Page 16 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows (Runaway Prince Hotel #5)
Chapter Thirteen
LET’S GET LOST
Théo
M y heart jackhammers when I stand in front of Zagreus’s door and knock. I haven’t been back here since I ended up in his bed over a month ago, and we kissed the next morning. He’s never been to my room either—one more unspoken barrier.
What was the point of putting our palpable attraction on hold again? Oh, right—actually getting to know each other instead of giving in to our basic instincts.
I’m so out of my element!
The lack of local acquaintances lets me compartmentalize my life in Oregon.
Needless to say, I don’t forget why I’m here in the first place—observing the museum, studying the blueprints and security systems, and strategizing how to prevent myself from getting caught.
This kind of operation requires impeccable precision and flawless timing.
Hence, my taking residence at the Renversé Hotel for the next six months, courtesy of Stanislas Volkoff.
As much as teaching Simon French on occasion slides into my well-oiled schedule, I hadn’t planned on a Greek god hijacking most of my downtime.
Of course, I mocked my client’s belief in the urban legend surrounding the Renversé Hotel sheltering runaway otherworldly princes, but I did spot a few guests who didn’t seem quite human—such as the one with purple skin, white hair, and bright cerulean eyes.
But why would I do a double take when my sole curiosity lies in an actual Greek god these days? A god who resides on the hidden and restricted 13th floor—access granted by him, no less.
Yes, Zagreus is something else!
I hadn’t expected him to push me to accept a job at the café either.
What’s in it for him?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m having a blast, and the part-time gig allows plenty of freedom. It’s a win-win situation. I get the perks of learning the ropes in a real-life situation while imparting some French recipes that fit the menu.
My pulse races as my knuckles rap on the door again, and I sigh. I can’t help but wonder why he would suggest we meet here. I am a loner by nature, and not understanding my chemistry with Zagreus irritates me. I don’t do proximity; it’s too risky.
All in all, I doubt it’s his subtle attempt to give us a chance to rethink our “off-limits” designation.
Yet, I’m aware of the lustful glances we share, especially during our early evening laps in the indoor pool, where I force myself not to stare at his questionable choice of Speedos.
But he’s been acting strange. His curiosity about my assignment has grown, and I can’t pinpoint the reason.
A strangled noise escapes my stomach—it’s in knots.
Refusing Zagreus’s invitation would have been rude, right?
I swallow the lump in my throat when a bare-chested Zagreus in baby blue PJ bottoms welcomes me.
O-kay… What does he have in mind?
He’s sexy as fuck.
My chest heaves, demanding release from its confinement, and so does my twitching cock. Passing him sends shivers down my spine, and my heart skips a beat at the appetizing sight. I ignore my traitorous body, hoping he won’t notice.
“Good evening, Théodore. I’m glad you could make it.” His deep voice wrenches me from my reverie. His perfect face, adorned with growing stubble, breaks into a huge smile, and he steps aside, inviting me in.
It’s been two days since we last saw each other.
He’s been away on one of his frequent short trips.
His recent evasiveness is atypical and betrays that what’s happening isn’t related to his “classic Underworld duty.” His place of work enables a one-way trip to the final destination for some hotel guests.
Therefore, he guides their souls to the Underworld, when their fate calls.
Far be it from me to check on his whereabouts.
Trying to solve the enigma that is Zagreus, Prince of the Underworld, is complicated, so I store the meager pieces of information he reveals.
Guess I missed tonight’s dress code memo…
Worrying the corner of my lower lip, I watch him.
Lethal. Magnetic. Endearing.
I huff at how overdressed I am in a signature Victorian outfit; I assumed we were heading out.
Not that I look half bad—I hadn’t expected us to stay in, that’s all.
So, I opted for my favorite embroidered long burgundy jacket underneath a light leather coat to protect me from the breezy May evening.
What’s going on here?
The faint smell of popcorn assaults my nostrils as Zagreus opens his suite door, and my clothed bicep skims his bare arm as I stroll to the living room area. I’m guessing he had a snack, using the microwave kind that he swears by.
My edginess contrasts with his apparent openness.
Yeah, something’s not right …
My spine seizes with every step I take.
Planning is my thing. Strategizing is my jam. Predicting tonight? No can do.
On top of his half-naked body, I’m once again caught off guard when he mentions room service and a hot movie night with popcorn involved. And by hot, I don’t mean hooking up while watching porn. Nope, nothing like that.
