A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga, #2)

by Scarlett St. Clair

He had few vices, among them racing, whiskey, and Persephone, his Goddess of Spring. Two of the three had never interfered with his routine, had never provided enough of an escape to be called a distraction. But Persephone was more than that—she was an addiction. A craving he could not sate. Even now, he fought the visceral urge to return to her despite having spent most of the weekend with her, exploring her, buried inside her. She was why he was late. He had not wanted to leave her side, in part because he worried over whether she would remain despite her promise that she would await his return to the Underworld. A hot wave of frustration twisted through him at his doubt. He had never doubted himself, but he doubted everything when it came to Persephone…even their fate.

“You’re late,” Ilias said, not looking at him but at the starting gate where the horses and their jockeys marched into place. “And you’re a satyr,” Hades replied, following his gaze. Ilias glanced at him, brow raised in question at the comment. “I thought we were stating the obvious,” Hades said. He did not like to be reminded of his mistakes, though those closest to him—in particular Hecate, Goddess of Witchcraft and Magic—reveled in reminding him that he was very much fallible. Or, as she liked to say, an idiot.

“If you will not help me overthrow Zeus, then you shall have to earn your right to marry Persephone.” Hades’s fingers curled into his palms. “This is not about Persephone,” he said, the words slipping between his teeth. “This is the game, Hades, and all gods play it. I asked for your aid and you declined, so I shall seek retribution all the same.” She spoke as if this were mere business, but Hades knew Hera, and her threats were not idle. The goddess would do just about anything to ensure she got her way, which meant she was not above hurting Persephone. “If you touch her—” “I will not approach her if you do as I say,” she said, then tapped her chin, eyeing Hades from head to toe. “Now, how best to earn the right to marry your beloved Persephone.” Her musing made Hades cringe. Clearly her intention was to wound. She knew Hades wished to marry Persephone just as much as she knew he felt unworthy of such a gift. This was as much a punishment as it was entertainment for the goddess. “Ah! I have it,” she said at last. “I shall assign you to twelve labors. Your…completion of each one will show me just how devoted you are to Persephone.” “Pity Zeus never had to do this for you,” Hades replied tightly.

“Kill Briareus,” she sneered. “That is your first task.”

“You have one week,” Hera replied, heedless of his words. Hades shook his head, and while he knew she did not care, he said it anyway. “You will come to regret this.” “If I do, then you will too.” He had no doubt.

“You doubt my love?” Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. “No! But…I suppose we cannot avoid what others may perceive about our relationship.” Hades raised a brow and drew a step closer. “And what will others say, exactly?” Again, she averted her eyes and shrugged as she answered, “That we are only together because of the Fates. That you have only chosen me because I am a goddess.” His brows slammed down over his eyes. Those sounded oddly like things her mother would say. “Have I given you reason to think such things?” He hadn’t. He already knew the answer. “Who has given you doubts?” “I have only just started to consider—” “My motives?” “No—” He narrowed his eyes. “It seems that way.” She took a step away, though she had little room to put distance between them as her back hit the bookcase, which did nothing to dispel the tension between them. “I am sorry I said anything,” she snapped, her arms crossing over her chest, as if to put a barrier between them. “It is too late for that.” “Will you punish me for speaking my mind?” Her eyes flashed, full of defiance, but those words interested him. “Punish?” he asked, closing the space between them. He guided her hands away from her chest, his cock growing thick and heavy as he rested against her hips. “I am interested to hear how you think I might punish you.” She inhaled, her chest rising, and Hades could see the want in her eyes, yet she fought it, unwilling to give in to temptation. “I am interested in having my questions a...

Her body was a bowstring pulled taut, and Hades was desperate to feast, but his chase was hindered by a knock at the door. Persephone tensed, and a wave of frustration roared through him. “Ignore it,” he snapped, glancing up at her from where he still knelt, unceasing as he continued his work. His face grew hot, ears ringing as he pushed Persephone toward the edge, preparing to wring every bit of pleasure from her body, and in the aftermath, he would pour his own into her. It was just as much a cycle of life and death—a give and take—one he would never bargain away. The knocking sounded again. “Lord Hades?” “Go. Away.” Another word from the other side of the door, and he would send whoever it was to Tartarus. “It’s important, Hades.” Fuck. He recognized the voice now—Ilias. He straightened completely, and Persephone followed. “A moment, my darling.” He tried to keep his frustration at bay, but it was difficult given the nature of this interruption, made worse by Persephone’s roving eyes, which lifted from his hard cock to meet his gaze. “You won’t hurt him, will you?” Her voice was low and silky, urging him to return. “Not too terribly,” he said, though he was already weighing options. He stepped away, gaze lingering on her flushed skin, the evidence of how hard he’d chased her orgasm, and slipped outside to find Ilias waiting. “This better be important,” Hades hissed, “or I will send you to Tartarus—a year for every word you speak. Choose carefully.” Ilias did not seem fa...

