I didn’t blink.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
The newcomer’s cloaked head brushed across the ceiling. He was tall and wide, rivaling both Achilles and Augustus for size.
“Well,” he chuckled darkly. “This lookscozy.”
Please God, kill me.
Do it fast.
Kharon—the Hunter, one of two Chthonic heirs in the world, the son of Artemis and Erebus, the half creature, the murderer of Christos—pulled off his dark creature hood.
A silver ruby-covered crown sat atop messy black hair.
I swallowed a gasp.
Glacial blue eyes were on fire. Pale skin stretched across razor-sharp cheekbones, and dark shadows filled out the perfect planes of his face.
Where Patro was classically handsome, Kharon wasdisturbinglyattractive.
Gleaming white teeth flashed as he smiled, the same evil expression he’d worn as Christos drowned.
He smelled like a violent rainstorm—salt tinged with rain—a hurricane.
Like death.
“We weren’t expecting you,” Patro said with surprise. “Have you come to commiserate over the new marriage law? YouandAugustus have to technically tie the knot this year because of your ages—what are you going to do?”
Kharon smiled darkly. “Oh—I’m not worried. I think I’ve found a... solution.”
“How?” Patro asked. “They listed all our names. There arenoloopholes. You can’t just marry Augustus, either of us, or Helen—you’re stuck with an Olympian or a creature andallthe eligible ones are in the Olympians’ pockets.”
“Are you proposing?” Kharon asked Patro with a sinister laugh. “No offense, but you aren’t my type. I prefer my lovers a little more bloodthirsty.”
Patro shoved at his shoulders, but a dark blush stained the tops of his cheeks.
I gaped.
Patro is not bloodthirsty enough for him? Who does he want to marry—Satan?
Kharon leaned his hip casually against the edge of the counter and picked up a pastry. “Let’s just say there’s a loophole in progress. I’ve got my eye on someone. One might even say I’m becoming—obsessed.”
Uh, why is he looking at me?
His cloak parted, and the Latin word “Furia” was tattooed across his throat.
It meant fury, but I’d seen another translation of it somewhere; I just couldn’t remember what it was. Some slang use.
It was going to drive me crazy trying to remember.
A silky white button-down pulled across his wide chest, and blue diamond buttons glinted in the sun, barely holding the straining fabric together.
Similarly, weapon holsters stretched over his bulging thighs, holding guns and a wicked-looking knife. Expensive trousers were perfectly tailored.
His dagger was coated with fresh blood.
