A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga, #2)

by Scarlett St. Clair

“I needed the location of a gorgon named Medusa,” Dionysus said. “There is a rumor going around in the market that she has the power to turn men to stone. As you can imagine, that is quiet a useful skill in the hands of a mortal.” “One you want for yourself?” Ariadne asked. “If I wanted to turn someone to stone, I could without a gorgon’s gaze,” Dionysus replied. “Shall I give you a demonstration?” “Or you could finish your explanation,” Hades interjected, his patience gone.

“I expected a dungeon,” Ariadne said as they passed door after door. “I have one,” said Dionysus. “Though it’s not exactly what you’re imagining.” Ariadne scoffed, and Hades rolled his eyes.

“What are we waiting for?” Ariadne asked. “For them to answer the door,” Dionysus said. “They aren’t prisoners.” But after a minute, no one had come, so Dionysus knocked again. “Deino, Enyo, Pemphredo,” he called, and still there was no answer. When he opened the door, they found the dorm was empty. “What the fuck.” Dionysus stepped inside the spacious room, which resembled more of a luxury hotel room with large beds, lush linens, and pleasing works of art. Hades and Ariadne followed. It was evident that the three sisters had occupied the room, as three of the four beds had rumpled covers and there were breakfast trays at the end of each, crowded with empty plates, glasses, and silverware, but the Graeae were nowhere to be found. “You have a basement of assassins, and the Graeae still managed to escape,” Ariadne said. “They didn’t escape,” said Dionysus. Ariadne raised a doubtful brow. “They were taken,” he said. “Are you saying someone managed to steal from you?” she asked and glanced at Hades. “Twice.” Dionysus’s body tensed. “Seems your maenads aren’t doing their job.” “It would be impossible for mortals, no matter how skilled, to go up against a god,” said Hades. “You think a god did this?” she asked. There was no other explanation. Three monsters had disappeared from their room without a trace. “If not a god, someone with divine blood,” Hades said, knowing that demigods often took on powers from their mothers and fathers, which made the pool of culprits even greater. ...

He hated feeling like he had no control, and when he’d returned to the Underworld to find Persephone missing, he had lost it in more than one way. He returned to where he’d found her. This time, she had been far from the dangers of Tartarus, nearer to Hecate’s meadow and the palace. “She must have gone for a walk,” Hecate said, appearing in the meadow beside him. “Perhaps she got tired and sat down to rest.” “I find myself wishing to destroy everything that poses a threat to her,” he admitted. “If you only try to insulate her, she will grow to resent you.” He knew Persephone well enough to know that Hecate was right. She would grow to hate him if she felt caged, and wasn’t that the opposite of what he’d wanted for her? He looked away. “I am afraid for her.” In the short time they’d been together, she had become collateral for Hera’s whims and the focus of Apollo’s soon-to-be wrath. Not to mention her mother, Demeter, was likely still plotting ways to keep them apart, and he suspected that Leuce may be part of that scheme. Worst of all, he knew this was only the beginning. Persephone was a relatively new god, her powers untested, and in the end, she possessed a code of ethics that would never allow her to overlook injustice. “So teach her,” Hecate said. Hades met the goddess’s gaze. “You want a queen,” she said. “So teach her to live within your realm. Teach her to use her magic. Teach her to be a goddess, and stop trying to fight all her battles.” Hecate was right, and he ...

There was a knock, and he looked up as Hermes burst through the door. “He’s coming,” Hermes said. “He’s angry.” The God of Mischief didn’t need to specify. Hades knew he was referring to Apollo. “I want you to watch Persephone,” Hades instructed. “Keep her occupied while I talk to Apollo.” Hermes raised his skeptical brow. “Because you’re so good at conversing?” “That’s a big word, Hermes,” Hades replied. “Have you been reading a thesaurus?” Hermes narrowed his eyes. “Deflect all you want, King of Corpses, but I know you, and you aren’t a talker. What are you planning?” “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Hades pointed out. “Hardly, and I’m your best friend.” It was Hades’s turn to raise a brow. “Don’t deny it. Do you ask Hecate for fashion advice?” Hades scowled. “Don’t make me regret my decision, Hermes.” “Regret? Excuse me. Did you get laid in those gray sweatpants I suggested you wear?” He rolled his eyes. “Then you can’t regret it!” “How do you know that was a yes?” “Hades,” Hermes said, as if he were about to point out something very obvious. “Because I dressed you for sex.” “Get Apollo, Hermes, and once he’s here, go to Persephone.” “On it, best friend,” Hermes said as he headed for the door.