“Trust, my darling, that leaving you is the hardest decision I make each day.” “Then don’t,” she said, and her arms wound around his waist, sealing their bodies together. “I’ll go with you.” Her suggestion made him stiffen. Though he did not know what Ilias had to show him, he could not imagine anything good coming from Persephone’s presence in his work, at least aboveground. “That is not wise.” “Why not?” “Persephone—” “It’s a simple question.” “It isn’t,” he snapped and regretted the loss of his temper as her eyes widened and her mouth hardened. He sighed. All he wanted to do was get this over with so he could return to her. Could she not see that? “Fine,” she said and took a step away. Her distance felt like more than the loss of physical touch. “I’ll be here when you return.” Was she only saying that to appease him? “I will make it up to you,” he promised. She arched a brow and, like a queen, commanded, “Swear it.” He offered the slightest smile, his still-heavy cock spurring his mischief. “Oh, darling. You don’t need to extract an oath. Nothing will keep me from fucking you.” Though it felt like sacrilege to leave her without having made her come.

“I must know Briareus’s fate,” Hades said, hating the way the Fates’ eyes gleamed. “Briareus, you say,” said Lachesis. “One of the Hecatoncheires,” observed Clotho. “The storm giants,” Atropos affirmed. “Why?” they asked in unison. “As if you do not already know,” he gritted out. They were all quiet, and Hades recognized his own behavior in them. They would not continue until he gave them the answer they wanted. “What will it cost me when I kill Briareus?” He hated asking the question before he’d even tried seeking a loophole, but he knew how this worked. He had seen the cycle repeat over centuries. There would likely be no other way to appease Hera, and the one thing he was not willing to sacrifice was Persephone and their future together. “You wish to end a life I have spun?” Clotho said. “A life I have measured?” Lachesis continued. “A life I haven’t cut?” Atropos asked, affronted. As they spoke, a gold thread shimmered in the dark, twisting and looping around each of the Fates. He watched it, a thin line of energy that made up the fabric of the world. “I do not wish to,” Hades said, but the alternative was a price he would not pay, so he had to know this one. “As you are aware, this is Hera’s vendetta.” “And you she has chosen for the deed,” said Clotho. The thread morphed into a silhouette of Hera, Persephone, and himself. The Goddess of Marriage stood between them and used her spear to sever the thread that connected them. That was not the end of Hera’s rage, however...

Hades returned to the Underworld, teleporting to his office. He approached the bar to pour a glass of whiskey when he found his cabinet was empty. Strange, he thought, and surveyed the room, noticing that the door to the balcony was slightly ajar. He approached and stepped out, looking down to find an explosion of broken glass on the cobble-stoned courtyard below. “What the fuck,” he said under his breath and teleported to the ground. The glass crunched beneath his feet as he appeared, once again looking around in confusion. It appeared that every bottle of alcohol he owned had found its way over the edge of his balcony. In all the time he had existed, this had never happened. The air changed suddenly, filling with a smoky, earthy smell. Hades turned to see Hecate appear, cloaked in black velvet. The Goddess of Magic often wandered the world at night, wrapped up in various missions of her own making. Hades never questioned her whereabouts, trusting that whatever she was up to was warranted. Except that today, he suspected she had something to do with the mess at his feet. “Where have you been?” Hades asked. The goddess turned toward him, removing her hood, revealing her dark, braided hair. “Meddling,” Hecate replied sheepishly. Hades had no doubt and indicated the glass littering the ground. “What happened here?” Hecate let her gaze fall, though Hades suspected she didn’t need to look. “Persephone and I had a little fun after you left last night,” Hecate answered. “A littl...

“Is that what you’re calling your interrogations?” she asked. “Do not act as if you disapprove,” he said. “Oh, I fully support persecution when it’s deserved,” she said. “This is deserved,” Hades said. “I have reason to believe this mortal has obtained a kind of relic that allows him to see the threads of the present and future.” “So what has he done to incur your wrath? Tell people when they will die?” “No,” Hades said mildly. “He’s offering outcomes—athletics, cards, racing.” Hades had to admit it was unusual. In the past when he had handled a mortal who’d come into possession of a relic with sight, they’d already traumatized themselves and others by offering insight into death dates, lovers, the potential for children. Everyone wanted to know the future until they didn’t. “What a waste,” Hecate said, and Hades wondered if she was more upset that there was no particular drama to this case. Then she yawned. “But you know I do not go out in the daylight.” “Are you saying you would forgo the chance to punish a false oracle who sacrifices cats for divine favor?” Hecate cringed noticeably. “How criminal. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

Instead, though, the mortal set a small box on the desk. It appeared to be a ring box, but what was inside surprised even Hades. It was an eye. “Is that what I think it is?” Hades asked. “That depends on what you think it is,” said Acacius. “You are wearing your chances thin.” “It is the eye of the Graeae.” It was exactly as Hades thought. The Graeae were three sisters who wore the skin of hags, though their true form was rather monstrous. The three had the bodies of swans, though their heads and arms were human, and between them, they shared a tooth and an eye. “How did you come to possess it?” Hades asked. “I took it from them,” Acacius said. “The Graeae.” “You took it from them?” Hades repeated. “When?” The Graeae had not been seen in centuries, choosing to self-isolate, fearing the evolution of man—and rightly so, as Acacius had demonstrated. “They were obtained by hunters and brought to me,” he said. “Monsters are worth a fortune in the market.” “So you sold them.” There was a moment of silence, then Hades pounced. He grabbed a handful of Acacius’s shirt and slammed him down on his desk. “Who did you sell them to?” he demanded. The mortal’s hands dug into Hades’s arms as he held him down—even the broken ones. “Di-Dionysus!” Hades released the man. “How long ago?” “They were shipped off just yesterday.”

