Chapter 18 Persephone
Persephone
“Lass.”
Hades is in the driver’s seat and he presses a button to roll the roof of the car back, shining bright light on my sleepy face.
I yawn. Outside the car, the coastal French countryside is flying by in swashes of sand-colored khaki, dashes of brilliant green peppered with yellow, and a fat palette brush of deep ocean blue.
I sit up and rub my eyes. Ahead of me is the road, climbing up and rocketing down the hills outside Monaco.
The road twists and winds like a snake and the car flies down them at a breakneck speed.
In the distance, I can see the clash of the coast with the ocean and the distant wink of what I think might be a large city.
“We’re almost to Monaco City,” Hades rasps.
I dart a look at him. He’s been moving non-stop for two days straight, ever since we ran from our villa in Valencia.
His tie-dyed hoodie is rumpled. His hair is loose and it streams around his head now, a shock of dark against his tanned skin.
He looks straight ahead, and he still wears the fluorescent orange sunglasses that I bought at the gift shop.
Under all that, though, I can sense how tired he must be.
“Are you all right?” I ask. I draw my hood up to keep the wind from whipping my long hair around my head madly.
“Aye,” he says grimly. “I was hoping that ye would talk to me a little. We’ve only got about ten minutes more to go. I’m just not as alert as I’d like to be.”
“Of course.” I stretch my hands up over my head. “I didn’t think I would sleep for so long.”
Something like humor flits across his face. “Ye seemed like ye needed it. I’m used to crisscrossing the globe when I need to do it. I forget that other people aren’t suited to the lifestyle that I lead.”
I scrunch up my face. “No offense, but it doesn’t seem like much of a life. Never the same people. Never the same places. How can you live so…” I pause, trying to think of the right word. “I would say you’re like a nomad, but even they travel to the same places every year.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I have my brothers.”
“Don’t you long for a piece of land with a big house and a cute dog? Where will you put down roots? Where will you like… have a family?”
I squint at him. He just shrugs again. But I do notice that his body language is tighter, more closed off. I screw up my face.
“I want to live in a massive, old, rambling French farmhouse. And I want all kinds of animals… cats and dogs, chickens, ducks and horses. I’d like an orchard, too.
Oh, and a great big studio in the attic space above the house.
The closest people will be miles away. That’s the kind of house that you raise a family in. The place where you grow old.”
Hades snorts. “That’s yer fantasy?”
My cheeks tinge with warmth. “Isn’t it everyone’s?”
“Not a chance.”
He turns off of the windy coastal highway we’ve been following, nosing the car down a small, paved road.
I glance to see how close we are to the city and find to my surprise that it is much closer now.
I can make out the tall white buildings.
Behind them, a stark white wall of stone dusted with emerald greenery seems implacable.
“Are we going into the city?” I ask.
“No. I’ve arranged to meet a friend just outside. I asked him some time ago to procure a place where ye can do what ye came here to do.”
My heart starts beating fast. It isn’t like I had forgotten that I was here for a reason. My brain has just been scrambled over the past forty-eight hours. It seemed almost normal at this point that I should be on the run with this ruggedly handsome arms dealer.
You could get used to anything, given enough time.
Hades pulls the car to a stop in front of a set of docks in obvious disrepair.
The docks themselves had rotted and were half fallen into the churning ocean.
There was an ancient piece of machinery, overturned on its side and grown brown with caked rust from contact with the sea air.
Scanning the vacant-looking warehouse standing a bit further back from the water, I purse my lips.
“What are the chances that your friend is going to kill us and sell our organs on the black market? Because this place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“I’d give the over-under at one to ten.” He climbs out of the car, his face contorting. Only now do I realize how freaking uncomfortable he must have been, jammed in that small convertible. “Jaysus.”
“I guess your friend is running late.”
“He’s on his own schedule. He’s from an old money family with connections to everyone in Monaco. He owns half the damn real estate to be had here.”
I look down the beach to the line of the steadily lapping water where it surges against the land. What little shore there is seems rockier here, with less sand and a lot of white pebbles of varying sizes. The water is the perfect hue of deep marine blue.
It’s beautiful, absolutely no doubt about it. Then again, the last two locations Hades has dragged me to have been charming, too.
A sleek black limousine pulls up, its tires crunching on the sandy gravel. Out of the back pops a dark-haired man in a blue pinstripe suit.
Lithe and muscular, he reminds me of a once-pretty professional mid-weight fighter. He has a scowl on his proud, Gallic face as he approaches us, sizing us both up. Whatever he thinks is a mystery to me though because he doesn’t seem like the type to share anything.
He’s more like a shark. Always on the prowl, forever assessing who is a threat and who is his next meal.
Instinctively, I move a little closer to Hades.
“Hades,” he says, bowing his head. He has a thick Southern French accent, so his pronunciation of the name sounds like Ay-Dis. “And you must be the artist, no?”
