Page 91 of The Catacomb King
“Hold still,” I murmured. I took a towel. The towel was the fluffiest thing I’d ever touched; I almost moaned. Instead I managed to say, “I’ve been watching you miss a giant spot on your back for ten minutes.”
“My shoulders aren’t exactly the most flexible right now.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
The air was muggy and hot. Droplets of moisture collected on my oiled skin. I cleaned Hades’s back gently. I massaged water and soap into his hair.
He sighed.
With my heart beating in my lips, I dried his hair and back with the towel. I rubbed the ointment between my fingertips. It tingled. I massaged it into the deep cuts and bruises on his shoulderblades, his shoulders, the shallow curves beneath his ribcage. His hips.
With every stroke, Hades turned more liquid. I could feel myself turning liquid, too.
I could stay here. In this hot, rich, soft, damp room. I could coax him into the tub with me. There was room enough for us both to lie down, blanketed by the scented water. Neck to neck, groin to groin, the way we’d been under the avalanche. But this time there would be no avalanche. Just silence except for the gentle sloshing of the water and the heavy beat of Hades’s breath. And the fact that he’d told me that he wanted me alive. That he liked to watch me work.
And my mother rotting in his bedroom upstairs.
I flinched. Hades stirred beneath my hands. Discomfited, I went to put the ointment down and caught sight of the pomegranates glistening in their bowl beside the brazier.
I remembered Hades telling me about resurrection.
He had said,Anything that powerful requires a sacrifice.
And I thought:
Maybe thereisa way to resurrect my mother without feeding her soul to the Monarch.
Maybe I can give something else up.
Myself.
The Pomegranate
Itook my hands away from Hades’s skin. I reached for the white silk negligée. I palmed a pomegranate along with it. I snuck a sideways look at Hades, to see if I’d been caught, but his eyes were closed. His breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps. He was true to his word: He knew he’d see my naked body if he opened his eyes, and he had promised not to.
He was telling the truth again. Like he always had. “You really have never lied to me, have you.”
“I told you,” Hades said, sounding a touch piqued.
I put an apologetic hand on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
His eyelids flickered. But he still didn’t open them.
I went back to the tub. I pulled the negligée over my head and tugged on my boots and dried my hair as best I could. Hades sat there. His hands flexed and opened on his bare thighs. “Well?” I asked, faintly disgruntled. “You can open your eyes now.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m dressed.”
“No, Ican’t.” His voice was anguished. “You, dripping wet in that thing? I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
My breath caught. I couldn’t leave without touching him again. I went over to him and crouched. The pomegranate was heavy in my hand. Tentatively, almost afraid, I put my free hand on his bruised, swollen shoulders. My heart ached. My poor Prince.
A few days ago, he’d held a fruit to my lips and said I would do anything he wanted.
But now, I thought thathewould do anythingIwanted.
“Goddess,” he breathed. “Don’t. Please.”
