Chapter 1

Chapter

One

P ersephone

“Oh!” I startle at the sight of Hades sitting on the edge of my bed, the three pups waiting regally at his side. “You surprised me.”

“You weren’t where I left you.” Hades’ nostrils flare. His brows furrow and he rises from the bed. “Are you well, Persephone?”

“I’m good.” I’m not about to tell him about the stabbing cramps that woke me or my literally bloody reason for fleeing from his rooftop bed for a long, hot shower in my room.

Nodding slowly, Hades slides his hands into the pockets of his pants, his eyes never leaving me. Sometimes, the man is eerily still. Normal people aren’t as still as him. They don’t stand as though they’ve had a millennium to practice absolute quiet, as though their very breath might shatter some delicate balance.

But Hades does.

Sometimes, he’s so quiet, so still, I wonder if he’s even real. It wouldn’t surprise me to find I’d made him up. After a lifetime living with my mind, it wouldn’t surprise me to wake up and find that my entire adventure to Greece was a figment of my very vivid, potentially ill mind.

I do my absolute best not to stare at his bare chest. It’s hard, though. I think I mostly fail.

After last night, I probably shouldn’t feel so bashful. The man has seen every inch of my body. He’s tasted me, for goodness’ sake. I honestly don’t know how I’m still a virgin.

And I don’t know why I’m blushing.

“I expected you to sleep in today.”

I wave off the thought. It would have been nice, alas, womanly curses and all that jazz. “I need to make breakfast.”

“Already done.”

Before I’m able to stop it, my foot is lifting and falling. The floor is too hard to really give credence to my stomp, but Hades notes it all the same. The corner of his lips twitch with the threat of a grin.

I huff. Folding my arms across my towel-wrapped torso, I tell him, “That’s my job. ”

“Mm.”

“Hades.”

“After last night, I thought I owed you a breakfast in bed.”

Breakfast in bed. Really, how is this man single?

“You don’t owe me anything.” There’s fire in my skin. There’s always fire in my skin when the man looks at me. When he speaks words to me, as though no other man alive has ever spoken words to me before.

Honestly, the way this man affects me is ridiculous.

“Persephone—”

I cut him off. “If anyone owes anyone, I owe you.”

Hades says nothing, but his eyes never leave me. I feel as though he’s seeing me through the towel to the very flesh he bared the night before. The flesh I let him bare. Begged him to possess.

Oh, my God.

Finally, when I feel like I might burst apart at the seams with nerves, he speaks. “You owe me nothing. You could never owe me, Persephone. I want everything, when you are ready to give it to me.”

Every inch of me—inside and out—feels hot. I whisper, “I don’t know what that means.”

“You will.”

This man is confusing. Just when I think I know him—understand him—he throws me through another loop, leaving me there to dangle .

Another cramp has my insides twisting, but I show nothing. At least I think I show nothing until Hades sighs. “Wear something comfortable. We’ll have a lazy day on the couch.”

Could he know? Can he possibly read me so openly that he knows exactly the thing that plagues me now?

I’m about to ask when he turns and moves from the room. None of the dogs follow their master, remaining with me instead.

I sigh and give the pups a look that can be described only as exasperated, before moving into the closet. With Prim standing sentry at the closet door, I pull black spandex shorts over simple black cotton panties. I pair them with a lilac-colored sports bra and oversized white T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. With my wet hair twisted into a knot on the top of my head and my face free of makeup, I leave my room with the pups in tow. I’m on the hunt for caffeine.

I find a steaming cup of coffee in the kitchen. It sits beside a bar of milk chocolate that has a blush spilling into my chest and traveling up my neck. It burns in my cheeks.

He knows. How does he know?

And why am I so embarrassed by something that is inherently feminine?

Hades slides a plate with a hard-boiled egg and toast toward me. “Sit. Eat.”

I clear my throat. “Thanks.”

Cracking the egg, I dunk my toast into the spill of yolk and take a bite. Hades sips his coffee, watching me where he leans against the opposite counter.

I swallow, reaching for my coffee and taking a sip. I ask, “What?”

“I would like to talk to you about last night.”

