He’s a customer,Aaren told himself.I shouldn’t be ogling.
But it was difficultnotto look. Multiple tattoos covered Hades’ arms—a mermaid on a rock, a roaring tiger, two tap dancing skeletons, and even a group portrait of a lion, a tin man, a scarecrow, a girl, and a dog.
He scrunched his eyes shut when Hades caught him staring.
“I’m, um, roasting vegetables,” he squeaked, hurrying away to grab the tomatoes and bell peppers. Those, he sliced and seasoned with olive oil and dried basil. They went into the oven on a roasting pan. Then he threw together the breading mixture for the chicken—breadcrumbs, garlic powder, dried parsley, salt, and a heap of shredded parmesan.
“Hot chocolate’s ready,” Hades said a moment later. When Aaren looked up, he found Hades holding two steaming mugs.
“Oh! Hang on, let me wash my hands.” He gave the breading mixture a final stir, then set it aside and scrubbed his hands clean. Hades was still holding the mugs when Aaren turned back to him.
With exceeding gentleness, the alpha set one of the mugs in Aaren’s hands, their fingers brushing.
Electricity sparked down Aaren’s arm.
He inhaled sharply and looked up, only to find an odd expression on Hades’ face.
“What was that?” Aaren blurted.
“Who knows?” Hades murmured. But he was watching Aaren closely. “Give it a taste and tell me if I need to adjust it.”
Aaren brought the mug to his lips, sipping the steaming liquid. Its sweet, velvety richness filled his mouth, so sinful that he moaned. “This is amazing.”
“Yeah?” Hades grinned, sharp and triumphant. Then he drank too, his throat bobbing. When Hades lowered his mug, his tongue flicked out, catching the stray droplets on his lips.
“I’ve never had an alpha make me hot chocolate,” Aaren admitted, still looking at Hades’ mouth. “Never had an alpha cook me anything, either. Except my Papa.”
“Really?” Hades frowned.
“When alphas hear that I’m a cook, they usually want me to make food for them. For free, I mean,” Aaren said hurriedly. “You paid, so you’re different.”
Hades hummed. “I’m deeply appreciative of your cooking. Did you learn to cook at culinary school?”
“I learned at home first, from my parents. Then I went to culinary school; Gran paid for it. After I graduated, I worked at a few different restaurants and gained more experience.”
“Rizz Razz is suffering without you. I’m surprised that you’re working in a bar’s kitchen instead of a restaurant.”
So hehadpoked around for information; that didn’t come as a surprise.
Aaren shrugged. “The Wine Shack’s menu is pretty simple, but... Olson hired me when I was a mess. He gave me a chance.”
He was still ashamed of that interview. Back then, he had been freshly mugged in Highton; he only had enough money for a bus ride to Meadowfall. Right after he’d gotten off the bus, he had staggered away to beg for an interview at the first place he could find. The restaurants had all rejected him. Then he had gone into the Wine Shack, and Olson had hired him on the spot.
Olson had even let Aaren stay overnight on his office couch, and he’d fed Aaren with his own snack stash.
The timer rang for the brining chicken. Aaren jumped and almost spilled his hot chocolate; large hands caught his own, steadying his mug.
“Careful,” Hades murmured. He looked into Aaren’s eyes for a breathless second—and released him. But he didn’t move away. “Best if we don’t make a mess.”
“I make messes all the time,” Aaren blurted. “Not in my pants though.”
Immediately after, he froze, his cheeks scorching.
“Oh?” Hades’ gaze dropped to the front of Aaren’s pants.
“That wasn’t what I meant to say!” Aaren squeaked. He hurriedly set down his mug, his hands tingling with the ghost of Hades’ touch.
Actually, Hades had been touching him a lot. Bumping into him, brushing past him.
