Page 142 of Blood of Olympus

Some minutes later, I was scrubbing Justice and Courage off my skin, scouring the golden ichor with my fingernails until the water sluicing down the drain ran clear.

“Hand me that green bottle, would you?”

A calloused hand extended into the screened-off shower area a moment later, green bottle procured.

“Thank you,” I said while upending the deliciously scented liquid into my matted hair.

“Fuck, Kiss, Kill,” Evie began from the floor just beyond the screen. “Kronos, Lykos, Aros.”

“Ugh, Evie!” I griped as bubbles seemingly washed away my sins. “That’s an awful one!”

“Just do it,” she laughed. “You just made me choose between Apollo, Poseidon, and Zeus.”

“That one was way easier! As if you wouldn’t kill Zeus and fuck Apollo. Poseidon’s little pin-dick wouldn’t do it for you.”

“True, and I feel like Apollo would be great with his hands.”

“Oh, his fingers are talented alright⁠—”

“Now I hope you’re talking about me,” Aros cut in, slamming the bathroom door wide and sashaying in like he owned the place.

Evie squealed, and I giggled, peering through a freshly rubbed circle of now dry glass.

“Darling, we have discussed this already,” he continued, waggling the fingers of his right hand in the air suggestively. “God of war and violence, remarkable flame-wielder, superb spearman, and possessor of very talented fingers, remember?”

“How could I forget that introduction?”

He winked, as Caelus — my scowling storm-wielder — stepped into the room behind him, officially filling the tiny space to capacity. He stared holes through the glass, possessing me with his gaze even though I knew he couldn’t see more than the faint outline of my body through the steam.

“Who else has talented fingers?” Aros asked, stripping the armour from his torso and dumping it unceremoniously on the floor beside the sink.

“Apollo,” Evie answered matter-of-fact. “We’re playing Fuck, Kiss, Kill, and it was Nyssa’s turn to choose betweek Kronos, Lykos, and you, dear brother.”

Aros whooped while Caelus scowled, liking my options even less than I did.

“Now there’s a batch!” Aros declared, dumping yet more armour and weaponry into the same pile. “Who in Tartarus is our queenie going to choose?”

I groaned, tasting faint notes of whiskey and honey filtering through the steam.

“Who, indeed?” Caelus rumbled, the tone of which set my insides alight.

In equal parts apprehension and reluctance, I mumbled my answer.

“What’s that?” Aros hollered, cupping a hand to his ear. “We couldn’t heeeear you!”

I groaned, eyeing Caelus the whole time. “Kill Kronos, every damn time.”

“Obviously,” Evie snarked.

“Oh, I know where this is going,” Aros smirked, rubbing his hands together, as the last remnants of his periskelis fell to the floor, exposing him in his unabashed entirety.

“Ew, gross!” Evie cried, shielding her eyes.

“Relax, it’s nothing you haven’t all seen before.” He shrugged.

“At least it isn’t waving at us this time,” Caelus grumbled.

“I’m not even going to ask,” she replied.