Hades reached for the box and placed it inside the pocket of his jacket before heading toward the door. “You cannot just take what’s mine,” Acacius said. “That eye was bought and paid for.” “Perhaps my generosity has led you to believe you are entitled to make demands,” Hades replied. “It doesn’t.” At the door, Hades paused. “Dionysus will come for you. He always does. I would remain alert, not that it will do you much good.” “You cannot leave me to him,” Acacius argued. “Tell me one more time what I can and cannot do,” Hades said, and as he stepped outside, he found that Hecate had transformed many of Acacius’s men into topiaries. “I think they look better this way,” she said. “I trimmed them after.” Hades raised a brow. “I’m assuming they did something to deserve this?” She shrugged. “They didn’t like cats.”

He started across the room, intent on heading for the bar, when something snuck up behind him. “Boo!” Hades whirled and punched Hermes in the face. The God of Mischief stumbled back and clamped his hands over his nose. “Motherfucker! Why did you do that?” he demanded. “You scared me,” Hades said simply, lips curling at the sight of the god’s pain. “I did not,” Hermes said, dropping his hands. Any evidence of the strike to the face was already healed. “You wanted to punch me.” “Don’t give me an excuse,” Hades said, making his way to the bar, where he poured himself a drink. “To what do I owe your visit, and what can I do to prevent it in the future?” “Rude,” Hermes said, sauntering to the bar. “You’re talking to a hero.” Hades raised a brow. “You should be thanking me,” he continued. “I distracted a whole crowd of screaming fans so Sephy could go to work.” Hades frowned. “Was she not escorted to the door by Antoni?” Hermes’s face fell, as if he realized he’d brought something to Hades’s attention that he shouldn’t have. “Well, I could be wrong, but she kept repeating that she wanted a normal, mortal life, which is hard to do when you arrive at your day job in the God of the Underworld’s personal car and allow his personal driver to escort you to the door.” “She’s a goddess,” Hades countered. “A new one by her standard and ours,” Hermes argued. “You have to give her time to transition into her role. She’s played mortal for the past four years, and she’s liked it. She will re...

“Has anyone ever told you…you need therapy?” Hermes had, in fact, told him often. “Pot, meet kettle,” Hades replied. Hermes straightened and narrowed his eyes. “Since when did you start using mortal expressions?” “I thought you might appreciate it.” “Well, I don’t,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, but after a moment, he dropped them. “What does it mean?” “It means,” said Hades, “that you are a hypocrite.” “Rude! That’s twice in one conversation, Hades.” “Perhaps you should stick to what you do best, then.” “And what is that?” “Fuckery,” Hades replied and downed his drink. “Are you saying that’s all I’m good for?” Hermes asked. It was a trick question, and Hades did not bite.

“How long has it been since you visited Bakkheia?” Bakkheia was one of Dionysus’s nightclubs. Of those he owned, it was considered rather tame, but it was just as difficult to gain entry into as Nevernight. “Dionysus’s club?” Hermes asked. “Why would I go there?” Hades raised a brow. “Orgies.” Hermes’s mouth opened and then closed before crossing his arms over his chest. “I was there last week. Why?” “I’d like you to go again,” Hades said. “You’re…asking me to have an orgy?” “No,” Hades said. “I’m asking you to take Dionysus a message.” Hermes sucked air through his teeth. “Can’t you send an email?” “These words are better delivered in person.” “Hades!” Hermes whined. “You’re going to get me kicked out.” “I am certain you will have no lack of orgies in the future,” Hades replied. “Tell Dionysus I’d be happy to chat about his recent acquisition at a time that is most convenient for him.” “No one talks like that anymore, Hades.” “I just did,” he replied. “And look how long it took you to get a girlfriend.” Hades glared. “You know what I think you should do?” Hades did not reply, but Hermes continued anyway. “Just castrate him.” “Castrate him?” “Think about it, Hades. Who’d mess with you if you started chopping off balls?” “Nothing good comes from castrating gods,” Hades replied.

“Be patient with Sephy. She tries so hard to be independent, she thinks relying on anyone is a weakness.”

Hades found Persephone in her room, standing with her eyes closed. Her head was tilted slightly upward as if she were inviting him to kiss her full lips. As he observed her, she took a breath, shivering, and her shoulders rose with it. She looked…adorable, and he found himself smiling at how much he loved her. Despite everything that had transpired today, this moment made it all worth it.

