Page 43 of For the Love of the Gods

Chapter 12

Rose

Julian’s excitement when I agreed to dance with him made him look like a puppy who had just been promised a slice of meat. Despite being the patron god of war, primed to slaughter on the battlefield, Julian’s disposition was rather mild. He was more lap dog than wolf, all sparkling eyes and kind grins.

He had a mischievous side too, but it only came out on a few occasions. It seemed, unfortunately, that this was one of them.

“Julian, what are you doing?” I asked as he pulled me an inch closer to his body.

“Your husband is staring,” he said, turning me into a spin so I could find Dominic’s eyes. I’d felt his gaze on me the entire night, raking down my limbs and snagging onto curves, but I had tried not to hold his stare for too long. The rare glances I got were increasingly deadly, darkening like the pits of Tartarus.

Our eyes connected again, and this time I was assaulted by a stare that was steeped in dark emotion. It was somewhere between jealousy and rage, either angry that someone else was dancing with me or that I had the audacity to dance at all, the killer that I was.

Dominic was standing in the corner, ignoring whatever Corrina was telling him. His hand was clasped tightly around a glass tumbler full of whiskey, his hands so large you could barely see the cup behind it.

Having his attention so focused on me, especially when it was fueled with anger, made my stomach bunch with nerves. The feeling made my hand curl a little tighter over Julian’s shoulder, drawing Dominic’s attention to it.

Even from this distance, I could see his nostrils flare at the movement. I clung a little tighter, just to see what he would do. As if possessed, he slammed the tumbler down on the table next to him, shocking Corrina into silence.

I felt Julian’s head turning next to my face and forced myself to break Dominic’s gaze so I could look at him.

“I don’t think jealousy is an emotion I’ve seen from Dominic,” Julian noted casually.

“It’s not jealousy,” I defended, too quickly to be believed. “He’s angry I’m enjoying myself.”

Julian turned me again, so that I was facing away from Dominic. I wasn’t free from his attention though, I could feel it searing like a brand at the spot where Julian’s hand rested on my back under the waterfall of my hair.

“I think it is, Rose,” Julian said, skepticism glittering in his hazel eyes.

“What did you guys talk about?” I asked, remembering the reason I had asked him to dance in the first place.

Julian opened his mouth to answer, but cut himself off when he saw something approaching from behind. Julian never cowered, courage to face one’s foe was literally in his blood. But he blanched slightly as the dark presence approached.

“Beat it.” Dominic’s voice boomed from behind me, crashing into my personal space and invading every one of my senses withhim.

I whipped around, finding him looming and glaring daggers at Julian.

“Dominic!” I snapped. He was being rude for no reason. Well, he was always kind of rude, but still.

Julian didn’t move a muscle, keeping one hand resting on the middle of my back and the other clasped around my outstretched hand. Good, he was just about to tell me what he and Dominic had been talking about and I needed that information.

“Mars, will you please beat it so I can dance with my wife,” Dominic said, his tone implying that there was a second half of that sentence and it wasor I will physically remove you.

Julian released his hands in dramatic surrender and took a step back. “Sure thing, Pluto.”

“Thank you.” It was a grumble that was forced past his lips for politeness sake only. Dominic stepped into my space, taking Julian’s spot, and laid his hands where Julian’s had been. Only Dominic’s hand settled a few inches lower on my back. My bare back. So much electricity and heat radiated between my skin and his I was sure there would be a brand in the shape of his hand when he removed it.

“Fucking finally,” Dominic grumbled under his breath as he took the lead to move us to the sway of the music.

I raised an eyebrow at him. Apparently we had to work up to full, intelligible sentences. “What was that?”

Dominic pinned me with that accusatory stare he so loved to use with me. “Were you even going to try to dance with me?”

“Well, I thought about it. But isn’t it kind of bold for the woman to ask the man to dance?”

There was something so rich, so enticing in the horror on Dominic’s face as he said, “Not if they are married.”

“Right,” I said, nodding my head in faux understanding, “Because we are the example for married couples everywhere.”

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