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“Hi.” I nod at the pictures that she keeps rifling through. “What are ye doing with those?”
She stands up, stretching her arms high overhead. “Looking for good ones. And by good, I mean not toooooo good. I need perfectly average photos. Nothing too flattering.” She flashes me a picture of Eros, rolling her eyes. “Like any DMV or post office has ever taken a photo with any kind of sex appeal?” She snorts. “The more handsome you are, the harder it is to find an average picture for my purposes.”
The thought that she might find Eros attractive is a particularly nasty one for me. Of course, he’s the standout between the three Lyon brothers in the looks department. But the idea that he could steal Penny from under my nose is… haunting.
I think it is in this moment that I realize that I’ve sort of taken for granted that she is mine. At least for right now, she is my plaything, my possession.
Until I tire of her.
I shoot her a glare. “How can ye work in all this mess?”
“What?” She blinks at me, her hazel eyes narrowing. “What do you care what my work area looks like? It doesn’t affect you in literally any way.”
I shoot a hard glance at the glue bottle, its top not just open, but its brush top drying slowly in the cool air. Penny shakes her head and tosses the box of photos aside.
“I haven’t worked with that glue before. I left it open and exposed to the air to test its viscosity every few minutes. That way I will know when the perfect time is to glue everything together.”
She circles around to the glue, picking up a paintbrush and touching the very tip to the bristles on the brush. She pulls a fine strand of glue out, sucking her teeth.
“Not yet.”
“Oh.” I run my hand over the back of my neck, feeling stupid. “I guess that’s okay.”
“I say it’s okay. And I’m the one making your fucking papers, so kindly jam a sock in it, buddy.” She puts her hands on her hips, giving me a measuring look. “What’s going on with you, Hades?”
I shrug a shoulder, touching the tip of a paintbrush. “My brothers are already getting on my nerves.”
“Ah!” Penny says. “I know that feeling quite well. It’s pretty exasperating that you aren’t allowed to strangle your little brother. Or brothers, in your case.”
“Yeah.” I frown, stroking the tip of the paintbrush. “I like to think they are a type of cosmic revenge for all the men I’ve killed.”
She starts, looking up at me. “Are you fucking serious?”
I squint, considering. “Half the time.”
Penny shakes her head, tidying up some loose papers. “You are insane. You know that?”
“I’d be lying if I said that was the first time anyone had said that to me.” I lean my hip against the table, splaying my hands wide.
She gives a humorless chuckle. “It makes me miss my own family. Not that I’m longing to be reunited with my psycho family, exactly… But I think when I get back to the States, I’m going to try to find a place in New Orleans. That may not mean anything to you, but that’s a measure of how nuts you sound.”
I’m not sure if she’s teasing me or not. All I can hear is the bit about returning to the States. My jaw tenses and I shoot an accusatory look her way.
“Already planning to leave me, then?” I growl.
Her eyebrows jump up. “I don’t have a timeline. But I think it’s safe to say that I will return there…” She waves her fingers. “Eventually.”
I stalk around the table, closing the few feet between us. Penny looks up at me, watching me carefully, like I’m a mad fucking dog that’s loose in her yard.
Grimacing, I get in her face, invading her personal space completely. “Just admit it. Admit that ye are counting the seconds until ye can run away.”
Penny swallows, tensing when I grab her forearm. She tries to pull away but I’m much too strong for her. She turns those big brown-green eyes up at me, licking her lips nervously.
“Hades,” she says softly. “Why are you picking a fight with me? That’s not the way to tell someone you want them to stay.”
Grabbing her around the waist, I haul her soft body up against mine. Her face is merely inches from mine. I lift her, pinning her against the table.
I look up into her face, making her a promise. “I never said ye had a choice, lass. Ye dinnae decide when to leave me. I decide when to let ye go.”
