Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

3. Icarus

3

ICARUS

I carus’s back hits the solid wall of the stable as her kiss with Aphrodite deepens. The horse in the neighboring stall whinnies in objection to the sudden disturbance, but it doesn’t faze them.

They’ve had to be very crafty these past few days, with neither of them wanting to upset the delicate balance of their worlds by making their relationship known.

Icarus’s dreams are within reach. She doesn’t want them to slip through her fingers or their validity questioned because of her proximity to such a powerful god. Everyone would assume that nothing she worked so hard for was actually earned.

Is the scratchy hay as nice as the soft sheets of the temples? No, but it’s nearly impossible to end up in those sheets without watchful eyes upon them.

Aphrodite’s slim fingers deftly release the straps of Icarus’s armor when her head jerks back and she lets out a loud sneeze, her pale blonde hair falling over her violet eyes. Followed by another. And another.

Icarus laughs. “I didn’t know gods were affected by allergies.”

“You think my radiant self is supposed to be around hay of all Fates damned things?” Aphrodite responds through puffy eyes and a red nose. “We have to figure out an alternative. I’ll come up with something.” She pulls Icarus in at the waist. “In the meantime,” she says but is interrupted by another sneezing fit.

Humorously fighting tears, Icarus says, “Go, I’ll see you soon.”

With another sneeze, Aphrodite nods her head and gives Icarus a brief kiss before slipping out of the paddock door.

Pieces of hay stick out from Icarus’s braid, and she meticulously removes them before leaving to return to the barracks. There is a bag of apples by the door, and she decides to grab one and double back to visit her pegasus again.

As if she sensed Icarus coming, Amara is already waiting for her in the stall.

“Hey, girl.” She rubs her hand along the alabaster forehead of the steed that chose her. She hasn’t gotten to fly on her yet, but she already feels bonded with her.

She holds out the apple, palm open, and Amara gently nibbles at it. Her tail swishes contently, and the bright white strands shine as if the sun or moon shines upon them.

After a few more minutes, and several scratches under Amara’s chin, Icarus turns to leave.

Muffled voices carry from one of the small tack rooms in the back. Curious. Should she investigate? It’s probably none of her business, right? The decision is taken from her hands and the door swings open.

Lysander walks out, and his cheeks flush when he sees her. His short black hair is tousled as if he just rolled out of bed. “Oh. Icarus. I wasn’t expecting you to still be here.” He abruptly closes the door, and the thunk of someone slamming into it rattles around the stables.

Icarus raises an eyebrow. “I was… spending some time with Amara.” She leans around Lysander, peering behind him. “What were you doing here?”

His face reddens even further. The door behind him opens, and he winces as Achilles walks out irritated and disheveled, his dark brown curls that fall to his ears just as mussed as Lysander’s. He sees Icarus standing there and straightens, adjusting his silver cloak and shifting his weight between his feet. “Oh, hello.”

Icarus doesn’t need to guess why they were in the tack room. If the order of events had been slightly altered, it might have been Lysander catching her with Aphrodite.

Silence swells around them, and the uncertainty of who should speak first lingers.

Lysander looks at her, his angular eyes pleading.

“Thanks for hanging out with me in the stables this afternoon, Lysander. I think us taking the time to get to know our steeds was a great idea.” She winks, and they both look so relieved they could faint. .

Achilles brushes past them without saying a word. A quick, courteous nod is all the recognition she’s to receive for covering for them.

T he wool blankets of the barracks are almost as scratchy against Icarus’s bare skin as the hay Aphrodite had been pressing her body into earlier that day. She throws them off, welcoming the chill of the night air.

A twinge strikes between her shoulder blades, and the dull itch that’s plagued her for days returns. She walks over to one of the walls where the corner protrudes and slides her back across it as the cool stone soothes the irritation.

Are the blankets causing an allergy? Is she allergic to the hay as well?

When her back no longer feels as if it’s on fire, Icarus sits on the edge of her bed, tossing the wool blanket onto the floor. She remembers the gift from Aphrodite sitting on her nightstand. It’s doubtful she’ll be able to return to sleep anytime soon, so it seems like the perfect time to try it out.

The soft petals of the rose slide across her fingertips as she picks it up and sets it beside her. Unfolding the parchment that came with it, Icarus reads the instructions again.

Place three drops from the bottle onto the petals of the flower, then touch its petals anywhere you wish to feel pleasure.

