A Game of Gods (Hades Saga, #3)

by Scarlett St. Clair

“You once wished me happiness,” Hades said. “I did,” Zeus said. “But as I recall it, you also never told me who it was that had gained your affection.” “That never bothered you,” Hades countered. “You know what the Fates have said.” “The Fates have given you a lover, not a wife,” Zeus replied. Hades’s hands fisted, and he hated the truth of those words. “Now, my dear, do not be so hard on Hades,” Hera said and bent so her head was near his. Hades wondered if she could only stand to be beside him now because he was a eunuch. “He is very much in love with the daughter of Demeter.” Hades seethed. Zeus looked at his wife. Their noses brushed but their lips did not touch. “Will you deny me?” Hades asked. “I am saying that if you are to marry, it will be because I have given you that gift.” “So you want to make this about power?” He knew in some measure that would be the case. It was why Zeus consulted his oracle before arranging marriages, but Hades had never thought it would look like this. “It is always about power,” said Zeus. “Your first mistake was thinking it never was.”

Hades returned to the Underworld in a foul mood—even fouler when he found Hermes in his bedroom with Persephone. He was holding up two short dresses, neither possessing enough fabric to cover her completely. “You should wear this. Hades won’t like it, but you’ll blend in,” the god was saying. “What’s going on?” Hades asked. Persephone whirled, eyes wide, but when she saw him, she frowned. “Are you okay?” She took a step forward and then halted. “What happened with Zeus?” “Nothing,” he snapped. “What’s happening here?” “I…um…Hermes was…” “Sephy has to go to a sex club,” said Hermes. “That’s not what’s happening,” Persephone snapped, glaring at the god. “Well, not yet,” Hermes said. “She has to ask you first.” “Hermes, shut up,” they said in unison. The god slammed his mouth closed. “Fine. I’ll be in the closet.”

“After Helen was asked to leave, Sybil, Leuce, and Zofie went through her things. We found a date, time, and an address for Club Aphrodisia. We think she might be attending a meeting of some kind associated with Triad.” “And you want to go?” “We all do. Zofie, Sybil, Leuce, Hermes,” she said. “This is personal, Hades.” “It might be personal, but that does not mean you can be stupid,” he said. Persephone’s mouth hardened. From inside the closet, Hermes groaned. “Oof. What an idiot.” “We may have a chance to learn what they are planning,” Persephone said. “Do you not want to prevent another attack?” “Of course,” Hades said. “But that does not mean I want you there. Hermes can go.” She stared at him, but her expression was not so much angry as it was hurt, and he didn’t like it. “Why don’t you trust me?” “Persephone, it isn’t you I do not trust. It’s—” “Everyone else. I know,” she said, frustrated. “I want to respect your perspective, but I need you to also respect mine.” Hades studied her in the silence, grinding his teeth. There was a part of him that wanted to say it did not matter, that the danger outweighed any reason she might have for going, but he knew that wasn’t fair. He worked to keep the frustration from his voice as he asked, “What is your perspective?” “I don’t want to be a passive god or decoration at your side. I have my own battles I wish to fight. Helen betrayed me. I want to know the extent.” Hades understood, but it was hard to let her, and perhaps that wa...

Hades took a step toward the god. “You agreed to swear an oath?” he asked. Hermes’s expression grew serious. He nodded, tense. “I did.” Hermes knew the gravity of such a promise. It was not something offered to placate, though Persephone had used it in that manner. An oath such as this meant the god was bound to protect Persephone for eternity. It went beyond a single moment. “Swear it,” Hades said. “Swear you will protect her at all costs, even if it means an end to your own life.” “Hades,” Persephone said, a note of horror in her voice, but he did not look at her. “I swear it,” Hermes said. “You know the consequences if you fail?” He nodded once, and then Hades let his gaze drop to his outfit. “Black is not your color.” Hermes arched a brow. “Since when did you become the fashion police?” “I had a…decent teacher,” Hades replied. “Decent?” Hermes scoffed, but whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a knock at the door.

“You are here fighting for a woman who does not even belong to you while yours suffers at the hands of my sons.”

“If she manages to survive the sea, I will hunt her down and tear her to pieces in front of you,” Poseidon said. As he spoke, the flesh on his arms regenerated, and though he was whole, he was still covered in blood. “And you will be forced to eat each one, each slice of skin, each hot organ, and with each bite, you will know that it would have been easier to let me fuck her in front of you.”

