Page 89 of Corrupted Heart

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch my friends’ shocked faces as Kratos strides across the stage toward us. I mean, he’s already an enormous human…

Everywhere, I think with a fierce blush.

But with the footlights from the edge of the stage shining up his back, Kratos looks even larger than life as he comes to a stop right in front of us.

“Uh…hi?” I blurt, swallowing nervously. I realize I’m staring up into his stupidly handsome face, and that he’s staring right down into mine. One of his big hands comes up, and one of his thick fingers brushes a wayward lock of hair back behind my ear.

“What…” I shiver. “What are you doing here?”

“My grandmother wanted us to come see her.”

“Oh…okay,” I say. I clear my throat. “Uh, these are my friends, Naomi and Milena.”

Kratos’ brow furrows. “Milena Kalishnik, if I’m not mistaken?”

Her face turns beet red as she smiles bashfully, staring at him with wide, starry eyes. “Uh-huh,” she whispers.

“I’ve done business with your father.”

“That’s so awesome,” Milena breathes, still moony-eyed.

“I’mNotInTheMafia,” Naomi blurts rapidly.

“That’s probably a good thing,” Kratos rumbles.

Naomi and Milena both laugh like it’s the funniest joke in the world. Oh my God.

“Anyway,” I mutter, clearing my throat. “We should go, yeah?”

Kratos nods. “Indeed. Best never to keep Dimitra Drakos waiting.” He turns and bows a little bit to my two blushing friends. “Lovely to meet you, ladies.”

“Totally,” Milena gushes.

“Any time!” Naomi squeaks.

Kratos walks to the front of the stage. I turn to glare at my friends.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” I hiss under my breath.

“Sorry!” Naomi mouths, looking panicky. “He’s just SO fucking hot.” She swoons, fanning herself.

I roll my eyes. “Thirsty much?”

“For that?” Milena grins. “Parched.”

I poke them both in the ribs, rolling my eyes again before I walk over to the edge of the stage to jump off it and into the house. Just before I do, huge hands swoop out of the darkness. My pulse jumps as Kratos gently lifts me by the hips, easing me off the stage and down to the ground as if I weigh nothing.

Then, without another word, he takes my hand and walks me up the aisle and into the foyer.

Once outside, he opens the door to a matte black Mercedes G-wagon. It’s funny, in my stalking of Kratos via his siblings’ social media, I’ve seen how he, like his brother Hades, is into cars. But I’m starting to realize that his taste in vehicles probably leans more toward big SUVs, like this G-wagon or the Defender I…cringe…burned. It’s not like someone his size is going to be cramming himself into a two-seater sports car.

We drive in silence for a few blocks before I clear my throat.

“Sorry about my friends. They’re…weird.”

He doesn’t say anything. But when I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, I see him grinning to himself.

“Why does your grandmother want to see us?”

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