He pulls his mouth away. Out of breath, he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed while he composes himself.
Once again, he mutters my name, “Cassia.”
The sound of my name from him makes my stomach flutter, which is ridiculous, and I hate my body for it.
“Don’t do that again,” he says.
“Don’t what?”
“Put yourself between me and a blade.”
I lift my chin. “Maybe don’t stand there like you want to get stabbed.”
Something dark flickers across his expression. Amusement, maybe. Maybe annoyance.
“You thought I was in trouble,” he says.
“I did,” I reply. “And don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to decide whether you want to punish me or keep me.”
His eyes sharpen.
The silence stretches.
I realize I’ve said too much, again.
I should stop. I should bite my tongue. I should remember he’s not a man I can mouth off to and walk away from.
But I can’t. Not when my blood is still hot. Not when I’m still seeing that vampire’s head rolling away like it was nothing more than a bowling ball.
Orpheus takes a step away from me.
“That wasn’t a random challenge,” he says quietly.
I blink. “What?”
“The group in the alley,” he continues. “They weren’t drunk fledglings looking for a fight. They were organized. Watching. Measuring.”
My throat tightens. “They were new?”
“Yes.”
“And angry.”
He pauses, eyes narrowing like he’s choosing his words carefully.
“When people hear the name Hades, they get brave,” he says. “Think that they can get to him, but they can’t. I spread rumors long ago that I was the son of Hades to keep people from actually guessing it to be true. They can wonder. They can hope. What they won’t do is know the truth. Only a handful of people know it’s the truth. What they believe is that Hades put me as King. All they have to do is prove and take me out, then they can ascend the throne. Another thing they don’t know is that I cannot be killed by a blade or anything else. I’m too powerful. The only thing that can is either Zeus or Hades. Neither of which will touch me. They need me.”
A chill crawls up my spine.
Not because I’m surprised.
Because I’m not.
Maybe I am. If not at least a little.
