No. This is a gift no one should knock back. Worse, I shouldn’t want to kiss him, but that curiosity thing has me firmly in its clawed grip. It’s not like I’m risking my heart.
It’s just a kiss, Lyra.
Decision made, I close my eyes and tilt my face toward his like a sunflower following Apollo. “Go ahead.”
He doesn’t move for so long that I almost open my eyes again, but then his lips touch mine.
Softly at first, but that’s not the surprising part. It’s that he doesn’t simply kiss me and then be done with it. Instead he brushes, then brushes again before pressing his lips to mine more firmly. He only lightly touches my chin with his fingers and my lips with his, but his warmth seeps into me…everywhere.
His lips gently part mine, shaping, teasing, becoming more demanding, and I don’t pull away. I’m too caught up in the everything of it. My head spins, and I don’t know which way is up, down, or sideways. I open under his touch and lean into him, and he doesn’t hesitate, the kiss taking on a heat and a life of its own as he plunders and owns and takes even as he gives.
And I don’t want to stop.
Because the god of death’s kisses are…delicious.
A craving stirs for more as his chocolate scent swirls around me, blending with the taste of him.
He makes a sound deep in his throat, then his kisses change again, turning hungry, hot, and menacing, like the predator I know he is, but it’s too late for me. Too late in so many ways. I’m lost in my response to him. Matching him kiss for kiss in heat and heady, intoxicating peril. Exposed and undeniably vulnerable and yet powerful in my own right because he groans.
Hades groans.
With no other warning, his power releases through that touch. It snaps through me in a wildfire of sensation, searing every single tiny nerve, every inch, spreading outward from my lips. His magic consumes me like a blaze as it sinks into and under my skin to lie there in wait like his tattoos.
Marking me as his.
An involuntary tremble takes hold of me. In its wake—as the blaze cools and the magic settles—comes the cold snap of reality, of where we are, of the only reason he’s kissing me. And I go as still as a corpse under his touch. Hades must sense the change in me, because, though he still holds my chin with his thumb and forefinger, I feel him pull back slightly.
I blink my eyes open to stare wordlessly up at him, holding my breath—because what could I possibly say in this moment?
“I wondered…” he whispers, more to himself than me. Those silver eyes spark almost like they’re touched with starlight, and for the wildest second, I think maybe he’s as shaken as I am.
But then he offers me a knowing smirk.
Damned if I’m going to stand here and awkwardly avert my gaze like a girl who just had her first kiss. Instead, I scowl and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Of course the god of death kisses like a demon.”
18
Back Where I Was
A new chime of bells has me looking away, breaking Hades’ gaze and his hold on my chin.
All he says is, “That bell is the signal to rejoin the others.”
After unrolling his sleeves and putting his jacket back on, Hades turns and, in a formal gesture I’ve only ever seen in movies set in bygone eras, offers me his elbow.
That’s it? Kiss me until I’m hazy and hot, and then back to business?
I frown, and he nods at his proffered elbow. As soon as I place my hand on his sleeve, we disappear, only to reappear on the platform, which is now clear of both the food and all the items.
The other gods are waiting. And glaring again.
Zeus snorts. “For the first time in over two millennia of the Crucible, all the champions have received their gifts.”
He shoots me a look. Is it my imagination, or did lightning spark in his eyes?
I don’t realize I’m curling my fingers into Hades’ arm until he puts his other hand over mine. I force my muscles to relax.
“What happened to her shoes?” Hera asks, looking me up and down.
“Her shoes?” Aphrodite’s chuckle alone is like audible sin. “What happened to her top?” Then she tsks. “Sleeping with champions isn’t prohibited, of course, but already, Hades? That was fast.”
Her teasing reminds me so much of Boone. Experience tells me that instead of spluttering, blushing, and denying, it’s better to say nothing and look bored. Which I do.
Hades trails a finger lightly over my knuckles in a seductive touch. “It won’t be here, and it won’t be hurried.” He looks at both of his brothers. “And I won’t have to transform into an animal to convince her.”
Oh. My. Gods.
Heat creeps up my neck. Couldn’t he have just not said anything, either? How hard would that have been?
An odd crackling electricity fills the air, soft but there, and I think Zeus might be about to lose his shit. Until Hera slips her hand into his. “Let it go,” she urges softly. “You know he lives to taunt you.”
After a second, Zeus’ shoulders relax. Then he steps forward so that all eyes turn to him. He’s back in charge. “You will live here in Olympus with your patron when not playing in one of the Labors.”
More than one of the other champions winces or pales or gulps. I, however, am nearing full-on panic. Live…with Hades. With Hades.
Zeus is oblivious to our reactions. “We hope you will enjoy your time here in Olympus. Your first official Labor begins tomorrow.”