“You make me feel insane,” he said. “Like I’m struck with madness. I never thought I would want to feel that way again…but it’s different with you.” He fell quiet and then he scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling ridiculous for having said that aloud, but at least she had not heard him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Dionysus looked at her, but she was staring at the ceiling, a single tear trailing down the side of her face. Her apology carried the weight of her regret, and it shuddered through him. It wasn’t until she spoke the words that he realized he hadn’t wanted to hear it because he did not deserve it. She’d had to face a horror that went well beyond simple consequences. “Why are you sorry?” “I should not have left to go to Poseidon on my own,” she said. He was quiet. Then he said, “I went to him the day before. I didn’t tell you because I thought you were still angry with me and I…” He let his voice trail off. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her, but it didn’t matter anymore. What was done was done. Now, they had to move forward. “Poseidon does not have Medusa. I’m not sure where she is, but the worst part about her situation is that her power is only active after she’s dead.” Ariadne met his gaze. “What?” He had nothing more to say. “Perhaps it’s best if she stays missing,” Ariadne said after a moment.

“I don’t care that he never loved me,” she said. “But I hate that he does not love my sister and that she is so devoted to him. She deserves more. She deserves everything.” Dionysus studied her, and after a moment, he asked, “And what do you deserve?” She was quiet. “Ari?” “Nothing,” she said, looking at him.

“Hecate?” he said, and she offered him a small smile. “I’m here.” He stared at her a moment longer, and then his attention turned to Persephone. “She is well, Hades.” He knew she meant to comfort him, but her words only brought anger and guilt. He should never have allowed her to go to Club Aphrodisia. He should never have entrusted her care to anyone save himself. “You would have only encouraged resentment,” Hecate said, reading his thoughts. “I’d rather she resent me every day of our life if it meant never having to see her like that again.” “Careful of your words, Hades. Resentment is just as fatal a wound.” Hades ground his teeth. “Is it any more fatal than what I see when I look at her?” “Magic can heal a wound to the flesh,” she said. “But it cannot heal a wound to the soul.” “You do not have to remind me. I’ve had enough blows of my own.” “Then you should never want the same for Persephone.” Perhaps he would feel differently in a day or two, but right now he was tempted to never let her leave this island. “What you should want is for her to learn to control her power,” Hecate said, rising to her feet. “She would have been fine had she channeled it correctly.” “Is that not your job?” Hades asked curtly. Hecate narrowed her eyes. “Careful, God of the Dead. I have little patience for your hubris.” Hades let his head fall into his hands, and he scrubbed his face. “I’m sorry, Hecate.” She placed a hand on his head. “I know.”

“Before you begin,” Hermes said, knowing what was to come, “you should know that Tyche is dead.” Those words made Hades straighten, and Hecate took an audible breath. It was not news he had expected, but it gave context to the massacre he had stepped into and explained why Aphrodite had been present—to seek revenge on those who had hurt her sister. “How?” Hecate asked. “We do not know,” Hermes said. “I…took her to Apollo.” “You left her,” Hades said, his voice darkening. He took a step toward the god. “Persephone ordered me,” Hermes said. “I ordered you to protect her,” Hades said. His voice rose and black spikes shot from the tips of his fingers. “You swore an oath.” “I know,” Hermes said, voice quiet, a shamed whisper as his eyes dropped to his feet. “I failed.” Hades reached him and placed a hand on his face, tilting his head back so their gazes met. His thumb settled just beneath Hermes’s eye, the sharp tip of a spike drawing blood. “I failed,” Hades said. Hermes flinched, those words far more painful than any wound Hades might inflict, and yet they were not enough. This type of magic required a physical debt, a daily reminder of the oath that was broken. Hades braced his other hand against Hermes’s head. “I will never forget this night,” Hades said. “And neither will you.” Then he jabbed his thumb into Hermes’s face. The god screamed and jerked away, but Hades held him steady, dragging the spike down his cheek and over his lip before shoving him away. Hermes stumbled ...

