Page 385 of The First Taste

I guess I’ve just found a time limit for myself. Since that fateful night that Constantine pushed me over the cliff’s edge, I have been treating myself with kid gloves. Things I used to do without thought? Working for two hours straight, trying to do the same thing over and over?

I consider that to be something I left behind in my art school days. Dead and buried, with my pride and ambition alongside it.

I shake out my hand. But it begins to really hurt, a pounding ache. Without some aspirin, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to work anymore.

“Hades?” I call.

I expect him to be surly. To be hateful, even.

But I do expect him to answer. After all, this is his damned project that I’m killing myself to work on.

I turn my head. My gaze sweeps the warehouse and finds it empty. My gaze narrows.

“Hello?”

No answer.

I trail over to the bed that Hades has claimed for himself. It’s the same one that we hooked up on.

I run my fingers over the downy comforter, tracing the place where I lay. Where Hades made me feel such extraordinary pleasure.

Heat shoots through me at the memory of it, so brief yet so exquisite.

The same place I was sitting when he turned cold as ice.

Yeah, I have to stop reliving those moments. I’ve been tormented by them for the last two days. My skin crawls.

I need to finish this goddamn artwork fast so that I can be rid of Hades forever.

I lean against the bed and hear a quiet crumple. I tilt my head, examining the side of the bed where my leg rests. A flash of colorful paper catches my eye. I see a thick stack of euros sticking out from under the mattress.

When I lift the corner of the bed, I’m stunned to see what a million euros is easily maybe, stacked under Hades’ mattress as cavalierly as one might hide a diary or a baseball bat. There are also three sleek, shiny guns.

I make a face. Wherever Hades is, he’s missing some hardware that I would rather not know existed.

I snag one of the stacks of money. The crisp bills smell new and are heavier than I imagined they would be, somehow. After a moment’s thought, I pick up a gun, too.

You can never be too careful when you’re a fugitive on the run from the whole fucking world.

It only takes about thirty seconds of hunting before I locate the keys to the bright red convertible parked outside the warehouse. Hades will likely be pissed when he realizes that I’ve taken the car… but he wasn’t here when I needed some aspirin.

My stomach gurgles faintly. Make that aspirin and something to eat other than stale pastries. I don’t need to go far… just the first gas station or retail pharmacy shop should do the trick.

I scoop up my phone, pocketing it and the stack of euros before I head outside. It’s bright outside, the day as hot as all the others. Dust clings to my stylish black booties as I strut out to the car.

It’s been years since I drove a car. Especially one as expensive and sleek as the little black two seater. I can’t help thinking about that as I start up the Mustang, revving the engine.

Excitement makes me shiver as I turn the car around and nudge it toward town. The first car I ever learned to drive was a stick, just like this. But I am a little rusty, especially starting out.

Yeah, I stall the engine a couple of times before I get the hang of it. The gears grind a few times.

But hey. It’s not like Hades will care… right?

No, I shouldn’t be worried about what he thinks. He deeply, truly sucks as a person anyway.

Gaining a little confidence, I zip along the highway and crest the last big hill separating us from the city. At the very top of the hill, the city spreads out below me like a pool of ink.

“Wow,” I mumble to myself. “People that said Monaco was dazzling weren’t lying.”