Page 69 of Hades

The kitchen stayed quiet as we drank our tea. Every time I tried to ask her a question or start a conversation, she’d reply with the same three words: drink your tea.

When my cup was empty, I set it down on the table. Lettie moved beside me, reached down, and took it. She set the cup in the sink, and I stepped up behind her, caging her in. My body pressed against her back, my cock already hard and aching against her ass. The heat of her burned through my jeans. Made my blood pound. Made me want to bend her over the sink and fuck her until she forgave me.

I dragged my nose along her throat, breathing in her citrusy fragrance. The scent of her filled my lungs, mixing with something simpler, something that made my mouth water. My hand splayed over her flat stomach, and I pulled her back against me, letting her feel exactly how much I wanted her. Not a club whore. Her.

“Brock,” she breathed, and I kissed her neck, savoring the taste of her skin on my tongue. The salt and sweetness and something uniquely her.

My fingers trailed over her abdomen until they lightly brushed the underside of her tits. She grabbed my wrist and turned in my arms.

“Brock, you need to go home. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Lettie—”

Her fingers pressed against my lips. “I promise, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

I stared into her eyes, searching for the truth. There was nothing to make me believe she was being anything but honest, so I nodded. My jaw clenched with the effort of not arguing. Not demanding. Not taking what I wanted because she’d asked me to wait.

“Kiss me goodbye,” I urged, leaning in.

“Tomorrow, Brock.”

Her fingers flexed against my chest as if she were holding back from grabbing the material and pulling me closer. I could feel the tension in her body. She trembled slightly, and her breath hitched.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated.

Tomorrow never came.

By the time I’d ridden back to the clubhouse, I’d had to stop three fucking times to puke my guts out. The first time I thought it was just nerves. Adrenaline crash from the confrontation. But by the second time, bile burning my throat, stomach cramping so hard I nearly fell off my bike, I knew something was wrong.

I spent the next twenty-seven hours shitting my brains out along with my guts. Every muscle in my body ached. My head pounded like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my skull. Sweat poured off me in waves, soaking the sheets, leaving me shivering and burning at the same time.

Thank God we had a doctor in the club, because for a while there I wasn’t sure I’d make it. Asclepius asked what I ate, but I hadn’t had anything the other guys hadn’t.

Except for the fucking tea Lettie made me.

The realization hit me like a freight train. She’d poisoned me. My sweet, beautiful, gardening queen had fucking poisoned me. And instead of being pissed, instead of wanting revenge, I found myself grinning like a goddamn idiot through the pain.

Fuck, she was perfect.

I sat on my bike and stared at her house. Cerberus hadn’t come running around back, and I didn’t hear him scratching or snarling at the front door. My mind spiraled to the worst possible outcome. I swung my leg over the bike, trying to steel myself for what I might find. My heart slammed against my ribs hard and fast. Fear clawing at my chest in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

What if she’d taken too much herself? What if she was lying in there sick, dying, or worse? What if I’d pushed her too far and she’d decided to end it all rather than deal with my bullshit?

I walked up the front steps, anxiety building with every heartbeat, and knocked on the door. A moment passed. Then another. No answer.

Inhaling deeply, I braced my arms on the doorframe and tried to control the thoughts racing through my head. The panic rising in my throat. The violence simmering just beneath my skin, ready to explode if something had happened to her.

I pushed off, jogged down the steps, and walked around to the back door. Her mother’s room was at the back of the house. I didn’t know where Lettie’s bedroom was, so I couldn’t be sure if she’d hear me knocking from the front or back, but her mother should. If I had to, I’d break into her house. Kick down every goddamn door until I found her.

As soon as I cleared the corner of the house, I saw her walking through an iron gate. Relief flooded through me so fast my knees nearly buckled. She was alive. She was fine. She was fucking beautiful in the morning light, her hair catching the sun, her skin glowing.

I stayed quiet as she turned to close the gate, locking it with a heavy padlock that left me wondering what she was hiding. More plants, probably. Special varieties she didn’t want anyone messing with. My sweet little gardener with her flowers and vegetables and herbs.

She turned and locked eyes with me. Her smile lit me up inside, and I shook my head. This woman would be the death of me. Literally, apparently, if I kept pissing her off.

“You look well-rested,” she teased as she walked closer, Cerberus at her side. He didn’t growl or show his teeth, but he didn’t come near me either.

I reached for her, and she stepped back. “I need to wash up. Come inside and we’ll talk.”