It was the first time he understood her desperation to keep Lexa alive. It did not matter that he was the God of the Dead and that she would come to reside in his realm forever. What mattered was that she was warm and well and whole, that her heart could beat in tandem with his, that she could go between their worlds, because that was what made her happiest.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “You can stop,” he said. “You can decide not to get involved. You can stop trying to change people’s minds and save a world. Let people make their decisions and face the consequences. It is how the world worked before you, and it is how the world will continue.” She glared. “This is different, Hades, and you know it. This is a group of people who have managed to capture and subdue gods.” “I know exactly what it is!” he snapped, rising to his feet. “I have lived through it before, and I can protect you from it.” “I didn’t ask you to protect me from it.” “I can’t lose you,” he said, planting his hands on the balcony behind her, trapping her against him. “I almost did, do you know that? Because I couldn’t fucking get my mind right to heal you. I have held men and women and children to me as they bled like you bled. I have had my face sprayed with their blood. I have had them beg for their life—a life I could not extend or heal or gift because I cannot fight their fate. But you—you did not beg for life. You were not even desperate for it. You were at peace.” “Because I was thinking about you,” she seethed, and Hades went cold. “I wasn’t thinking about life or death or anything but how much I loved you, and I wanted to say it, but I couldn’t…”

“I will build temples in honor of our love,” he said, lips brushing along her jaw, down her neck, along her shoulder. “I will worship you until the end of the world. There is nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice for you. Do you understand that?” “Yes,” she answered, holding his gaze, but there was a part of him that knew she could not even guess the lengths he would go to for her, and yet she made her own promise. “I will give you everything you ever wanted, even things you thought you would live without.” She was the only thing he’d ever thought he would live without, and yet she was here.

“Can I not convince you to stay here? You would be safe, and I would return to you every free moment.” “Hades, you know I won’t. What kind of queen would I be if I abandoned my people?” “You are Queen of the Dead, not Queen of the Living.” Though he could not deny that this was what he loved about her—she cared about everyone, even when they did not deserve it. No one deserved her, not even him. “The living eventually become ours, Hades. What good are we if we desert them in life?”

“What do you want, Hermes?” Hades asked, growing impatient. “We were about to return.” “How long is ‘about to’?” “Hermes—” Hades warned. “Zeus has summoned both of you to Olympus,” Hermes explained. “He has called Council. They wish to discuss your separation.” “Our separation?” Persephone asked, surprised. She looked from Hades to Hermes. “Are there not more pressing issues? Like Triad murdering a goddess and attacking another?” There were certainly more important things, but Zeus was of the mindset that Triad was not a threat to Olympians. Demeter’s storm, on the other hand, was. The longer it continued and the more fatalities, the more mortals began to question whether they should worship the Olympians. Less worship meant a change in strength—in power. “I only gave you one reason Zeus called Council,” Hermes said. “That does not mean we will not discuss other concerns.” “I will be along shortly, Hermes.” Hermes nodded, his gaze hard, softening as it slid to Persephone. “See you later, Sephy,” he said and vanished.

“Get dressed,” he said. “Why?” “You’re more than welcome to stay naked,” he said. “I will surely enjoy watching you traipse across this island.”

“Where are we going?” Ariadne asked. They had been walking at a steady incline for about an hour, and she was lagging. “Up,” he replied. Her silence worried him, and he paused to look behind him in time to see a fig flying toward his face. Dionysus caught it and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not nice to throw things.” “I wasn’t trying to be nice,” she hissed. He sighed and then descended to her. He drew the water skin from around his neck and handed it to her. “We need the height so we can see where we’re at,” he said as she took a drink from the bottle. “You want to go all the way up this mountain just to see where we’re at?” “Do you have a better idea?” “Yes. How about we just stay on flat land?” Dionysus stared. “Are you afraid of heights?” “No,” she snapped. He smiled. “You are.” “I am not!” “Are too.” “Shut up!” Dionysus laughed and she pushed him. He wasn’t prepared for the shove, and it sent him to the ground. Ariadne must not have expected him to actually fall either, because she lost her footing and landed on top of him.

“This is the Helm of Darkness. It grants its wearer the ability to become invisible,” he said, and though it granted other abilities, only one power was relevant at the moment. “It was made for me by the cyclopes during the Titanomachy.” “Why do you need this helm? One of your powers is invisibility.” “Invisibility is a power I gained over time as I became stronger.” As he had gained more and more worshippers. Then he smirked. “Outside of that, I prefer to protect my head during battle.” She was not amused as she took the helm into her hands, studying it closely. He knew she was focused on the marks that scored its surface—one for every blow he’d taken. “I want you to wear this while at Council.” She looked at him, surprised. “Why?” “Council is for Olympians, and I am not eager to introduce you to either of my brothers, especially under these circumstances. You will not like everything that is said.” And the helm would ensure she remained undetected while she listened. “Are you worried my mouth will sabotage our engagement?” He smiled at her arched comment. “Oh, darling, I have faith your mouth will only improve it.” They stared at each other, and then her gaze dropped to his cock. She raised a brow. “Are you going to Council naked, my lord? If so, I insist on watching.” “If you keep staring at me like that, we will not go to Council at all,” he said, though he knew this visit was necessary, as much as he hated it. He summoned his glamour and dressed them both. “Ready?” he...

