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Clenching my right fist, I wallow in the bedroom until the voices die away. I wait by my door for twenty minutes just to be absolutely sure that they aren’t coming back.
When I open the door, though, the house seems to be at rest. Ares and Eros are nowhere to be seen. I catch the scent of simmering onions and garlic in the air as I approach the kitchen.
Peeking around the wide doorframe, I find Hades standing at the counter, a wooden spoon pointed at a burner. I raise my eyebrows, surprised.
I wouldn’t have guessed that any of the three knew how to boil water. I edge closer, trying to determine which brother it is.
My breath catches as Hades turns around and spots me. I think I see a note of amusement in his face before he looks back at the stovetop.
“I was wondering when ye would show yer face,” he says. “Driven out by hunger, then?”
My cheeks heat and I step out into the doorway. “Your brothers are too loud for me.” I raise up on my tiptoes, trying to see what he is cooking on the stove without moving closer.
“Aye. They are quite brash. But ye have naught to fear from them just now. They are both asleep in their car.” Hades looks at me, gently nodding his head at the stove. “Shakshuka.”
I crinkle my nose, stepping into the kitchen. “Pardon?”
Curiosity pulls me toward the stove, though I stay far clear of Hades’ big body. He sends me another look laced with amusement.
“Shakshuka. It’s a middle eastern recipe. Eggs poached in tomatoes.” He raises an overflowing measuring cup full of stewed tomatoes, showing it to me before he pours it into the frying pan where the onions and garlic have been popping and crackling.
“That smells amazing,” I say, edging cautiously toward the stove. “Kind of reminds me of the smell of crawfish etouffee.”
His brow furrows. “Cannae say that I’ve had that.”
“It’s a creole dish.” I take a deep breath and my mouth starts to water. “Where did you learn to cook that?”
He clears his throat, turning the heat down and putting a lid on the dish. “In my later teenaged years, I suppose. I was with the Special Air Forces, stationed in Casablanca.” He purses his lips and lifts a shoulder. “We had a lot of free time. Free time and a fucking lot of sand.”
My eyes widen. “You were in the military?”
I look at him, trying to imagine him wearing a deep blue khaki shirt and pants. I would bet anything that he filled out the uniform perfectly.
“Yes.” He smirks. “I haven’t always been in my current line of work. Though I have to say that I vastly prefer the freedom of my new job, not to mention…” He gestures around to the house. “The pay is substantially better, if ye can imagine.”
My lips twitch. “You seem to gravitate toward very dangerous career paths.”
A rumble of something that might be laughter leaves his chest in a huff. “Yer right about that, lass. I dinnae mind living on the edge.”
My stomach growls audibly. Hades slides me a look. “Sit down. I’ll feed ye.”
Wrinkling my face, I do as he says. For a couple of minutes, I watch as he adds eggs to the mixture and pulls a golden loaf of crusty, tantalizing bread from the kitchenette’s tiny oven.
Soon enough, Hades slides a steaming hot bowl of poached eggs and tomato in front of me, accompanied by a fragrant hunk of bread.
“I need—“ I start.
He cuts me off. “Ye dinnae need a fork, lass. That’s what the bread is for.”
He sets down a bowl in the spot beside mine and sits, picking up his own piece of bread. “Like so.”
Hades scoops his bread into the tomatoes, raising a heaping bite to his mouth. He blows on his food for a second before he devours the tomatoes and peppers off the bread. I watch him for a second, my lips puckered in a frown.
I don’t understand why Hades is suddenly being so… well, so damned hospitable to me. Picking up the hunk of warm bread, I sniff it.
Hades stops eating, looking at me. “What? Ye dinnae trust my food even though I am eating it too?”
I drop my gaze, my face warming. “Why should I trust you? You took me from my home and keep holding me hostage.”
