Page 22 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows (Runaway Prince Hotel #5)

Chapter Sixteen

ME AND MY SHADOW

Théo

T he café was packed earlier, but the June sun brought a delicious warmth that I enjoyed as much as I could. Most of the patrons have since migrated to the boardwalk.

Right before my belated lunch break, the place quieted down, humming with typical midday sounds: muffled voices, snack orders, and the sharp hiss of steam from the infamous Gandalf punctuating it all.

I guess Zagreus isn’t the only one with a flair for cultural references—Sam, our chaos-driven manager, came up with the nickname.

Our old, temperamental espresso machine has several, depending on who you ask; most of the staff call it The Roasted or The Brown.

Hence, I’m sitting at a round table next to the large window. I take deep breaths to ground myself while adjusting my earbuds that are playing the latest tunes from Petit Biscuit, an electro-French artist I love.

With that, I’m guaranteed to ignore the ambient café noise as well as the people watching I tend to do whenever I’m facing the street.

Instead, I get lost inside my head, enjoying a slice of hummingbird cake and an extra-large cappuccino that Daryl prepared for me.

Under the scrutiny of his dark brown eyes, I baked the delicious dessert earlier.

Adding plenty of walnuts—at last able to enjoy them without worry—was a perk.

Dealing with another accident was a risk I wasn’t willing to take, but what convinced me to endure the long desensitization process a couple of years after the accident had been hearing Noé’s quip about how inconvenient it was for a gay man to fear nuts.

As much as the smartass cares about me, he couldn’t resist! The thought brings a smile to my face.

It turns wicked when my mind drifts to memory of my tongue on Zagreus’s nuts as I savor another bite of my nutty treat.

I steady myself, willing my growing erection to subside, and focus on my food.

A moan escapes from my mouth as I bask in the flavors assaulting my nostrils and taste buds.

Oblivious to me, my other coworkers chat nearby.

I’m enjoying the rare lull after the late morning chaos—it’s a welcome pause, though I doubt the managers share my sentiment; empty tables don’t pay the bills.

Simon wasn’t lying when he warned me this place could be a madhouse.

Then again, I’m new here. Mastering the routines is a work in progress, which might explain why certain details haven’t gelled yet.

I thank Zagreus often for nudging me to join the crew; back then, I had no idea he was steering me towards a righteous path.

I love this temporary gig. I’m learning a lot while indulging my sweet tooth.

Who would have thought that I’d end up subbing for longer than expected?

When I inquired about my replacement, Layla, as well as Sam and Mateo—the two café supervisors I’m most familiar with—avowed their appreciation for the help provided, and she assured me that a plan was in motion.

When I started, it wasn’t high season, so suitable candidates were scarce, leaving me free rein and little to do.

So far, they’ve failed to find anyone they’re willing to hire, which I find odd.

Meanwhile, it’s been fun having my lover’s friends—Hecate, Eros, and Nathan—sample my French pastries. Hard to believe that Greek gods weren’t familiar with some of them, even though they’d visited Earth on numerous occasions.

What’s also been fun is sneaking off to the nearest bathroom or storage room during my breaks—or Zagreus’s—to kiss the hell out of each other like hormonal teenagers.

Lips swollen, hair messy, skin flushed. Of course, heat flares whenever footsteps threaten to crash these hot, hurried, hungry trysts—danger ignites me, though I can tell he’s danced this game before and sometimes pulls back, less eager for the thrill.

And yes, it happened yesterday—one of my coworkers from the café walked in on us mid-make-out, with my hands all over Zagreus’s perfect butt.

I wouldn’t have seen him at all if he hadn’t jolted me from Zag’s embrace with a casual, “Sorry to interrupt.” In turn, I stammered out, “Sorry, Justice, we, um… we were—” but the tatted-covered barista snatched what he needed from the secluded space and bolted.

Stealing kisses from my boyfriend was a luxury I missed out on in my teens, so I’m indulging in it now.

Too bad Eros had to return to his godly duties and left with Zagreus this morning.

I didn’t have the opportunity to grill Eros about the riddles he speaks.

I wish I had a clearer grasp of his task—this whole bringing soulmates together concept eludes me.

It’s overwhelming; my pulse stammers and skips whenever I dwell on it.

