Yes. I barely manage to damper my enthusiasm. “That sounds like agreeing to more than sex.”
“It is. I’ll protect you. We’ll play out the narrative you want. You’ll belong to me. You’ll obey.” His fingers tighten ever so briefly on my elbows, like he’s fighting not to haul me against him. “We act out every depraved thing I want to do to you. In public.” At my confused look, he clarifies. “Zeus knows that I engage in public sex on occasion. That’s what you’re agreeing to.”
Temper your reaction, Persephone. Let him play the big, bad wolf he’s so determined to cast himself as. I lick my lips and give him wide eyes. I’ve never had sex in public, not really, but I can’t say I’m opposed to the idea. It’s startlingly hot. “I’ll just have to grin and bear it, then.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Oh, he is too delicious. I can’t help leaning a little forward, pulled by the sheer gravitational force he exudes. “I agree to your terms, Hades. Protected by you, belonging to you, and having depraved public sex with you, oh my.” I should let it stop there, but I’ve never been that good at denying myself what I want. “I suppose we should seal our bargain with a kiss. That’s the traditional way of things.”
“Is it.” His inflection makes the words less question and more mocking absolute. He’s so cold, he might freeze me down to my very core. It should scare me. Every partner I’ve had to date has been the very opposite of Hades—people willing to take what I give and ask no questions, require no further commitments from me. My mother’s reputation ensured that their desire for me didn’t outweigh their fear of her, so they all went out of their way to keep our relationship a secret. At first sneaking around was fun. Later, it became exhausting. But it was safe, as safe as someone can be as Demeter’s daughter while living in Olympus.
Hades is not safe. He’s so far from safe, I should be rethinking this bargain before it’s even begun. I can tell myself I have no choice, but it’s not the truth. I want this with every shadowy part of my soul that I work so hard to keep locked down. There’s no room in the public narrative of the sweet, sunny, biddable woman for the things I find myself craving in the dark of night. Things I’m suddenly sure Hades is capable of giving me.
And then his mouth is on mine and I’m not sure of anything at all.
Chapter 7
Hades
She tastes like summer. I don’t know how it’s possible, not when she was just sleeping in a bathtub, not when it’s the dead of winter outside, but it’s the truth. I dig my hands into her mass of hair and tilt her head back, angling for better access. Sealing a bargain is the flimsiest of excuses to kiss her; I have no excuse to keep the contact, to deepen it. No excuse beyond wanting her. Persephone moves to close the fraction of distance between us and then she’s fully in my arms, warm and soft and, fuck, she nips my bottom lip as if she actually wants this.
As if I’m not taking advantage.
The thought slams me out of my haze, and I force myself to take a step back and then another. There have always been lines I refused to cross, boundaries sketched out that are just as flimsy as the ones keeping Zeus from the lower city. That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never crossed them before.
Persephone blinks up at me, and for the first time since I met her last night, she looks completely real. Not the personification of a sunbeam. Not the scarily calm woman in over her head. Not even the perfect daughter of Demeter she plays for the public. Just a woman who enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.
Or I’m projecting and this is just another one of her many masks. I can’t be sure, and because I can’t be sure, I take a third step back. No matter what the rest of Olympus thinks of me—of the boogeyman—I can’t allow myself to prove them right. “We begin today.”
She blinks again, her impossibly long eyelashes fanning against her cheek in a motion I can almost hear. “I need to contact my sisters.”
“You did that last night.”
It’s fascinating to watch her gather her armor around herself. First comes the straightening of her spine, just the tiniest bit. Then the smile, cheerful and deceptively genuine. Finally the guileless look in those hazel eyes. Persephone clasps her hands in front of her. “You have the phones tapped. I suspected as much.”
“I’m a paranoid man.” It’s the truth, but not the full truth. My father wasn’t able to protect his people, protect his family, because he took things at face value. Or that’s what I’ve always been told. Even without Andreas coloring the events with his own perception, the facts remain. My father trusted Zeus, and he and my mother died as a result. I would have died, too, if not for sheer dumb luck.