get that drop of blood, and I’d used my only dose of sleeping potion.
As time passed, the tension in the air seemed to change slightly. His eyelids drooped, and his gaze lingered often upon my lips. I swallowed hard and tried to keep my attention on the game. With any luck, I might win this one.
If I had the time.
“Your drink is empty,” he said, his voice a low rumble. Not slurring and not noticeably tired, but softer and more relaxed than normal. It shivered across my nerve endings, and I surged to my feet, needing space.
“You’re right. I’ll get some.” I moved to pass him, heading toward the table with the drinks.
16
Seraphia
As I passed him, I swore I heard the faintest intake of breath. I kept walking, heart pounding, and stopped at the table. The crystal decanter of whiskey glittered with a golden light, and I seriously considered it.
But no. I needed to escape. As much as I could really use a drink right now, it was not the time.
I picked up the water pitcher and poured. As the liquid splashed into the cup, I heard Hades’ chair scrape against the floor.
Movement flashed out of the corner of my eye, and I turned.
He walked toward the window, all tightly leashed power, graceful and sure. He’d discarded his cape, but still wore the thin, black leather tunic, and gloves.
House armor.
Tension was evident in every line of his body as he propped his hands on the wide stone windowsill and looked out at the night. The sea breeze blew his hair back, and he’d never looked so much like a tortured warrior king as he did in that moment.
If only he were fighting on the side of good.
I shook the thought away and left my glass of water, walking toward him. He’d been born for one purpose only, sought to serve the darkness that had created him. It was all he’d known.
Yet there was conflict within him. Struggle and light.
I’d felt it when we’d kissed.
I stopped beside him, shoulder to shoulder as we looked out at the wine-dark sea. Though we didn't touch, the absence of contact somehow made the tension twist tighter.
He turned his head and looked down at me, his eyes deep as the sea. His brow creased as he met my gaze. Heat flickered in his eyes, tightly leashed control that fought to be free.
“You haunt me, you know.” His voice rumbled, low and dark. “Your scent, your voice, your face. The memory of your touch. I can’t seem to get it out of my head, no matter how hard I try.”
Shock lanced me, followed quickly by a rush of pure, bright want.
“I feel no warmth. I never have. The entire world is cold. So cold that I’ve grown numb. And then you arrive . . .” He shook his head, his gaze returning to the sea. “And suddenly there is warmth and light.”
I released a shuddery breath, mind whirring.
I’d been right.
I’d known it, but he was admitting it.
There really was more to him. So much more.
I looked up at him, towering above me. Broad shoulders and powerful chest, arms so heavily muscled. He could break me in two if he wanted. He might, if I served no purpose for him.
And yet, he wouldn’t.
I knew it like I knew my own name.
My fear was still there, but also a terrified certainty that he wouldn’t hurt me.
Could I use this?
If he felt the light when he touched me, shouldn’t I take advantage of that? Show him a bit of what life could be? I had a little while until the sleeping potion knocked him out, and I wanted this.
Fates help me, I wanted it.
I drew in an unsteady breath, sucking in the salty sea air, and leaned my shoulder against his.
Awareness screamed through me, and he stiffened, going so tight and taut that I thought he might break. His voice was rough when he spoke. “What are you doing?”
“Touching you.”
“You’ve never done so willingly.”
“I want to.”
He turned to me, his eyes ablaze. The cold spell on him was temporarily broken, like clouds parting for the sun. Why? The sleeping potion was only meant to knock him out, and when it did, he would go down hard. Perhaps the whiskey?
Though he’d barely drunk any, and he was enormous.
Was it the idea that I might want to touch him that affected him so?
“Seraphia.” My name sounded like a prayer on his lips. “I’ve never seen anything like you.”