Page 2 of Hades and Persephone: Threads of Fate

This man is confusing. Just when I think I know him—understand him—he throws me through another loop, leaving me there to dangle.

Another cramp has my insides twisting, but I show nothing. At least I think I show nothing until Hades sighs. “Wear something comfortable. We’ll have a lazy day on the couch.”

Could he know?Can he possibly read me so openly that he knows exactly the thing that plagues me now?

I’m about to ask when he turns and moves from the room. None of the dogs follow their master, remaining with me instead.

I sigh and give the pups a look that can be described only as exasperated, before moving into the closet. With Prim standing sentry at the closet door, I pull black spandex shorts over simple black cotton panties. I pair them with a lilac-colored sports bra and oversized white T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. With my wet hair twisted into a knot on the top of my head and my face free of makeup, I leave my room with the pups in tow. I’m on the hunt for caffeine.

I find a steaming cup of coffee in the kitchen. It sits beside a bar of milk chocolate that has a blush spilling into my chest and traveling up my neck. It burns in my cheeks.

He knows. How does he know?

And why am I so embarrassed by something that is inherently feminine?

Hades slides a plate with a hard-boiled egg and toast toward me. “Sit. Eat.”

I clear my throat. “Thanks.”

Cracking the egg, I dunk my toast into the spill ofyolk and take a bite. Hades sips his coffee, watching me where he leans against the opposite counter.

I swallow, reaching for my coffee and taking a sip. I ask, “What?”

“I would like to talk to you about last night.”

I nearly choke. “Oh?”

Why?

“When I first hired you, you said you wouldn’t sleep with me.”

Oh, my freaking God. If it weren’t impossible, I’d fear that the heat of my blush might very well boil my blood and burst me into flames.

“O—kay?”

He gives me a rueful grin. It’s a little devilish, like he always knew we’d end up here. “Why did you change your mind?”

“I didn’t change my mind,” I say a little indignantly. “I didn’t sleep with you. Well, we slept—but technically I didn’t have sex with you.”

I’m babbling.

He looks amused. “Persephone.”

I sigh. “I—I don’t know why I let last night happen.”

“Persephone,” he warns again, firmer this time.

I sigh, admitting quietly, “I’m attracted to you.”

“You’re attracted to that boy you work with as well.” Something darkens his already impossibly dark eyes. “Will you let him do to you the things I’ve done to you? The things Iwilldo to you?”

“No.” The word shudders from my lungs. “Of course not.”

“Can I take that to mean we’re exclusive?”

“You—want to be exclusive?”Did my voice really just squeak?

“Yes.” No hesitation.

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