Page 25 of Immortal Sun

He grins. “Your death.”

Happy moment officially gone. I stumble back “I’m sorry, what?”

He bursts out laughing. “Relax, won’t you?”

How could I? He seemed serious!

He licks his lips in an agonizingly slow way like he’s tasting something, and the longer I stare into his eyes the more I wonder if it’s somehow me. “I knew I was right this time, I can’t fucking wait to rub it in his face. How is the jackass doing? Still moping around like he fell out of the sky?”

“Wh-what?”

Is this man sane? Because right now I’d even take the towel and hold it between us just as a shield.

“Cyrus. Owner of Styx. Super tall.” He holds out his hand. “Weirdly good-looking despite said tallness and inability to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when prompted. That guy.”

I’m still confused whythisguy is in the kitchen. “Are you the cook?”

Please God, let him be the cook because otherwise the creepy attractive man is trespassing.

He bursts out laughing again like I’m the funniest person on the planet. “Trust me,” he turns, “never eat anything I offer you. That’s like taking the apple from the…oh shit, what is it? The Evil Queen from Snow White? Yeah, it’s like that or biting into the apple from Eve.” He tilts his head as though in deep concentration. “Honest question: why is it always an apple? Why not an orange? Life is weird. And yet always like a box of chocolates.”

“Why are you talking about apples and Forrest Gump?” Cyrus’s voice is so loud that I stumble back farther from whomever this sexy stranger is, almost feeling a sense of guilt at being caught near him and stumbling into his own private residence. “And stop hitting on her, we’re going to Sin for breakfast in a few minutes. And what the hell sort of poison are you cooking? Didn’t we discuss this? Never feed the guests.”

Wait we’re leaving now?

“Like I said…” The guy goes to the oven and opens it, taking a huge inhale before laughing to himself. “Nobody would ever know, right?”

“Don’t”—Cyrus points at me like I’m the one in trouble—“evereat anything he offers you. I don’t care if it’s a fruit snack.” He growls low in his throat. “Enki just likes to mess with people’s minds. Take nothing he says seriously.”

I gulp while Enki rolls his eyes and flips Cyrus off. “You need a vacation.”

“And you need a chaperone.” Cyrus paces the kitchen, reaches for a glass, then turns around, his glare is straight up locked on me. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready, not flirting?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” I say defensively, holding up my hands.

“If she was, I’d almost feel sad for humanity at this rate. Would have been a horrible go at it.” Enki shrugs. “She defended herself with a dish towel.”

Cyrus’s eyebrows shoot up. “Was there a reason you missed the knives right next to it?”

His gaze points toward the knives literally inches from where the dish towel had hung.

I would die in war.

Enki unloads the cinnamon rolls onto a plate. “Oh well, I’m just going to bring these delicious rolls into Sin then. Can I catch a ride?”

I swear Cyrus’s entire face tightens to the point of teeth cracking from how hard his jaw clenches. “What are you doing?”

“What I always do, brother.” He slaps Cyrus on the shoulder and squeezes. “Give people a way out. It is, after all, my sole purpose.”

“Yes, well last time you did that we had orgies in the streets for two straight days.”

Enki puts a hand over his heart. “Those were some of my favorite moments. Besides, it was Valentine’s Day. If you ask me, it was a gift from the gods. I’m hurt you didn’t have fun.”

“Someone had to fix it,” Cyrus snaps.

Enki winks then runs a finger down Cyrus’s broad chest. “Admit it, you enjoyed yourself.”

Cyrus jerks away. “Cleo, get ready, and I’m serious, don’t eat anything this monster throws at you.”

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