“You followed me today, didn’t you?” “Why would you think that?” he asked, especially since he hadn’t, but he was curious about her reasoning. “You insisted Antoni take me to work this morning, most likely because you already knew what the media was reporting.” “I didn’t want to worry you.” And while he had assumed she would be under the scrutiny of both the media and the public at large, he had to admit that he hadn’t expected the crowd that had gathered today, but it appeared the public did not yet connect their fear of him to Persephone. “So you let me walk into a mob?” “Did you walk into that mob?” he asked, knowing better. “You were there! I thought we agreed. No invisibility.” “I wasn’t,” he said. “Hermes was.” Her eyes flashed with a note of frustration and then dread as Hades spoke. “You could always teleport, or I can provide an aeg—” “I don’t want an aegis. I’d rather not use magic, not…in the Upperworld.” “Unless you’re exacting revenge?” He raised a brow, knowing full well she had no trouble turning Adonis’s limbs into vines and Minthe into a mint plant. “That’s not fair. You know my magic has become more and more unpredictable. And I’m not eager to be exposed as a goddess.” “Goddess or not, you are my lover.”

“It is only a matter of time before someone with a vendetta against me tries to harm you. I will keep you safe.” At his words, Persephone hugged herself, and at least he knew some of them had gotten through. “You really think someone would try to harm me?” “Darling, I have judged human nature for millennia. Yes.” “Can’t you, I don’t know, erase people’s memories? Make them forget about all this.” He frowned at her question. All this, he thought. What she really meant was them. “It is too late for that. What is so terrible about being known as my lover?” “Nothing,” she said instantly. “It’s just that word.” “What’s wrong with ‘lover’?” “It sounds so fleeting. Like I am nothing but your sex slave.” One corner of his lips curled. “What am I to call you, then? You have forbidden the use of ‘my queen’ and ‘my lady.’” “Titles make me uncomfortable,” she said and hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want to be known as your lover…but there has to be a better word.” “‘Girlfriend’?” Hades supplied. He had to admit, it was an odd choice given the circumstances of their fate, but it was modern enough. She laughed and Hades glowered. “What’s wrong with ‘girlfriend’?” “Nothing. It just seems so…insignificant,” she explained, growing flustered, and Hades felt less defensive as her cheeks reddened. He touched her chin once more, holding her gaze as he stepped even closer. Their faces were inches apart, his lips hovering near hers, ready to take her mouth against his once more as he whispere...

“You shouldn’t laugh.” He was confused by her comment—did she feel insecure about her reaction to him? If it was any consolation, he rarely had the ability to think beyond her when they were together. “Why not? I can hear your heart beating. Are you afraid to be caught with your boyfriend?” Persephone rolled her eyes. “I think I preferred lover.” He laughed, and he liked the way she looked at him when he did…like she wanted to make him laugh forever. “You are not easy to please.” “I would give you the chance, but I’m afraid I don’t have time.” “I don’t need long,” he said, gripping the fabric of her dress. “I could make you come in seconds. You won’t even have to get undressed.” The way she looked at him made his cock harder. It was sensual, almost a dare, yet she denied him. “I’m afraid seconds will not do. I’m owed pleasure—hours of it.” He could not argue with that, but he could bargain. “Allow me to give you a preview, then.” He pulled her tight against him, and the bulge of his cock settled against her stomach, but she pushed against him. “Perhaps later,” she said, and he wasn’t that surprised. She had been adamant about spending time with Lexa, and he knew that was important to her. He could be patient. “I’ll take that as a promise,” he said and vanished before he decided against waiting.

“Hades. I said I wanted to talk.” “Talk.” It wasn’t as if they hadn’t managed a full conversation during sex. Then she spoke, and what she said drained the heat from his body. “About Apollo.” Fuck Apollo, he thought as he sat back on his heels. Why was he suddenly haunting his days? First Leuce and now Persephone? “Tell me why the name of my nephew is on your lips.” “He’s my next project,” she said, as if that explained everything, but Hades felt agitated to the point that his jaw hurt from clenching his teeth. Apollo was not the kind of god one turned into a project, and if project meant what he suspected—that Persephone hoped to write one of her articles about the God of Music—the answer was no. She seemed to see his frustration and continued in an attempt to convince him. “He fired Sybil, Hades. For refusing to be his lover.” He was not surprised. Apollo’s response to rejection was revenge. Spurn Apollo once, and never again. Which was why Persephone could not write about him, but even as he looked at her, he knew this was going to be an argument. He could see the flash of determination in her eyes. She wanted to change Apollo, but Apollo was power, and power did not necessitate change.

“You know I’ll be careful,” she said, taking a single step closer. “Besides, would Apollo really mess with what’s yours?” She really had no idea.

“You do not understand the Divine. I cannot protect you from another god. It is a fight you would have to win on your own.” Hades could not prevent retribution between a god and their target, even if it was Persephone. The only possible way was to bargain, and no god wanted to owe another. Especially Hades. But for her—for this goddess whom he loved more than anything—he would bargain, and that made what she asked next somehow more painful. “Are you saying you wouldn’t fight for me?” He wouldn’t just fight. He would dismantle the world, and he would only feel remorse for Persephone, who would grieve for humanity. As he stared at her, innocent and beautiful, he thought he could see a hint of fear at whatever she saw in his eyes. He hated it but could not deny this darkness. It was as much a part of him as his magic—as her fate was woven with his. He brushed a piece of hair from her face before trailing his fingers over her cheek. “Darling,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “I would burn this world for you.” Then he kissed her and cupped her face with his hands, moving them into her hair. Her lips parted for him, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. When her arms closed around his neck and her body melded fully to his, he felt as though he were no longer grounded. The world had fallen away, and it was only them and sensation. It was how he knew he could end worlds for her.

