Page 127

Eve

Hades took an extra-long look in the shower tonight, but I couldn’t help grinning. Did he really think that stalling would deter me? I looked up at the clock and sighed. He had been "freshening up" for forty minutes.

I got up from the bed and stood by the bathroom door. I listened for any sound. I heard water and... humming. I pulled back, just a bit stunned. Did the Hand of Death sing in the shower? I tried to create a mental image and couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"Hey," I called out, knocking on the door with my knuckles. "Are you planning to set a world record in there, or are you trying to write a musical?"

The humming abruptly stopped, replaced by silence. Then came his low, gravelly voice. "Some things are worth taking time for, Ellen."

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me. "Well, unless you’re planning on becoming the next opera sensation, I suggest you hurry up. I’m not waiting all night for you to make an appearance."

There was a pause, and then the sound of water stopped.

"You were laughing," he said through the door, his tone a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

I froze. "No, I wasn’t."

"You were," he insisted, and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

I crossed my arms, standing firm. "What if I was? Is humming in the shower a new intimidation tactic I should be worried about?"

The door cracked open just a sliver, and Hades’ head appeared, damp hair falling over his sharp, chiseled face. I gulped as I took him in. There was something so disarmingly attractive about the way he looked in this moment.

"You find my humming funny?" he asked, raising a single brow in mock offense.

I played it off and tilted my head, giving him a mischievous grin. "Hilarious, actually. I never pegged the Hand of Death as a fan of shower concerts."

He leaned against the doorframe, his towel slung low around his hips. My eyes went down to his Adonis belt, his happy trail leading to the place clad by the towel. My gaze trailed down, only to be greeted with a bulge. My head snapped up.

I met a knowing look in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but I was quick to cut him off.

"One word, and you will have to gallivant all over your tower in your onesies."

"Your challenges and punishments don’t work like that, but I won’t push."

"Yeah, right. As if I don’t know you."

"There are many things about me you don’t know, Red."

I raised a brow, refusing to let his unshaken confidence rattle me. "Clearly. But I think I’ll survive without the soundtrack of your shower symphony."

He let out a soft chuckle, low and rich, the sound sending a ripple of heat straight to my core. "Careful, Ellen. You’re venturing into dangerous territory."

I shrugged, unbothered. "I’ve been living in dangerous territory ever since I met you."

"Good point," he conceded. "But if you want to join me, you’re free," he said, turning around. "If you’re interested in a duet, I have a microphone you can use." His last statement was low and sultry.

I stared at the door, blinking as realization dawned on me as to what he implied.

*Oh, for the love of—*

I grabbed a pillow and tossed it at the closed door, even though it did nothing but bounce harmlessly to the floor. "You’re a damn pervert!" I called out, but the laugh I heard from the other side only confirmed that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Hades always knew how to toe the line between teasing and temptation, and he walked that line like he owned the damn thing.

I flopped back onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling as if it could shield me from the sudden flush burning up my neck.

A few moments passed, and the bathroom door finally opened.

Hades stepped out, steam billowing around him like some divine entrance straight out of a forbidden novel. His damp hair dripped down his broad shoulders, and the towel hung precariously low on his hips—lower than it had any right to. I had no doubt he was doing it on purpose.

I averted my gaze, focusing intently on anything that wasn’t him. The bedside lamp suddenly became the most fascinating object I had ever seen.

"You’re awfully quiet," Hades mused, his voice light but edged with amusement. "I thought you had a lot to say just a minute ago."

I sat up, fixing him with a glare that I hoped masked the embarrassment lingering beneath. "I’m just trying to protect your fragile ego. I figured if I said too much, you might start thinking you’re irresistible."

He smirked, crossing the room with slow, deliberate strides. "Oh, I don’t need you to say it. Your eyes do the talking."

I scoffed, standing to put some distance between us, but Hades had a way of closing gaps without ever really trying. Before I knew it, I was backed against the headrest, his arms braced on either side of me, trapping me without even touching.

The heat from his body was maddening.

"And what exactly," he asked, his voice a soft rumble near my ear, "were your eyes saying, Red?"

I swallowed hard, refusing to let him win this battle of wills. "That you should invest in a longer towel. Or at least wear pants like a normal person."

Hades chuckled, the sound reverberating through the space between us. His breath brushed against my neck, and for a brief, torturous moment, he lingered there—close enough that I could feel the tension humming in the air. "Thought you would be interested in seeing your microphone," he muttered.

"I don’t—"

Suddenly, his mouth descended on my neck, tracing its curve with his hot mouth. I gasped at the contact, my core tightening around nothing.

His hand slithered over my thigh, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of my nightgown as if it were nothing.

A shiver rippled through me, but I stubbornly bit down on the gasp threatening to escape. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

Still, my body betrayed me—hips tilting forward just slightly, chasing the warmth of his touch before I could stop myself.

Hades’ mouth curled into a smirk against my neck, and I hated how easily he noticed.

"See?" His voice was a low, dangerous murmur against my skin, each word sending a delicious vibration down my spine. "You say no, but your body…" His fingers pressed into the soft curve of my thigh, trailing upward with agonizing slowness. "...it’s begging for more."