“I knew you wouldn’t let your little lover fight the war she started,” said Apollo. “What’s the matter, Nephew? A few words have you ready for battle?” “Her words were slander!” “Is it slander if they are true?”

The doors to the throne room slammed open, and Hades’s eyes lifted to Persephone, who stood barely dressed in her black robe. Though her exposed skin meant little to Apollo, Hades would have preferred he not see her at all. Every muscle in his body tightened as the God of Music turned to look at her. “So,” he purred, “the mortal has come to play.” Hades’s body vibrated with frustration, his eyes sliding to Hermes, who had just come to a stop behind Persephone, looking a little too impish to be completely innocent. Hades glared. “What?” Hermes asked, defensive. “She guessed!” “The deal is done. You will not touch her,” Hades said, both as a reminder and as a warning. “What deal?” Persephone asked, taking a few more steps into the room. He had not told her of his plans, and now that they were here in this room, he wished he had, even if there had been no time, and even though she wouldn’t have approved, at least she wouldn’t have had to find out this way. He knew it looked bad. “Your lover has struck a deal,” Apollo said, his disdain for Persephone evident in his tone. It was an insult, and Hades considered challenging the god, but it was a dangerous prospect now that he owed him a favor. “I have agreed not to punish you for your…slanderous article…and in turn, Hades has offered me a favor to be collected at a future time.” Persephone’s eyes widened, which told him she understood perfectly the implications of his deal. “Damn,” Hermes whistled, and Hades’s mood darkened. “He ...

“You hurt my friend,” she seethed. “Whatever your friend did must have warranted punishment or she would not be in the situation she is in.” Apollo’s response did nothing to quell Persephone’s anger, but at least it illustrated who he was, something that could only be witnessed—an asshole. “You mean to tell me her refusal to be your lover warrants punishment?” Persephone asked. Hades noted how rigid Apollo had gone, which told him he knew exactly who Persephone was talking about. “You took away her livelihood because she declined to sleep with you. That is insane and pathetic.” As much as he enjoyed her insults, they were best kept between them. If Apollo wanted, he could take each word as a slight and ask for more in exchange. “Persephone,” Hades warned. “You be quiet! You chose not to include me in this conversation. I will speak my mind.” While he deserved her contempt, he’d have rather taken it without an audience. Hermes laughed, and to Hades’s chagrin, she continued. “I only wrote about your past lovers. I didn’t even touch on what you have done to Sybil. If you don’t undo her punishment, I will dismantle you.”

“You are a fiery little mortal. I could use someone like you.” “Speak further, Nephew, and you will have no reason to fear her threat, because I will tear you to pieces.” Apollo’s gaze narrowed, daring him to try. “Well?” Persephone asked, raising her voice to regain Apollo’s attention. The god studied her for a long moment, and Hades hated the smile that curled his lips. “Fine,” Apollo said at last, and Hades let his breath escape in a slow stream. “I will return your little friend’s powers, and I’ll take Hades’s favor as well, but you will not write another word about me—no matter what. Understand?” “Words are binding,” Persephone replied. “And I do not trust you enough to agree.” Hades was quite proud of that. Even Apollo grinned. “You have taught her well, Hades.” Then Apollo took a step toward her, and Hades fought every urge to fling him across the Underworld. He might have done it if he didn’t think the God of Music was about to relent. “Let me put it this way—you write another word about me, and I’ll destroy everything you love. And before you consider the fact that you love another god, remember that I have his favor. If I want to keep you apart forever, I can.” You can try, Hades thought. But it will be the last action you take. Apollo knew that, and Hades worried that perhaps that was what the god wanted. Persephone’s face was flushed, her jaw tight as she spoke. “Noted.” “I will warn you now, Apollo,” Hades said. “If any harm comes to Persephone, favor or not, ...