He made his way into his office, still undetected. She had moved beyond his desk, which he kept free of clutter, save a vase of white narcissus Ivy insisted on refreshing daily…and a picture of her. He had taken it when she was unaware as she wandered in the gardens outside his palace. He could recall exactly why he’d been drawn to capture the moment too…because she’d looked so perfect among his flowers, and he remembered not understanding how he’d gone so long without her presence among them. The picture was a reminder of his awe that she was his.

“You have a phone?” “For work, yes.” “Why didn’t I know that?” There was an edge to her voice, more frustrated than suspicious. “If I want you, I will find you.” He did not need modern technology to locate her, just magic. “And what if I want you?” That question was innocent enough and shouldn’t have made him feel anything at all, but the idea that she might ask him for help—and accept it—sent a strange sort of thrill through him. “Then you have only to say my name.”

“You are displeased.” “You embarrassed me,” she murmured, staring at his chest. Hades lifted her chin so he could study her face. He did not understand. “Explain.” She took a breath, like she was warring with herself, but her frustration won out. “I should not have to learn about all your charities through someone else. I feel like everyone around me knows more about you than I do.” No one knew more than she did, except, perhaps, Hecate, who sometimes obtained information via her spells, something Hades considered a nuisance. “You never asked.” And had there been a time to even bring up the matter of his business ventures? Though he supposed he should have anticipated that others would be eager to disclose elements of his life to her. Aphrodite had done the same when she had told Persephone of their bargain. “Some things can be brought up casually, Hades. At dinner, for instance: Hi, honey. How was your day? Mine was good. The billion-dollar charities I own help kids and dogs and humanity!” Honey? That was not a name he had tried out before. Her words amused him, and as the corners of his mouth lifted, Persephone placed a finger to his lips. He had the very primal urge to take it into his mouth. “Don’t you dare. I am serious about this. If you wish for me to be seen as more than a lover, then I need more from you. A…history…an inventory of your life. Something.” She was asking to know him, to understand him better. He could not deny that thought gave him anxiety. What if s...

Persephone hesitated for a moment, then touched the picture on his desk. “Where did you get this?” He wasn’t sure why he stayed quiet so long. Perhaps it was because he could not read exactly how she felt about the photo, but it also meant revealing a part of himself he had never shared with anyone at all. “I took it.” “When?” A note of surprise colored her voice. He smirked, humored. “Obviously when you weren’t looking.” She rolled her eyes, and he drew closer. He wanted to take her mouth into a punishing kiss and worship her on this desk, though he knew her thoughts were much more wholesome. “Why do you have pictures of me and I do not have pictures of you?” “I did not know you wanted pictures of me.” “Of course I want pictures of you.” “I may be able to oblige. What kind of pictures do you want?” “You are insatiable,” she said, hitting his shoulder playfully. Hades’s hands locked on her waist, and he pulled her toward him, their bodies colliding hip to hip. “And you are to blame, my queen,” he said, mouth falling to her neck, his tongue touching her skin as he kissed down to her shoulder. “I’m glad you are here.” “I couldn’t tell,” she said mildly.

“I have to get back to work,” she said, making her way to the door, but before she left, she turned to look back at him. He realized he saw her nearly every day, had memorized every curve and detail of her body, yet she somehow still managed to arrest him. “I’ll see you tonight?” He would never say no, despite all the fires raging around him at the moment, and when he nodded, he knew he had made the right decision because she smiled so bright, it made his heart race. After she left, Hades remained standing for a few minutes before sinking into the chair behind his desk. His gaze fell to the picture of Persephone, which he straightened, then he leaned back and closed his eyes, waiting for his lust to subside.

“What are you doing?” Hecate asked. He had been so lost in thought, he had not sensed her approach. He refocused and continued choosing flowers. “What does it look like?” “Like you are about to add datura to your bouquet,” she said, and Hades’s hand hesitated over the white, trumpet-like flower. “It’s a nasty nightshade. Best leave it be.” He straightened and turned to face the witch goddess. “I’m ridiculous,” he said. “You are ridiculous often,” Hecate said. “But you are not ridiculous for picking flowers for your lady love, if that is what you are insinuating.” Hades wasn’t certain. He wasn’t even sure why he’d begun this. Why would the Goddess of Spring want a bunch of soon-to-be-dead flowers? “I am going to fuck this up,” he said. He often shared his doubts with Hecate, and while he knew they were safe with the goddess, her responses were not always comforting. “Probably,” she said. “But Persephone is forgiving. You’ll remember that when you need to forgive her, won’t you?” Hades’s brows rose. “Do you know something I don’t?” “I always know something you don’t,” she replied. “And yet you still do not listen to me. You’ll always need to be forgiving, but especially with Persephone, who has yet to learn the cruelty of the world.” Hades frowned. “I’d protect her from it if she’d let me.” “You can’t,” Hecate said. “Nor should you. How else do you expect her to become a goddess otherwise?”

