Page 64 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

Hades and Sephy settled opposite us, an oddly perfect balance of shadow and light, while Bronte slid into the chair beside me, her movement effortless, eyes sparkling with amusement as if she’d just tuned in to her favourite drama. She glanced between Si and me, a knowing little smirk playing at her lips. Our eyes met, and I arched a deliberately pissy brow, my jaw working like I was grinding diamonds to dust. Bronte was clearly entertained by whatever storm she thought was brewing.

‘He’s not used to being challenged,’ she murmured, half to herself. ‘This will be fun to watch.’ Poseidon said nothing—but I caught the twitch of his jaw and the brief flare in his sea-green eyes.

Hades clicked his fingers, and I jolted as the table instantly filled with enough food and wine to supply a small army. My gaze snapped to the king of the Underworld, and Sephy tittered at my wide-eyed stare.

Magic catering—because who doesn’t love a side of sorcery with their appetiser?

Hades’ eyes locked on mine, and his stare raised my small hairs—a reaction not many people could provoke. It was very disconcerting, that unbearably handsome face, the kind of beauty that didn’t invite you closer so much as dare you. It was like admiring a tiger from too close—dazzled by the sleek power, forgetting for a heartbeat that you were prey… until it struck.

The sensation was unnervingly familiar. I’d felt that same razor’s-edge awareness with Si, trapped somewhere between wanting to run and wanting to be caught.

‘Don’t mind him,’ Bronte muttered as she snagged a bottle of wine. ‘He’s a cranky asshole.’

‘I heard that,’ Hades deadpanned, giving her a flat, icy stare as he filled Sephy’s glass with the kind of precision usually reserved for ritual sacrifices. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh.

The meal itself was pleasant enough, the wine loosening the knot of tension in my shoulders… but apparently, Si had decided I was incapable of basic self-sufficiency. Every time my glass dipped below half, he refilled it. Every time a platter passed within reach, he loaded my plate before I could so much as pick up a fork.

He cut my Portobello mushroom steak—yes, cut my mushroom—and slid it back in front of me with this smug little curl of his mouth, like he was hand-feeding a particularly temperamental cat.

‘Si, I am not a delicate flower you need to coddle,’ I said under my breath, stabbing at the vegetables like they’d personally offended me.

His gaze flicked to mine, challenging and unrepentant. ‘You belong to me. I look after what’s mine.’

I inhaled sharply, my pulse spiking with that infuriating mix of irritation and something far more dangerous. ‘We’re even now,’ I said firmly, setting my fork down before I stabbed him with it. ‘The subject is closed. Done.’

He only arched a brow in that maddening way before turning back to his plate, leaving me to stew in equal parts good wine, good food… and bad temper. Sephy gave me a look that said, pick your battles, but my patience was already circling the drain.

Bronte noticed, of course. Her sly little smirk had been growing all evening, and now she was fully invested—watching Si pile another roasted vegetable on my plate like it was a tense cliffhanger reveal. She didn’t say a word, but the devilment in her eyes and barely suppressed grin said: Oh, this is getting good.

When dessert arrived—honey-drizzled pastries still warm from the oven—he served me first, sliding the plate in front of me with a low, ‘Eat.’

I clenched my jaw, thanked him through gritted teeth, and caught Bronte’s expression. She mouthed whipped and winked.

Hades just watched the whole thing with the faintly amused detachment of a man who’s seen this play out a thousand times before. I ate my food, but I was teetering on the edge—close to blowing a gasket.

I’d been plied with wine, fed within an inch of my life, and subjected to enough overbearing “attentiveness” to make me want to throw a bread roll in his stupidly perfect face.

I tuned back into Sephy giving Hades a hard time, the whole table roaring with laughter while he sat there, lips pressed into a flat, unimpressed line.

‘Irritating me is her second most enjoyable pastime,’ he drawled.

‘What’s her first?’ I asked, sipping my wine.

‘Sex comas,’ he replied, dead serious. I nearly snorted wine up my nose.

‘It’s true,’ Sephy said as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘This shadow daddy hands me orgasms like candy.’ The way Hades looked at her sent a shiver straight down my spine.

‘Stop being a grump, Lord Dark and Grouchy,’ she teased, kissing him on the mouth.

‘You,’ he said, brow arching, ‘are my favourite nightmare. And I do believe you’ve rifled through my bank account to purchase a private island? My queen… did you think I wouldn’t notice?’

Sephy’s laugh chimed through the room, like a melody caught on the breeze ‘It’s an oasis of tranquillity. We can holiday there… Maybe with Poseidon and Cordie?’ She threw me a sly smile, and I glared right back, feeling fifty shades of awkward. Everyone’s eyes were on me.

‘Pussy-whipped bastard,’ Si muttered just loud enough for her to hear, earning himself a smirk.

‘It’ll be your turn soon… Si.’ Sephy grinned wickedly, and I swear I heard his teeth grind. Bronte was leaning on her elbows, chin in hand, eyes darting between us like she was watching a gladiator match. The corner of her mouth curled, equal parts amused and intrigued, and I was half-expecting her to pull out a big bag of popcorn.

The air between Si and me thickened, heavy with the storm-salt scent of him that I couldn’t seem to stop breathing in, even when I wanted to.