Ruthless

33

"Wait... did he just offer to cook for me? Why would he do that though? Is he planning to poison me? The thought felt absurd, even to myself. If he wanted to kill me, he would just do it. He doesn't need to play chef to accomplish that."

"Do you want me to pull up a chair for you?" He said casually, but I knew better than to not take his words seriously.

"No, I'll sit," I replied, complying as my feet moved on their own towards the table. I smoothly pulled out the fancy-looking dining chair and settled into it.

Hades turned his attention to the half-completed task and began making a sandwich. I refused to stare at him and gush over how perfect he looked in the kitchen, like most girls would in my position. I couldn't even bear to look at him, no matter how attractive he might be.

I absentmindedly ran my fingers through the knots in my hair. Some might find it gross to touch their hair while waiting for a meal, but it's just hair. I haven't been rolling in mud or playing in filth to feel disgusted by it.

I don't know if it's just me, but waiting for food when you're hungry always feels so long and tedious. To pass time, I looked around. Glossy countertops, fancy appliances, intricate tile designs. Of course, the kitchen was a dream—totally gorgeous. A sight to behold.

The sound of something hitting shattered my focus. Glancing downward, my eyes sparkled with delight at the sight of a fat, juicy sandwich resting on a plate before me.

Raising my gaze, I met Hades's eyes and forced a smile. "Thank you."

Instead of responding, Hades settled into the seat opposite me. I couldn't fathom why he is still sticking, but I dared not ask him to leave. He seemed so at ease, so fixed on me; there was no indication he had any intention of departing.

Should I wait for his signal to eat, or should I dive in? The dilemma swirled in my mind. But before I could decide, Hades spoke.

"Didn't you mention you were hungry?" he interjected, catching me off guard.

I responded with a simple nod.

Hades straightened, his eyes still fixed on me. "Are you waiting for me to start eating?"

His comment made me blush, despite my efforts to conceal it beneath my pale complexion with the help of my hair. I am certain Hades must have caught it.

"No," I timidly replied.

"Then eat," he commanded, his tone ordinary yet somehow menacing, as if I were under attack. His every word resonated with aggression and dominance.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the sandwich, though uncertainty clouded my mind. Why was Hades behaving so strangely? I pushed the thought aside, unwilling to dwell on it.

As I took a bite, I struggled to maintain a neutral expression despite the overwhelming saltiness. Fearful of Hades's reaction, I refrained from voicing any complaints. What if he lashed out at me?

Was the excessive salt intentional? Did Hades aim to raise my sodium levels and kill me? The notion gnawed at me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was silently mocking my discomfort.

Despite the torment, I forced myself to eat more, fighting back tears with each agonizing bite. Across from me, I felt the weight of Hades's scrutinizing gaze, as if I were under interrogation. His intense observation left me very self-conscious.

When I finally finished, I wasted no time in rising from my seat. With trembling hands, I carried the empty plate to the sink, desperate to escape Hades's penetrating gaze. He said nothing, but I could feel his eyes on me, and I was okay with the silence.