Page 63 of For the Gods' Sake

“He’s just so kind, you know?” I told one reporter, placing a hand on Adrian’s chest. Right over the rapid gallop of his heart. “Every morning I wake up to a new gift it seems. And the notes! Who knew he was such a poet.”

That had earned me a squeeze on my hip that was dangerously close to my ass.

But Adrian had gotten his revenge immediately after. Telling the next reporter, “I’m the luckiest man alive.”Thathe was, I thought, right before he added, “I was in her office the other day and found this adorable collage of photos of us with our initials scribbled all over it.”

I was going to kill him. A slow death as sweet as that stupid, made-up collage. I was pretty sure he knew that I was planning his death, because while we posed for some pictures, he whispered low, through a cemented smile, “This is over when we get inside.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, my smile falling for the barest second. If he confronted me, I might slip and say something far too exposing. Adrian must have heard it.

Of course he did. We were plastered to each other, the heat of his skin burning me through his suit. After one more bright flash, he turned on a heel and all but dragged me inside.

Quite rudely ignoring a few people who clearly wanted to stop and talk to us, who I gave apologetic smiles to. Adrian pulled us off to the side, tucked right around the corner from the entrance.

He backed me into the wall, placing both his hands on either side of my head. Trapping me in.

His chin dipped, his head moving close. “I’ve played your game, honey.” I really wished he’d stop calling methat.Lie. “What the fuck is going on?”

I opened my mouth, my lips shaping to saynothing.

Adrian’s eyes deepened to the color of a winter storm. “If you saynothing…”

I couldn’t help it. I smiled and said. “Noth—”

Adrian cut me off. Simply removed my ability to speak. It took me a second to realize how he’d done it.

Just a second, though. Before I felt the hard, insistent pressure of his lips on mine. Of his hand descending on the top of my collarbones. It was more of a press of his lips than an actual kiss, meant to shut me up rather than pleasure.

Someone needed to tell my body that because a hot spike of desire shot down my chest, pooling in my core. My hands lifted on their own accord, seeking out his suit. Something to hold on to.

They never had the chance because Adrian pulled back, rolling his lower lip through his teeth like he was trying to savor the last taste of me.

“I’m going to assume I’ve pissed you off,” he said, the words barely more than a hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry, Reyna.”

I cocked my head to the side innocently, which only reminded me that his hand was basically on my throat. “For what?”

“You know what.” His fingers dug harder into my skin. But then, “My power has a tendency to flare up around you. I was already having trouble leashing it and everything we saw just made it worse. I should have explained that.”

Oh.Oh.

Well that made me want to kiss him again. To see how it flared up when I tested his control.

Before I could, he continued. “And then someone involved in this mess broke into my safe houses.”

“What?” Was that what sent Emre running in?

“Yes.” Adrian’s expression turned haunted. “This whole fucking thing is getting out of my control. I set those up to protect the other gods and they’ve even compromised that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. Not sure what else there was to say.

Adrian shook his head, a curl slipping free to fall over his forehead. “You are perfect. You have nothing to apologize for.”

My hand reached up before I could stop it, brushing the strand back. Adrian’s hand tightened again. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with this. I’m sorry there are people who don’t trust you to lead,” I clarified. “Those people are incorrect, by the way.”

A short, almost surprised chuckle fell from his lips. Still so close to mine. “I am, too. But tonight isn’t about me.”

“It kind of is, though,” I said, a small, genuine smile breaking on my lips. Adrian’s eyes tracked it for a moment, before coming up to meet mine again. “You’re meeting my parents.”

“I’ve met them, honey.” Probably countless times. His hand slid over my shoulder, down my forearm, to grab my hand. “How do you want me to play it?”

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