I remember his warning not to drink it straight. And how it didn’t make me hallucinate or dream of death when I did.

  Fuck it, we’re in Olympus. What’s the worst that can happen?

  The ichor stain on my finger shines against the night as I take the bottle from him.

  The nerves in my belly evaporate when the bitter-sweet taste hits my tongue. I forgot how good it tastes to let go.

  Hermes offers me a sad looking smile as he takes the bottle back. “You look like you were made to be here.”

  I muster up a smile of my own.

  I hope he’s lying.