It’s paradise, after all. And he’s more than just safe. He’s well cared for. Why would he want to return to our world—
“I asked him.”
“You…asked him.” Slowly pivoting, I stare at Hades. I know I’m parroting his words, but they don’t quite make sense.
Hades lets go of my fingers and shoves his hands in his pockets, and I can tell it’s supposed to be a casual move. It’s anything but. “When I brought him to you while you were sick, I asked him if he wanted to stay in Elysium or gain immortality as a god if that option became possible.”
He asked him. Hades asked Boone, who he doesn’t like very much, what he wanted. He offered to make him an immortal god if he wanted, if he could.
“Why did you ask?”
A shrug. “No soul should be forced into something they don’t want or didn’t earn. Especially if it has permanent consequences.” He glances away with a muttered, “After all this time, I learned that the hard way.”
Is he talking about…me?
I’m still hung up on the fact that he asked Boone at all.
He asked for me. And maybe it’s incredibly conceited to assume, and I’m sure the whole no-forcing-a-soul thing is also a reason, but he did this for me. Unlike his helping Samuel heal, this time I know that thought isn’t silly. I’m sure of it. He did this because I was hurting. And yet, he wanted to make sure that my selfish pain didn’t override what Boone would choose for himself.
Hades is still trying to play it casual, but I can see the way his hands are fisting in his pockets.
An earthquake of tenderness for this god shakes my very foundations.
Forget the unspoken “don’t”s. I’m about to break every single one of them.
87
I Offer You A Choice…
I step into Hades, right into his personal space that we’ve both been so careful not to breach, flattening my palms against his chest. He goes so rigid, he could be a cold, carved marble version of himself. I ignore that as I go up on tiptoe and place a kiss right at the corner of his mouth.
A tiny, soft grunt escapes him.
Lowering, I don’t take my gaze from his, holding his stare, which is all things wary but also watchful, taking in every nuance of me.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For all of that.”
Never looking away, I back toward the pool behind me. At the same time, I slowly lift my yellow sundress up over my head, then drop it on the stone path of the garden. I’m not wearing a bra, and the perfect night air caresses my skin.
His gaze goes first to the black spider scar on my side, and I swear he’s angry—it’s infinitesimal, but I see it. But then, as if he can’t help himself, his gaze roams the rest of me with eyes turning a predatory kind of hungry, changing from mercury to cut steel.
“What are you doing?” His voice is low, wary.
Those silvery eyes tell a different story. He’s devouring me with his gaze. The heat of it is licking at my skin, even as he holds himself so fiercely still.
I smile. “I’m changing the rules of our game.”
He takes a jerking step forward, hands coming out of his pockets to fist at his sides, frustration rippling over his features. “This isn’t a game between us, Lyra.”
I’m at the edge of the pool now, and I kick off my sandals. “I know. That’s why I’m changing the rules.”
He shakes his head. “I’m leaving.”
Only he doesn’t move. Not an inch. Not even turning his gaze away.
I turn my back to him, facing the water, and slip my panties off, kicking them to the side. My heart is pounding against the cage of my ribs so hard, he can probably hear it from way over there. I may be a smart-ass and a cursed thief. I may stand up to gods and do what I think is right at any moment, even if the consequences are not all that great for me. I’ve been called a fool by more than one person in my life.
But this is different. This is true vulnerability.
Not just because I’m exposed physically, but because I’m putting me on the line. I’m telling him in no uncertain terms that if he wants me, I’m his. Forget the impossibility of the future. I’ll take what I can get in the here and now.
The Crucible has taught me that much.
It’s Hades’ choice now. He can still leave, turn away, reject what I’m offering.
That’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch if he does.
But some risks are worth the painful consequences. This is one of them.
I glance over my shoulder to find him still standing. Watching. Jaw clenched and looking like a strong shove could shatter him. Forget trying to flirt with him outrageously. That’s not me, not who I am. Instead, I offer him a sincere smile. Unlike every day of my life in the den, I don’t hide what I’m feeling.
I let him see my need. But also affection, tenderness, and…hope.
And he flinches. Direct hit.
A muscle ticks at the side of his mouth. My god of death is holding himself back so hard. That knowledge makes me smile even more. At least he’s not coldly unaffected, like I think he wants me to believe.
