Chapter 6
Estruggled back to reality. She’d had a lot to drink the night before, and she’d mixed alcohols. Even in her mid-twenties, that was a bad idea. Hence the dull headache and the Sahara-level dry mouth as she rapidly blinked her gummy eyes open. Ugh.
She also doubted she’d washed her face when she’d gotten home, as she didn’t remember even getting home, and caked mascara was likely not helping the whole situation.
The discomfort eased with a solid minute of laying prone, but it didn’t last long.
Memories of last night, and Plutus, flashed in her mind and she sat straight up in bed, a little frantic.
She thought it might have been a dream. But when she threw the covers off her bed, she saw proof it was all too real: her glittery, expensive rose gold dress still clung to her body.
E groaned deep, smacking her slightly pounding head in her hands.
Her curtain door flung back, and there stood the huge, disarmingly sexy, god in the flesh. In his beastly, gold-dusted flesh instead of human flesh, which somehow made him even hotter to her. He held out a tall glass of water in one hand and two ibuprofens in his other. “Take these.”
“Bossy,” she muttered, shooting him a glare, but she grabbed the water and let him dump the pills in her upturned palm.
He was right, though she wouldn’t say as much out loud.
The water cooled her as she took more than a few big gulps.
Those gulps brought back memories of her slamming the vodka soda.
Then being all over Plutus. She wasn’t exactly embarrassed by it.
Hell, he looked good enough to eat eyeing her right then, even with the pounding headache.
She would, however, calm such urges for now until she had a better understanding of what was to come with him.
“What now?”
A flash of teeth. “Are we playing 20 questions again?”
E shook her head no. “I’ll call it that when we are. We can’t just go around making every question we ask during the day count. There needs to be a designated time and space for that, especially since I only get nine more questions.”
Plutus nodded in agreement. “We start the game only when we both agree to do so.”
Good enough for her, so she didn’t respond.
She did try to slide around his body and found herself a little wobbly on her feet, which caused her to tilt forward a little too far.
Right into the god’s bare-ish chest. He was wearing his silky, pristine toga again, but it left a whole lot of chest real estate open for her hands to explore.
E sensed the odd tingle and tug she’d felt last night, heightened by his warm skin under her hands.
He shifted and she looked up to see his bright green eyes blown out wide, like a big cat with prey in its sights.
It took some real willpower, but she managed to peel her hands off his flesh and turned on her heels to give herself a little space from his hungry look.
“Could you…” she gestured behind her with a flailing hand. “I need to change.”
He said nothing, but the sound of her curtain being tugged back across the plastic tension rod above her head, and the cold space where he’d once stood was enough of an answer.
She reached over to her sad little dresser and pulled out a pair of old sweatpants and a too-large t-shirt advertising the donut shop where she worked as an undergrad.
Comfy, and not at all sexy. It might help, but she doubted it.
After she snagged a claw clip from the top of her dresser and secured her mass of pink hair in a twist at the back of her head, she shuffled out.
She expected to see the mess she’d left in the living room the night before, but everything appeared to be back to normal.
Except the sofa and coffee table were a little off from where they had been, leaving more space between her room and the living room area.
The same space she’d used to call up Plutus from the faint grit of chalk dust she saw there.
“Thank you,” she said, nodding to the area. She sure as hell hadn’t cleaned up last night, so Plutus had done it, with his hands or his magic.
He sat, legs wide and arms stretched along the back of the sofa, and nodded his acknowledgement, his metallic, curved horns glinting in the morning light as they dipped down.
Two coffee cups sat on the table in front of him, along with two waxy paper bags.
She breathed deep, wanting the little coffee scent pick-me-up, but what rushed into her was the smell of tarnished metal, smoke, and whiskey.
The distinct scent she now knew was all Plutus.
He leaned down to snag a cup of coffee and bring it to those luscious, full lips. “Help yourself,” he muttered before taking a drink.
She held up a finger in the universal “give me a minute” gesture and shuffled to the bathroom, where she took care of business, ran a cold washrag over her face to get some sort of clean, and quickly brushed her teeth.