Hermes spoke, still lingering near the doors. “Well, that could have gone better.” “Why are you still here?” Hades snapped. “He was babysitting me,” Persephone said, whirling to face him. “Or did you forget?” Hades returned her angry stare. “How can you say you wish for me to be your queen when, given the opportunity to treat me as your equal, you fuck it up completely? Does your word mean nothing?” They were the words he had used against her, and they stung. But he deserved them. He wanted to speak, but Persephone turned, took Hermes’s arm, and left the throne room.

“You use your magic all the time—when you are angry, when you are aroused…” She had no trouble calling vines to ensnare him for the purpose of their pleasure, and at the thought, he let his lips trail across her shoulder, a light touch that made her shiver. “That is not magic,” she breathed. “Then what is magic?” he asked. “Magic is…” Her voice faded away as she considered what to say, finally answering. “Control.” Her response made him chuckle. Magic, in its most basic form, was wild. “Magic is not controlled. It is passionate, expressive. It reacts to emotions, no matter your level of expertise.” Just like her, he thought as he moved his hands to hold hers.

“Imagine all that warmth in your hands. Imagine it glowing. Imagine it so bright you can barely look at it.” It was how he saw her—a moon, a star, a sun, a sky at the center of his universe.

“How is it that I was meant for you?” Hades frowned. “We’ve discussed this.” “I just feel so…inexperienced. I am young and rash. How could you want me?” She could not know how those words hurt him. “Persephone.” He took her hands in his and spoke softly. “First, I will always want you. Always. I failed you here too. I was angry. I didn’t take care of you. I didn’t include you. Don’t put me on a pedestal because you feel guilty for your decisions. Just…forgive yourself so you can forgive me. Please.”

“Actually, I’m afraid I must make a few demands,” she said, lifting herself and guiding him into her body with a pleasurable sigh. Hades could no longer stand not touching her. His hands dug into her thighs. He’d give her anything if she just kept moving. “Yes?” he hissed. “I don’t want to be placed in a suite on the other side of the palace, ever.” Never, Hades thought as she slammed down on him. “Not to get ready for balls. Not when you are angry with me. Not ever.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, gathering thoughts that were so scattered, he could barely string a sentence together. “I thought you would want privacy,” he managed to grit out. She paused, and Hades opened his eyes to find her bent over, lips hovering just over his. He took the opportunity to lift his knees, settling into her just a little more. “Fuck privacy. I needed you, needed to know you still wanted me despite…everything.” He drew her to him, and as their lips met, he rolled, pinning her beneath him. He resettled himself inside her but did not move, laughing when Persephone wiggled in an attempt to make him. She glared, but her expression softened as he spoke. “I will always want you, and I would have welcomed you to my bed any night.” “I didn’t know,” she whispered. He touched her lips, parting them beneath his touch. “Now you do.”

He held out his hand, and Briareus took it. After a moment, shadows began to move beneath the creature’s skin, breaking the surface like vines to wrap around Hades’s own arm. It was the tendrils of the giant’s soul coming out of his body. He met Hades’s gaze. “You’re a good man, Hades,” he said. “A great god.” The shadows disappeared into Hades’s skin. If he were to drop his glamour, the giant would see a myriad of fine, black lines marring his body—a tale of the many bargains he’d made with the Fates, among them Briareus himself. Briareus sat back in his chair and took a breath. He was dead.

The goddess looked triumphant, a smile curving her cold face. “Well done, Hades,” she said. “Your next trial will not have the luxury of time.” Hades’s anger felt like a storm inside his body. “Then stop wasting mine,” he said. Her smile widened. “Await my summons, Lord Hades, and don’t forget what’s at stake.”

“See what my brother is up to,” Hades instructed. “Which one?” “The wet one.”

“I heard you threatened the love of my life,” Hades said, shedding his jacket. He folded it and draped it over the back of the couch. Then he began to unlink his cuffs. “I’m here to discover why. Though, you should know, there is no excuse—no reason you can give that will end your suffering.” As Hades rolled up his sleeves, the man began to beg, a muffled cry that Hades could decipher as “Please.” Hades continued fixing his sleeve, and when he was finished, he removed the bind from the man’s mouth. “Please, please,” he repeated in a shaky voice. “Please what?” Hades asked. “Don’t.” The word was a whisper, a plea, laced with fear. Hades bent, eye level with the man as he spoke. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This is not how you die.”

