Eve
My heart leapt out of my mouth as my eyes landed on Hades. His expression was soft and open before his eyes narrowed on .
"Love?"
His voice was calm. Too calm—deceptively so. The mont stretched between us, thick with sothing unspoken, sothing volatile. I could see it in the way his fingers flexed, in the asured rise and fall of his chest.
My pulse thundered, but I forced a smile, adjusting the hem of my sleeves. "I— I wasn't expecting you back so soon."
His gaze drifted down, tracking the way my hands curled into the fabric. A slow blink. Then another. He stepped forward, his presence consuming the room like a rising tide.
"I noticed."
The words sent a shiver down my spine. There was no heat to them, no anger—just a dangerous kind of patience. The kind that ant he had already figured sothing out and was waiting for to confirm it.
I swallowed. "I was just—"
"Covering up."
I flinched.
The smallest movent, but enough. His expression didn't change, yet sothing about him shifted—his eyes darkening, shoulders drawing back as if to brace himself. He was watching, reading, assessing.
I was losing this battle before I even had the chance to fight.
Hades inhaled deeply, his gaze locked onto mine like a predator sizing up wounded prey. Not with hunger, not with anger—but with that unnerving patience that made my skin prickle.
"Eve," he said again, slower this ti. "What are you hiding?"
I held firm, though my grip on the fabric betrayed , fingers twisting tighter as if the silk alone could shield from his scrutiny.
"Nothing," I said, too quickly.
He exhaled, the sound almost amused but far from convinced. "Nothing?"
His fingers flexed at his sides before he took another step forward. I took one back, my heel bumping the edge of the bed. No escape.
His gaze dipped once more, dragging over the robe that now hung looser around my shoulders. And then, before I could react, he moved.
With the kind of fluid grace that made him so dangerously unpredictable, his fingers caught my wrists.
I froze.
Slowly, deliberately, he pried my hands apart. The fabric slipped from my fingers, revealing the delicate, lacy scrap of fabric I had been so desperately trying to hide.
Silence.
Hades stared.
Then his brows lifted, slow and incredulous.
"Eve," he murmured, voice thick with amusent. "Are you… holding a garter belt?"
My stomach twisted. Heat crept up my neck like wildfire. I clenched my jaw, summoning whatever dignity I had left. "Yes."
Silence stretched between us.
And then—
A laugh.
Not a chuckle. Not a quiet exhale. But a deep, rich, utterly delighted laugh.
I scowled. "It's not funny."
"Oh, but it is." His laughter tapered into sothing smug, his eyes glittering with unrestrained amusent. "You were acting like you'd been caught committing treason—over this?"
I sniffed. "I wanted to make an impression."
His lips twitched. "And you thought the best way to do that was by standing in the middle of our bedroom, gripping a garter belt like it's contraband?"
I crossed my arms, only to realize too late that I was still holding the damn thing. The lacy straps dangled between us, betraying completely.
Hades reached out, plucking the delicate garnt from my grasp with almost reverent curiosity. He turned it over in his fingers, dark eyes flicking back to mine, wicked amusent dancing behind them.
"This," he murmured, stepping closer, "is the big secret?"
I squared my shoulders. "It was supposed to be a surprise."
"It is," he agreed, smirking. "Just not the kind you intended."
I glared at him, but it was impossible to hold onto my indignation when his eyes burned with sothing softer, sothing too warm, too knowing.
Hades let the garter belt slip through his fingers, letting it dangle between us. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, he t my gaze.
"Well," he said, voice a husky purr, "don't keep waiting, love. What else are you hiding?"
His fingers flexed around the delicate lace before he let it slip from his grasp entirely, forgotten the mont his attention returned to . His gaze, once teasing and amused, turned molten as it dragged over my form.
And then—he moved.
With the sa ease he always carried, he reached for the lapels of my robe, brushing past my feeble attempt to hold them closed. The silk slid from my shoulders in one smooth motion, whispering against my skin before pooling at my feet.
A sharp inhale. A mont suspended in ti.
Hades went still.
His throat bobbed in a slow, deliberate swallow, as if he were physically forcing himself to breathe. His gaze devoured , not with hunger, but sothing deeper—sothing that sent heat curling through my spine and turned my pulse to thunder. He took in every inch, every detail, eyes lingering on the intricate lace, the delicate straps, the sheer panels teasing at what lay beneath.
His fingers twitched at his sides, restraint warring with sothing primal. His jaw clenched, a muscle feathering beneath his skin. And then, after what felt like an eternity, his lips parted, voice hoarse.
"Eve."
Just my na. A reverent whisper. A quiet surrender.
His gaze lifted back to mine, sothing raw and unguarded flickering behind his eyes. As if he had been utterly, thoroughly wrecked by the sight of .
I exhaled shakily, fingers curling at my sides. "Say sothing."
Hades blinked once, as if shaking himself free of whatever trance I had pulled him into. But when he spoke, his voice was different—low, reverent, like a man seeing sothing divine for the first ti.
"You're breathtaking."
The words crashed into with the force of a tidal wave, stealing the air from my lungs.
A slow, asured step forward. Then another.
His hands lifted, fingers hovering just above my waist, as if he were hesitant to touch. As if the reality of might slip through his grasp if he wasn't careful.
I had never seen him like this before.
Hades—the god of the underworld, the man who commanded shadows and storms—stood before , unraveled. Eyes dark with wonder, reverence etched into every line of his face.
"I—" His voice faltered, sothing rare, sothing fragile. "I don't think I was ready for this."
A smirk threatened my lips, but the mont was too charged, too electric to break with anything less than honesty.
"I wanted to surprise you," I admitted.
His gaze dropped to my body again, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You succeeded."
He reached for then—slow, deliberate—his hands settling at my waist, the heat of his palms searing through the delicate fabric. His touch was light, almost hesitant, like he was still processing the reality of standing before him like this.
I tilted my head, watching the way his throat moved as he swallowed, the way his lashes lowered as he traced the curve of my hips with his thumbs. A god, completely enthralled.
"You're staring," I teased, voice softer than I intended.
His eyes flicked up, locking onto mine. The smirk he gave was lazy, knowing—but his voice was a rasp.
"I'll be doing a lot more than that."
His head descended, just as my nose caught sothing.
Cheese. at. Pickles. Onions.
I stopped him, glancing behind him. "Are those burgers?"
He chuckled. "Ye—"
Then I was running.
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