He snakes his free hand upward, brushing lightly at my throat before threading his fingers in my hair to cup the back of my head, drawing me toward him.
“And you, Lyra?” he asks. “Would you take advantage of me?”
He’s so close, lips a whisper away, eyes swirling with a heat that reaches in and around and through me. And I’m suddenly very aware that I’m in a bed, wearing flimsy clothes. Thank the gods I undid that monitor, because it would be beeping wildly about now.
“Not if I could help it,” I whisper back.
“Damn. I wish you hadn’t said that.” On a groan, he dips his head, claiming my lips in a kiss I’m more than willing to give him. Freely offered.
That one touch tumbles me into a vortex of sensations—the softness of his lips sweetly sipping mine, the warmth of his hand in my hair, which tightens against my scalp on a twinge of pain that only feeds the heat. As if that previous kiss marking me to wander the Underworld unhindered is still there, in my skin. My lips tingle, and I moan.
He pulls back slowly and puts his forehead to mine, eyes closed, heart pounding under my palm. “Falling for me is dangerous,” he whispers.
I stiffen. Is he reminding me of my curse or that he’s a god? Pride snaps into place. “Who said anything about falling for you?”
This is not that. I don’t know what it is. Attraction, obviously. Curiosity, definitely. What would it be like to simply find pleasure in someone just for the sake of pleasure? Knowing even friendship can’t really happen, wanting anything more would make me a fool.
I already have the jester’s hat after years of crushing on Boone.
He opens his eyes, staring into mine, doubtful.
I grin and hope I’m hiding the small amount of panic fluttering around inside me. “I just like the way you kiss.”
Instead of laughing, he narrows his eyes. “You don’t know—”
“Well, well, well,” a distinctly feminine voice interrupts from the doorway. “Isn’t this…lusciously naughty.”
I freeze, then duck, burying my burning and likely bright-scarlet face in his neck. He’s blocking me from view, the way he’s leaning over me. “Go the fuck away, Aphrodite,” he growls without turning around.
“I would, my darling. You know I would love to let you get back to whatever this is with joy. I’d join in if I thought you’d let me, but alas, I can’t.”
“What do you want?”
Irritation enters Aphrodite’s voice. “Zeus never did like to play fair, and we all heard Lyra’s healing was going slowly. I wanted to give her enough time to be ready.”
“For what?” Hades snaps.
Pressed up against him, I can feel frustration vibrate through his body. Subtle, but it’s there. I made him feel that. I smile into his neck. He is still so hard against me, and if he’s anything like me, right now his body is screaming to finish what we started. I shift against him, press into him just a tiny bit, and he grunts. I smile wider.
“Oh my,” Aphrodite breathes, and I can picture her fanning herself. “I might orgasm just from the energy wafting off the two of you. Better not let the others catch you, though.” That’s a warning from her. Dead serious.
“What did you want to give Lyra time to be ready for, Addie?” Hades asks through clenched teeth.
“I’ve been informed by Zeus that I must start my Labor in one hour.”
Oh gods. My stomach pitches. The Labor that involves someone I love the most.
65
Aphrodite’s Labor
“This is definitely the most unusual start to a Labor so far.” I say this to Aphrodite, who gives me an enigmatic smile and flutters her ridiculously long eyelashes.
She’s back in va-va-voom mode in a light-pink, figure-hugging strapless jumpsuit that looks, of course, amazing against her warm beige skin and long, black hair, which she’s let hang down in luxurious waves to her backside. “It gets more unusual, I promise,” she says in that husky voice that only makes it harder to put what I was doing with Hades a mere hour ago out of my mind.
What I was feeling with Hades an hour ago.
With Hades.
The god of death.
I’m not going to be cliché and ask myself what the hells I was thinking. I know exactly what I was thinking…that it felt fucking fantastic.
And that’s all well and good, but the real question is…after this is over, assuming I survive, what could we possibly ever be to each other?
There is no future for a mortal and a god.
Besides, what I should be focusing on right now is yet another Labor—and not dying so I can get around to making any plans at all. Although the way this challenge is setting up, who knows how that’s going to go.
Because I am strapped to a narrow bed.
Sure, it’s a comfy single bed with pink silk sheets—this is Aphrodite, after all—and what’s strapping me down are fuzzy hand and ankle cuffs, also pink. The cuffs connect to a scrolling iron headboard and footboard. I would think this was Aphrodite’s way of having her wicked way with me if the other champions weren’t here, all strapped to similar beds, like an odd rainbow made of our uniforms, as we’re lined up by virtue. Black at the end, of course.
“Welcome to your sixth Labor,” Aphrodite purrs. “This time, your survival isn’t the focus. Love is. Today, your task will be finding someone special.”
The one I love most.
