He honestly could not care less about the time or his obligations at this very moment. He had just seen months’ worth of agonizing fantasies come to life. This was the morning after, and what a morning it had been already. He was going to enjoy this; he would revel in it as he had reveled in war long ago.
He focused on Persephone, and as he filled his plate, asked, “Are you not hungry, darling?”
“No.” She looked at him sheepishly. “I…usually only drink coffee for breakfast.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise him. He thought about commenting on the nutrition, how she would need the energy after their night, but decided against it. Instead, he summoned her a cup of coffee.
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Cream,” she answered with a smile that made him want to give her the sun and the moon. “Thank you.”
“What are your plans today?” he asked, popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.
She was silent for a moment, glancing at Minthe with a sullen expression, but as the silence stretched, her eyes widened as she realized he was talking to her. “Oh, I need to write—”
She stopped abruptly.
“Your article?”
He tried to keep the bitterness from leaking into his voice, but it was hard. He could not deny that he felt a slight betrayal at the thought that she would continue writing, even after the night they shared.
“I will be along shortly, Minthe,” he said, dismissing her, but when the nymph hesitated, he spoke firmly. “Leave us.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Minthe bowed and practically pranced out of the dining room. He almost snapped at her, but stopped himself, thinking, One battle at a time.
“So, you will continue to write about my faults?” he asked, once they were alone.
“I don’t know what I’m going to write this time,” she admitted. “I…”
“You what?” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he could not hide his frustration on this topic, and Persephone narrowed her eyes.
“I hoped I might be able to interview a few of your souls.”
“The ones on your list?” He would never forget that list, would never forget those names, as each one brought a different kind of pain.
“I don’t want to write about the Olympian Gala or The Halcyon Project,” she explained. “All the other newspapers will jump on those stories.”
Of course they would, and she wanted to be unique, wanted to stand out among the crowd. Define herself as she had never been defined before. He knew what she wanted—to be good at something, but not just anything. She wanted to be good at something she chose, because she wasn’t good at the thing she was born to be. He considered saying that aloud, the words were on the tip of his tongue, but he knew they would hurt her so he wiped his mouth and stood to leave, but Persephone followed after him.
“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t leave each other when we’re angry?” Her words halted him. “Didn’t you request that we work through it?”
He faced her, and replied honestly, “It’s just that I’m not particularly excited that my lover is continuing to write about my life.”
“It’s my assignment,” she said defensively. “I can’t just stop.”
“It wouldn’t have been your assignment if you had heeded my request.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and he couldn’t help letting his gaze fall there, but what she said held his attention more than her breasts. “You never request anything, Hades. Everything is an order. You ordered me not to write about you. You said there would be consequences.”
“And yet,” he said, with as much admiration as possible. “You went through with it anyway.”
She had not been afraid of him. She was a rare breed.
“I should have expected it.” He tipped her head back with a finger. “You are defiant and angry with me.”
“I’m not—”
He cut her off, cupping her face. “Shall I remind you that I can taste lies, darling?” He stared at her lips, brushing them with his thumb, and said in a low voice, “I could spend all day kissing you.”
“No one’s stopping you,” she replied, her lips touching his as she spoke.
He chuckled and did as she wished—kissed her. Drawing his arm around her waist, he lifted her onto the table and stepped between her legs. He worked each nipple through her peplos until they were beaded and hard, while his hands dipped between her thighs to explore her satin flesh. Soon she was calling his name, legs spread wide on the edge