Her brows pull together. “What word?”
“No.” It takes more effort than I’ll ever admit to turn away from a rumpled Persephone sitting on her bed and walk into the bathroom. The distance does nothing to help. This woman is in my blood. I dig through the cabinet under the sink for the first aid kit. We keep them in every bathroom in the house. I’m not technically at war with anyone, but my line of business means that sometimes my people are dealing with unexpected injuries. Like gunshot wounds.
I half expect to find Persephone ready to mount her next seduction when I return to the room, but she’s sitting primly where I left her. She’s even managed to smooth her hair a bit, though the flush in her skin betrays her. Desire or anger, or some combination of both.
I go to one knee beside the bed and shoot her a look. “Behave.”
“Yes, Sir.” The words are sugary sweet and poisonous enough to knock me on my ass if I wasn’t expecting it.
I’ve never kept a submissive. I prefer to confine things to the playroom and to individual scenes, even if there are repeat partners. The only rule is that it stops the second the scene ends. This is something else, and I’m not prepared for the conflicting feelings that twist through my chest as I unwrap Persephone’s feet and examine them. They’re healing well, but they’re still a mess. That sprint through the upper city truly did come close to maiming her. Not to mention that she was dangerously close to hypothermia by the time she made it to me. Much longer out in the night and she might have done irreparable damage to herself.
She might have fucking died.
I’d hope Zeus’s men would have stepped in at that point, but I have no faith when it comes to Zeus. He’s just as likely to let her run herself to death to punish her for the act of fleeing him as he is to sweep in and haul her back to his side.
“Why didn’t you call a cab when you left the event?” I don’t intend to voice the question, but it lands in the space between us all the same.
“I wanted to think, and I do that better on the move.” She shifts a little as I spread Neosporin on the worst of the wounds. “I had a lot to think about last night.”
“Stupid.”
She tenses. “It’s not stupid. By the time I realized that I was being pursued, I was being herded to the river, and then it just…” Persephone lifts a hand and lets it fall. “I couldn’t go back. I won’t go back.”
I should let it stand at that, but I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut around this woman. “Hurting yourself when they cross you doesn’t do a damn thing to them. If anything, it’s what they want. You treat your body like it’s the enemy; it makes you too weak to fight them.”
Persephone huffs out a breath. “You act like I’m committing self-harm or something. Yes, sometimes I put my body’s needs on the back burner because of stress or dealing with all the various bullshit being one of Demeter’s daughters entails, but I’m not doing it to hurt myself.”
Once I’m satisfied that I’ve got the ointment on every cut, I begin the process of wrapping her feet in bandages again. “You only get one body, and you’re a shitty custodian of yours.”
“You’re taking a tiny injury really personally.”
Maybe I am, but the way she insists on downplaying the danger she was in aggravates me in the extreme. It means she’s done it before, often enough for it to be barely worth mentioning. It means she’ll do it again if given half a chance. “If you can’t be trusted to take care of your body, then I’m going to do it for you.”
The silence stretches on so long that I finally look up to find her staring at me with her mouth in a perfect O. She finally gives herself a shake. “It’s a nice thought, I suppose, but hardly necessary. I might have agreed to sex—and happily—but I did not agree to you signing on as the world’s crankiest babysitter. Are you planning on feeding me by spoon, too?” She laughs brightly. “Don’t be absurd.”
Her dismissal rankles more than it has a right to. Not because she’s attempting to deny me. No, there’s something brittle beneath her feigned amusement. Has anyone ever truly taken care of Persephone? It’s not my business. I should get up and leave the room and leave her until the required public scenes.
To do anything else invites the kind of ruin a man like me might not recover from.
Chapter 10
Persephone
When Hades said he intends to take care of me, I didn’t believe him. Why would I? I’m a grown woman and more than capable of taking care of myself, no matter what he seems to think. If he wasn’t so incredibly pushy, I might even be able to admit how dangerous the night we met was for my health. I hadn’t meant to ignore the cold and the pain, but by the time I realized it was an issue, I didn’t have any other choice but pushing forward. I might even reassure him that though I sometimes forget to eat or other small things like that, I don’t make a habit of putting myself in the way of actual harm.