Melinoe smiled. “Do you think you can help her? She needs to get to some place called Sicily.”
“Leave us, Melinoe,” he snapped.
“What? Why?”
“Our conversation will be private.”
“You left her alone, so she is with me now. Me!”
Cerberus stiffened and slowly turned toward Melinoe.
The air caught in Cyane’s lungs.
“With you?” he said, his tone darkening.
Cyane didn’t know why, but his shining eyes made her skin heat.I can’t even see his face… Maybe that’s for the best.Melinoe was almost too sickeningly beautiful to look at, Hades to torturously dark, and Hermes…
What would Cerberus look like without his helmet? She already feared him the most. Would her fear turn to horror? Terror? Inescapable dread?
“Yes,” Melinoe said, breaking Cyane’s thoughts.
“You claim her?”
“Yes.”
“She is a guest of Lord Hades.”
A wave of relief rushed through Cyane.Guest.She was a guest. Guests could leave.
“Do you still wish to publicly claim her, Melinoe?” he asked again, slower this time.
Melinoe winced and glanced at the dark figure sitting atop his throne.
Cyane sensed the tension between them rise.Claim?No one was going to claim her, not until she made it to Sicily damnit. It wasn’t like she ever sold her soul to the devil or played with a ouija board or...or...
She butted in despite the trepidation closing in on her every breath. “I want to talk to you too, Cerberus.” Her voice held relatively strong. Stronger than she felt.
He faced her, spotlighting her with all his strained anger. If he happened to glance down at her hands, he’d find them shaking uncontrollably.
“I want to leave,” she said.
He didn’t immediately respond, but instead looked across the room to where that dark figure sat on his throne. She didn’t need to ask who had the most power here. Melinoe and Cerberus had done it for her.
But if she had to make a choice, to implore the supposed God of the Underworld or his supposed monstrous hound for help…well...
Her heart raced at the thought.
When she was at the Orphanage of Claudette Skies, the headmistress was much like Hades. A figure to fear, to never approach. Claudette didn’t like children even though her profession served to help them. If this place was anything like the orphanage, she was better off not getting herself involved—or noticed. Being noticed really wasn’t that fun. It was easier being an onlooker rather than a participant.
Cerberus turned back to her. His eyes in the slit of his helmet gave her a narrow view of him. There was pale skin and the hint of dark brows. The longer he stared without saying something, the smaller she became, the more her hands trembled. One could suffocate under the weight of his stare.
“Please,” she whispered.
His brow furrowed, his irises sparked, and she wondered why she caused such a reaction in him.
“Follow me,” he said, startling her.
Was it that easy?