“From what I understand, Hades,” said Ares, who lounged on his own throne, “the storm is your fault. Couldn’t keep your dick out of Demeter’s daughter.” “Shut up, Ares,” Hermes snapped. “Why should he?” Artemis asked. “He speaks the truth.” “You could have fucked a million other women, but you chose to stay with one,” said Ares, a slant of amusement in his voice. “And the daughter of a goddess who hates you more than she loves humanity.” “That pussy must be gold,” Poseidon said. Spikes shot out of the tips of Hades’s fingers, and he dug them into the arms of his throne. He spoke, his voice low and threatening. “I will personally cut the thread of any god who dares to speak another word about Persephone.” “You wouldn’t dare,” Hera said, as if she thought his threat were empty. “The consequences of killing a god outside of the Fates’ will are dire. You could lose your dear goddess.” Hades tapped the ends of his clawed fingers against his iron throne, leveling his gaze at the Goddess of Marriage. He did not speak, but his challenge was clear—Try it and I will end this world.

“Speaking of dicks and the problems they cause,” Hermes jumped in. “Is no one going to speak about the trouble your offspring are causing? Tyche is dead. Someone is attacking us…succeeding in killing us…and you want to bicker about Hades’s love life?” “We’ll have nothing to worry about if Demeter’s storm continues,” Artemis snapped. “Mortals will be frozen to the ground. It will be Pompeii all over again.” “You think Demeter’s wrath is the worst that could happen?” Hades asked, his voice shaking the very air in the room. “You do not know mine.”

“Well, well, well,” Zeus said, leaning forward on his throne. Hades bit down on the inside of his cheek, a hot wave of anger curling in his stomach. “Demeter’s daughter.” “I am,” she said, casting her gaze to the right and then to the left. “You have caused a lot of problems,” Zeus said. Her eyes flashed, and Hades found her obvious frustration amusing. “I think you mean my mother has caused a lot of problems,” she said. “And yet you seem intent upon punishing Hades.” Zeus sat back and shrugged. “I merely seek to solve a problem in the simplest way possible.” “That might be true if Demeter were only responsible for a storm, but I have reason to believe she is working with the demigods.” “What reasons?” “I was there the night Tyche died. My mother was there. I felt her magic.” “Perhaps she was there to retrieve you,” Hera said, waving her hand in the air as if to dismiss her accusation. Hades imagined that was what she’d hoped for too, given that she had every reason to want Triad to succeed. “As is her right by Divine law. She is your mother.” “Since we are basing our decisions on archaic laws, then I must disagree,” Persephone said. Hades’s lips curled. “On what grounds?” Hera countered. “Hades and I fuck,” Persephone said flatly. “By Divine law, we are married.” Hermes’s choked on a laugh. Hades eyed him before returning his attention to Persephone, whose eyes were trained on Zeus. He didn’t like it, knowing his brother enjoyed her attention and the fact that she had to ...

When they were alone, Hades left his throne and approached Persephone, who had already begun to explain herself. “I’m sorry. I know you asked that I stay hidden, but I couldn’t. Not when they wished—” He kissed her hard before pulling away. “You were wonderful,” he said. “Truly.” “I thought they would take me from you,” she said, quietly. “Never,” he whispered, speaking it against her skin like an affirmation, and perhaps if he said it enough, it would come true.

“Where do gods go when they die?” Persephone asked. “They come to me, powerless,” he said. “And I give them a role in the Underworld.” “What kind of role?” “It depends on what challenged them in their life as a god. Tyche, though, she always wanted to be a mother. So I will gift her with the Children’s Garden.” “Will we be able to speak with her? About the way she died?” “Not immediately,” he answered. “But within the week.” Though Hades worried by then, it might be too late.

