Page 22 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
The handwriting is exquisite, flowing and precise, like something you’d see on a wedding invitation.
"Eat me. Drink me… Call me (if I’m not in the living room, that is).”
Underneath, there’s a phone number, scrawled in smaller script.
Staring at my phone, then at the note, I blink dumbly and let out a dry, raspy laugh that’s more of a croak. “Eat me, drink me… call me?” I shake my head. The first two are obvious, and theyhave me chuckling. But the third? Would Alice have found such a note if the story were set in modern times?
Rubbing my head, I stare at the note again. Whoever wrote this either missed the innuendo or fully understands it and is clearly asking for round two. I sigh, the puzzle refuses to settle.
Too bad I have no recollection of round one—assuming there was one to begin with.
I pop the pills into my mouth and chase them with a long gulp of water. The relief is instant, at least thanks to the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. Placing the glass on the bedside table, I rest against the headboard, my back pressed against a firm pillow.
Holding the note between my fingers, I murmur again, “Call me.” A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. “Subtle.”
But then the smirk fades as bits and pieces of the night before resurface. Only they feel much too real this time. Only they’re not full of unbridled sex, and the current smell of the room doesn’t reveal any X-rated activity. Only they show me glimpses of a preternatural—if not scary—nature.
My rational mind is at war with my body, where goosebumps are spreading as what I lived through sinks in.
The ancient elevator. The gloomy beach. The Greek gods…
The Underworld… Did I imagine it, sparked by the upheaval that stunning painting stirred in me yesterday? Did I land in a mystical realm that no one believes in anymore? Did I spend time on the banks of the River Styx listening to a Greek goddess discuss another god’s sex life?
Zagreus, he said his name was. His voice cuts through the fog. Low. Velvety. Deep. The memory sharpens as goosebumps spread across my skin—nothing to do with A/C. A heavier shiver follows, dragging my attention to my thickening morning wood.
Squeezing myself over the heavy cotton sheet twice, I exhale a soft breath.
Damn, that feels good!
Twice more, and I’m tempted to ditch the barrier—but what if the guy shows up?
It’s dead quiet. He wouldn’t have left me alone… would he?
Then again, the thirteenth floor’s massive bedroom must be part of a suite—he said he’d be in the living room. Maybe we could put my state to good use after all.
His face remains hazy in my mind, though.
“What the hell, Théo?” I mutter. My gaze falls on the note again, and my thoughts veer into dangerous territory. It’s been a while—too long,if I’m honest—since someone has sparked anything in me beyond fleeting curiosity. I shouldn’t be thinking about this.
Not now. Not after yesterday’s alter reality. Not ever, if I consider that Zagreus is truly who he claims to be. But the way my pulse quickens betrays my genuine emotions. I don’t even know the guy, the god, whatever he is.
Damn, my knowledge of mythology is rusty…
“Focus,” I tell myself aloud, though the words sound hollow. The aspirin is working, and the headache is starting to lift, but my thoughts are as scattered as ever. I fold the note carefully,placing it back on the nightstand, and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
First things first: how I ended up here. Second… maybe discover if the man behind the note is as intriguing as I believe him to be—or if my imagination is running wild. And third, if my preposterous assumption is correct, why not embrace the opportunity?
My clothes lie neatly folded on an ottoman nearby. I smirk, spotting my coat’s there, too—must’ve slipped into the elevator on the way down.
I don’t bother putting them on. After all, the self-proclaimed Greek god in the next room undressed me—hence the boxer briefs. My pulse trips over itself at the thought.
Why would I cover up then? Why am I getting all worked up when I can barely picture him? Why am I bothered by my impulse, though?
With a whisper, I shut down my overthinking brain, reminding myself of how I roll. “What I desire, I take.” Leaving my phone behind, I exit the stranger’s bedroom once my wood has somewhat receded and march to the living room.
My bare feet sink into the plush carpet. The layout is spacious, with a mix of modern pieces and art déco ones, giving it an almost intimidating feel when paired with the black and white picture frames scattered here and there. I can’t help but think ofThe Shiningmovie. My junior suite is less impressive and half the size to start with. This room alone is as big as my entire Parisian bachelor pad. I love my cozy apartment in Le Marais area, but I’m a nomad at heart, always on the move, so I prefer renting it out when I’m away.
And there he is.
