The door opened and closed, and I held my breath as my energy changed. Sirius trotted forward without hesitation.
I tried my best to fiddle with my hair in the mirror, not looking at Hades.
“Where are you going?”
His voice washed over my skin like silky caramel, covering me, engulfing me. My pulse immediately quickened, and memories of last night consumed me. He hadn’t even fucking touched me, yet it felt like he’d ruined me somehow.
I straightened my spine, narrowing my eyes at him in the mirror. “I have a date.”
He went still. “A date.”
As I swiped on my lip gloss, his eyes followed the action. My body instantly responded to that look. Big time. With great effort, I screwed my lip gloss closed.
“Yes, a date. Though I figure you heard me the first time.”
“I heard you the first fuckin’ time,” he grated out, folding his arms.
I tried—and failed—not to look at the way his biceps bulged from the gesture.
“Who are you going on a date with?”
I sighed. He was standing in my way, and it was very clear that Hades was not going to move until I answered the question. Even then, I didn’t like my chances. I weighed up jutting out my hip, narrowing my eyes and telling him it was none of his damn business, but I figured that wouldn’t go well, and I knew that I didn’t have enough sass to go against all that was Hades.
“Des,” I replied.
His eye twitched. Arms stayed folded. “Where did you meet Des?” He spat out the name with distaste.
I bit my lip. Hades wasn’t exactly a man to show emotions beyond fury. But I sensed the tiniest bit of jealousy. It was ugly of me to feel satisfied by that jealous look, but Hades awakened things in me. Need. Desperation. Ugliness.
“Des is my man. Wednesday nights are our nights. We have other dates, too, but we never miss a Wednesday.” I paused, looking back in the mirror to adjust my hair. “Up until recently. For obvious reasons. I didn’t tell him about what happened because he’s very protective of me.”
Hades’s fury was palpable. “Why the fuck did I not know about Des until now?”
“Because it’s none of your business,” I replied.
I held my breath as Hades stepped forward, his cut brushing against me. “You are all of my fuckin’ business, Freya.”
My knees shook. Somehow, I found the strength to step around him. “I’m leaving, Hades. And you’re not telling me otherwise because Des means a lot to me. So you’re going to do your job, the one that you’re so focused on, and make sure I don’t die.” I’d leaned in to whisper that into his ear then stepped away before I forgot what I was doing.
And my own name.
“You’re going to follow me,” I continued, forcing authority into my voice. “You’re going to sit in the restaurant, and you’re going to stay in a corner, only watching. I don’t want any alpha male stare-downs. What I really don’t want is you walking up to Des and saying something insane like I’m yours. Because you’ve had plenty of fucking opportunities to make me yours. And you didn’t.”
On that note, I turned my back on him and walked out my front door.
He followed me.
“Des!” I ran into his arms, settled and safe once they closed around me.
He smelled of drug store aftershave and mint. There was a long squeeze before he pulled me back to arm’s length, his dark brown eyes focusing on the cut on my cheek. His thumb brushed over the skin.
“What happened, kiddo?” he asked, his voice and the deepening lines on his face conveying his concern comforting.
“Oh, nothing,” I scoffed. “I had a little too much to drink, got up too fast, caught the corner of the coffee table.” The lie came out smoothly because I did not want Des to know the truth. I did not want a sixty-eight-year-old man deciding he had to exact vengeance.
Des did not look sixty-eight. He barely looked fifty-eight. His black hair only had a hint of grey to it, neat and closely cropped to his scalp as it had been since I’d met him, since he’d enlisted in the army when he was eighteen.
His ebony skin was smooth, and the creases in it only made him all the more handsome and distinguished. He was tall. Taller than me, and he always wore his veteran cap with the American flag on it paired with an old blazer on top of faded jeans and Chuck Taylors.
Despite his heart problems, he still worked out three times a week and was in great fucking shape. He most likely could’ve taken Derek, but I didn’t want him to.
“Ah, well, next time, make sure you remove all sharp objects from the area when consuming wine,” he teased with a wink.