Page 54 of Hateful Prince
Of all the times for Kiki’s voice to float through my mind. I had to swallow back a laugh. She would love to know that she haunted even my most intimate moments.
“You have your choice for clean up,” Tor said, his fingers drawing small circles on my knees. “You stay right where you are and I take care of you. Or I draw you a hot bath, and I?—”
“Take care of me?”
He grinned. “Precisely.”
“Who’s going to take care of you?”
A look of adorable confusion washed over his face. The unexpected expression combined with his monstrous countenance was more than a little endearing. It had me sitting up and wrapping my arms around his waist in an impromptu hug.
“I . . . what?”
“You’re just as in need of cleaning up as I am.”
“Easily remedied, I can?—”
“Join me in the bath. We’ll take turns caring for each other.”
He held my gaze, emotion filling the space between us. “I’d really like that,” he rasped, his voice gruffer than usual. Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to my lips. “I love you, Kærasta.”
My heart swelled, and as he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bathroom, I looked up at the monster who’d become my mate. “I love you too, Tor.”
Chapter
Eighteen
HADES
“You’re the god of the underworld. Put me out of my misery, why don’t you? Just kill me now and end it.”
I knew the words were in jest, but they sliced through me regardless. Dahlia had been curled up in the middle of her bed when I’d stopped by this morning. Tor had left not long before to go for his morning romp in the forest and do whatever beastly things he did out there. I’d been surprised he left her in such a state, but since it gave me an opportunity to care for her, I can’t say I minded it.
At least, not until she started begging me to kill her.
“Never say that, baby doll. Losing you once was more than enough.”
She opened one eye and glared at me. “Do not start comparing me to some other woman. I will throw something at you. A shoe. Or... fuck, I can’t even move to grab one. So maybe a pillow.” She closed her eyes with a little mewl of pain, muttering pathetically about storing weapons under her pillows. “A pillow is hardly an appropriate threat.”
I growled my frustration before settling on her bed so we were facing one another. “Throw whatever you want, but it won’t change the facts. I am not comparing you. I’m simply recalling the life our souls shared.”
“It’s not fair.”
“What isn’t fair?”
“That you have a whole history with me I can’t access. It’s like you watched an entire season of a show, and I have to jump in without all the backstory.”
I stared at her, her eyes pinched with pain, skin pale and clammy. I hated that she was suffering, that my touch didn’t seem to have the same healing effect as Tor’s. Why would it? I hadn’t been created to care for the living. I was born to rule the dead.
Swallowing my frustration, I tucked some sweat-dampened hair behind her ear and offered the one thing that might bring her a measure of comfort. “I could bring you up to speed. Share the highlights. If you really want to know.”
Fuck, all I wanted was to tell her everything and help her understand how powerful this connection was between us. Although... there were some more unsavory parts of our story. Things she wouldn’t be too happy to hear about directly from my lips.
“And have you try to rewrite the facts? Everybody knows the gist of the Hades and Persephone story. You stole her away to the underworld and fell deeply in love, and she got Stockholm syndrome.”
“It was not Stockholm syndrome.”
“Oh, please. This story is the original Stockholm syndrome tale. Dark romance at its finest.”