Page 63 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

I almost choked on my wine.

‘Should we tell her?’ I asked, glancing at Bronte, who was currently explaining portal physics to Hermes with terrifying enthusiasm.

‘Nah,’ Sephy said, sipping her drink with a wicked glint in her eye. ‘Let’s see how long it takes before he actually speaks in full sentences around her.’

I grinned. Poor Charon.

‘Apparently,’ I mused to Sephy, ‘gods can alter their language intrinsically to suit anywhere they go. Can you do that?’

‘No idea.’ She gave a half-shrug. ‘I told you, I’m still new to this whole god business.’

‘Cordelia,’ Erebus’s smooth voice came from behind me, rich and velvety as smoke.

I turned, pulse skipping, because of course the god of darkness was stupidly beautiful. Eyes like a thousand stars in an inky black void, and a smile sharp enough to cut. Great. Just what I needed.

‘So you belong to Poseidon, huh?’ His tone was silk, threaded with something darker.

Anger snapped through me, sharp and hot, but I swallowed it down. No way was I giving him a scene to feed on. Instead, I released a light laugh and tilted my head. ‘Him? Please. He’s more like my hot, bad-tempered bodyguard.’

Erebus’s lips curved, amusement flickering in his shadowed gaze, like he was filing the answer away to toy with later.

Before I could decide whether to punch him or walk away, the air shifted as salt and storm rolled in, and Poseidon was there, all raw magnetism and male arrogance wrapped in smug perfection. His presence pressed against Erebus’s like a tide about to break.

‘Erebus,’ Poseidon said, low and edged with warning.

The god of darkness held his stare a beat too long, shadows curling lazily at his feet. Then, with a smirk that promised trouble, he slipped back into the crowd, melting among the guests as though none of it had touched him.

Poseidon greeted the gathered group with casual indifference before turning to Sephy. ‘Persephone.’ His tone was cool, and so was the glance he gave her before his hand brushed the small of my back, his fingers grazing bare skin. They lingered, and my brain short-circuited.

Not. Helpful.

‘Bronte. Good to see you again,’ he added, his gaze sliding to the elegant mage.

Then his eyes found mine, caressing my face with a lopsided smile that should be illegal; now was not the time to flash his handsome—it was irritating. I fought the magnetic pull and wrenched my gaze away.

The problem was, he was obscenely delicious, and my hormones were smothering me like an overzealous weighted blanket. Confusion and nerves were dangerously close to mixing into a full-blown cocktail of stupid.

Pull yourself together, Cordie! You cannot give in to Mr I’ll ruin you for all other men.

Ugh. Seriously. FML.

‘Poseidon,’ Sephy replied, arching a brow as her gaze dipped to his hand still resting on my back. ‘I love Cordelia. She’s gonna give you so much shit.’ She winked at me as Si stiffened, his mouth flattening into a thin slash, composure splintering for a heartbeat.

‘You are obviously a seer now?’ he spat, his jaw tense.

‘I see me riding that hippocampus sooner rather than later.’ Sephy smiled sweetly, and his tempestuous eyes swirled with grey rainclouds, his irritation evident. I’m surprised his teeth didn’t crack under the pressure of them gnashing together.

Yep. I already utterly loved this woman.

Si muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like this is absurd, the muscle in his jaw still working overtime.

I grinned into my wine. No clue if I was winning or wildly out of my depth, but I was definitely enjoying the show.

‘Let’s sit.’ Si took my hand and practically hauled me towards the enormous table, pulling out a chair and all but planting me in it. Behind us, I caught Sephy’s soft titter, but I let him manhandle me—mostly because I wasn’t in the mood to cause a scene. Still, my jaw clenched. The man had a real talent for acting like I was some decorative object he could pick up and put down at will.

The terrace was brimming with colour—planters overflowing with trees and blooms swaying in the gentle evening breeze. Beyond its edge, the Underworld stretched out in a breathtaking panorama, every inch painted in vibrant hues. If I had to guess, it was Sephy’s handiwork—her flora magic. Whatever the truth, it was stunning.

People began drifting towards the table, taking their seats with the kind of lazy elegance only gods and immortals could pull off. The air hummed with quiet conversation and the soft clink of glassware.