First, I didn’t have a clue souls were real. Second, I had no idea Greek gods ruled. And third, I didn’t expect the Prince of the Underworld to move heaven and earth to steer my soul towards redemption.

The odds are stacked against me; I must follow through with the contract I signed. Zagreus’s intervention forced to rethink my approach—how to pull this off solo while staying in line with his agenda and the path he wants me on.

Somehow, we became inseparable almost overnight, exploring Greek mythology with a live specimen, teasing and testing boundaries.

Close to someone like this is foreign territory, yet his long-overdue return to the Underworld—a necessary evil to report to Hades, his father and king—leaves me raw.

His absence clears the space I need to concentrate.

Zagreus, as the artist behind Hidden Shadows , shaped the outcome in ways I couldn’t ignore.

That’s why we suggested an alternative plan—as a team—but I’ve kept him out of the picture.

No distractions. No temptation. No screw-ups. Tonight, the operation is mine.

Why risk jinxing it, right?

Nathan mastered a perfect reproduction of Hidden Shadows in record time, every line precise. Zagreus’s emotional guidance while crafting it gave him the edge.

After my work’s done tonight, the forged version will serve as my cover in the museum.

I won’t risk making headlines about a missing painting and scaring off my client, so the original will return to its rightful owner…

or rather to Monaco first, since fulfilling my contract is a prerequisite to escaping payback.

That’s where my lover will reveal his trump card and prove just how skilled he is.

I hadn’t expected him to enter the equation, but now, I could do without him.

I trust this whole heist won’t blow up in our faces.

I’ve mapped the museum inside and out: the electrical system and its backup I’ll disable before closing time, and the main surveillance camera I’ll bend to show an empty room while I work my own brand of magic.

Between the café, the contract, and the chaos of my own desires, I’ve carved a narrow route that keeps me alive long enough to finish this job.

With Zagreus gone, I’ll focus. I’ll act.

I’ll complete the plan he set in motion—and somehow, survive the night with a semi-stained soul.

My favorite god reminded me it will take more effort than the new plan, but this is a start.

I’m not nervous about the theft. That’s not how I roll. My motto is that a well-thought-out strategy ensures a smooth delivery. Confident in my own skills, I embrace the uncertainty that comes with action. But above all, as I told Zagreus, the thrill is unmatched.

Well, it was up until...

I cough, set down my cappuccino, lick my lips, and stare at what remains of my dessert.

A crooked smile pulls at my mouth as flashes of that resurface.

Squirming on the wooden chair, my dirty mind veers straight to the mind-blowing sex Zagreus and I have been having for weeks now.

Relentless. Inventive. Addictive. We’ve been learning each other’s triggers by pushing limits… and ending up sore.

My covered dick twitches.

Down, boy.

I dig my phone out of my pants pocket and reread Zagreus’s text—again and again.

Zagreus

Stay safe. I know you got this.

Be back soon. Will miss you, babe.

Closing my eyes for a beat, I sigh. As ridiculous as it sounds, I miss him.

He entertains my grouchy self better than anyone, though he claims that my attitude is a front.

According to him, beneath—I quote—"my rough edges,” I’m a selfless, softie under all that gruff.

Riiight … spend enough time around people, and even a—reformed? —loner like me starts to mellow.

Warmth rushes to my cheeks, snapping my eyes open. But even with my head full of raunchy thoughts, one nagging question slips in—and I wince.

What if he gets trapped and never comes back?

Shivering under the weight of someone’s stare, I put my phone down, pause the music, and look up wide-eyed. “Is this seat taken?” The gentle yet commanding feminine voice uselessly asks.

I pull out my earbuds, holding them in one hand while the other rubs the back of my neck.

My face softens with a surprised grin. “Be my guest, Hecate.” I watch the tall, willowy goddess delicately put her tray on the table. There’s a crème renversée and a large teapot and ceramic cup because, of course, she wouldn’t use a paper cup.

Still, I didn’t expect to see her here—especially not on her own. I can’t help but wonder if she thinks she’s needed here more than where she came from.

Storing my earbuds case in my pants pocket, I wait for her to comply.

Once she’s pulled up a chair, her pale gray gaze captures mine, and she offers a small smile. Despite our mundane surroundings, her regal posture reminds me of who she is.

My heart skips a beat. I catch Daryl’s stunned expression as he busies himself behind the counter.