He arches a brow and my cheeks warm. I swallow and glance at Hades, but he makes an easy gesture.
“This is Lincoln Theroux,” he says coolly. He stretches his hand toward the other man, shaking his hand.
“Linc,” he corrects. His gaze slides between me and Hades, as if calculating some statistic. “It’s not the first time you have called on me for help, mon ami. But it is the first time you’ve showed up with someone prettier than Eros in your company.”
Hades’ eyes narrow on Linc’s face. “I’d be careful planning yer next words, Linc.”
Linc gives a tiny, halfhearted shrug. “I’m French. You cannot blame me for asking whether your beautiful companion is already claimed. No?”
“It’s Persephone,” I cut in, trying to ease the growing tension. “And I’m not here with anybody. I’m not interested in being with anybody, either. I’m just here to make art.”
Hades cocks a brow and Linc smirks faintly. “Just testing the waters.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Do I dare dream of a shower here, Linc?”
I notice that Hades yawns. He is surely ready to pass out the second he’s allowed.
“Oui,” Linc says. He waves a hand to the warehouse. “I have had this place outfitted with everything you will need.”
“Great. Thanks,” I say, heading toward the warehouse. Leaving the two men to talk, I slide open the barn-style door.
Inside, the warehouse is large and mainly dark.
It has obviously been sitting disused as well, until someone came in and cleaned up three huge areas.
One has been set up as a sleeping area with a big, soft-looking couple of beds and two racks of familiar black clothes.
Another area is a rather confusing giant box.
A quick glance inside makes it a bathroom, complete with a shower, a toilet, and what looks like an old-fashioned ladies changing area, stolen right from a Victorian tale.
And the third area, most interesting to me, is the worktable.
I walk over to it, running my hand over the smooth surface of the drafting table. Next to it is a huge broad worktable, stacked high with boxes of what I think are the supplies I requested.
My fingers itch to rip into the boxes, to spill all the inks and the pigments out, to examine the quality of the paper. But first…
I really do need that shower.
Finding a set of clothes in my perfect size already hanging on one of the racks, I dump them in the changing room and turn on the water in the shower.
The shower is amazingly hot, and the pressure is strong, despite the fact that I’m in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. I take my time in there, lathering and soaping every inch of my body until I am glowing bright pink with warmth.
When I get dressed in a loose, flowing black silk dress and an oversized black sweater, I feel like I just may be okay. My life might have been turned upside down by forces beyond my control, but—
I step out of the bathroom. My gaze sweeps across the room, finding a dark figure lying prone on one of the beds. I stumble, my thoughts snarling.
Drifting across the squeaky-clean floor, I chew on my bottom lip. As I circle around and see Hades lying there, eyes closed, my heart gives a strange kick.
For a second, I let my mind wander, traipsing across all kinds of scenarios.
What would Hades be like if he wasn’t a villain? What if he were the hero to my blushing virginal heroine in a romantic dream state?
I’m such a sucker for the softer side of a bad, bad man.
Without opening his eyes, he mutters. “Are ye okay, lass?”
My heart is in my throat. I nod, even though he can’t hear me.
“I need to sleep.” His voice sounds deeper than gravel.
I take a step toward him. He opens his eyes the barest slit, then heaves himself up with a heavy sigh. He rips back the covers and beckons to me.
“Come here, if ye will. Otherwise— “
I rush toward him, drawn in like a moth to a newly lit flame. “I want to lie down.”
That isn’t exactly the truth. I’m not tired anymore, not after sleeping for several hours in the car. And my thoughts keep drifting back to work, back to ink and paper and all that comes with it.
But I do want to be near Hades. I can’t help it. I want to be closer to the thing that causes me pain, because it’s so damned moving.
Hades looks a little surprised. But he points to the bed, holding the blanket draped over his arm. “In the bed with ye, then.”
I lie down on the pillowy mattress. Hades presses his body up against me, covering us both with the comforter. I shift onto my side, uncertain.
Will Hades think I’m being too forward if I—
He rolls over on his side, spooning me, tucking me against his big body. In the summer air he’s already like a furnace. I can tell that if I do manage to fall asleep, I will wake up sweaty and clawing at the blankets, trying to get free.
Hades brushes my hair out of the way and lies his head just behind mine. His breath teases my neck; I suck in a breath when I imagine him placing the softest kiss just where my neck and my shoulder meet.
I shiver and Hades puts his arm around me, pulling me flush against the hard wall of his body. I’m trapped, ensnared so wickedly.
My breath seizes in my body.
“Shh,” he whispers. “I can hear yer mind workin. Just settle down now, lass.”
And after a moment? I do.
I listen to his calm breathing even out, growing deeper. Before I know it, I’m pulled into a light doze, aware no more.