“Let’s go back.”
“Okay.” I don’t know if it’s stress, my late night, or if Hades is right and I’m too good at ignoring my body’s signals. Surely not the latter. I take a step and then another, propelling myself forward from sheer stubbornness. But on the third step, the room goes sickeningly wavy and my knees turn to jelly. I’m falling, and I already know I won’t get my hands up in time to save myself.
“You stubborn little fool.” Hades curses and sweeps me into his arms before I have a chance to hit the floor. “Why didn’t you say you were feeling light-headed?”
It takes me a moment to reconcile the fact that I’m once again in Hades’s arms, that the harsh contact with the floor never came. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fucking fine. You nearly took a dive.” He stalks through the greenhouse and takes the stairs down two at a time, his expression thunderous. “You and everyone else in your life might be willing to play fast and loose with your health, but I am not.”
I get a glimpse of a startled Matthew as Hades tosses back the keys, and then we’re out on the street. I shift in his arms. “I can walk.”
“You most assuredly cannot.” He covers the blocks between the flower shop and his home at a startling pace. He really was checking his stride when we strolled casually around earlier. Part of me wants to keep arguing, but the truth is that I’m still feeling a little dizzy.
He practically kicks down the front door. Instead of putting me down like I expect, he marches up the stairs, bypassing the second landing. As much as I resent being treated like a child—even if maybe I should have said something on the way to the greenhouse about not feeling well—he’s sparked my curiosity. Georgie caught me this morning before I had a chance to do any real exploring, so the only bits I’ve seen are the sex dungeon, my room, and the kitchen. The third floor is all new to me.
That perks me up a little. “Where are we going?”
“You obviously can’t be trusted to take care of yourself, so I have to keep a better eye on you.”
I give up and rest my cheek against his shoulder. I really shouldn’t enjoy being carried about by this man as much as I do. “I probably just have low blood sugar,” I murmur. “It’s no big deal. I just need to eat something.”
“No big deal,” he repeats, as if he doesn’t understand the words. “You ate breakfast only a few hours ago.”
My skin heats and I can’t quite meet his gaze. “I had a snack.”
“Persephone.” He makes a sound impressively like a growl. “When is the last time you had a full meal?”
I don’t want to be honest, but I know better than to lie to him when he’s like this. I examine my fingernails. “Maybe breakfast the day of the party.”
“That was three days ago.”
“I’ve eaten since then, of course. Just not what I suspect you mean.” He doesn’t immediately respond and I finally look at him. Hades has gone so cold, it’s a wonder my breath doesn’t show in the air between us. I frown. “I don’t eat when I’m stressed.”
“That changes now.”
“You can’t just decree that something will change and make it so.”
“Watch me,” he snarls.
Hades opens a door to what appears to be a study, though I can see a bed through the doorway on the other side of the room. He walks to the couch and sets me down. “Do not move.”
“Hades.”
“Persephone, I swear to the gods, if you don’t obey me this once, I will tie you down and feed you by hand.” Hades points a blunt finger at me. “Do not fucking move from that couch.” Then he’s gone, sweeping out of the room.
I stick my tongue out at the closed door. “Drama queen.”
The temptation to snoop is nearly overwhelming, but I don’t think he’s bluffing with his threat to tie me down, so I manage to stifle my curiosity and sit still. Hades doesn’t make me wait long. Less than ten minutes later, the door opens and he stalks through, followed by half a dozen people.
I can feel my eyes going wider and wider as one of them sets up a little table in front of me and the other five place takeout food from five different restaurants on it. “What is this, Hades? Did you steal someone’s food to have it here this fast?” Then the sheer amount registers. “I can’t possibly eat all of this.”
He waits for his people to file out and then shuts the door. “You will eat some of it.”