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Authors: Rosanna Leo

Sweet Hell (7 page)

BOOK: Sweet Hell
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By Hera's nipples, he was already in hell!

The door to the adjoining unit opened while she was still fiddling with her lock. He watched in shock as a man appeared in the doorway. A gigantic, muscled, Nordic beast of a man. One whose teasing smile and blue bedroom eyes were trained on Josie.

Dionysus hated him on sight.

"Oh, hi, Petter,” she mumbled, clearly oblivious to the man's frank appraisal of her cleavage. “Don't mind us. My key's stuck again.” She looked up at both of them for a second. “Petter, Dionysus. Dionysus, Petter."

The blond stuck his hand out, and Dionysus did everything in his power not to crush it into a fine powder.

"Hey,” Petter said. “Just like the Greek God!"

They both glared at him.

Her neighbor sucked at his teeth, because apparently he was still chewing on his dinner and hadn't bothered to swallow before harassing them at the door. The big, blond Neanderthal said, “Josie, babe. Thanks for the cannoli the other day. They were awesome."

Dionysus felt the air being sucked from his lungs as if someone big had just punched him. She gave food to other men? Just how many men was she sharing her cannoli with? He'd thought he was the only one.

Damn.

"Don't mention it,” she said, finally opening her door. “Although you might not see any more for a while,” she said under her breath.

She headed inside, and Dionysus was quick to follow her in, blocking the way in case neighbor-boy chose to follow.

"See you later, Petter!” she called.

"See you, babe. Ciao, Greek god.” He put his hand up for a high five.

Dionysus slammed the door on him, feeling his blood boil. First priority after returning from hell was to find Josie a new apartment. One far away from Norwegian sex maniacs with a penchant for free sweets and boobs.

"What did you do that for?” she demanded. “Petter's nice. A little thick around the neck, but he's nice."

"Did you see the way he was drooling over your chest?"

"Really?” She actually smiled. “Huh."

He suddenly had the urge to smite someone old-school style. A thick-necked someone. But his plan for vengeance was rudely interrupted when a low, painful-sounding howl erupted from the hall. Dionysus watched as a squat, matted, hunk of dirty fur waddled into view.

"
Meooooowwwff
,” the thing spat, making his blood run cold.

"What
is
that thing?” he whispered.

Josie, seemingly unbothered by the sight of the hairy beast, ran into the hallway, scooped it up, and plastered its gargoyle head with kisses. She covered its flea-infested ears with her hands. “Shh. Don't talk about him like that. It's not good for his confidence."

She set it gently on the floor, and it scrambled away, leaving a trail of smelly fur tufts.

"That's Cats Domino,” she said happily. “My baby. And you're going to fix him."

He stared. “You want me to help that animal to prove I'm a god? Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure it's already dead."

She blinked at him, unimpressed with his lack of eagerness. “He's just very old and infirm.” She breathed in and a tear gathered at the corner of her eye, one she hastily blinked into oblivion. “Just this week, I had to make an appointment to put him down, but I haven't been able to do it yet. I love him. So. Can you do it or not?"

She was ready to cry over that tangled mess of fluff. And gods, if it wasn't hurting him to see her like that! Sheer insanity!

"I can do it, Josie,” he said quietly.

If she loved that thing, he would do it.

For the first time, she looked a little nervous as she went to retrieve Cats Domino from the corner he was currently spraying. “Will it hurt him?"

He smiled, wanting to make her feel better. Needing to make her feel better. “No. Bring him to me."

"He probably won't let you hold him,” she explained. “He only lets me hold him because I know how to do it so it doesn't hurt him. Is that okay?"

He gazed into her hazel eyes, suddenly so taken by her love of the beast that his heart was pounding. Hammering in his chest, in fact. This was it. He was going to give her proof. Real proof.

Why was he so terrified to do it? Perhaps because it meant he was fully exposing himself to her, something he'd done with so few others. There had been Ariadne, of course, but that was so long ago.

He swallowed, put his hand on Cats Domino's head, and uttered the words that would change Josie's life forever.

If not his as well.

