La Petite Mort

Chapter Three

The words were out before she was aware she'd said them. Her eyes remained glued to the tall hunk standing so intimately close, toga and skirt nearly merged. She waited for the look of condemnation or shock to cross his face. Strangely, Hercules gave her a small, sad smile.

"May I ask why you wish to die?"

"Because I'm ready. Because there's nothing left for me.” Reaching under her toga, she pulled out the white envelope containing her savings. “This is all I have,” she started to offer him. The man stayed her hand.

"Take back your money, My Queen. We can deal with that later."

Someone passed by. Hercules gave a nod to acknowledge the man's greeting. He also gave a signal to someone behind Bria. She assumed the man was well-known.

"Are you one of the hosts of this ball?” she asked, hoping it would lessen the growing discomfort she was feeling. Although she was on the verge of thinking she had made a mistake in coming here, she was closer to believing she should have kept her mouth shut and just soaked in the ambience of the place. Have some fun, do a little flirting, and maybe have a harmless tryst afterwards.

Oh, yeah, and wake up the next morning to prepare yourself for the coming week. Another opportunity to tackle the world and your asshole boss on Monday.

Hercules slid a tall glass of something cold into her hand. “No,” he said, answering her question. “That honor goes to Madame Diana. I am simply one of her humble servants here to mingle among the guests. And to… see to their every need.” The insinuation slid under her skin, setting fire to her blood vessels like they were tinder. Her eyes dropped to see his long fingers still curled around the glass. As she watched, he released the glass and slid over her hand, lightly caressing the skin between her thumb and forefinger before delicately brushing across her wrist.

Without realizing it, her eyes went from his hand to the slight movement of the white skirt. She stared as the material moved again, this time lifting upward. There was no doubt in her mind what was causing the skirt to move.

Bria fought against the heat washing over her. The room suddenly grew stuffy and too closed in. The door leading out to the foyer was right behind Hercules, but before she could make a move, the man seemed to read her mind.

"You need to drink,” he told her, helping to lift the glass to her lips. “Nectar of the gods. It will help to clear your head."

Indeed, the liquid was cold, sweet, and packed a punch in its aftermath. Gasping, Bria breathed past the alcohol sliding down her throat. “Whoa. Potent."

Hercules chuckled. “Feeling better?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you."

"Just being a good host. So, tell me, My Queen, regarding your wish to die, did you have any particular way or method in mind to accomplish this feat?"