Something vaguely Moroccan or Turkish, perhaps.
I groan and shift onto my side. Cramming a pillow under my head, my thoughts turn once more to Persephone. The back of my neck warms as I relive the last few days.
She’s been tiptoeing around, trying to remain unnoticed, looking at me with that wide hazel gaze. She’s clearly scared of me now, ever since I lost my temper and beat that man in the coffee shop.
I flex my fists. Across the knuckles of my right hand is a healing cut created by that bastard’s front teeth as I knocked them in.
It wasn’t my fault. The stranger provoked me by mercilessly bullying his wife and his young son in front of me. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.
If anyone had stepped in even once when I was a child, straightened my father out like I did to that stranger…
Well, it probably wouldn’t have changed anything. But I still can’t stand bullies.
It’s just unfortunate that Persephone seems as skittish as a kicked cat when I’m around her now. I haven’t raised a hand to her.
I would never hit a woman.
I sigh, letting my breath out slowly. Rolling out of bed, I pull on my black slacks and a black silk button up. I check my phone for news from Ares and Eros but there is nothing.
My mouth pulls into a tight grimace. I pull on my heavy black combat boots automatically; it would be strange to be caught with bare feet, even here in my own house.
I leave my jacket behind, though I do reach across the bed and pluck a handgun from underneath one of the pillows. I tuck it into the waistband of my pants smoothly and robotically. It’s a gesture that comforts me in its regularity.
No one will catch me unaware and unprepared if I can help it.
When I step out into the hallway, bound for Persephone's room, I hear a sound. Faint but high pitched, just the tenor of someone scratching their nails down a faraway chalkboard. I have no idea what it is but it’s enough to make goosebumps break out across my entire body.
I pull my weapon, listening very carefully. The noise stops after a second. But it is followed by a very low creak.
If I had to guess, I would say that someone has just breached the back door.
Fuck.
Someone found out that I’m in Valencia, it seems.
I stand still, my heart hammering in my chest, thinking through the possible exits.
The main stairway descends right into the path of the intruder or intruders. Normally I would love using the stairs as cover while I shoot down at the trespasser.
But if I have Persephone with me, that way would be too dangerous. There are too many factors that I can’t control.
Damn. Maybe we can go out the window in my room and jump into the big oak tree in the yard. I don’t love being rushed into any plans but time is of the essence in this case.
I spin towards Persephone's room, keeping my footsteps light. An acrid smell reaches my nose and slows my steps.
It takes a second for me to register the smell as something burning.
Fuck!
I hurry to open Persephone's door, moving stealthily as possible. There is a loud thump downstairs, and the acrid scent of smoke fills the air.
Persephone is already sitting up in her bed, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her red lips standing out from her suddenly pale face. As I enter her room she swallows and pushes the comforter off her body.
“What’s going on?”
Her voice is high and tight, tension practically coming off her in waves. She’s wearing a large bulky sweater and nothing else; for a second, there is war within me for my attention, because I am fairly sure I can make out the shape of her nipples through her sweater.
I lick my lips, forcing my mind back to the moment at hand.
