Neon Gods (Dark Olympus 1)

She runs her hand up my chest to lightly hook my neck. “I meant it when I said I wanted to have sex with you.”

I almost miss a step. Almost. It takes everything I have not to look at her. If I do, we’ll be fucking in the middle of this hallway. “That so?”

“Yes.” She strokes the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck. “The orgasm was nice, really nice, but don’t you think we should have a trial run before you fuck me in front of a room full of people?”

The little vixen. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I reach the stairs and concentrate on moving swiftly but not so swiftly it could be termed running.

Persephone keeps up that light stroking that has me feeling like I’m about to come out of my skin. “I suppose there’s your plan to consider. You seem like a man who likes a plan, and I can respect that.” She cuddles closer and rubs her cheek against my chest. “How about a compromise? Why don’t you reassure yourself that I am, in fact, just as fine as I told you I was, and then I’ll suck your cock?”

I don’t answer until I reach her room and we’re inside. Then I sit her on the bed and tangle my fingers in her silky hair. The way her lips part when I wrap it around my fist has me fighting not to growl again. “Persephone.” I give her hair another tug. “It strikes me that you’re used to getting your way.”

She’s watching me like she expects me to pull my cock out and fuck her mouth until we’re both undone. She arches her back a little. “Only in some arenas.”

“Mmmm.” One last tug and I force myself to stop touching her. I cannot lose control now, or I’ll never gain it back. If I was just another man, I wouldn’t hesitate to accept everything she’s offering. But I’m not just another man. I’m Hades. “I have a word you’d do well to get used to.”

Her brows pull together. “What word?”

“No.” It takes more effort than I’ll ever admit to turn away from a rumpled Persephone sitting on her bed and walk into the bathroom. The distance does nothing to help. This woman is in my blood. I dig through the cabinet under the sink for the first aid kit. We keep them in every bathroom in the house. I’m not technically at war with anyone, but my line of business means that sometimes my people are dealing with unexpected injuries. Like gunshot wounds.

I half expect to find Persephone ready to mount her next seduction when I return to the room, but she’s sitting primly where I left her. She’s even managed to smooth her hair a bit, though the flush in her skin betrays her. Desire or anger, or some combination of both.

I go to one knee beside the bed and shoot her a look. “Behave.”

“Yes, Sir.” The words are sugary sweet and poisonous enough to knock me on my ass if I wasn’t expecting it.

I’ve never kept a submissive. I prefer to confine things to the playroom and to individual scenes, even if there are repeat partners. The only rule is that it stops the second the scene ends. This is something else, and I’m not prepared for the conflicting feelings that twist through my chest as I unwrap Persephone’s feet and examine them. They’re healing well, but they’re still a mess. That sprint through the upper city truly did come close to maiming her. Not to mention that she was dangerously close to hypothermia by the time she made it to me. Much longer out in the night and she might have done irreparable damage to herself.

She might have fucking died.

I’d hope Zeus’s men would have stepped in at that point, but I have no faith when it comes to Zeus. He’s just as likely to let her run herself to death to punish her for the act of fleeing him as he is to sweep in and haul her back to his side.

“Why didn’t you call a cab when you left the event?” I don’t intend to voice the question, but it lands in the space between us all the same.

“I wanted to think, and I do that better on the move.” She shifts a little as I spread Neosporin on the worst of the wounds. “I had a lot to think about last night.”

“Stupid.”

She tenses. “It’s not stupid. By the time I realized that I was being pursued, I was being herded to the river, and then it just…” Persephone lifts a hand and lets it fall. “I couldn’t go back. I won’t go back.”

I should let it stand at that, but I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut around this woman. “Hurting yourself when they cross you doesn’t do a damn thing to them. If anything, it’s what they want. You treat your body like it’s the enemy; it makes you too weak to fight them.”