Page 93 of For the Love of the Gods

I smiled, feeling something close to gratitude. He didn’t press me, just moved on. “Least favorite god.”

I laughed, careful not to choke on my food. “You’re trouble.”

“And you like it,” Dominic shot back. “Come on, answer.”

“I am not the biggest fan of Morpheus.” Another one of the gods who’d simply never started a line. The same immortal entity that has been haunting dreams since his inception.

Dominic gifted me a deep laugh. “Of course you would pick the one god no one likes.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me he doesn’t creep you out.”

Dominic looked at his plate then stabbed a piece of zucchini with his fork. I laughed as he chewed it roughly.

“My turn,” I said, sounding horribly giddy. I didn’t sound happy around Dominic. I sounded pissed, annoyed, frustrated. “Tell me your favorite meal.”

“Really?” Dominic looked skeptical.

“Yes,” I defended. “It says a lot about a person.”

“Risotto,” he replied on instinct. “My mom used to make it with mushrooms and scallops.”

My heart clenched at the mention of his late mother. God, he was so young when they died.

“I have a good recipe for that,” I said carefully. “But I’d love to try your mom’s if you have it.”

He shook his head, then reset the hair that shook out of place with a swipe of his hand. “It’s lost. It was never written down.”

“Oh,” I said softly, unsure what to say. There was that odd moment of trust, but I still felt like the comparison to his uncle applied.

“Would you make your recipe for me?” Dominic asked, pulling my misery out of my chest with a resounding pop.

“Yes! Of course, yes,” I rushed out, my eagerness pouring over the table.

“Thank you,” Dominic said. And then smiled. Smiled and punched me in the heart.

Maria caught my eye across the restaurant and I kicked Dominic under the table. He dug right into his food, clearing the portions he’d put on his plate then reached for more.

I did the same, lest I suffer Maria’s wrath.

When enough food was consumed to safely avoid a lashing, Dominic took his turn. “Ever been in love?”

I stared at him, stunned. I’d never heard the word love from his mouth. Not when it was the opposite of everything we were to each other. But I answered anyway, drawn into honesty by the wine. “No. I haven’t really been with anyone actually.”

My gaze was on my plate as I said it and when I looked up, I saw Dominic looking like a dog who’d just found his favorite bone.

“Not like that,” I said, my voice thick with amusement at his assumption. “Even though I’m sure you’d take immense pride if it was true.”

That would just be perfect really. Letting him—a man I hated and who hated me—where no one had been before.

“I would,” he said, fatally serious. Some thought passed through his head and then he shuddered violently, jerking forward. He spit out his next words like he could throw them away. “Never tell me who they are.”

I knew it shouldn’t elicit a positive reaction from me, but my face felt warm and my heart kicked up a speed. Maybe it was his face, handsome and haunting. The steel in his expression highlighted his sharp jaw and strong nose. “Jealousy looks good on you.”

Dominic grumbled. “Take your turn before I start breaking shit.”

“What about you?” I asked, suddenly needing that information more than anything else in the world.

“No.” It was one word, final. Clearing his past of everything but me. Relief poured over me in a wave so powerful I sunk down a little further in my chair.

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