Read Online Tall, Dark and Divine by Jenna Bennett - Free Book Online
Authors: Jenna Bennett
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bar and push her up against the wall.
Dion was the god of debauchery. That kind of thing was fine for him. But Eros was the god of love. When he took a woman to bed, he took her to bed. He didn’t take her in her hallway, three steps from the front door, with her shoes still on, because he couldn’t control himself.
Not that she seemed to be complaining. She was lying beneath him, boneless and spent, with her cheeks still flushed from her climax and her lips swollen from his kisses.
She probably thought he couldn’t see her. From what little he already knew about her, he imagined she preferred it that way. But he was the child of Nyx and Erebus, and his night vision was excellent.
And she was lovely. Not perfect, like Psyche. But soft and warm and open and giving.
And almost asleep.
He levered himself off her, only to have her turn her head on the pillow and blink up at him.
“Go to sleep.” He layered his voice with a heavy dose of I am a god so obey me now . Seeing in the dark wasn’t the only benefit of being the son of Night and Darkness. He was almost as good as Hypnos when it came to putting people to sleep. She nodded obediently and closed her eyes again. Eros went to pull the blankets up over her, and he hesitated. There wasn’t much he could do about the dress—he should have gotten her out of it earlier, and it wasn’t like he could just snap his fingers and have it be gone; he was a god, not a magician—but at least he could take her shoes off.
She twitched a bit when he did, and he couldn’t resist running a finger along the sole of one foot to test his theory. His lips curved as he watched her try to pull away from him, even in sleep. She was ticklish. He’d have to remember that—except he’d never be here with her again. Not like this.
This was a one-time thing. It had to be. She was mortal, and he was done with mortals. It was a chance he couldn’t take again. No matter how soft the mortals were or how sweet they tasted.
So he pulled the blankets all the way up to her chin and made sure not to look at her again as he made his way out of the bedroom.
Chapter Nine
He stopped in the hallway to pick up his jacket and shirt from the floor—making sure he didn’t dwell on the memory of her hands sliding across his skin and her fingernails raking down his back—and shrugged them on, before making sure the door latched behind him. He buttoned the shirt on his way down the five flights of stairs he’d carried her up earlier, and by the time he was back outside on the street, he looked like nothing had happened.
Or so he thought, until he walked up to the bar at Dionysus’s and Dion took one look at him and grinned. “How was it?”
Eros shot him a dark look. “None of your business.”
“Sure,” Dion said. “Just tell me one thing. Did you make her keep the shoes on?”
“Fuck you.”
Dion chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. So why aren’t you there, reclaiming your manhood and sticking it to the bitch?”
Eros felt himself bristle. “Don’t call her that.”
“Not Annie,” Dion said. “The bitch who left you.”
Oh. Much better. “What’s the point? She’ll never know.”
“You could tell her.”
No, thanks. “I don’t care if I ever see her again. Let what’s-his-name have her.”
“I’m sure he already does,” Dion said. “Right now, probably.”
Probably. From what Eros knew about the warriors of Valhalla, they were pretty much only interested in two things, and they spent all day doing one and all night doing the other. And because the idea bothered him just a bit, even after what he’d just done himself, he put it out of his mind before it could lodge there and bother him more.
Instead, he looked around the bar. “Harry around?” Things had slowed down some in the time he’d been gone. He couldn’t see Harry anywhere, although Brita was still there, probably hoping to end the night with Dionysus. The rest of his office staff had
Dion was the god of debauchery. That kind of thing was fine for him. But Eros was the god of love. When he took a woman to bed, he took her to bed. He didn’t take her in her hallway, three steps from the front door, with her shoes still on, because he couldn’t control himself.
Not that she seemed to be complaining. She was lying beneath him, boneless and spent, with her cheeks still flushed from her climax and her lips swollen from his kisses.
She probably thought he couldn’t see her. From what little he already knew about her, he imagined she preferred it that way. But he was the child of Nyx and Erebus, and his night vision was excellent.
And she was lovely. Not perfect, like Psyche. But soft and warm and open and giving.
And almost asleep.
He levered himself off her, only to have her turn her head on the pillow and blink up at him.
“Go to sleep.” He layered his voice with a heavy dose of I am a god so obey me now . Seeing in the dark wasn’t the only benefit of being the son of Night and Darkness. He was almost as good as Hypnos when it came to putting people to sleep. She nodded obediently and closed her eyes again. Eros went to pull the blankets up over her, and he hesitated. There wasn’t much he could do about the dress—he should have gotten her out of it earlier, and it wasn’t like he could just snap his fingers and have it be gone; he was a god, not a magician—but at least he could take her shoes off.
She twitched a bit when he did, and he couldn’t resist running a finger along the sole of one foot to test his theory. His lips curved as he watched her try to pull away from him, even in sleep. She was ticklish. He’d have to remember that—except he’d never be here with her again. Not like this.
This was a one-time thing. It had to be. She was mortal, and he was done with mortals. It was a chance he couldn’t take again. No matter how soft the mortals were or how sweet they tasted.
So he pulled the blankets all the way up to her chin and made sure not to look at her again as he made his way out of the bedroom.
Chapter Nine
He stopped in the hallway to pick up his jacket and shirt from the floor—making sure he didn’t dwell on the memory of her hands sliding across his skin and her fingernails raking down his back—and shrugged them on, before making sure the door latched behind him. He buttoned the shirt on his way down the five flights of stairs he’d carried her up earlier, and by the time he was back outside on the street, he looked like nothing had happened.
Or so he thought, until he walked up to the bar at Dionysus’s and Dion took one look at him and grinned. “How was it?”
Eros shot him a dark look. “None of your business.”
“Sure,” Dion said. “Just tell me one thing. Did you make her keep the shoes on?”
“Fuck you.”
Dion chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. So why aren’t you there, reclaiming your manhood and sticking it to the bitch?”
Eros felt himself bristle. “Don’t call her that.”
“Not Annie,” Dion said. “The bitch who left you.”
Oh. Much better. “What’s the point? She’ll never know.”
“You could tell her.”
No, thanks. “I don’t care if I ever see her again. Let what’s-his-name have her.”
“I’m sure he already does,” Dion said. “Right now, probably.”
Probably. From what Eros knew about the warriors of Valhalla, they were pretty much only interested in two things, and they spent all day doing one and all night doing the other. And because the idea bothered him just a bit, even after what he’d just done himself, he put it out of his mind before it could lodge there and bother him more.
Instead, he looked around the bar. “Harry around?” Things had slowed down some in the time he’d been gone. He couldn’t see Harry anywhere, although Brita was still there, probably hoping to end the night with Dionysus. The rest of his office staff had
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