Chapter 14 #2
He had tousled and wild blond hair, with strands escaping in all directions, as if he had been aggressively tugging at it. He furrowed his brows as his eyes drifted over me, a silent assessment hanging in the air—and it was then as he studied me that I noticed the lack of a shirt on his body.
I gulped, my throat dry and his biceps, which were almost the size of my head, flexed. His chest was damp with sweat, the skin glistening as if he had tossed and turned in a restless search for sleep.
What could keep him, a god, awake at night?
“Are you well?”
The God of Love placed a naked foot over the threshold of the door, his head turning from side to side, searching for a companion. He soon realized I had come alone.
“Yes.” The next question lingered on my tongue, bitterness clogging inside my mouth. I was not keen on entering without invitation, but the night air was becoming cold. “May I come in?”
He glanced behind him, then back at me before offering a curt nod and moving to the side, creating an opening for me to pass.
“How may I be of assistance?” he asked, closing the door behind us as I took the first two steps inside.
I wanted to take in the house, but I felt I’d already been impolite by inviting myself inside so I couldn’t just gawk without first answering his question.
I pivoted to face him, but the words got caught in my throat.
A part of me wanted to confront him about my suspicions, but the other didn’t want him to know I was aware of his plot with Zeus.
“With your presence,” I finally replied, almost grimacing at the sound of my voice. Jesus. I couldn’t be more obvious if I tried. My eyelid twitched.
How did people flirt with such ease? I scoffed in my mind. Probably because they flirted at their own discretion.
The God of Love lifted a brow. “Well”—he pointed at himself—“matter resolved. Or perhaps you were intending to discuss something with me?”
“Do you always talk this formally? I assumed it was just in the presence of mortals. To show off.”
An amusing gleam floated in his eyes, the corners of his mouth rising. “That is my style of speech. I have no intention of impressing anyone.” His gaze traveled past my body before returning to my face. “Perhaps, someone.”
My days, he was such a flirt. I was almost envious of how effortlessly he did it.
I feigned a blush, averting my attention from him.
The room was vast, with towering columns that touched the ceiling.
A cold marble table, polished to a mirror sheen, dominated the center of the space, surrounded by extravagant red chairs that were upholstered in rich velvet and carved with gold accents.
Tall crimson draperies hid large windows on the wall, accompanied by a few nude portraits of himself.
He appeared next to me, his shoulder bumping superficially against mine. “Admiring the scenery?”
My gaze snapped away from the paintings, but not before taking in the sight of his penis. Did its size reflect reality or had the artist been compensated to exaggerate it?
“If you distrust the paintings, you may examine it yourself.” My mouth dropped, capturing the playful curve of his lips and the twitch of his eyebrows before he erupted in laughter.
I remained still and unblinking. The cockiness of this man was unbelievable.
After he was done laughing at his own words, he returned his eyes to me, slowly easing into a steady expression. “I was jesting, but the offer remains valid.”
How could I possibly pretend to be in love with him? I sighed as my fingers reached up to press on my temples. “Thank you, but I’ll have to pass on the offer.”
He cleared his throat, placing his palms inside the front pockets of his linen pants. Perhaps he sensed my mood, because the mirth had disappeared from his face.
“Did you find the gift to your liking?”
“Yes, my wounds are gone.” I gritted my teeth, meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”
The God of Love nodded. “I am curious as to the reason for your visit.”
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I pondered the most suitable answer. Confront him or lie? I squinted at him. Men were gratified when women sought their help, getting pleasure from helping a woman in a difficult situation. I decided to use pity as my approach for now.
I moved theatrically, my hands beside my body, while letting out a huff. “I might die tomorrow, and as foolish as it sounds, I don’t want to be alone.”
“It is not foolish. Perhaps you could’ve requested the company of one of the contestants.”
Think. Think. Think.
I arched a brow. “You mean the people I’ll eventually have to fight against?”
He pursed his lips. “Understandable. Shall I offer a tour of my home?”
The question took me off guard. I inhaled a deep breath, drawing out a smile. “That would be nice.”