“Hades—” she started, and it was then he realized she had noticed his prisoner, though it was hard not to because he had begun to scream, albeit muffled. “Ignore him,” he said, preparing to teleport the man to a holding cell when Persephone’s hand clamped down on his own. “Is that—is that the mortal who threw the bottle at me today?” When he didn’t respond, she turned her gaze on the man. Whatever she saw was answer enough. He was prepared to hear her demand to release him, but instead, she asked, “Why are you torturing him in your office and not in Tartarus?” The mortal must have expected more of a compassionate response, because his cries grew louder. “Because he’s not dead,” Hades said. He could only take souls to Tartarus if their thread had been cut. He gave the man a withering look as he added, “Yet.” “Hades, you cannot kill him.” “I won’t kill him.” It wasn’t his time to die, and he wasn’t willing to sacrifice another soul for this man. Besides, it was far more gratifying to have him live so that he could tell the tale of his torture at the hands of the God of the Dead. “But I will make him wish he were dead.” “Hades. Let. Him. Go.” And there it was. He had expected it sooner, but perhaps he should consider it a victory that she waited this long. “Fine,” he said and sent the man to the holding rooms a level below, and blessedly, she did not demand to know where he’d gone.

“I won’t lose her.” “You haven’t. Lexa still lives.” She was so afraid, it was like she already considered her dead. “You must give her soul time to decide.” “Decide? What do you mean?” He sighed, unable to contain the dread he felt at this oncoming conversation. He answered as he pinched the bridge of his nose, an ache forming at the front of his head for the second time today. “Lexa’s in limbo.” “Then you can bring her back,” she reasoned. That was not how limbo worked. “I can’t.” “You did it before. You said when a soul is in limbo, you can bargain with the Fates to bring it back.” “In exchange for the life of another. A soul for a soul, Persephone.” “You can’t say you won’t save her, Hades.” He was saying that, as hard as it was to admit. This was a situation of choice on Lexa’s behalf. To interfere, to bring her back when she was not ready, or worse, did not want to come, would mean a harrowing return to the world of the living. The consequences were endless. “I’m not saying I don’t want to, Persephone. It is best that I do not interfere with this. Trust me. If you care for Lexa at all—if you care for me at all—you will drop this.” “I’m doing this because I care!” “That’s what all mortals think—but who are you really trying to save? Lexa or yourself?” She wanted to escape the loss and the grief. She didn’t want to think of a life without Lexa, and while he could not blame her, it was never for the living to decide, though they tried often. “I don’t need a philosophy l...

“What good is being the God of the Dead if you can’t do anything?” She sounded very much defeated as she looked away and took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” He gave a humorless laugh. “You meant it,” he said, one hand pressing against her cheek so she would look at him once more. “I know you don’t want to understand why I can’t help, and that’s okay.” “I just…don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “Lexa isn’t gone, yet you mourn her. She may recover.” “Do you know that for certain? That she will recover?” “No.” He saw no reason to lie. The truth was, even Lexa did not know yet. He wished he could offer more comfort. He knew she wanted it, but in the face of death, there were no words that would ease her pain.

“What do you want, Rich One?” Lachesis snapped. “Why have you—?” “Lexa Sideris,” Hades said, cutting Atropos off. “Is she the soul you chose to complete the bargain?” The Fates had said that Briareus’s life would cost him dearly. Lexa’s death would have consequences that echoed far beyond Persephone’s relationship with the mortal. After tonight, it was clear it would also impact Persephone’s relationship with him. “A mortal in exchange for an immortal?” asked Atropos. “That is hardly fair, Lord of the Dead,” said Clotho. “Completely unreasonable,” agreed Lachesis. “No, dear king, the end of Briareus’s life must give life to another immortal. That is the bargain we’ve struck.” There was a part of him that felt relief at hearing he was not responsible for Lexa’s accident and subsequent limbo, but a new anxiety filled him at the prospect of an immortal life being born or taken as a result of Briareus’s death, though he always knew it was a possibility. As much as he wanted to ask them who—which immortal they had chosen—he knew the question was futile. “Do not fret, Good Counselor,” said Clotho. “Your bargain with Briareus,” said Lachesis. “Will only ruin your life,” said Atropos.

