“Cerberus.” I point to the largest of the three, the one who’s the clear leader, even at this age. “This one is Cerberus.”
“I like it.” She smiles. “Now, the other two.”
“I want you to name them.”
Her brows draw together, and for the first time since she walked into the room, she looks unsure. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Because she’s leaving.
Instinct tells me to back off, to protect myself, but the deadline makes me reckless. “Persephone.”
“Yes?” Is there hope in her tone? I’m afraid to assume.
There are a thousand things I could say right now, a thousand things I want to say. Spending the last few weeks with her has made me the happiest I can remember being. She challenges me and delights me in turn, and I have a feeling I could know this woman for decades and she’d still find ways to surprise me. I suddenly, desperately want this winter never to end, want spring never to come, want to stay with her here forever.
But there is no forever. Not for us.
I cross to her and cup her face in my hands. “If we were different people in different circumstances, I would get down on my knees and beg you to stay at the end of the winter. I would move heaven and earth and the Underworld itself to keep you with me.”
She blinks those big hazel eyes at me and licks her lips. “If…” She sounds so hesitant, I simultaneously want to gather her into my arms and don’t want to move in case she never finishes that sentence. She doesn’t leave me hanging long. “If we were different people, you wouldn’t have to beg. I’d plant my roots right here in this house, and it would take a catastrophic event to make me walk away.”
If. A key word, a vital word, one that might as well be a hundred-foot wall between us and that future I’m too goddamn foolish not to want. “We’re not different people.”
Her eyes go a little shiny. “No. We’re not different people.”
My whole body goes heavy as the truth settles in my bones. I love this woman. I have to steel myself to keep from doing exactly what I said, from dropping to my knees and begging her to stay. It’s not fair to her to pull a stunt like that. I don’t want to be yet another jailer who she’ll come to resent. Persephone wants freedom, and the only way she can obtain that is to leave Olympus. I can’t be the reason she doesn’t follow through on her plan. I refuse to be.
My voice is hoarse when I finally pull forth words. Not ones that will keep her with me. I might love her—fuck, the very idea makes me light-headed—but if I tell her, it will change things. It’s a trap I won’t spring. “Leave me a piece of you, little siren. Name the pups.”
She presses her lips together and finally nods. “Okay.” Persephone steps back, and I release her. I watch as she bends down to pet the pups now trying to climb up her legs. “This one will be Charybdis.”
“Charybdis?”
She ignores me. “And this little one will be Scylla.”
I blink. “Those names are…something.”
“They are, aren’t they?” She gives me a mischievous smile. “They’ll grow into them, I’m sure.”
Georgie bustles into the room, takes one look at us, and plants her hands on her hips. “What are you still doing here?”
“Naming puppies,” Persephone says easily. “Meet Cerberus, Charybdis, and Scylla.”
Georgie nods as if those names are completely normal and expected. “Good strong names for good strong dogs. Now get out of here and let me play with them.” She’d taken one look at us coming through the door earlier and declared the puppies the grandchildren she’ll never have. I have a feeling I’m going to have to arm-wrestle her to get time with them going forward, but we’ll figure it out.
I offer my arm to Persephone and she lays her hand on my forearm, as graceful and regal as the queen I named her earlier. As we walk through the halls toward the basement room, I allow myself to picture what it might be like if this didn’t have an expiration date. If she ruled at my side, a dark queen to my king of the lower city.
I wouldn’t let her stay in the shadows indefinitely. I’d fight to give her every bit of sunlight and happiness I could find.
It’s not in the cards for us.
I force my attention forward and stop us just short of the door. “You know how this goes. If you change your mind or want things to stop, tell me and it all stops.”
She gives me a ghost of a smile. “I know.” For a second, she looks nervous, but she shuts it down almost immediately. “I’m ready.”
“It’s okay if you’re not.”
Persephone opens her mouth, seems to reconsider. “I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be. We had sex in the shadows last time, and even if people were watching, it felt different. The fantasy feels so hot and present when I’m thinking about it, but knowing it will actually happen is a little…intimidating.”
I study her expression. I can’t tell if she’s got the good kind of nervousness or if she’s starting to regret asking for this. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” The surety seeps back into her tone. “I know that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to when I’m with you.” Persephone takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “Maybe we can play it by ear?”
“That sounds like a plan.” I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. I’m not opposed to public sex in the spotlight. With the right parties involved and a clear set of expectations, it can be hot as hell. When Persephone finally confessed that it’s what she wants, I was just as turned on as she was.
I didn’t feel quite so raw that night. I knew I cared
