Page 59 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

Hair came next—after blow-drying, I styled my auburn waves into a soft half-updo, a few loose curls brushing my bare shoulder, the rest cascading down my back. Dark kohl framed my eyes, making their blue even brighter. A touch of blush and a swipe of highlighter gave my cheekbones a subtle, sculpted glow. My lips—stained a deep, sultry red—were the final statement.

I stepped into the dress—a daring little black number—short, halter-necked, tied at the throat, with a backless plunge that dipped all the way to my waist before slipping on matching strappy heels, and giving my reflection one last glance. Then I strapped my dagger to my upper thigh and smiled as I picked up my glass of wine.

Powerful, polished, and dangerous—exactly how I wanted to feel this evening.

A knock at the door made me pause. I wondered if it was Sephy. ‘Coming,’ I hollered, striding out of the bedroom, and placing my wine on the table as I passed. I opened the door—and promptly forgot how to breathe.

Poseidon.

He stood there like some storm-kissed fever dream, and I breathed in the heady scent of the ocean that always seemed to cling to his skin.

The dark blue dress shirt stretched across his muscled chest, and his long, ripped legs stood slightly apart, his smart black trousers straining to contain his Corinthean thighs and…

Holy Hades.

My internal temperature immediately reset to inferno because, apparently, the man had decided to smuggle a torpedo in his pants. I needed to get a grip on myself—I was a sex-starved kerfuffle of hormones around this god.

Cue the snark.

‘Well,’ I said, quirking a brow. ‘Is that an anaconda in your pocket or are you just super-pleased to see me?’

He stared at me. Those beautiful eyes—blue-green and deep as the sea—felt like they were seeing into my soul. I lifted my eyebrows. ‘Can I help you?’ His eyes didn’t so much as blink. Like I was a riddle he needed to solve.

My smirk faltered under the weight of it. ‘Okay,’ I said, voice dry. ‘Gonna need you to blink or say something. Staring is rude, Poseidon. It makes you look all... creepy and stalkerish.’

Still nothing. I desperately wanted to look away, but sheer stubborn will made me hold his gaze.

Then—finally—he cracked.

CHAPTER 21

POSEIDON

Every carefully constructed thought evaporated like mist on the sea; thinking became impossible, because her beauty stole my breath as something akin to Zeus’s lightning bolt pierced my heart.

She stood there in a short black dress that hugged her curves like it had been stitched by sin itself. Her bare shoulders glowed in the soft light, her auburn hair half-pinned, the rest falling in soft waves, and her blue eyes—gods, those eyes—pierced through me, spears tipped with defiance and fire. I knew a dagger would be strapped to her thigh, a whisper of warning that she was beautiful but not safe.

Good. I liked danger.

Cordelia wasn’t like the others. She didn’t fawn. She didn’t fall. She challenged. And, for all my godhood, I found myself bracing like a man caught in the middle of a perfect storm.

All I could do was drink her in. She didn’t look away, and neither did I.

When she held my gaze with that infuriating spark of pride, I knew something dangerous was happening. Not a war. Not a power play… Worse.

I’d fallen for her. Hard.

‘Cordelia,’ I said, letting her name linger in the space between us, tasting it like something forbidden… Something I wasn’t supposed to want this much.

She tilted her head, suspiciously—wary and beautiful.

‘Are you going to invite me in for a glass of wine?’ I asked. ‘We have enough time.’ There was a pause—but then she stepped aside, and that was all the invitation I needed.

I followed her in, and the moment her back turned, I took in the sight of her. The sleek black dress left most of her back bare, a soft sweep of skin tapering into the curve of her hips. Her body moved with a feline grace—unhurried, unbothered, but every step was calculated—feminine, and completely lethal.

Gods, she was a storm in silk.

She poured another glass of wine and handed it to me without a word. Our fingers brushed—brief but electric—and then she settled into a low, plush chair by the fireplace, legs crossed, eyes watchful. The flames danced in her eyes, making them look like twin shards of sapphire. Her perfume tickled my senses—reminiscent of a tropical summer breeze.