“Why do you hide them?” she asked, her voice remained quiet. “Very few warrant pride,” he replied. “If you are so ashamed, why make so many bargains?” “Because I am self-serving. There was a time when I cared nothing about the consequences of trading souls.” Persephone’s hand curled on his stomach. “They cannot all be bad.” He wasn’t sure if she said it because she was hopeful he might find a way to save Lexa if worse came to worse or because she wished to see the best in him in this moment. “There are only those I regret more,” he said. “And those souls belong to children.” He called up his glamour, and they spoke no more.

A pulse of magic drew his attention as Hermes appeared at the end of his bed. He raised a brow. “You could knock,” he said. “Courtesy is for mortals,” said Hermes. “And gods who want to keep their teeth.” Hermes was not amused, but their banter was overshadowed by how quickly his expression changed to something far too serious for the God of Mischief. “You’ve been summoned, Hades,” he said. He did not need to ask who had summoned him. He could guess well enough. Hera. “Where?” he asked. “I cannot tell you that,” Hermes said. “I can only take you there.” Hades narrowed his eyes as Hermes began to draw a line in the air, summoning a portal. “No teleportation?” he asked. “Hera does not allow teleportation into her…realm…without consent, much like you,” Hermes replied just as the portal he had summoned yawned open. It was big enough for Hermes to step through without hassle, but Hades would have to bend. He sighed, a gnawing anxiety growing in his chest. He leaned over and kissed Persephone softly before rising, summoning his clothes, and stepping through the portal.

Now that they were alone, Hades spoke. “Care to tell me what is going on?” he asked. “I…” Hermes said and cleared his throat. “I can’t.” “Hmm…so much for being best friends.” Hermes’s eyes and mouth opened, and Hades did not know if it was from the shock of him using those words or the thought of actually losing his friendship, but after a moment, his gaze narrowed, and his lips pressed thin. Hermes seemed more on edge, and with good reason, because in the next second, Hades had him pressed against the wall by his neck. The god’s hand clamped down on Hades’s arm and he laughed nervously. “This was far less scary in my dreams.” “For what am I being made ready?” Hades asked through clenched teeth. “Fight night,” Hermes said. “You’re going into the ring, Hades.” Hades released him, and the god fell to the floor. As he rose to his feet again, Hermes pressed his fingers to his neck. “Definitely thought I’d enjoy choking far more,” Hermes said. “Thanks for ruining a fantasy.” Hades ignored the god. He was not so surprised that Hera hosted such an event. It was likely she used it to choose heroes and favored mortals. “Who am I fighting?” Hades asked. “I don’t know,” Hermes replied. Hades looked at him, and the god flinched away. “You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Hades asked. Hermes straightened and glared. “You just pinned me against a wall and not in a good way!” Hades stared, waiting for an answer to his question. “The competitors are different every week,” Her...

He could not help thinking of Persephone at this moment. The woman who pressed close to him, who sought his warmth and even his darkness. The woman who traced the threads on his skin with curiosity, not disgust. She was why he was here, he reminded himself. At the end of the day, this was about her—it was about them. It was to save a future that had barely begun and was already under threat by the Goddess of Marriage.

There was nothing else to the room other than a privacy screen, and Hades turned to look at Hermes. “Well?” he asked. “What now?” “You must bathe,” he said. “Why?” Hades asked tightly. “Because…the gold won’t stick.” “The gold?” Hades repeated. Hermes sighed. “Look, this isn’t ideal, but have I ever led you astray?” “Yes, Hermes, you have, in fact, led me astray. This is a prime example,” Hades said, gesturing to the room. “With fashion,” Hermes countered. Hades glared. He did not want to do this. Hermes crossed the room to a stack of folded towels and threw one at him. “Get wet, Daddy Death,” Hermes said.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Hades stood dressed in a skirt made of leather strips that hung midthigh and nothing more. Normally he would not mind this, but it was the fact that it was for Hera’s pleasure. Not to mention that Hermes had taken entirely too long dusting gold on his skin with the smallest fan brush Hades had ever seen. “What are you doing?” Hades asked, itching to cross his arms over his chest. “Highlighting,” Hermes replied. “Why?” Hades gritted out. “To draw attention to your…assets.” Hades looked down, noting he was almost covered in the gold dust. Hermes, who was bent eye level with his abs, looked up and grinned. Whatever he saw in Hades’s gaze made him hesitate. “I think I’m done,” he said, clearing his throat and straightening. Hades glowered. “I don’t see why I have to wear this.” “Clothing is optional,” Hermes replied. “In fact, the preference is to fight naked.” “I meant the gold dust, Hermes.” “Oh,” he said. “It’s fashion.” Hades raised a brow at that comment. “I’m sure it will look marvelous with the blood of my enemies.” “Let’s hope it is their blood and not yours,” said Hermes, returning the jar and brush to the altar where he had retrieved them earlier. Hades tilted his head to the side. “Are you suggesting I will lose?” Hermes’s eyes widened. “No, of course not. It’s just—” Hades crossed his arms over his chest at the god’s hesitation. “Don’t do that! You’re ruining my work!” “Then don’t lie to me,” Hades replied. Hermes sighed, and his wh...

