Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Piece of shit,” Hades growled. “Just like your fucking father.”
I was standing there panting, eyes wide, mouth slack-jawed when he turned around. Hades smoothed his hands down the front of his suit, the blood on his knuckles a stark contrast, but looking like it belonged with all those tattoos.
He was so… ominous at that moment. I slowly slid my gaze up to his neck, seeing red splatters of Trevor’s blood on the collar of his shirt and marking the column of his tanned throat.
He’d just broken someone’s hands and, most likely, Trevor’s nose, yet he stood there wearing an expression like it was just another day at the office.
Hades appeared like he hadn’t just become a savage. He stepped up close, and I was frozen in place. He dipped his gaze to my wrists, and I followed his line of vision.
The skin was red and angry, and I knew they’d show finger-sized bruises come morning.
Hades bared his teeth before breathing out slowly, as if trying to control himself.
“Come on, Bunny. Let me take you home before I kill the motherfucker.”
He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulled me snugly against his side, and together, we left the party with everyone staring at us with enormous eyes, slack jaws, and inaudible whispers following us.
Chapter 15
Persephone
I was staring at the fire, and to be honest, I didn’t really remember driving from the party back to Hades’ house.
When we’d gotten back to the house, Hades had taken me into a bathroom—his —which was attached to a bedroom. He ran me a hot shower.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed that until he left me alone and I stood under the spray. I’d turned it as hot as I could stand it, washing away the sweat and booze and the grossly weird thickness that covered me.
I’d put on a pair of soft leggings and an oversized sweater, and here I was, sitting on the leather loveseat in the library as the sound of the flames crackling over the wood filled my head and drowned out everything else.
It filled the void.
I could feel Hades staring at me, but I didn’t look at him.
The blanket he’d wrapped around me was soft. Cashmere. I ran the pads of my fingers on the edge where a strip of silk was stitched.
“When I was younger, I was terrified of thunderstorms.” I ran my fingers over that silk. “My father had been gone for two weeks on business. The night he came back, there was an awful storm.” I stared into those flames, remembering that night vividly. I didn’t know why. It wasn’t any different from any other time.
“I was huddled under my blanket. It was late, but I couldn’t sleep because the thunder was so loud. My father came in and showed me the wool blanket he’d brought back from Ireland.”
I remembered how blue it was. Cobalt, he called it.
“It was so scratchy, but it had this satin trim all the way around that was so soft. He bundled me up and told me when I was scared and restless to run my fingers over the edge, that it would calm me.”
And I did that right now, my fingertips skating over the silk. But this blanket wasn’t heavy or scratchy. It wasn’t thick like the one from my childhood.
“I’d curl up wherever I was, feeling safe and secure because I had that blanket around me. It was like nothing could touch me.” I swore I could feel the weight of it around me, and I smiled. “There were two things in my life that reminded me so much of my dad. That blanket and this polished antique box he cherished.” I felt a chill suddenly move over me and glanced at Hades.
He’d been still and silent since we’d returned, but I could still feel the dark energy pouring off of him. He’d poured himself a glass of liquor and given me one as well. I stared down at that square-cut glass resting in my lap. The amber-colored liquid inside appeared bright and alive because of the light from the fire.
“I never understood why my father loved this little box so much. It was beautiful, but a tiny thing. There wasn’t anything special about it, certainly it didn’t scream expensive like the rest of the items we had in the house.” I could see that box so clearly in my mind. “It was made from three different types of wood and was so polished, it gleamed when the firelight hit it.”
I felt my brows pull down as I thought of how he’d run his fingers over the top, then along the golden lock on the front.
“I asked him more than once what was inside, and he just told me it was something precious, trinkets from his past that made him feel good, that reminded him of memories he never wanted to let go. It was passed down by his father, so I guess it was sentimental in every sense of the word.” I brought the glass up to my lips and took a small sip. The alcohol burned my tongue as it slid down my throat. But it felt good, that discomfort. “I envisioned dried flowers inside, maybe a pebble he stepped on as he walked along the coast. Little pieces of experiences he picked up along the way in his life.”