Page 371 of The First Taste
“Hades,” he says, bowing his head. He has a thick Southern French accent, so his pronunciation of the name sounds like Ay-Dis. “And you must be the artist, no?”
He arches a brow and my cheeks warm. I swallow and glance at Hades, but he makes an easy gesture.
“This is Lincoln Theroux,” he says coolly. He stretches his hand toward the other man, shaking his hand.
“Linc,” he corrects. His gaze slides between me and Hades, as if calculating some statistic. “It’s not the first time you have called on me for help, mon ami. But it is the first time you’ve showed up with someone prettier than Eros in your company.”
Hades’ eyes narrow on Linc’s face. “I’d be careful planning yer next words, Linc.”
Linc gives a tiny, halfhearted shrug. “I’m French. You cannot blame me for asking whether your beautiful companion is already claimed. No?”
“It’s Persephone,” I cut in, trying to ease the growing tension. “And I’m not here with anybody. I’m not interested in being with anybody, either. I’m just here to make art.”
Hades cocks a brow and Linc smirks faintly. “Just testing the waters.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Do I dare dream of a shower here, Linc?”
I notice that Hades yawns. He is surely ready to pass out the second he’s allowed.
“Oui,” Linc says. He waves a hand to the warehouse. “I have had this place outfitted with everything you will need.”
“Great. Thanks,” I say, heading toward the warehouse. Leaving the two men to talk, I slide open the barn-style door.
Inside, the warehouse is large and mainly dark. It has obviously been sitting disused as well, until someone came in and cleaned up three huge areas. One has been set up as a sleeping area with a big, soft-looking couple of beds and two racks of familiar black clothes. Another area is a rather confusing giant box. A quick glance inside makes it a bathroom, complete with a shower, a toilet, and what looks like an old-fashioned ladies changing area, stolen right from a Victorian tale.
And the third area, most interesting to me, is the worktable.
I walk over to it, running my hand over the smooth surface of the drafting table. Next to it is a huge broad worktable, stacked high with boxes of what I think are the supplies I requested.
My fingers itch to rip into the boxes, to spill all the inks and the pigments out, to examine the quality of the paper. But first…
I really do need that shower.
Finding a set of clothes in my perfect size already hanging on one of the racks, I dump them in the changing room and turn on the water in the shower.
The shower is amazingly hot, and the pressure is strong, despite the fact that I’m in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. I take my time in there, lathering and soaping every inch of my body until I am glowing bright pink with warmth.
When I get dressed in a loose, flowing black silk dress and an oversized black sweater, I feel like I just may be okay. My life might have been turned upside down by forces beyond my control, but?—
I step out of the bathroom. My gaze sweeps across the room, finding a dark figure lying prone on one of the beds. I stumble, my thoughts snarling.
Drifting across the squeaky-clean floor, I chew on my bottom lip. As I circle around and see Hades lying there, eyes closed, my heart gives a strange kick.
For a second, I let my mind wander, traipsing across all kinds of scenarios.
What would Hades be like if he wasn’t a villain? What if he were the hero to my blushing virginal heroine in a romantic dream state?
I’m such a sucker for the softer side of a bad, bad man.
Without opening his eyes, he mutters. “Are ye okay, lass?”
My heart is in my throat. I nod, even though he can’t hear me.
“I need to sleep.” His voice sounds deeper than gravel.
I take a step toward him. He opens his eyes the barest slit, then heaves himself up with a heavy sigh. He rips back the covers and beckons to me.
“Come here, if ye will. Otherwise?— “