“Let’s go, beasts. The lovers would like time alone. Not in the dining room, please.”

“Do you take pictures often?” “Occasionally. When I find something worth immortalizing.” Her lips curled. “But you are immortal.” “I am, but moments are not. They are fleeting.”

“Will you let me take pictures of you?” “You already have,” she said. He swallowed something thick in his throat as he clarified. “Bare.” She paused for a moment and then answered, “If you let me do the same.”

“Who angered you?” “Can you not guess?” she asked. Her voice trembled, but only slightly. Hades’s brows rose and he waited. “I just had the pleasure of meeting your lover.” Hades didn’t have to think long about who she was referring to—Leuce. Fuck. “I see.” Her head tilted slightly. “You have seconds to explain before I turn her into a weed.” At the rate she was going, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night as a plant, so he began to explain. “Her name is Leuce. She was my lover a long time ago.” “What is a long time?” “More than a millennia, Persephone.” “Then why did she introduce herself to me as your lover today?” Because she’s an idiot, he thought. “Because to her, I was her lover up until Sunday.” Her power surged as she clenched her fists, and leafy vines erupted from the floor of the suite, covering the blue walls completely. “And why is that?” “Because she’s been a poplar tree for more than two thousand years.” “Why was she a poplar tree?” Hades took a breath. He’d been reminded of this too much over the last week when all he wanted to do was keep it in the past. “She betrayed me.” “You turned her into a tree?” she asked, clearly stunned, and Hades wondered what had shocked her more, the fact that he had exacted revenge or the way in which he’d done it. “Why?” “I caught her fucking someone else. I was blind with anger. I turned her into a poplar tree.” Persephone’s features were still stiff with anger. “She must not remember that, or she wouldn’t introduce...

“How many lovers have you taken?” “Persephone.” His tone was quiet. She could not know that this question caused him so much discomfort. It was an impossible question, an unfair question, and to be honest, he didn’t want to answer it. “I just want to be prepared in case they start coming out of the woodwork,” Persephone snapped. Hades stared up at her from his place at the table. “I won’t apologize for living before you existed.” “I’m not asking you to, but I’d like to know when I’m about to meet a woman who fucked you.” He could understand her anger to a point. He would not have liked for these roles to be reversed. “I was hoping you’d never meet Leuce,” Hades said, though he was realizing now how much of a mistake that was. “She wasn’t supposed to be around this long. I agreed to help her get on her feet in the modern world. Normally, I’d pass the responsibility on to Minthe, but seeing as how she’s indisposed—” He glanced at the ivy on the walls. “It’s taken me longer to find someone suitable to mentor her.” Persephone halted and stared at him. She seemed even more shocked now than before. “You weren’t planning to tell me about her?” “I saw no need until now.” “No need?” Persephone’s magic surged, and Hades could hear the rustle of vines and leaves growing thicker and thicker, blooming with fragrant white flowers, the smell of which choked him. “You gave this woman a place to stay, you gave her a job, and you used to fuck her—” “Stop saying that!” Hades bit out. He obvi...

“Hades, I’m serious. I want to know your greatest weakness, your deepest fear, your most treasured possession.” How could she not know the answer? “You.” His voice was low and rough. “Me?” she said and shook her head. “I cannot be all those things.” “You are my weakness, losing you is my greatest fear, and your love is my most treasured possession.” “Hades,” she said, averting her eyes, as if searching for words. “I am a second in your vast life. How can I be all those things?” “You doubt me?” She touched his face; the warmth of her fingers was a comfort despite all the anxiety this conversation had caused. “No, but I believe you have other weaknesses, fears, and treasures. Your people, for one. Your realm, for another.” “See,” he said, a smile threatening his lips. “You know me already—inside and out.”

“I just have one more question,” she said, and his heart fell. “When you left Sunday night, where did you go?” “Persephone—” This time, when she stepped back, he released her. “That’s when she returned, wasn’t it?” As angry as she appeared, she could not hide the hurt that flashed in her bright eyes. It made Hades sick, made him want to heal her somehow, but how did one heal this kind of pain? Especially when it was of his own making. “You chose her over me.” He stepped toward her. “It isn’t like that at all, Persephone—” “Don’t touch me!” He hated those words—hated that he was the reason they were being said at all, hated that they hurt too. “You had your chance,” she said. “You fucked it up. Actions speak louder than words, Hades.” She vanished before she could see him flinch. Those were his words. He’d used them with her not so long ago. Action, Lady Persephone. Action holds weight for me. She was right. He had fucked up.