Moonlight shining through the small window reflects off the soft pink stoppered bottle. It’s shaped like a heart and has a rose gold filigree cap. The aroma hits Icarus instantaneously after removing the stopper. Notes of rose, chrysanthemum, and orchid caress her senses followed by the subtle undertones of poppy and mandrake. The smell is sensual and enticing. It’s almost tempting to bathe in it.

The dropper collects the amber liquid, and Icarus counts the drops around as she delicately lets them fall. “One. Two. Three.”

Nothing happens at first, but as Icarus returns the stopper to the bottle, the rose begins to vibrate in her hand.

Icarus’s brows furrow in confusion. What is she supposed to do with this?

She brings it up to her neck and the delicate petals tickle at first but when she applies more pressure, she feels her pulse quicken and her breath catches. Oh.

Moving it to her collarbone, and continuing down, she cups her breast with one hand and with the other, brings the pulsating flower to her nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure shooting to her core. Fates be damned, the Goddess of Love really knows how to give a gift.

When her hand travels to her center, she’s not surprised to find it already dripping wet, and her fingers slip right in. She slides them in and out, working to a slow rhythm as she brings the rose to the bundle of nerves above her core. She almost cries out at the explosive sensation but remembers that the walls are thin, and the other Heroes will never let her live this down.

She turns her head and moans into the pillow as her fingers and the rose push her closer and closer to climaxing. In her mind, Aphrodite’s hands are her own, and she’s using this enchanted flower to bring Icarus to her knees.

She pictures Aphrodite’s perfect lips kissing every part of her body as her orgasm explodes and sends shockwaves all the way to her toes.

Her chest heaves, and she can barely catch her breath as her body slowly returns to normal. Wow.

Hopping out of bed, she slides on a loose tunic and soft, flowy pants. A hot bath will be the perfect thing to cap off her night before going back to sleep.

The halls are empty, and Icarus is grateful for it. Everyone has been respectful for the most part, but being one of the few women in the barracks hardly goes unnoticed. It doesn’t bother her that they share housing, especially since women have their own rooms, but she wishes there were at least separate bathing chambers.

The baths are empty at this time of night except for one person, Lysander.

She quickly removes her clothes, not shy around her friend, and slips into the warm water.

“Hey.” Icarus splashes him gently, pulling him out of his daydream.

He laughs and splashes her back. “Hey, yourself.”

“So… Achilles, huh?” She grins.

He gives Icarus a pointed look. “So… Aphrodite, huh?”

Her eyes go wide. “What? How?”

“We had to walk right past the stall you two were in to get to the tack room, genius. Fates damnit, at least we went to a closed room.”

Icarus’s ears flush, and she averts her gaze to the water. “Whatever. I guess we’ve both been keeping a pretty big secret. How long have you been with him?”

Lysander shrugs his shoulders. “Just a week or so. We met the day of the pegasus selection.”

Icarus had forgotten he was there that day. Now that she thinks about it, she can remember the sea of silver cloaks as Zeus, and his Lightning Legion, came to monitor Selection Day.

But truthfully, she didn’t care who was watching that day. Her whole life had been building to that moment, and her dreams were coming true.

“What about you? How long has this thing with Aphrodite been going on?”

Icarus looks at the man in front of her, her best friend. She starts to tell him everything about the night of the gala and her phoenix curse, but something makes her hesitate. She trusts Lysander, but how much does she even know about it?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait to tell him until she had a better handle on her past? Would he even believe her?

One way to find out.

She tells him everything. She tells him about the gala, sleeping with Aphrodite, learning about her phoenix curse the next morning, everything.

Lysander says nothing, sitting in stunned silence in the water.

“So, yeah. That’s what’s been going on with me.” She shrugs and waits for him to respond.

Finally, he says, “Do you have any powers yet?”

A loud laugh escapes her. “Considering everything I just told you, that’s your first question?”

“Well, yeah.”

After a quick glance around the room to make certain once more that they are still alone, Icarus slides closer to Lysander.

“I haven’t been able to do much with it so far.” She holds her left hand out of the water, and tiny flames gently flicker from her fingertips for a few seconds before sputtering out.

She sheepishly puts her hand back in the bath.

“That’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. Don’t you tell a single Fates damned person about this. To be honest, what were you even thinking telling me?” Lysander sputters.

“I was thinking, jackass, you’re my best friend and I need a support system that doesn’t solely consist of my lover,” she says flatly.

He side-eyes her. “I get your point. I don’t think we’ll be able to keep it a secret for too long, but it won’t get out because of me.”

“Thank you. Oh! Can you please, please, please do me a favor?”

“Maybe?”

Icarus spins around in the water, placing her back in front of him.

“Scratch. Please. Between my shoulder blades.”