I’m sitting across from the goddess of sorcery, ghosts, magic, and night. Hold on! Why is she here? What’s going on? Is Zagreus in trouble?

The dark-haired goddess takes a bite of the dessert, moaning unabashedly. Daryl’s lips part in response to the otherworldly sound, and I pretend to ignore the flush creeping across his dark ochre skin.

Yup, she moaned!

So maybe there’s no impending somber news…

I wait, and she addresses me in perfect French.

Funny that my exchanges with her friend are strictly in English, as if Oregon dictates it.

“I’m glad Zagreus talked you into working here.

It’s delicious. I love your French patisseries . You should persevere in this field.”

Unsure where this is going, I reply, “ Merci ,” nod, and scrape the last spoonful of my hummingbird cake—a dessert with no claim to French origin.

I sigh, letting the pause stretch. Her posture is unnervingly still, like a statue.

I trace her every movement while she picks at the dessert, and finally she breaks the silence.

“Zagreus’s been playing along, hasn’t he?

” Her words seem to confirm my assumption.

She leans forward and whispers, “I guess I got carried away by the crème renversée and forgot my human manners.” She pours a cup and takes a few sips of tea.

“Anyway, I came here to thank you for making my friend happy. I’m thrilled that he found you again.

” Again? My gaze narrows. “I can tell that he missed you.”

Huh?

Then, it clicks. I bet she’s referring to the soulmate thing Zagreus has hinted at. She thinks I’m him , too, doesn’t she?

I can’t deny it flatters me, but the idea gnaws at me. I should be on my mission, not untangling whatever Zagreus has told his friends. I clear my throat, but it won’t obey me.

I want him to like me for me, not because of an ancient memory he clings to. Not because of Eros meddling in our lives. Not because of some curse Hecate might have woven.

Speechless, I cast my eyes down and bring my attention to the lukewarm cappuccino and finish it.

“From what I’ve seen, you anchor him, and I value that.

” She plays with a strand of her loose hair.

“Listen, I’m not here to play mother hen, but I’m protective of him.

He’s been burned once, so here’s my drachma’s worth: If you’re ready to embark on a journey with Zagreus, it will demand more than you can imagine, and you have to hang on—it won’t be a smooth ride. ”

I stiffen, the rest of the world fading away. It’s the two of us. Her words throw me off.

Fighting to stay composed, I reply, “We just met, so the plans we’ve discussed concern tonight—not what the future might hold for us.”

She tsks . “Deny it all you want. You and I both see through that lie. My point is that I thought I’d always support my friend’s choice, but—” She pauses.

“What?” I lower my voice in case someone might be within earshot and speak through gritted teeth. “You’re pissed at me for being mortal, is that it?”

She snickers. “That’s among the challenges that you two will run into, yes, but that’s not what bothers me the most.”

“What is it then?”

She shrugs, shaking her head, as if I were an obtuse child.

“Well, he demanded you make amends to be able to save your soul while he’s the one breaking the law.

I can’t imagine Hades’s wrath if he ever finds out…

” Once again, she trails off, pursing her full lips.

Eyes on her, my brow arches up. “You’re aware Zagreus should’ve wiped your memory of your visit, aren’t you?

” My reaction must give me away. The heat on my face won’t subside, though. “That’s what I thought.”

“Did he tell you?”

“Your interactions with him speak louder than words. Keep in mind that if I notice, others will, too.” Her voice is steady and collected, sending chills down my spine.

“Like I said, Hades won’t be pleased, and understanding isn’t his strong suit.

His world should not be shared with humans until you’re… ready.”

Fuck! What did Zagreus do? I should talk to him when he gets back. I had no idea it could have such dreadful consequences.

“Thanks for the warning… I guess,” I blurt out.

With that, she stands up, her tray in hand, ready to bring it back to the counter.

“I thought you should grasp what you’re getting yourself into.

Nathan’s finished his work—he’s not hard to find.

” She stops for a beat. “As goddess of the night, I’ll watch over your safety tonight, whether you want me to or not.

” I frown. “Relax, unless you’re in grave danger, I won’t interfere, but I cannot have you risk your life without a safety net…

Zagreus won’t recover from it, and that’s unacceptable to me. ”

Frustrated yet determined, I mutter, “I won’t fail in my mission, and I won’t fail him either.”

With her back to me now, I hear her final words before she leaves me to get back to work.

“Good luck!”