Page 49 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
“I guess owningHidden Shadowsoffers a different experience than viewing it in a museum from afar… I can relate.” Zagreus’s tone turns cold, all traces of playfulness gone. I’m relieved I’mnot on the receiving end of it. “After all, it was stolen from its rightful owner to begin with.”
The guests fidget in their seats, and Alexis—who’s been standing in the entryway—walks up next to Natasha. Does he sense the looming danger?
At last, they all drink in Zagreus’s painting, gawking at the powerful emotions it triggers. The art expert drags out the process of confirming its authenticity, a satisfied grin stretching across his thin lips. I’m certain it’ll go according to plan, but the wait is excruciating.
“A copy now hangs in the Princedelphia Metropolitan Museum,” I finish.
Volkoff’s eyes widen, his predatory look evolving to a near-feverish intensity. He inclines his head, muttering through clenched teeth, “…so that’s how… mmm… interesting… You’re bold, I like it.” Another nod. “Let me arrange the transfer to pay for your handiwork.” He turns to the bald guy while the art expert resumes his post at the table. “Set it up.”
Within minutes, I get a proof of transfer. First part of the deal: done.
True to form, my favorite Greek god kept the rest of his plan to himself. I get why bringing his actual work mattered—but then what? I trust him enough to watch it unfold.
Zagreus’s power ripples through the room like a subtle gust of wind. His beautiful brown eyes go stone cold, fixing on each person in turn. Did the power balance just shift, or what?
The audience falls into trance for a few seconds, and Volkoff leans back as if he’s forgotten why we’re here.
“What were we discussing?” Natasha whispers.
“My handiwork,” I answer, bolder than before.
Zagreus exhales in satisfaction, clutching the crate containing his original work. We part ways with Volkoff and his entourage without fuss.
Outside, the fading evening light meets us as his spell fades, leaving us to appear as ourselves again. The weight of the transaction lingers between us as we hop into a taxi. Grinning as wide as the Cheshire Cat, he stretches his arms above his head. “Well, that went off without a hitch.”
I peer at him—he doesn’t return it—and wait until we’re in the hotel room, door locked, to confront him. “You erased their memories, didn’t you?”
Zagreus winks. “That was always the plan.” He deposits the precious artifact on the desk, shrugs off his jacket, and meets my eyes—fully aware of my intentions for that jacket later tonight. “They won’t remember a thing about you. As far as they’re concerned, they never met you, or me, and one day they’ll notice a vast hole in their bank statement.” He smirks, stripping further, showcasing an appetizing sliver of skin that I long to lick. His look betrays that he understands the effect he has on me.
From the doorway, I stare, mouth gaping—caught between awe, disbelief at his tricks, and raw desire.
He waves me over, and I stroll next to him. His fingers caress my cheek. “You think I should’ve used one of those gadgets fromMen in Black? Guess I missed my chance. Anyway”—his voice turns huskier—“the only phallic accessories I’m interested in are the ones we can use together… whenever you’re ready.”
A tremor ripples across my skin at the enticing thought.
There’s exploring to partake in first. His hands graze the sides of my clothed body and rest at my hips as his focus settles back to business. “Tricking them was necessary to protect you, but you’re not out of the woods yet.” His sigh is both heavy, pained, and I might have missed the point. Once again, I don’t interfere, too busy admiring the view. “For what it’s worth, they’ll sleep better tonight. You will, too.” He clears his throat. “How about a sexy shower, then passionate sex to burn off your very obvious, very unnecessary tension?”
Who am I to argue with him? So, we proceed to follow his wicked plan to a T.
Slowly. Lustfully. Lovingly.
Much, much later, we’re lying like starfish on the massive bed, half covered by smelly, rumpled, sticky sheets. Both of us basking in the haze of our post-coital glow, incapable of moving.
Extending his arm, Zagreus brushes a strand of hair from my forehead, his smile lazy and deliberate. He licks his lips. “For my peace of mind, care to tell me what you’ll do with all that dirty money?”
I roll my eyes, then my gaze drifts to the ceiling’s molding, pushing my conversation with Hecate’s at the café to the furthest corner of my mind.
“Haven’t decided.”
Chapter Nineteen
SKIN & BONES
Zagreus
The sheets twist around our legs, the cool cotton fabric offsetting the lingering heat between us. Remnants of salt from the ocean breeze slip through the ajar balcony doors, mingling with hints of sweat and cologne. Despite the late hour, the city buzzes—distant laughter, a sudden engine rev—but in here, time has a pace of its own.
“And here I thought being a con artist was the ultimate rush.” Théo sighs, shifting beside me as his fingers trace the ridge of my hip. Darkness cloaks us, but it can’t hide the uneven rise and fall of his chest. Pumped from our meeting with Volkoff, blood thrums through my veins. Théo must feel it, too—sex became the perfect outlet. And since once wasn’t enough, we explored our insane chemistry with reckless creativity; one perk of being a god—or as young as Théo—is the brief recovery period. “You enjoy proving me wrong by delivering mind-blowing orgasms.” He sighs. “On repeat, no less.”