“Did I not instruct that you were never to contact me again?” Hades seethed. Despite her fear, Leuce rocked onto the tips of her toes and glared angrily. “I wouldn’t have had to contact you if the people you pawned me off on had listened to my requests!” “Your requests? What requests could you possibly imagine you are entitled to?” “An agreeable apartment for one.” “Are you saying I was not charitable?” Hades asked, his words heavy with barely contained anger. “Charitable?” Leuce asked. “I spent years as a tree, and the best you can do is a shitty apartment and a serving job?” He had no idea what sort of lodging Ilias had secured for the nymph, but he doubted it was shitty. Likely it was just nothing compared to the finery of his palace. “If your accommodations and work are not to your liking, then perhaps you do not need them at all.” “You would leave me without a home?” “I have done much worse, would you not agree?” He knew his words were hateful, but his anger and fear had manifested as an ache in his throat that made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. Leuce moved to slap him, but Hades caught her hand. “Looks like I am not the only one who hasn’t changed,” he shot back, and she jerked free. “This is about her, isn’t it? That woman you’re seeing?” Seeing? It was such a minor word to describe the love of his life—a love that she had disrupted with her careless words. Now Hades had to hope he could rebuild trust between him and Persephone. “Is that why you claimed to be m...

“What did you do?” she’d asked, already looking dour. “That’s very presumptuous of you,” he replied mildly. She arched her brow and pointed out, “You only get this angry with yourself.” He scrubbed his face, frustrated. “I fucked up. Persephone found out about Leuce. Of course the nymph would introduce herself as my lover. Current, not former.” “You say that as if one is better than the other.” “To Persephone, it might have been.” “Neither is better when they’re both secret, Hades,” Hecate replied. He scowled at her. “I realize that now.” “I think you need to consider why you did not wish to tell her, and if the answer is because you were afraid…maybe you do not trust her as much as you think.” Now, her words tumbled through his head. Did he trust Persephone? He supposed he did not trust that her love for him meant she could overlook his past, and admitting that was both painful and embarrassing. In the end, he hadn’t given her a chance.

Before he could even speculate about that information, Hermes arrived at Nevernight with a message from Dionysus. “Well?” Hades prompted impatiently. “I just really need you to understand, I’m only the messenger.” Hades waited, and after a moment, Hermes closed his eyes and lifted his middle finger. “That’s it?” Hades asked. “That’s all he had to say?” “He didn’t even say anything. He just flipped me off.” Hades took a deep breath, and upon his exhale, he snatched a vase full of red flowers and threw it across the room. He was not surprised by Dionysus’s reaction. The god did not like being told what to do, and he probably liked it even less that Hades was aware of his exploits. “What will you do now?” Hermes asked. “I’m not going to do anything…yet,” Hades said. If Dionysus wanted to play childish games, Hades would too. “But you will.” “What? Nuh-uh,” Hermes said. “Not this time. I always help you, and what does it get me in return? Nothing. I haven’t even gotten a thank-you for today.” “Fine,” Hades said. “I suppose I’ll have to find someone else to plague Dionysus with dreams of bloody castration.” Hermes pursed his lips as if considering. “I suppose I can ask Morpheus or Epiales,” Hades said. “He is the personification of nightmares after all, and he would do a fine job.” “Fine?” Hermes scoffed. “Let me do it. I’ll show you bloody castration.” “But you have already declined,” Hades said. “I take it back,” Hermes said. “And you know what? Thank you, Hades.” “For what?”...

She straightened, dressed only in black lace, but before she could remove that too, she must have caught sight of him, because she glanced his way and startled. “Please continue,” he implored, leaning against the wall opposite her. Despite his frustration with her, he’d happily watch her strip, especially knowing he was soon to be the recipient of her anger, given what he’d come here to do. She stared, speechless, and he wondered what she was thinking as her eyes roved over his body, but there came a time, all too quickly, when she met his gaze, narrowed her eyes, pressed her lips tight, and bent to pull her dress up, holding it to her chest as if they were not lovers at all but strangers. That simple act made him feel many things but mostly hopeless.

“Do you know what I think?” he whispered furiously, letting his arms fall to his sides, fingers curling into fists to keep from touching her. “I think this is all a game to you. I pissed you off, so you wanted to piss me off, is that it? One for one—now we’re even.” She scowled. “Not everything’s about you, Hades.” He gripped her hips and drew her close, voice rough. “You promised me you wouldn’t write about Apollo. Is your word worth nothing?” She flinched, and he felt it in her whole body, a desire to create distance between them. “Fuck you,” she spat with tears in her eyes, and as much as he hated to see it, he smiled. “I’d rather fuck you, darling, but if I did right now, you wouldn’t walk for a week.” He snapped his fingers and teleported to the queen’s suite. It was where she usually got ready for events in the Underworld, and it would be her home for however long it took to end Apollo’s hunt.

“You can’t keep me here.” Hades’s responding chuckle only seemed to infuriate her more. “Darling, you are in my realm. You’re here until I say otherwise.” He turned and headed for the door. “I have to work, Hades. I have a life up there. Hades!” He kept walking, though with each step, her magic surged, and in seconds, the harmless vines she’d sent his way earlier became thick thorns, rising from the broken floor to attack. Hades turned quickly, dismissing her magic with a wave of his hand. She stared, mouth ajar. After a moment, she swallowed, and there was a flash of something in her eyes that hurt his chest, a pain he did not understand but had seen in many mortals. It was the shock of suddenly understanding just how powerless she really was. He let his hand fall, and despite everything inside him that wanted to go to her, to comfort her, he turned to leave once more. As he did, she yelled after him, her voice breaking with a distinct crack he could feel in his heart. “You will regret this!” At the door, he turned his head a fraction and answered, “I already do.”

