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Soft fingertips trace my jaw.

And for the first time in three thousand years, I feel the gentle touch of another living creature.

I lean into her palm.

Helplessly.

Shamelessly.

“Hades,” I whisper.

Calla’s expression changes.

All that teasing disappears.

“You’re really feeling this for the first time?”

I nod.

She smiles softly.

Then brushes her thumb across my lower lip.

The temple shudders.

A crack splits one of the columns.

Calla jumps.

“Morpheus!”

I catch her around the waist.

“Do not stop.”

“The building is falling apart!”

“An insignificant inconvenience.”

She laughs.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“And you, little mortal, are ruining three thousand years of perfectly maintained self-control.”

The ceiling fractures.

Silver light pours through the cracks.

Calla grabs my shoulders.

“What’s happening?”

I look down at her.

At the woman whose touch has accomplished what centuries of divine warfare could not.

My smile turns wicked.