Page 70 of Hades

I followed obediently behind Cerberus into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. She removed her gloves and tossed them in the trash before scrubbing her hands at the sink. Steam billowed up from the scalding water, and her skin flushed pink when she’d finished. The smell of soap filled the air. Clean and fresh and so fucking domestic it made my chest ache.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked with a smirk.

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Just a little lesson in humility.”

I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against me. The feel of her pressed close—those soft curves and warm skin—was everything I’d been craving for the past day and a half.

“So you were jealous.”

“Jealousy implies you want something that doesn’t belong to you. I’m territorial. I protect what’s mine.”

Mine. The word sent a jolt of pure possession through me. My cock hardened instantly, pressing against her belly. She felt it. I saw the way her pupils dilated, the way her breath hitched.

“That didn’t feel like protection.”

Her hands grasped the edge of my cut, and the teasing tone in her voice disappeared. “It definitely was, because if you had gone back to the clubhouse and let that woman touch you again, you wouldn’t be standing here now.”

Her expression was hard. Her eyes danced with something all too familiar. Something dark and dangerous and absolutely fucking perfect. I knew her threat wasn’t metaphorical. She would kill me. Would poison me properly next time. Would make sure I didn’t survive.

And fuck if that didn’t make me want her even more.

“Territorial, huh?”

“Were you spouting bullshit when you called me your queen?” she asked, sadness flashing in her eyes.

“No, baby, that wasn’t bullshit. You are my fucking queen, and I am your king.” I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. To see the truth in my eyes. “You’re mine, Lettie. Mine. And I don’t share what’s mine.”

“The King of the Underworld,” she whispered, and I smiled.

“Damn right. Now what the fuck did you give me?”

Lettie threw her head back and laughed, and it was the most beautiful fucking sound. It wrapped around me, sinking into my bones, making something warm and possessive bloom in my chest. She shook her head. “A girl has to have her secrets.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as I dipped my head to press my lips against hers. The taste of her exploded on my tongue, sweet and tangy and addictive. I was nearly home when her mother yelled, “VIOLET!”

Lettie groaned and stepped out of my arms, grabbing the tray I hadn’t noticed on the counter. “What’s the deal with your mom? Is she sick?”

Lettie snorted. “She’s lazy.”

I followed her down the hall. She stopped before opening the door. “What are you doing?”

“I want to meet her.”

“Not a chance,” she scoffed. “Wait for me in the kitchen, please.”

“Lettie—”

“Brock, please.”

I licked my lips and ran a hand through my hair. My jaw clenched with the effort of not pushing. Not demanding. Not taking what I wanted because she’d asked me nicely. “Okay, but at some point, I need to meet her.”

“Not today.” She balanced the tray on her hip and pointed down the hall.

She was so fucking cute with her stern look as she tried to shove me away. I couldn’t wait to see her as a mom. God knew if we had boys, they’d need her to rein them in because if they were anything like Zeus and me, they’d be holy fucking terrors.

And what about girls?