The Goddess Test (Goddess Test #1)(53)
Author: Aimee Carter

“That’s ridiculous.” Though part of me knew it wasn’t. I was sure he held back when he was around me.

“When you are the ruler of the dead, it is not so difficult to see why others do not like you.” He waved dismissively. “It is the same with most of the staff. Those who will look me in the eye when I speak to them are few and far between.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” And to demonstrate that point, I leaned forward and kissed him like he’d kissed me in the drawing room, careful not to spill my drink. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for him to respond, hoping he wouldn’t pull away and declare everything that had happened a mistake. To my relief, he finally returned it. His lips were warm against mine, and he tasted like chocolate.

Eventually he broke the kiss and took my mug from me, setting both of them on the nightstand. “I do not think Pogo appreciates being ignored.”

Pogo was on his belly and watching us both intently. When he saw that I was looking at him, he wagged his tail. “Pogo, off,” I said, tossing a few of his new toys from the mattress onto the pillow that served as his bed. He obeyed and scampered down, leaving me and Henry on our own.

I turned back to Henry, feeling more relaxed and content than I had all day. “There,” I said, leaning toward him again. “All better.”

The way he kissed me—I could’ve drowned in him and never been happier. Each time he touched me, I expected sparks, and the heat of his palm against my bare neck was almost too much to take. Crawling into his lap, I wrapped my legs around his waist, deepening the kiss. While I was leading, he seemed as eager as I was, and it felt as if all of that pent-up emotion was finally spilling out of both of us. Several moments later, I pulled away.

“Henry?” I ran my hands through his hair as I caught my breath. “Can I tell you something and have you promise not to laugh at me?”

“I would never laugh at you.” His eyes reflected the ache I felt, and I knew I could trust him on that.

Swallowing, I said in a low voice, “I’m not very good at this. The whole—falling for someone thing, being with them…even with the kissing, I’m not very good.”

He started to protest, but I kept talking. Now that I knew he cared for me like I cared for him, I had to tell him. Maybe I should’ve given him more time to adjust, but there was an urgency that seemed to spread through me, making the words fall from my lips without anything to stop them.

“I’m not, even if you think I am. But no matter what this started out as…an accident, fate, whatever—I’m glad you found me that night. Not because of what happened, but because of now. Because I get to be here with you. And I’m scared, too, but—but thank you for telling me today. Thank you for trusting me with that. I’ve never…” I pressed my lips together, trying to find the right words. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone. And I’m not really sure what falling in love feels like, but I think—I know I have. With you.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent speech ever, but Henry didn’t seem to care. For the first time since we’d met, he looked bowled over, and I worried that I’d said too much.

“Did you know,” he said, his breath warm on my cheek, “that that is the first time anyone has ever told me they loved me?”

Startled, I did the only thing I could think of—I kissed him again. “You’d better get used to hearing it more often, because I plan on saying it to you an awful lot.”

He returned my kiss, and my head spun as my hands drifted down to unbutton his shirt. This time we didn’t stop.

The next morning I awoke in a tangle of limbs. My head pounded and my body ached, but I couldn’t find it in me to mind too much. The warmth and drowsiness I felt wrapped in Henry’s arms was more than enough to make me happy. The previous night came flooding back to me, and I distinctly remembered skirting the topic of Henry with my mother, too embarrassed to tell her I’d slept with him, but I didn’t regret it. It simply wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to tell her until I had no choice. Better she assumed that sort of thing happened after the wedding, if it happened at all.

“Mm, morning,” I said, forcing my eyes to open. Instead of smiling, Henry was staring at me as if I’d grown another limb. Confused, I struggled to prop myself up on my elbow, but even that little movement felt like a knife being thrust into the side of my head. Wincing, I gingerly lay back on the pillow. One look at Henry’s face told me I’d made things worse.

He was standing before I realized he’d gotten out of bed. Producing a black silk robe out of nowhere, he quickly wrapped it around his body, never taking his eyes off of me. But it wasn’t the loving look he’d given me the night before. “Does your head hurt?”

It seemed like a stupid question, all things considered, but I nodded—and immediately regretted it.

“Do you feel achy?”

“A bit,” I admitted, squeezing my eyes shut. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Forcing myself to open my eyes once more, I saw him standing over the mugs, sniffing what remained of the hot chocolate.

“Henry?” I said, my voice rising. “What’s going on?”

Without warning, he threw the mugs across the room. They smashed against the wall, staining the wallpaper.

“Dammit!” he roared, and then proceeded to curse in another twenty languages I couldn’t name. Struggling to sit up again, this time I pushed past the pain. I clutched the sheet to my chest and stared at him, too shocked to say anything.

“Calliope!” he yelled, his voice booming, but there was no reply. Instead Nicholas opened the door, making a point of not looking at me.

“In bed,” he said gruffly. “She is ill.”

Henry clenched fists so tightly that I was afraid he might hit something and destroy the whole manor in the process. “Look after her,” he said, storming toward the door. “No one comes in or out of this room without my permission, do you understand?”

Nicholas nodded, his expression impassive. He wasn’t helping.

“Henry?” I said in a small voice, my heart pounding in my chest. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at me in a way that made my blood run cold. “I am so very, very sorry.”

And with no other explanation, he left.

CHAPTER 16

THE RIVER STYX