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Sol shrugged, then continued, “But me? You’re right. Servants probably don’t know my name.” He leaned closer to her as if they were sharing a secret, his voice low and sensuous. “And I prefer it that way. Servants talk, you see. And I wouldn’t want them spreading gossip about my… private affairs.” He lifted his hand and brushed a finger along the exposed skin of her shoulder.
Pleasure sizzled through her at the contact, and she sucked in a breath, so startled and confused by his touch that she had nothing to say.
He strode past her, that cocky grin returning to his mouth, leaving Pandora to stare after him. Who was this person? He certainly wasn’t the cruel, ambitious god she remembered from her youth.
And the way he touched her—the way his voice dipped, deep and alluring—made her body tingle with an awareness she had never felt before.
She’d taken lovers, of course. But in the Underworld, there were slim pickings for bedmates.
Pandora shook her head. Sol was not an ideal bedmate. He was an ass. An arrogant snob.
But those traits had nothing to do with sharing a bed with him. Pandora had bedded some of the most despicable demons simply because they had attractive bodies.
And Sol’s body was most certainly attractive.
For a moment, she allowed herself to watch him walk past her, his swaggering steps drawing her eye to the delicious curve of his backside.
Her mouth quirked upward in a smile.
Was she truly thinking about this? As if it were a viable option?
Why not? asked a voice inside her. This might be your one and only opportunity to experience true, potent pleasure.
To tangle with a god.
And a god with a body like that…
Her throat flared with heat, and she forced herself to follow after Sol, utterly bewildered by the turn her thoughts had taken.
More important things, she reminded herself. More important things.
But if Sol kept flirting with her like that, she wasn’t sure what she would do.
* * *
It didn’t take them long to reach the village. Once they emerged from the grove of trees, a babble of voices filled the air, growing closer with each step they took. A short bridge spanned a small river, and on the other side was a collection of cream-colored buildings with blue rooftops, separated by a narrow gap that allowed people to traverse between them on foot.
As Sol led Pandora on a winding path between buildings, his steps sure and confident, as if he had taken this route many times, Pandora kept trying to peer around the corner of the buildings to see what caused all the commotion. Several villagers fell into step beside them, hurrying with a sense of urgency.
“What’s going on?” Pandora asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Sol shrugged. “Probably another market day.”
“Market day?”
“Surely you know what a market is.” He smirked at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. But these people aren’t acting like they’re going to an ordinary marketplace. They look as if they’re running late for an important social gathering.”
“Well, that’s exactly what market day is. Vendors and townsfolk from all over the village come together to show off their wares, haggle, bargain, converse, and fellowship together. It’s an excellent opportunity to experience the culture we have to offer here.”
Pandora frowned at the word culture. “But this is Elysium. None of this is real. All the villagers here are dead. Why would they be worried about selling wares or haggling prices?”
Sol turned to face her, eyebrows lifted, a rare look of solemnity on his face. “Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean there’s no economy here. Life doesn’t end after leaving the mortal realm. It continues, either in the Underworld, or in Elysium. And from there, a new culture rises.”
She had never thought of it that way. To her, death was simply a door opening, leading to another completely different world. But here in Elysium, it seemed as if they were trying to recreate a society similar to the mortal realm.
“It doesn’t seem strange to you?” Pandora asked as they continued down the thin walkways between buildings. “You’re a god. You don’t need to eat or sleep or toil, and yet that’s exactly what this village embodies: a society of humans. Frail, weak humans.”