The walls are closing in on me, and I’m suffocating.
Why is it so hot in here?
I suck in a breath and force a polite grin at Zagreus, but my voice comes out strained.
“Is something wrong with the thermostat?” I clear my throat, buying time, but when my gaze drops, I’m done for.
His broad chest—sleek, sculpted, delectable—pulls me in.
My pulse hitches, my cock perks, and I purse my lips to avoid licking them at his glorious sight.
I wonder if that silkiness comes by birth or by blade.
A hearty laugh follows, bringing me back to the now. “Sorry. I crank up the heat in the evening.” He ambles off to fumble with the thermostat, yet leaves it too high for my taste, and I lie, telling him it’s fine. “That way, I can be comfortable and fall asleep.”
“Reminds you of home?” I tease, remembering how the thick, humid air clung to me down there, and have to fight the smirk that rises on its own.
My hand has a mind of its own and reaches for his forearm, the wayward move of someone who’s lost all composure around him.
His skin is cool to the touch. I rein in the urge, tucking both hands into my pants pockets while doing my best to adjust to the temperature.
I wince, beads of sweat forming at the top of my spine, so I stay put, staring at his bare feet before looking up at him.
“Precisely, although I don’t have human sensations, I’ve trained my body to embrace them and react as people do, but room temperature…”
I hate myself for not listening to his full explanation, distracted by the outline of his cock broadcast through the soft fabric of his pants.
Oblivious to my mind in the gutter, enhancing my foul mood, Zagreus turns the heater down a notch again and apologizes. My damp face must have betrayed me. Oh well, I can’t complain. He hasn’t put on more clothes, so I get to enjoy the view and his company.
Not long after we settle in, he picks up the phone and orders room service. A few minutes later, he steps away, only to reappear with a bowl of microwaved popcorn. I’m slipping off my jacket, eyeing at it as if it's some kind of joke—or a very committed theme choice.
Okay…
It’s not that I don’t recognize the vibe. I grew up watching old VHS tapes with my grandparents, so popcorn in a hotel room is on-brand for that era.
But then the rest of the meal shows up, and it’s... pretty good. Nothing fancy, but solid. Thoughtful plating, warm bread, sauce that didn’t come from a jar. The kind of dinner that makes you pause between mouthfuls because you weren’t expecting to enjoy it.
After we finish, he stands, smooth and casual, and gestures towards the bedroom like it’s the next course. My brow spikes up.
He’s acting weird again, but I can’t put my finger on what’s changed.
“Come on, I’ll fix more popcorn and grab a soda from the mini-bar so that we’ll have a complete movie experience.” There was nothing sexual about his tone, but why not watch it in the living room? I bite my tongue. “Just sit back and enjoy the show. You deserve it after the week you’ve had.”
In an instant, my favorite Greek god switches off the lights and lounges on the massive bed. Is this a date night or just hanging out? Have I been friend-zoned?
Shaking my head at the preposterous idea, I grunt as discreetly as possible and plan my next move through; if he doesn’t initiate anything tonight, I will.
He resets his back against a firm pillow, stretches his muscular legs before him, and tucks one arm behind his head.
“It’s more comfortable here than on the sofa, huh?” He pats the side of the bed. Is this a feeble excuse to lead me where he wants me?
His mixed signals heighten my sour mood, yet I’m distraught by his half-naked proximity.
“What are you waiting for?”
Willing myself to chill the fuck out, I perch on the mattress, keeping my distance from him. Hands pressed into my thighs, jaw set, and chest taut, I contain my emotions by zeroing in on his peculiar—if not outdated or dubious—taste in fashion. And yet, he oddly pulls it off.
Top Gun flickers on the TV screen. With subdued lights and a perfect soundtrack, it resembles an extended music video. He mocks me when I announce I’ve never seen this classic.
I grumble at him but can’t stay mad. “I might have missed this masterpiece, but the blatant testosterone overload and homoerotic vibes have a way of working on me.”
“I knew you’d like it.” He winks and scoots closer, scooping a second pillow to lean against before settling in.
I stiffen, his proximity stressing me out.
Dinner and a movie at his place have all the hallmarks of a date.
My chest constricts, fingers clench, and the simmering tension that’s been coiled under the surface takes hold.
It isn’t how we roll. Is he that oblivious or deliberately testing me?
Either way, my annoyance strikes back with a vengeance.