“Welcome to fight night,” he sang. “In the ring, we have a very special guest. The one and only Rich One, Receiver of Many, the Unseen One, Lord of the Underworld, God of the Dead, Hades!”

“Hera!” he yelled, infusing it with a hatred beyond anything he’d ever felt before. “End this madness!” The goddess rose languidly to her feet and stepped to the very edge of her box. “Do you not wish to wed the young Persephone?”

“Well, I must say,” Hermes said nervously, “that was the most dramatic fight night I have been to in a long while, wouldn’t you agree?” Hades just stared. “I mean, of course you couldn’t agree. You’ve never been,” Hermes continued, wringing his hands. “Let me tell you, though. I have never seen one so…bloody. Leave it to you to set a record.”

“And how often are you here?” Hades countered. Hermes seemed to shrink in on himself, as if realizing why Hades might not trust him in this moment when he admitted, “Every week.” “Hmm.” Hades had long suspected Theseus of plotting to overthrow the Olympians. Given the reason for his trials, he could not help wondering if perhaps Hera had formed some kind of alliance with the leader of Triad. But why be so blatant about their partnership? “What?” Hermes asked. Hades looked at the god, arching a brow. “What does ‘hmm’ mean? You do it all the time.” Hades blinked, and Hermes continued. “Does it mean you don’t believe me? Or are you disappointed in me? Is it both?” “It means I am thinking,” Hades said, though he’d have liked to not answer at all and let the god suffer, especially after the day he’d had. “Oh,” Hermes said, and there was a beat of silence before he replied, “Well, in that case, please continue.” But Hades rose fully to his feet, downing the rest of the nectar Paean had given him. Once he was finished, he pushed the cup into Hermes’s hands and said, “Perhaps you would not be so defensive if you did not feel so guilty.” To that, Hermes had nothing to say, so Hades vanished.

“What has you so uneasy, my king?” Hecate asked when she found him outside her home. “Could it have something to do with the fact that I have been killing all day?” he snapped. “Murder does put one on edge,” Hecate agreed airily. “Would you like some tea?” “What I would like is to be free of Hera’s labors,” he said. “Hera,” Hecate said. “The Goddess of Women who does nothing but punish them. How did you earn her scorn?” “I told her I would not overthrow Zeus,” Hades replied. “Yet.” Hecate paused and looked at Hades, who raised a questioning brow. “What? All things must come to an end.” Hades paused for a moment, then said, “She has threatened my future with Persephone.” “No one but the Fates can truly threaten your future, Hades.” “Perhaps, but Hera can turn her scorn on Persephone,” he replied. “And that would be my fault.” “Is it your fault because you love her?” Hecate asked. “Isn’t that enough?” “Your greatest battle, Hades, will be recognizing that Persephone too has made the decision to love you. So there is no fault, only choice.” It was a pretty sentiment, but he was dealing with gods—gods like him. “That was before she knew the consequences.” “You think so little of her love?” Hecate asked. Hades flinched. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it once more. “If you continue to project your doubt on her, then you do not deserve a future with her.”

“I followed the rules,” Kal moaned. “I followed your rules.” “I know the rules well, mortal,” Hades said. The rules were that if a mortal summoned a Magi for work, the consequences belonged to the summoning mortal. But Persephone was not a mortal. And Hades was not willing to let her live with the consequences of Kal’s horrible magic.

