Page 10 of Hades

His touch is like something out of a fairytale, and I swear for a moment that I hear birds singing and expect animated hearts to float from my eyes as I swoon.

I’ve never swooned in my life. Especially not over someone who I’ve only just met.

“It is truly a pleasure to meet you, Aradia. Tell me, what made you name yourdogafter me?” he asks with a crooked smile that I am certain allows him to get away with just about anything.

I don’t have to give his question much thought. I know exactly why I named him Hades. But telling him the truth would make me sound far crazier than I am. And I’ve learned from experience that people don’t want to know the truth if it sounds made up. So, the best I can do is lie, which isn’t a big deal since I will likely never see this man again. And that thought makes me sad for some reason.

“It’s the name he came with,” I say, hoping that the quickest and simplest lie will suffice as an answer. The quirk of his eyebrow tells me he disagrees. But instead of questioning me further, he looks at Hades.

And to my shock, he speaks directly to my dog. “Did you come with your name, or did she give it to you?” he questions Hades in a playful voice.

The odd behavior would be off-putting if it weren’t so adorable coming from this handsome man. I try not to laugh as he leans in as if Hades will rat me somehow out and tell him the truth.

“Really?” he says to Hades, who is seemingly playing along, wagging his tail and looking back and forth between the two of us. “Well, did she know?” he asks Hades, and I wonder what I don’t know. “No, I can’t possibly tell her that… Why?... Because she wouldn’t believe me if I told her… Yes, of course, I’ve tried it before.”

Leaning into their seemingly two-sided conversation, I smile. “What’s he saying?” I whisper with genuine curiosity, because no one aside from me has ever had a full-on conversation with my dog.

When Hades—the man—looks up at me, our faces are so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. I’m doing my best not to let him affect me, but as I stare into his deep brown eyes, I can’t help but get lost. His eyes drop to my lips, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s about to lean in and kiss me.

Thankfully, he answers before I can make a complete fool of myself by leaning in, licking my lips, or worse, closing my eyes and waiting.

“I can’t. It’s a Hades-to-Hades confidentiality thing, you understand,” he teases without pulling back. “But he did say that you named him, and I’m inclined to believe him.”

“Hmm. Traitor,” I quip as I glance down at my backstabbing dog, who seems to have somehow assumed the most guilt-stricken face I have ever seen on a canine. Sitting back up, I sip my soda and wish it was something stronger to take the edge off. “And you’re not going to tell me anything else he said?” I ask, as if the conversation that he just had with my dog was real.

“Not a chance.” He winks, and I melt a little more.

“Fine,” I pout, turning in my seat to ignore him and trying my best not to laugh.

“Is she always like this?” I hear him ask. But the question isn’t directed at me. Instead, he’s speaking again to Hades, who answers with a huff before putting his head back down.

I whip back around in my seat so I’m facing this man, Hades, with a glare and crossed arms. “So, tell me, Mr. Hades, what brings you to Sin City? Magic show where you talk to animals?” I snap, but my sass is only for show.

I watch as he sips his drink, some red liquid that looks like Kool-Aid, as he contemplates my question. The action reminds me that this stranger may not know I’m kidding. My humor tends to get lost on most people, or so I’ve been told.

“I was just kidding. You don’t have to tell me,” I mutter nervously. “It was rude of me to even ask. I’m sorry,” I say as I wave the bartender over. I’m usually not one for drinking, especially during the day with handsome strangers. But this guy has the butterflies in my stomach working overtime.

It only takes a moment for the man behind the bar to spot me and come over. The fact that he gives the man beside me a nervous nod doesn’t escape me.

“What can I get for you?” he asks on auto pilot.

I glance over at Hades’ drink. “I’ll have what he’s having.” I smile.

“No, she won’t,” Hades interjects before the bartender can answer. Usually, I would find such behavior from a man unacceptable. But something inside me doesn’t feel as if he meant it to be rude, but rather more protective than anything. “Make her…” He pauses to look over at me, and I swear I can feel his gaze moving from my feet to the top of my head. “Aradia will have a Blue Hawaiian with extra fruit.”

“Oh my God.” I giggle. “That’s my favorite drink. How ever did you even guess it?”

He tilts his head to canine Hades, who is lying at his feet. “This guy told me. Well, he said you liked some blue drink with extra fruit. I guessed the rest. Besides, this will kill you,” he adds holding up his red drink. “And my reason for being in Sin City is to reunite with my long-lost love,” he admits, and my heart sinks.

I can’t help the twinge of jealousy that suddenly surges through me. And the moment the bartender sets down my drink, I gulp half. Not exactly my finest moment, but I need the liquid courage to continue with this conversation.

There is no logical reason to feel anything for the man beside me. We’ve known each other less time than a public service announcement takes, yet I can’t help the overwhelming need to find this long-lost love of his and strangle her. I shake my head, trying to get the thought out of it. I’m less than a week from finding my fiancé in bed with my best friend, and I didn’t want to kill her half as much as I want to strangle this long-lost love of his.

It takes me a moment to regain my composure. “Wow, she must be something pretty special,” I comment without looking in his direction for fear of him seeing through the lie. “How long has it been since you’ve seen her? Or him?” I quickly add, not wanting to put my foot in my mouth again.

He takes a long sip of his drink, finishing off the last of the liquid. “Feels like it’s been more than a lifetime since I last saw her, but her memory is seared into my soul.”

That stab of jealousy inexplicitly pokes at me again. “Wow. In all my life, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone speak about me like that. You must really love her,” I add, finishing my drink and placing the empty hurricane glass back on the bar. “Does she live in Las Vegas?” I continue, apparently wanting more torture as he tells me about the love of his life.

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