The God of Love pressed a hand on the small of my back, and I flinched at the sensation, resisting the urge to pull away. “After you.”
I sank my teeth into my lip, walking in tandem with him. “Do you have portraits with you in every room of the house? Because I might reconsider the tour if that’s the case.”
He laughed, his head falling back as the joyous sound escaped, revealing his brilliant white teeth.
His shoulders still shook when he spoke. “I will arrange for their removal if they are causing you distress.”
“So there are more?”
The God of Love wiped at the corner of his eyes. “No, I’m afraid not.”
We walked past the entrance, and our footsteps reverberated in the stillness of the house.
He came to a halt, extending a hand toward the kitchen.
Light marble counters were veined with subtle streaks of gold and against a backdrop of deep, red walls, shelves were meticulously arranged and filled with a vibrant collection of jars.
“This is my kitchen. I enjoy cooking when my schedule permits.”
“I’ve been here for twenty minutes, and I already learned two things about you,” I began.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“You have a strange passion for yourself, and you favor the color red,” I replied, catching his amused look as he led me to a staircase.
“That is correct.” His palm left my back while we ascended the stairs, and I was grateful for the distance. “The house is rather spacious, but I will focus on the main areas to save you from a lengthy tour.”
I nodded, allowing him to guide me through the enormous first floor’s echoing hallway lined with six imposing doors on each wall. He showed me the painting room, the smell of turpentine filled the air, and he admitted he wasn’t a talented painter, but it was his artist’s sanctuary.
When he led me to his personal workout room, I let out a snort. “Why train when you can snap your fingers and look however you please?” I made a show of clicking my fingers against each other, raising a brow.
“It helps to clear my thoughts,” he answered, twitching his jaw as if he’d find himself wandering inside this room often.
Throughout the rest of the tour, I stayed quiet as he showed me the sauna, the music space, and the compartment with a panoramic view, but I couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of his library. He let out a low chuckle, flicked his fingers and lit up the room for me.
Stepping inside, I breathed deeply, savoring the familiar aroma of old books.
Of all the rooms, this one was the darkest, its shadows providing a comforting embrace with only a sliver of moonlight escaping through the small window.
The tall mahogany bookshelves reached the ceiling, filled with books arranged by color; a gradient of gray, red, blue, and brown.
He gestured toward a rolling ladder of aged wood and a small, inviting reading nook tucked into a corner, complete with a plush armchair and a lamp. My fingers itched to reach out, to trace the spines, to inhale the scent of old paper.
“I would have bypassed the house tour and brought you here immediately if I had known it would be the most pleasing to you. Please, you are welcome to explore the area.”
The smile in his tone was noticeable but I wasn’t able to take my eyes off the books to look at him. Tears welled in my eyes as I approached the first shelf, my fingers gliding along the spines of the books. My personal collection, while extensive, paled in comparison to his.
My teeth dug into the inside of my cheek. What a privilege to own so many stories.
“You are welcome to take anything that piques your interest. I possess multiple copies of the majority of my books.” His voice inched closer, his breath now brushing over the exposed skin of my neck.
I frowned. “Why?”
“As an avid reader, I sometimes damage the spines of books, therefore, I like to have an undamaged copy for display.”
At that moment, I spun, my mouth agape in disbelief. “You call yourself an avid reader and yet you break the spines? How dare you?”
My mind wandered back to the last book I read.
The book was already in poor condition when Maggie’s mother gave it to me, so I’d been cautious, careful to avoid bending it or leaving my damp fingers lingering too long on the pages.
After all, my books were the most valuable things I possessed, and I wanted them to be in perfect condition; like a trophy, a beacon of hope in my life.
I couldn’t imagine destroying a book when it was the only thing keeping me intact.
The God of Love chuckled. “I do not inflict spinal damage for enjoyment, mortal. I do so for my own comfort and because the markings show the books were read and valued.” He picked a book from the library and handed it to me. “Perhaps you should consider trying it.”
My eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. “It doesn’t make sense to me,” I murmured, moving the book from one palm to another. “How can you say you value something when you’re actively ruining it? Say you love someone, a woman; would it count as love if you’re hurting her?”