“How do you know? Obviously I’ve angered him somehow.”
“Trust me, if he was angry with you, you’d know.” He shook his head. “No, Cat, this isn’t about you. It’s about me.” Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m the one he’s punishing. All females in Sheoul-gra are off limits to me, including servants and his daughters. And trust me, when the Grim Reaper tells you his daughters are off limits...you listen. I looked at one of them too long, and he impaled me. Big stick right up the ass and out of the top of my skull. I still pucker when I think about it.” His tone was light, breezy, as if his pain was no big deal, but when his gaze caught hers, she sucked in a harsh breath at the sadness there. “I want you, Cat, and if all it would cost me was a pointy stick up the ass, I’d pay that price. But it wouldn’t stop there. And I don’t know what price you’d have to pay, as well.”
Stunned by his admission, she just sat there, unsure what to say. All she knew was that Hades wanted her after all, and that should have made her happy, but the only thing it did was make her miserable.
So much for playing it cool.
Hades felt like a total jackass. He shouldn’t have said anything about his punishment, about wanting Cat, about anything at all. The only way he stayed sane was to let everything slide off him like lava rolled off a Gargantua.
He wondered if the owners of this hut had alcohol stored somewhere. He could use a drink. Or ten.
“Hades?”
He gazed out the window at the lily pad-choked pond out back and braced himself for a bunch of pity. “What?”
“Is that why you live in the Inner Sanctum? Because Azagoth doesn’t want you to be tempted or something?”
“Nope.” He watched a crowd of people tossing a ball around in a nearby yard. He hated this place. It was too...human. Too bright and cheery. It reminded him that his life was all gloom and doom and asshole demons.
“So you choose to live in the Sanctum? In what’s little more than a hovel?”
He turned back to her, drawing a quick, surprised breath at her clothes. While he’d been looking out the window, she’d changed into tights and a long-sleeved, form-fitting T-shirt. There were even socks on her feet. Since her skin was a gauge for good and evil, she must not want to feel those things. She must not want to feel him.
Not that he blamed her, but he still felt a pinch of hurt that made his voice sharper than he’d intended. “What, you were expecting a palace?”
She stared. “You live in a crypt and sleep in a coffin. They make these things called beds now.”
What a joke. “Azagoth limits my comforts. You know what I miss most about that? Peanut butter. And chocolate. Limos introduced me to them when they first appeared on the human scene, you know? I always raid Azagoth’s kitchen while I’m on that side, but usually I fill up on shit like pizza and Doritos.”
Cat had been reaching for a miniature wooden arrow on the shelf next to her, but now she froze, her brows cranked down in confusion. “Azagoth won’t even let you bring decent food to your place?”
“Oh, he will. He just won’t help me get it. I have to call in favors. Or blackmail people. Limos brought me gelato once, but it was melted by the time Azagoth let it through.”
Cat gasped. “That’s awful.”
He laughed. “It was gelato. Hardly a global disaster.”
“Azagoth is an asshole,” she snapped. He probably shouldn’t love that she was angry on his behalf. “Why is he doing all of this to you?”
“Long story.”
She picked up the arrow and gently stroked her fingers over the smooth surface. “Well, we don’t have much else to do while we’re waiting for the Orphmage to give up the human.”
He could think of a lot of things they could do. If he wasn’t forbidden by Azagoth to do them.
Anger and frustration threatened to boil over. He’d put up with Azagoth’s asshattery for thousands of years, but now...now it felt like he was at a crossroads, at a place where he couldn’t stand it anymore. Hadn’t he paid for his sins for long enough?
Growling to himself, he stormed out of the bedroom and searched the hut for liquor. Soft footsteps followed him, but he ignored Cat as he popped the cork out of a clay jug of what smelled like extremely potent bloodwine.
Cat drifted into his peripheral vision as she checked out the knickknacks on the walls. Demons loved their wood and bone carvings. “So how did you end up here, anyway?”
He chugged a few swallows of the tart bloodwine, relishing the hot tingle as it burned its way down his throat. “You’re a fallen angel, too. You know all about dirty laundry.”
A wisp of pink swept across her cheeks. “My fall wasn’t entirely my fault.”
“You’re still going with that story, huh?”
Her chin lifted. “It’s true. I told you how it happened.”