Page 92 of For the Love of the Gods

Dominic poked his tongue into his cheek. A habit that looked a little too good on him. “Good thing I gave you less than a day then.”

I barely even noticed the dolma dropping down in the space between us.

“And a small wedding. The affair Daphne’s mother was planning would have given me a panic attack. So many ruffles.” I shivered at the thought. The dress I was supposed to wear made me look like a cupcake.

“I do not look forward to seeing that,” Dominic said, sharing my disgust.

“That is if she comes back at all.” The thought terrified me. But what did I know anymore?

Dominic’s hand grabbed mine on top of the table, pressing into my skin and soothing the ache in my heart. “She’ll be back. Fear only lasts so long.”

When would my fear of the truth fall away? It was already draining, like small drips out of a leaky faucet. A rather large one broke through right then, sitting in the candlelight and sound of crashing waves.

A question built on my tongue, a damning one that would crack open a piece of me I’d kept buried. At least to Dominic.

Dominic’s foot brushed against my ankle and the motion forcefully pulled the question out. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.” Zero hesitation. Just warm, dark brown eyes holding mine the same way his hand was.

I breathed through slightly pursed lips and then went for it. “Did you ever try to get them back?”

Dominic’s face pinched together in a mix of panic and shock. It lasted less than a second, but I caught it. He took a long sip of his wine, and I gave him the space to collect himself. I needed to hear this, no matter how painful.

“No.” The word was nothing more than a low groan. “I know it sounds like I should have.”

I shook my head, motioning—begging—for him to continue. “It’s fucked up. Being the god of the dead and not having the power of resurrection.”

I let out a bitter laugh in agreement.

“But they have each other,” he said, nodding his head as if he was reassuring himself. “I’ve seen them a few times, when their souls gather enough strength to manifest, and they seem content. Peaceful.”

I was hit with a flash of jealousy so severe I felt my stomach turning sour. I wished I could see Pine. But it was a rare extension of grace in the Underworld that you couldn’t see those who had ended your life.

Dominic’s eyes narrowed observing my reaction too closely. I schooled my features to avoid the scrutiny. “I thought about it. At the beginning. But, I’ve come to terms with it. My uncle paid for it.”

Like I would. Or should.

“You won’t.”

My head snapped up. I hadn’t even realized I’d dropped eye contact.

Dominic was looking at me with such intensity I shifted in my seat. I didn’t know how to deal with it.

“You won’t,” he repeated.

Another droplet fell. I was out of control, not able to get a grasp on the things I was willing to tell him. Secrets I’d sworn would never find the light of day in his presence were finding the sun.

I opened my mouth, my jaw shaking slightly with the gravity of what I was about to tell him, what I was about to reveal. My courage was hanging on by a thread and the arrival of Maria cut it, letting it crash and shatter on the floor.

“Something wrong with my food?” she snapped playfully, motioning to the untouched dolma and the barely touched spread.

“Of course not, Maria,” Dominic said, his casual charm smoothing her features. “We got carried away talking.”

“Enough talking, more eating. Talk later,” Maria chastised, then shoved the dolma out of the way to make room for a large plate of well-seasoned meat and vegetables.

When she left, I watched her full form move between tables and slap her young grandson upside the head. I turned back, expecting intensity, but Dominic was looking at me with lit eyes, the lighter brown peeking out from his normally black brown eyes.

He took a bite of lamb, swallowed, then said, “My turn.”

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