Dionysus and Ariadne found a narrow path down the side of the cliff, but their progress was slow because Ariadne was afraid of heights, though she still refused to admit it. “I’ll carry you,” Dionysus said. “No. What if you fall?” “I’m not going to fall. I’m a fucking god,” he said, annoyed. “As if that’s somehow impressive,” she snapped. “I fucking healed you!” “And yet we’re still stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean because you can’t compete with Poseidon’s power.” He ground his teeth, wishing her words didn’t sting. He knew his abilities did not compare to the God of the Sea, and he had thought often over the last two days that none of this would have happened had he had more power—had he been better. Her words seemed to bother her just as much as they had him, because her shoulders fell and she let her hands drop from the wall, shuffling toward him. He watched her approach, feeling heat creep into his body the closer she came. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It isn’t fair,” Dionysus said at length. “What isn’t fair?” “That Theseus had you,” he said, and while he spoke honestly, he couldn’t look at her. “He didn’t deserve you. He still doesn’t, and yet he takes up so much space in your head.” He would give anything to replace him—to fill her mind every minute of every day.

“I want you,” she said. Dionysus started to speak but no words came out. He tried again. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell earlier?” “I’m of sound mind, Dionysus,” she said, her voice taking on a frustrated edge. “I’m asking you to have sex with me. Are you saying you don’t want me?” “No,” he said quickly. “That is not what I am saying at all. Fuck, Ari. I just want you to be sure.” She held his gaze. “I asked for it. I want it.” He swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure why he was having such a hard time with this. It was everything he had dreamed about since he’d met her. “Why me?” She seemed to think the answer was obvious because she frowned and shook her head a little. “Because you’ll take care of me. Because…you have taken care of me.”

“Do you regret it?” he asked suddenly. Her eyes widened and she met his gaze. “No. Do you?” “No,” he said. “I never will.”

A sudden, sharp bleating tore them apart. Dionysus wasn’t sure what it was about the sound, but it had sent his heart into a complete panic, and when he looked up from Ariadne, he saw a sheep at the entrance of the cave, its narrow pupils unnervingly focused on them. Ariadne giggled. “Go away,” Dionysus said, throwing a small pebble in its direction. The sheep offered another wavering cry. “Don’t hurt him!” Ariadne said, pushing against Dionysus’s chest as she sat up. He wanted to groan, knowing there was no reclaiming what might have been now that they had been interrupted. “He’s lucky it’s just a pebble,” Dionysus said. That was twice now he had been cockblocked by a fucking sheep. He hated this island.

Okeanos sat in a chair opposite a mirror. He was still and restrained, head leaning back, chest gaping from where Aphrodite had stolen his heart. From what Hades knew, she still had it in her possession, though he had not seen her or Hephaestus since that night at Club Aphrodisia. “What’s the mirror for?” Hermes asked. Hades met Hermes’s gaze in the reflection. “So Okeanos can watch his torture.” “Kinky,” Hermes said and then turned to look at the demigod. “I hope you tear him to pieces.” Hades glanced at the god and raised a brow. “And you said I was a psychopath.” “He ripped Tyche’s horns from her head,” Hermes said. Hades narrowed his eyes.

“You are one to speak, God of Death,” Okeanos seethed. Hades dealt a blow to the demigod’s pristine face, the bones giving way beneath the punch. His head snapped back, and blood poured from his ruined nose. “That,” Hades said, shaking the blood off his hand, “is not my title. You would do well to remember, given that you are in my realm.” Okeanos smiled despite the blood, despite his ruined face. “Is that all you’ve got?” he asked. “A measly punch to the face?” Hermes cast Hades an annoyed look. Hades knew what he was thinking—I told you to tear him limb from limb. Hades was not so certain he wouldn’t by the end of this. “Go ahead,” said the demigod. “Do your worst.” “The audacity,” said Hermes. “I believe the word you are looking for is hubris,” said Okeanos. “Isn’t that what you Olympians like to punish? The so-called fatal flaw of humanity?” Gods rarely needed to punish hubris. The consequences came about on their own, as they clearly had with Okeanos, yet he seemed oblivious to that fact.

