Even if she had not recognized the deep, accented baritone, the anger that rolled off of him in palpable waves dispelled any doubt. Slowly, she turned and found her face pressed into a broad chest.The wool of his tunic caused her nose to twitch. She inhaled. His scent was unlike anything she’d ever smelled before, at least not in the streets of Rome. An intoxicating blend of spicy musk and heat. Her nostrils flared. There was something else, something she could only describe as pure male. Why did she feel a sudden urge to press closer? Shaking the sensation away, she tilted her head back and looked into the face of Hades.Her breath caught in her throat. No, not Hades. Apollo or perhaps Adonis, though Adria doubted either of the gods known for their handsome visages could compare to this man’s raw, masculine allure. From a distance he had been striking. This close he was—she blew out a shaky breath—devastating.The scant light from the temple’s doorway did nothing to dampen her impression.