Josie watched, holding her breath. Dionysus was whispering something she didn't understand. There was a certain intonation that sounded Greek to her, which made sense. It was actually lovely to listen to him. He had such a nice, deep voice, made even more sensuous by the exotic words he spoke. He gazed into her eyes as he chanted, and she was unable to look away. She felt so hot, for a moment she wondered if his words were meant, not to fix her cat, but to make her horny instead.

Either way, it seemed to be working.

Within seconds, the cat's hairs were standing on end as much as hers were. She looked into Cats Domino's cloudy eyes and marveled as they began to clear, turning into the bright green they once were. His tummy felt less squishy too, she realized, more streamlined, as if he were sucking in his gut. The tremble in his legs stopped. The crick in his neck corrected itself. And his fur magically lost all its tangles, turning from a dull, matted gray into a gleaming silvery coat. He mewled in happiness and sprang from her arms, only to dart around the room as if he were one of those trained felines from the cat treat commercials.

She let out a laugh and looked up at Dionysus. He was smiling at her. “Some of my better work, I think."

She flew into his arms and hugged him. If she'd been able to fit her arms around his huge chest, she would have done so, but had to settle for encircling him three-quarters of the way around. He gasped and stood still. And then she felt his corded arms tightening around her. Pulling her close. Lowering his head and breathing her in. As if she smelled so good to him. Which was odd because he was the one who smelled like heaven.

He was a god, after all.

The magnitude of the moment hit her and she felt her legs grow wobbly, but he kept her enfolded in his arms, holding her up. Feeling so small, she dared to look up, only to find him staring at her, heat in his eyes.

What did one say to a deity? All her years as a Catholic choir girl had never prepared her for this situation. Was she supposed to genuflect? Cross herself? She settled for whispering, “Thank you. For everything."

"No,” he replied, sounding equally awed. “Thank you, Josie. For not running away from me in terror. You don't know how much that means to me."

"Why would anyone do that?"

He smirked. “You'd be surprised at the reactions my kind have received through time."

Oh God, she wanted him to kiss her again. Right at that moment, she wanted Dionysus to do all sorts of things to her, and they all involved being naked with him. They all involved the very big immortal penis she felt pressing against her belly.

Lord, she really hoped that was his penis and that Greek gods didn't pad their briefs.

And then she felt absolutely profane for thinking such a thing.

Despite the merciless lust ripping through her, she couldn't forget the black shade that was Orpheus. The one who still seemed to hover over them, his music tinkling in the air like a distant, evil wind chime. “Um. I guess I should shower quickly and change, so we can get started."

Was it her imagination, or did he look crestfallen? As if he wanted to kiss her too? “I guess so."

She pulled herself away. “Would you mind putting out extra food and water for the cat? There's a bag of Kitty Yummies under the sink. And I guess I'll have to leave a message for my brothers. They're going to have to live without me for a while. I wish I could see their faces when they get a load of all those cannoli shells in the basement. Hopefully the bakery will still be standing when we get back.” She took a few steps toward her bedroom, then looked at him. “We're really going to Hades?"

The heat hadn't left his eyes. For that matter, his erection hadn't gone anywhere either. She gulped.

"Yes. I won't let any harm come to you. I promise. I know my way around the place."

"Well,” she said as brightly as she could, trying to ignore the thought that her sexy pal had apparently been to hell a few times. “I'll consider it an adventure."

"Good idea,” he concurred.

And yet, as she headed for the bathroom, she could not miss the fleeting, worried look in Dionysus's eyes. The look that said he wasn't looking forward to this particular adventure.

"So, where do we start?” Josie called from the bedroom where she was changing. “I never really thought about where the entrance to hell was located. I'm guessing it's not local?"

She walked into the room, and Dionysus's mouth went dry. Which was pretty incredible for the god of wine because he could conjure up rivers of wine whenever he wanted. But right now, looking at her, he felt parched. As if he'd been stumbling through the Sahara for years.

She'd showered, which had proven an excruciating exercise for him. Having to listen to the water coursing from her showerhead, imagining it as it traveled over each curve of her body. It had taken all his willpower not to materialize in the shower with her.

Her hair was still wet, and she was towel drying it over her shoulder. She was wearing a sweet, little housecoat. Emphasis on the little. It was pink and silky and barely hit the midway point of her womanly thighs.

"Where do we go?” she asked.

"Your thighs,” he blurted.

"Pardon?"