Before going back to the living room, she made a detour to the kitchen to fill one of her water bottles with the Brita filter in the fridge.
“Do you not drink coffee?” Plutus gestured toward her water bottle before she sat beside him and took a deep drink.
She pushed herself over, letting her back hit the edge of the couch and her legs curl up underneath her so she faced the god lounging in her apartment.
“Yep. Just need to hydrate a little first.” E leaned over, moved the untouched coffee closer, then snatched up one of the waxy paper bags.
She took a peek and sighed in happiness.
Inside she found a buttery croissant, split open and stuffed with melted cheese and bacon.
Fatty goodness to help the water and meds wrestle the mild hangover hovering over her.
She hummed to herself as she took several bites of the sandwich, a habit she had whenever she enjoyed food. E usually tried to control it around people she didn’t know well, much like the little odd noises she made when working or studying. She didn’t seem to mind doing it around Plutus.
Mid-bite she looked up to find his eyes trained on her, his lips quirked up so his large fangs were on full display. “Sorry,” she managed to say after swallowing.
“No need to apologize, little one.”
“Why ‘little one’?”
He waved a hand at himself, then at her, and repeated: “Little. One.”
Whatever. As far as nicknames went, it wasn’t too bad, so she let it slide. She’d been called much worse by men before.
Plutus scooped up his own sandwich and began eating it, settling into a somehow comfortable silence. Eventually, he wiped his hands with a napkin and asked, “Do you have plans for today?”
E had a second to think about it because she’d just taken a drink of her coffee.
She took a moment to savor the rich, bold flavor of it and hummed again before she answered.
“I normally work on thesis things or run personal errands on Saturdays. I don’t have to go to my internship on weekends, so it’s a good time for me to catch up on regular life things or writing and research. ”
“If I were not here, which would you do?”
“Likely both. Run errands then do research into the night. Maybe veg out with some romcom or historical drama. That’s my usual Saturday.”
His hand, outstretched on the couch still, skimmed across her own for a brief heartbeat and it sent a thrill down her spine. “I’d like to take you out again in a calmer environment. Do you have time today?”
She went over her mental to-do list. She could realistically put off research for one day.
However, she did need to go by the pharmacy and grocery store if she didn’t want to skip her birth control and eat for the next week.
“I need to hit up a few places, but I don’t need to research today if I can focus on it tomorrow. ”
“Good,” he practically purred in his deep voice and flicked his had in the air in an odd way. “We’ll run your errands then have a day out.”
“I’m taking a shower first,” she said, rising from the couch as she crumpled her dirty sandwich paper in her hand.
His forked, intriguingly tensile, tongue flicked out, tracing his upper lip and fangs, and her knees nearly buckled. Instead of waiting around to see what he might say with that sly glint in his eyes, she scurried toward her room to gather clothes.
The day was nearly derailed a minute later when she threw back her room curtain to find her closet stuffed to the brim with new, expensive looking clothes.
Not like regular expensive either. Like old-money classic lines and fancy fabrics.
So old money she only recognized half the designer tags she saw.
She went out to argue with Plutus about it, but he simply said, “You asked to be comfortable. The clothes are part of our deal.”
They were soft and cool and would be perfectly comfortable, goddammit, and though she stomped back to the bathroom, she didn’t argue.
She picked out one of the linen button-up shirts he’d somehow put in her room while they had breakfast. She paired that with an old, worn-in pair of Levi’s she’d picked up at a thrift store and her trusty sandals with the appropriate amount of style and cushion for a woman who walked around the city more often than not.
She muttered more expletives when a leather crossbody purse lay bold as you please on her bed when she returned after her shower/makeup/dressing routine.
Soft as butter and smelling strongly of Plutus, she eyed it suspiciously before going for her own plain-Jane, serviceable purse, which already had her sunglasses in it.
She transferred her wallet and headphones in it before scrambling to find her phone.
Until she remembered Plutus had it, along with her ID.