Being on this floor reminded him of how badly he’d wanted to comfort Persephone when he’d taken her to the Underworld. He’d wanted to touch her, kiss her, caress her. He’d wanted her to find pleasure in his arms, but he’d left instead, and now the distance between them felt like a hopelessly deep and jarring chasm.

“Hades,” Dionysus said in acknowledgment, and as he nodded, the gold coiled in his hair glinted in the light. “Dionysus.” “Excuse the display,” he said. “Just making sure everything is in working order, given I have been plagued with dreams of castration.” “How unfortunate,” Hades commented. He shrugged. “I quite like the pain.” Of course he would, Hades thought. “I’ve been expecting you,” Dionysus said with no hitch in his voice despite the woman’s vigorous work between his legs. Hades was not surprised. “You’ve been busy, from what I hear.” “What have you heard?” Hades only waited a beat before responding. “A lot,” he replied. “From which you have made a lot of assumptions.” Hades raised a brow. “I do not assume,” he said, though there was an element of guilt that accompanied those words as he recalled how much he assumed when it came to Persephone. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” “Look who’s assuming,” Hades replied. “And here I thought to give you the space to explain yourself.” That was the first comment to break Dionysus’s cool facade. His eyes narrowed slightly, his fingers curled, then he sat up and his gaze fell to the girl, still valiantly engaged in her task. “Leave,” he commanded. She looked up at him and obeyed, allowing his cock to slide from her mouth. She rose, using his knees for support, and left. “I would apologize,” Hades said, “but it does not appear she was able to hold much of your…attention.” Dionysus’s lips flattened, and he stood to restore his appe...

“What the hell are you doing here, Detective?” Hades asked. Dionysus narrowed his eyes as she responded. “What does it look like?” she countered. “And where were you? I didn’t see you jumping to help us save that girl’s life, God of the Dead.” “I highly doubt you wanted my intervention, Detective. It’s in the name.” Silence followed his comment, and Ariadne crossed her arms over her chest.

“Megara Alkaios has been missing for two weeks,” Ariadne said. “Her friends say she came here and never left.” “That is one woman,” Dionysus pointed out. “I have reason to believe you’re also responsible for the disappearances of many more.” “Does reason equate to evidence, or is that just your opinion of me, Detective Alexiou?” Hades knew very well she had no evidence and yet he found her response particularly amusing. “If you were innocent, you would have said so, yet I don’t hear you denying a thing.” “I’m not interested in gaining your favor,” Dionysus replied. “Well, you should be interested in gaining mine,” Ariadne snapped. That made Dionysus laugh, and he took a step closer to the mortal woman. Her head tilted back in defiance, and the tension between them grew as he asked, “Are you saying you have something to offer, Detective?” “I have a lot to offer,” said Hades, once more interrupting. “Including a stay in Tartarus if I have to hear this exchange any longer.” “No one said you had to stay,” Ariadne shot back, glaring at Hades, then returned her gaze to Dionysus once she heard him chuckle. “Is something funny?” “Oh yes,” he said. “Something is definitely funny.” A woman entered the bathroom and hesitated at seeing it occupied by the three, but her expression quickly morphed to interest, and she sauntered inside. “Want a fourth?” she asked. Ariadne lifted the hem of her dress and drew a gun. “Get out.” The woman’s eyes widened, and she fled just as Dionysus’s hand...

As he suspected, when the door opened, it was to a large, concrete tunnel. A stripe of fluorescent lights ran down the center, casting the place in a painful, yellow light. “Is this how you smuggle contraband into your club?” Ariadne asked. “No,” said Dionysus, stepping past her. “We bring that in the front door.”

“This brothel looks terrible,” Ariadne said. “I didn’t realize you were an expert,” said Dionysus. “It’s not a brothel,” Hades said. “So now you’re the expert?” Ariadne said. “Megara,” Dionysus called, ignoring her.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you’ve done this purely from the goodness of your heart,” Hades said to Dionysus. “What are you implying?” Hades vanished and appeared behind one of the women, who had been cleaning a knife. In an instant, she was on her feet, and as soon as Hades appeared, the blade was at his throat. He stared at the woman, no hint of fear in her eyes. “Right,” Hades said and took a step back. “So you’ve trained them.” Dionysus shrugged. “Why not give them the ability to defend themselves?” “And assassinate your enemies. Two birds, one stone, right?” The god did not respond. “Are you saying you have an army of female assassins?” Ariadne asked. “Well, this has been most satisfying,” said Dionysus. “But you have worn out your welcome.” “Only just now?” Ariadne asked. “That mouth really is something else,” said Dionysus. That made Ariadne smile, but in a way that communicated her disgust with the god. “As much as I’d like to leave and never return,” Hades said, “you’ve yet to answer my question.” Dionysus stiffened, and Hades felt everyone in the room tense around him. He got the distinct impression that Dionysus’s assassins were poised for attack. “I’d reconsider,” Hades said. “Not even your assassins have a chance against death.” “Fine,” Dionysus gritted out. “You want to know? I’ll tell you.” “Fucking finally,” Hades gritted out, relieved.