I’d honestly rather he not. “The bosses are pledges who paid off their debts and earned the right not to do anything they don’t want to.”
“I see. Do you plan to earn that privilege?”
My stomach twists, my palms suddenly sweaty. I really don’t want to explain that I’ve already paid off my debt—I just have nowhere else to go. I stare at the eggs on my fork and hope he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in my voice. “I enjoy cooking.”
An awkward silence settles between us as I try my damnedest to ignore him. Until he hooks a foot in my stool and tugs me around to face him, his legs bracketing my knees, and he’s close enough that instead of breakfast I smell…him. Bitter dark chocolate.
I’ve always had a thing for chocolate.
Hades doesn’t speak, just stares.
I stare back, fork miraculously still piled with my bite of eggs suspended in the air. With a glare, I stuff the bite in my mouth and rebelliously chew, then swallow. “Is there a reason for making me gaze adoringly upon your magnificence while I eat?”
Horrible choice of words. I wait for some sort of comment about how adoring him was bound to happen sooner or later, or how nice it is that I finally recognize his magnificence.
It’s a good thing I finished that bite of eggs, though, because I definitely would have choked on it when he says, “I may take you up on that veiled challenge to make you do exactly that.”
Could he? I mean with his powers, not just the raw-magnetism thing he has going? “You don’t fool me.” I brave it out. “You’re not Aphrodite.”
After another tension-pulsing pause, his lips quirk. “Thank the Titans for that much, at least.”
I let out a silent breath and immediately suck it right back in as he continues to keep me here, only now his gaze changes, turns more intense, his eyes a pure, radiant silver in the sunlight. “And to answer your earlier question…maybe I enjoy gazing at you, my star.”
Holy hellhounds. This is more than a poor mortal should have to deal with. I keep forgetting who and what he is—I really should just keep my mouth shut and my head down around this god.
But if I lower my gaze now, he wins. So instead, I crook an eyebrow. “I mean, I know I’m cute and all, but falling for me is probably a bad idea.”
Not that he could. This might be the first time I’ve forgotten that. Even for a second.
“We don’t want things to get awkward,” I add, tone nonchalant.
He smiles—a real one—and the impact is like a strike to the chest. Those hidden dimples appear as a laugh escapes him.
I swallow for a different reason this time.
With a shake of his head, he turns me back to the island. “At least now you’re looking at me instead of avoiding eye contact.”
Leave it alone. Let him have the last word.
“You look terrible, by the way,” he remarks.
There goes any truth to gazing at me for the fun of it.
“I know. I didn’t sleep well.” Between Boone, Hades, and the first event looming over my head like a guillotine’s blade, sleep was a long shot anyway. I run a weary hand over my face. “You should see the bruises under my clothes.”
His immediate frown reminds me of Zeus’ thunderclouds. “Show me.” A command.
Maybe he’ll feel bad if he sees and take pity on me. I lean back, unzip my tactical vest, and pull up my fitted shirt. Even I wince at the sight of the black-and-blue line across the bottom of my ribs.
“Fuck.” Hades growls the word, and I blink at him.
Then he grabs a cell phone out of a pocket in his jeans—gods have cell phones?—and types rapidly. Almost as soon as he sets his phone down, a man appears in the kitchen with us.
He’s an older gentleman, with wrinkles around his brown eyes and graying hair at the temples and in his beard.
Hades is in full autocratic mode, tossing around the orders. “Asclepius, she needs repair.”
Like I’m a broken computer or something, but at least I know who this is now.
Asclepius. That explains the aging. Gods don’t age, but according to some versions of the story, Asclepius started as a mortal man who was punished by Zeus for the crime of restoring the dead to life. Afterward, he was welcomed into Olympus as the god of healing.
Asclepius takes one look at my bruising, then holds a hand over me. His beige skin glows blackish blue now, like the color of my bruising, and a lovely warmth spreads outward in my chest. I gasp as the nagging ache of each wound disappears, and before my eyes, the purplish mark on my stomach fades. The glow from Asclepius’ hand changes color to match, until all that’s left is healthy tissue. I poke at a spot with my finger and smile. Not a single twinge of pain.
“That’s a neat trick.” I look up at Asclepius. “Thank you.”
His eyes crinkle with an answering smile. “No more belly flops on the stairs, young lady.”
“You knew about that?”
Crooked teeth flash at me. “All the gods, demigods, and other immortal creatures keep track of the Crucible. The winner tends to affect us.”
I should have guessed.
“We watched the entire night with interest.” He slides a look between Hades and me.
Terrific. I’m like a reality show celebrity for the immortal world. Just what I always wanted.
Asclepius gives Hades a stern look that I picture a grandpa making. “You should have called me sooner.”