I nearly choke. “Oh?”

Why?

“When I first hired you, you said you wouldn’t sleep with me.”

Oh, my freaking God. If it weren’t impossible, I’d fear that the heat of my blush might very well boil my blood and burst me into flames.

“O—kay?”

He gives me a rueful grin. It’s a little devilish, like he always knew we’d end up here. “Why did you change your mind?”

“I didn’t change my mind,” I say a little indignantly. “I didn’t sleep with you. Well, we slept—but technically I didn’t have sex with you.”

I’m babbling.

He looks amused. “Persephone.”

I sigh. “I—I don’t know why I let last night happen.”

“Persephone,” he warns again, firmer this time.

I sigh, admitting quietly, “I’m attracted to you.”

“You’re attracted to that boy you work with as well.” Something darkens his already impossibly dark eyes. “Will you let him do to you the things I’ve done to you? The things I will do to you? ”

“No.” The word shudders from my lungs. “Of course not.”

“Can I take that to mean we’re exclusive?”

“You—want to be exclusive?” Did my voice really just squeak?

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“Wow.” I breathe, shifting through another hot cramp that prickles my skin. “Um…”

“I’ve always shared in the past.” He studies me, a small frown playing at his brow. “I told myself I preferred it, even. But with you—” He shakes his head. “I don’t think I would enjoy sharing you, Persephone. Not with anyone.”

My interest is piqued despite the clench of discomfort I feel in my belly at the idea of sharing Hades. Of him sharing me. It feels wrong.

This isn’t serious. It’s a summer fling, for frick’s sake. Get a grip, girl!

Summer fling or not, I don’t want to share him.

Still, I have to know. “You shared in the past?”

“Yes.” He nods easily, openly. The man has no shame or fear. What it must be like to live as he lives.

“What does that mean?”

His chest expands with a breath. “I’ve always had multiple lovers at any given time.”

I blink. I’m—well, I’m not sure what I am. Scandalized? Disgusted? Interested…

Slowly, I press, “Your partners have always been okay with this? ”

“Yes.”

I force myself to take another bite of toast, sip my coffee. I need this moment to process thoughts that clearly can’t be processed, because my moment hasn’t made them any more clear.

“Have you never had a serious relationship?”

“I have.” Hades watches me carefully. “A very serious relationship. She was—she was my life partner.”

I frown. I hadn’t found any evidence of a woman in Hades’ life while I’d researched him on Google .

“You’re thinking,” Hades observes when I say nothing for long moments.

“Yes.” The word falls hoarse between us.

“Share with me,” he commands, as composed as ever.

I don’t know why it bothers me that he had someone in his life whom he cared so deeply about that he considered her his life partner. I don’t know why I feel this awful sting of ugly jealousy. I’m his employee whom he’s fooling around with. It won’t last— can’t last . In a few months, I’ll go home and he’ll move on. I might never forget him, might live the rest of my life with the scent of woodsmoke tailing every breath, but he will likely never think of me beyond this summer.

It stings, my reality. Like a whip lash to my battered heart.

I straighten in my seat, reminding myself that I’m a big girl now. I’ll have to learn to armour up my heart, or suffer the pain of a break. I tell him, “I never found evidence of a serious relationship on Google .”

“Ah.” He smiles, as though he anticipated my reply . I hate how sexy he is when he grins. I wait, not breathing, ignoring the twist of attraction in my belly, for his explanation. “We weren’t public.”

“How can that be? You’re all over Google .”

“When your life is as broadcast as mine, you find ways to keep the intimate pieces from spilling into the hands of the public. Our relationship was known only by those closest to us.”

“Was she like me?”

His eyes sharpen, voice deepening. “How do you mean?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You have a question, Persephone. Ask.”

I suck in breath. It doesn’t help me feel any more brave. I’m a mess inside. The man has rattled me. “Was she also your hired companion?”

Something changes in his face. Something I can’t read through the layer of sadness that clings to the surface of it like algae over a once clear lake.

Finally, he responds, “No. She wasn’t my hired companion.”

His words don’t make me feel better. “What happened? Why did it end?”

Hades’ eyes connect with mine. “She died.”