Page 37 of Curse the Flame

The knock-out pauses.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a small green plant. It’s a single stem with maybe three or four leaves on it.

Minthe accepts the sprig of greenery from him. She pales, dropping her chin to her impressive chest, and ducks out of the room.

I can’t help myself. “What was that about?”

“I gave her mint,” he rumbles. “Just in case she’s in need of a reminder.”

I open my mouth to ask, then decide that I don’t want to know. Instead, I say, “She works for you?”

Okay. Maybe it’s none of my business, but there’s a difference between her working for him and her serving him, if you get my drift. And, whoa. I never thought of myself as the jealous type. I’m usually way too easy-going for that. Ever since Persephone piped up, though? It seems like she might be affecting me more than I would’ve thought.

How else can I explain the rush of relief I experience when Aiden answers my question?

“I keep a pair of nymphs as servants. It’s safer for them to work for me than exist in the land of the living above. But if you don’t want them as your maids⁠—”

I do not, interrupts Persephone.

I smile at Aiden. “Hey. They were here first. And this is their job. Why would I make you fire them if they like their job?”

Because Minthe tried to steal my husband from me. And Leuce should be a white poplar tree in Elysium, not flaunting her beauty in front of Ha⁠—

I rub my chest, quieting the jealous goddess of spring inside of me. “It’s fine,” I say, and I only hope that that doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass later. Besides, I’ve read enough of Greek mythology to accept that none of the gods could keep it in their pants. As devoted to Persephone as her husband was, even he had multiple lovers.

Aiden purses his lips and, darn, that should not be half as sexy as it is. “If you change your mind, Willow, you tell me. Yes?”

I nod, one hundred percent lying to the guy in charge of the Underworld. “Sure thing.” I wait a beat. “So? What’s for supper?”

And how can I politely refuse?

He offers me his elbow, the epitome of a chivalric gentleman from another age—and isn’t that exactly what he might be?

Eighty years…

I lay my hand on Aiden’s arm, sucking in a breath when a jolt passes between us.

I noticed that earlier, too. When he commanded me to come to him. It wasn’t as powerful as that one—I almost feel like I was electrocuted, it was that strong—but it was there.

Huh. What’s that about?

I don’t know, but he waits until I’m walking next to him to answer my question about dinner.

“Every Persephone has her own tastes,” he tells me. “If you want anything in particular, you let me know and I’ll make sure you have it. For now, I just told the kitchen to create a quick supper for a very important guest. I’m sure you’ll find something you enjoy.”

If I listen to Cassandra, I’m not so sure about that.

I keep that thought to myself as we wind our way down the stairs again. I ask him about Sir, and he tells me that the hound is back at his place in front of the gate. If I’d like to visit with Cerberus, I can, but he prefers that I stay inside of the palace.

Palace.

He brought me to his palace.

I don’t know how many rooms it holds. The megaron seems like it might be the biggest, but the dining area is no slouch, either. With just as many candles and torches and sconces providing firelight that still barely manages to break up the gloom, it has a long, narrow table in the center that has to be at least fifteen feet long.

I do a quick count. There are twenty-four seats at the table, though only two have place settings: the seat at the head of the table, with the other on the left-hand side of that spot.

Two place settings, plus one covered dish. That’s all that is currently on the table, and I figure the kitchen’s whipped up something small for us when Aiden taps his fingers on top of my hand.