Page 42 of Tempted By Hades

“Ah, I see.” She seemed to contemplate his words, but before she could say anything else, the servers brought in their first course. They placed one tray with each in front of Hades and Persephone.

“Ginger carrot soup with croutons,” one of the servers announced.

Persephone leaned forward. “Hmm…this smells amazing.” Taking her soup spoon, she scooped some of the creamy orange puree and took a delicate sip. “And so refreshing.”

“Indeed,” he replied as he took a small taste. However, if the soup had tasted like the waters of the Styx, he wouldn’t have noticed because he was highly distracted by the way Persephone’s plump lips wrapped at the edge of her spoon, as well as how the neckline of her gown dipped as she leaned closer to the soup bowl.

“That was delicious,” she declared when she was done.

The next course came—a salad with a mix of various lettuces, arugula, sweet pears, slices of bright red beets, and feta cheese. Hades ate his salad, staring down at the greens,trying his best to avoid looking at her.

“I can’t believe how fresh everything tastes.” Persephone wiped her mouth with her napkin. “It’s like the produce was just picked moments ago. Do you have a vegetable garden here?”

“I suppose we do?”

She let out a little laugh. “You don’t know? Isn’t this your home?”

“It is,” he said, taking the last bite of his salad. “But I don’t run the day-to-day things around the palace. I have my trusted servants take charge of such matters. Chef Selene, for example, has full control of the kitchen.”

“She’s very good. I see why you employ her.”

The next couple of courses arrived, each one more elaborate and scrumptious than the previous. Hades didn’t fail to notice the obvious spring-inspired theme—from the tender lamb main course to the savory asparagus pancake sides—and he guessed all the servants and palace occupants had already heard the gossip about their new guest.

He had never thought watching someone eat could be sexy, but it had been pure torture, sitting next to her, watching her every move and every ooh and aah she made as she savored each course. At one point, she had a bit of Chantilly cream on the corner of her mouth and instead of wiping it away with her napkin, she had scooped it up with a finger and licked it clean with her pink tongue. He had been sorely tempted to disappear right then and there.

“Well, this was a delicious meal.” He put down the dessert fork after he had a bite of the rhubarb cheesecake. Finally, the dinner was over, and he could retreat to his rooms, away from Persephone’s tempting charms.

“Yes, my compliments to the chef.” She eyed his plate. “You’re done?”

“I’m not one for sweets, I’m afraid.” He pushed his chair back. “And it’s getting?—”

“Wait.” She quickly got up, the legs of her chair scraping across the wooden floor. “I mean, it’s much too early, and I’m not sleepy yet. How about a nightcap?”

“I can have something sent to your room.”

“No, no.” She shook her head, making her waves of shiny straw-colored hair glint under the candlelight. “I mean, let’s have a drink.” Drawing closer to him, she hooked her arm into his. “Is there anywhere private where your master and I can have a nightcap?” she asked one of the servants.

“We have a fully stocked cabinet in the library, Lady Persephone,” the servant replied cheerfully. “It’s right down the hallway, last door on the left.”

Hades was about to send the damned mouthy fool into the depths of Tartarus, but Persephone began to drag him away. Sighing, he had no choice but to allow her to lead him all the way to the library. Gesturing for her to sit on the couch, he walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulled out the sliding shelf and grabbed a bottle of whisky for himself. “What would you like to have?”

“Sex on the grass.”

He nearly dropped the bottle of two-hundred-year-old scotch. “I beg your pardon?”

“Sex. On. The. Grass,” she repeated, punctuating each word. “Do you know that one? The drink, I mean.”

He composed himself before turning to face her. “I’m afraid not.”

“It’s simple, here let me show you.” Getting up, she strode over, stopping when she was mere centimeters from him. “It’s one-ounce vodka.” She reached behind him to grab the vodka bottle, her shoulder brushing against his left arm. “Then Southern Comfort.” This time as she reached around the other side, her breasts grazed his right arm.

Motherfu—

“Why don’t you let me do the mixing?” he said, sidestepping away from her quickly, then grabbed the two bottles. “Just tell me the rest of the recipe.”

“Alright,” she said cheerfully before walking back to the couch and telling him the rest of the recipe. Thankfully, he had somehow managed to make her drink without incident. “Here you go,” he said, handing her the green concoction. “How is it?” he asked as she took a sip.

She glanced up at him over the rim of the highball glass, her eyes darkening. “It’s almost exactly what I wanted.”

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