“There’s a warehouse in the Lake District. The weapons are made there. The attacks…they were tests to see if they would work.” “Are you saying they were…practice?” Hermes spoke deliberately, his anger barely restrained. “The goal was always to lure an Olympian,” Okeanos admitted. “Which Olympian?” “At first…Aphrodite,” Okeanos choked out. Hermes and Hades exchanged a glance. “Why?” “Because Demeter ordered it. It was her price in exchange for the use of her magic.” Hades had suspected Demeter was helping supply weapons to Triad, but he had not expected her to have ordered the attacks on Adonis and Harmonia. Now that he considered it, though, it was not all that surprising. Aphrodite was the only reason Hades had approached Persephone that evening at Nevernight. Her challenge—make someone fall in love with you—was why he’d drawn the Goddess of Spring into a bargain that saw her visiting the Underworld nearly every day. Hades frowned. What Okeanos said was true—he really was to blame. “Then why Tyche?” Hermes asked, holding his arm tighter. “I don’t know,” Okeanos moaned. “But Demeter’s war is with the Fates.” “Well, that was easy,” said Hermes.

The news that Demeter had been behind the attacks on Adonis, Harmonia, and Tyche would likely devastate Persephone. It was one thing to suspect her mother’s involvement, another to have it confirmed. There were times when Hades wondered how someone could possess this kind of hatred for anyone, but Demeter continued to maintain it for him, and all because the Fates had woven his destiny with Persephone’s. Something he considered a gift was Demeter’s greatest curse.

“I would like to train with you today,” he said. “I would like that.” Hades frowned, doubtful. “I don’t think you will.” He had no intention of making this fun. When she faced him, it would be as if they were enemies on the battlefield. She would not even know him. Persephone pulled away to look at him. “Why do you say that?” He studied her for a moment, then his eyes fell to her lips. “Just remember that I love you.”

They were on a burning battlefield, and he lay at Persephone’s feet, speared by her magic. It reminded him of Katerina’s vision, the one that would come true if the ophiotaurus was slain. “Hades,” Persephone said, her voice shaking. She fell to her knees beside him as if she had been struck. “I thought…I thought I’d never see you again,” he whispered, and he lifted a trembling hand to her face. She pressed his palm flat against her cheek. “I’m here,” she whispered and closed her eyes against his touch, until his hand fell away. “Hades!” “Hmm?” “Stay with me,” she begged through her tears, taking his face between her hands. “I cannot,” he said. “What do you mean you can’t? You can heal yourself. Heal!” “Persephone,” he whispered. “It’s over.” “No,” she said, her mouth quivering. “Persephone, look at me,” he said, desperate for her to see, to hear his final words. “You were my only love—my heart and my soul. My world began and ended with you, my sun, stars, and sky. I will never forget you but I will forgive you.” “Forgive me?” It was then she realized what Hades already knew—that she had raged against him and destroyed the Underworld. She had destroyed him. Was this why she refused to harness her magic? Because she feared this potential? This reality? Hades had to be honest. He feared this too, and it only got worse as Persephone tried to undo her magic, as she begged Hades to stay. “No, please. Hades, I didn’t mean—” “I know,” he said slowly. “I love you.” “Don’t,” she beg...

“Persephone—” “That was cruel,” she said, standing over him. “Whatever that was, it was cruel.” “It was necessary. You must learn—” “You could have warned me. Do you even know what I saw?” She acted as if it was easy for him to witness too. “What if the roles had been reversed?” “They have been reversed,” he snapped. They’d been real for him. She blanched, looking horrified. “Was that some kind of punishment?” “Persephone—” That had not been his intention. Fuck. He reached for her, but she took a step away. “Don’t.” She put her hands up. “I need time. Alone.” “I don’t want you to go,” he said. “I don’t think it’s your choice,” she said. She took a deep, shaky breath, as if she were gathering the courage to go, and when she did, Hades let out his own frustrated cry.

A strangled cry startled him awake. He rolled over and back onto his ass, summoning his thyrsus, only to come face-to-face with a sheep. “Where did you come from?” he snapped. The sheep bleated loudly, and Dionysus cringed at the sound. His head hurt and the sun was making it worse. He squinted against it and then took in his surroundings. The cyclops’s island was vast and wooded, rising into high mountainous slopes. If the cyclops was among them, he wouldn’t even be able to tell. “Baa!” The sheep’s sudden cry made him jump. “Gods, will you stop doing that?” He glared at the sheep, but it continued to scream at him. “What do you want?” he snapped, rising to his feet. The sheep backed away and started to turn, bleating as it did. “I’m not following you,” Dionysus said. The sheep seemed to glare at him, which left him feeling uneasy. It reminded him of Ariadne’s frustration. Fuck. What if she was turned into a sheep? What if this sheep was Ariadne? You’re a fucking idiot, he scolded himself.