Trying not to choke, he managed to speak. “Uh, you have thighs. I've never seen them before.” And then he laughed, as if he made jokes about women's thighs all the time.

She turned red. He was such a tool! In a thousand years, no one had ever made him feel like a dimwit. It was a novel sensation. One he wasn't sure he appreciated.

He decided to pretend the whole thigh incident never happened. Doing his best to keep his eyes on her face, he continued. “We don't actually have to go anywhere to access Hades. Being who I am, I can get there whenever I want. As soon as you're ready, I'll open the floodgates, so to speak."

Still blushing, she ran back into her bedroom. Either to get dressed, or to careen away from him down the fire escape.

She was back in five minutes, wearing a more sensible ensemble of ass-hugging jeans, ballerina flats, and a blouse with pearly buttons that was distinctly sexier than her usual T-shirts. Her hair was down and dry, glistening under the apartment lights, bouncing just above her shoulders. And, he noticed with a grin, she was wearing some sort of vanilla perfume.

Nice. Things were improving.

She inhaled and exhaled and walked toward him, stopping to nuzzle a delirious Cats Domino. She gave the creature enough hugs to last a few cat lifetimes, then turned to him. “I'm ready."

"Don't mind me saying so, but you're fairly calm for a woman who's about to descend into the abyss. Aren't you scared?"

"To be honest, I'm shitting myself. But you helped me when I needed it. You shouldn't have to do this alone.” Her face lit up with a shy smile. “Besides, if I don't drag you back from hell, I'll have to find a new obnoxious customer to deplete my supply of Madagascar cinnamon."

It was alarming how much he was starting to like this woman.

"Okay,” he said, trying to stay on track, as much as he had an urge to whisk her into the bedroom and treat her to a few uninterrupted days of his special talents. “A few ground rules. Do not ever let go of me. Don't talk to anyone in Hades. Don't walk away with anyone but me. If someone offers you something to eat, don't eat it. If they offer you something to drink, don't drink it. Basically, don't even make eye contact with anyone. Understand?"

"Boy. You're worse than my mother was the first time I went to the mall on my own."

"Yeah, well, the mall isn't Hades. Although there are similarities,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Ready?"

She nodded bravely. And as he uttered the mystical words that would plunge them into the bowels of hell, he made a silent promise to take care of her. To keep a good eye on her.

Ah, hell, who was he kidding? He would guard Josie with his life.

[Back to Table of Contents]

 

Chapter 6

They were walking through a pitch-black landscape. Josie didn't know how they'd gotten there, but the journey had taken all of a second. The abrupt change in environment dismissed any lingering notions she had about Dionysus being no more than a talented magician.

There was clearly more at work here than she understood. She quickly decided, for the sake of her already fragile sanity, to just go with it. After all, she figured she could have a worse companion in hell than a supreme being.

And hey, she'd always wanted to travel.

Unable to see in the darkness, she tripped on a rock. At least, she really hoped it was a rock. But before she could fall, Dionysus grabbed her to him. And although she couldn't see him, his fragrance of Concord grapes comforted her.

She was beginning to love that scent. Wished she could bottle it.

"So, hell's darker than I envisioned,” she commented in a voice that sounded much more sprightly than she felt.

"We're not there yet,” he replied. “First, we have to cross the River Styx. We're almost there."

Little by little, the darkness faded and a beautiful pastoral scene opened up before them. Josie gasped. It was breathtaking. There were meadows and trees and flowers of every color. Butterflies were dancing from bloom to bloom. Little bees were buzzing playfully. And in the middle of it all, ran a sparkling, laughing river. The water was so clear and inviting, she felt she could take her shoes off and dip her toes in.

Her heart was filled with such happiness, she didn't ever want to leave that place.

She turned to her companion and gasped.

Dionysus had changed, or at least, his clothing had. Gone were the designer-distressed jeans and expensive shirt. He was now clad in what looked like an old-fashioned chiton, brilliant and white, belted at the waist and showing off very manly legs. It was slung across one muscled shoulder, displaying arms thicker than most men's thighs. He was wearing beautiful sandals, the type you'd see in old movies about Greek gods with lacings that wound up his sculpted calves. And he had a ring of laurel leaves in his dark curls.

BOOK: Sweet Hell
4.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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