Hades turned his attention to Persephone, who stared back, almost emotionless. He wished he could read her thoughts or at least read her expression, but she had watched all this with a passivity that made him think she was either in shock or somehow approving. He hoped it was the latter. “Shall I continue to punish him?” She watched him a moment longer before shifting her attention to Kal. Then she approached, lowering to study his face. “Will his face scar?” she asked. Hades did not know why she asked, but he answered nevertheless. “It will if you wish it.” “I wish it.” Hades was only marginally surprised; the rest of him was satisfied. At least he had not scared her away with his display. At her words, Kal whimpered. “Shh,” Persephone soothed, mocking. “It could be worse. I am tempted to send you to Tartarus.” There was a strange pride associated with those words, and Hades found them welling in his chest. “Tomorrow, I want you to call Demetri and tell him you made a mistake. You don’t want the exclusive, and you will never, ever tell me what to write again. Do we have an agreement?” Exclusive? Hades’s brows lowered. Was there something happening beyond the blackmail Kal had tried to secure tonight? Whatever it was, Kal agreed, nodding emphatically. “Good,” Persephone said, her voice a quiet whisper. As she rose to her feet and turned toward him, Hades knew he would do anything she asked. If she had wanted him to die here in this room, he would have made the choice. “He ...

Why did it feel so impossible to introduce her to the scope of his world? How was he supposed to illustrate lifetimes of work, built to reach both the heavens and the depths of depravity?

“This is for us,” he said, pulling out, holding her attention like embers in the night. “You will share this with no one else.” He thrust forward, and her breath caught in her throat. “Some things are sacred to me,” he said, repeating the same teasing motion. “This is sacred to me. You are sacred to me. Do you understand?” She nodded, resting her face against the wall. “Say it! Say you understand.” “Yes! Yes, gods-dammit. I understand! Make me come, Hades!”

“I have never loved anyone as I love you,” he murmured as if he wanted no one else to hear, though he would gladly share those words with the world. “I can’t put it into words—there are none that come close to expressing how I feel.”

“Marry me.” The words slipped out, and once they were in the ether, there was no taking them back. Not that he would want to. Marriage to Persephone had been his plan all along. Persephone sat back, and as she did, his cock moved with her. “What?” It was not the emphatic answer he was looking for. He knew she had heard him, though he could not blame her for hesitating—or even saying no. They had never spoken about marriage, even if he had mentioned their fate. “Marry me, Persephone. Be my queen. Say you’ll stand by my side…forever.” He spoke and recalled Hecate’s words—that no one but the Fates could unravel their future—but what if Persephone never said yes? “Hades…I…” She hesitated. “You were just angry with me.” “And now I’m not.” “And you want to marry me?” “Yes.” She rose to her feet on shaky legs, and when Hades tried to help, she pushed him away. “I can’t marry you, Hades,” she said, her voice breaking. “I…I don’t know you.” Hades’s lips tightened, and his brows slammed down over his eyes. “You know me.” “No, I don’t.” She gestured to their surroundings. “You kept this place from me.” “Persephone, I have lived forever. There will always be things you learn about me, and you should know you won’t like some of them.” “This isn’t one of those things, Hades. This place is real, and it exists in the present. You hired Leuce to work here. I deserved to know, just as I deserved to know about Leuce!” Hades tightened his jaw. She wasn’t wrong, but she also did not know what ...

“I will always want to marry you because I will always want you as my wife and queen.” It was the truth. He felt it in his soul, though he wondered if tonight had fractured her truth.

“Will you show me more of this place?” she asked, rubbing at her face to erase the tears. “More of Iniquity?” he asked, surprised, feeling a little of the warmth drain from his face. “Yes,” she said. “Do I have a choice?” They had just reconciled, and he really did not feel like fighting anymore, though he had to admit, the fact that she had asked to see more and not left him in a hurry was promising. “If I am ever to be your queen? No.” She had a point. If she eventually agreed to marry him, she was going to inherit more than a kingdom. She would have an empire.

“When I was down there, I felt possessed,” she said. Hades came up behind her, caging her body, and while she watched the floor, he watched her. “You said you wanted me,” he said. “I did,” she said, then turned toward him. “But it was ruined.” Hades stared down at her. “What did you see?” She shrugged and answered, “I wanted you and I imagined you there, touching me and filling me, and then all of a sudden, it wasn’t me beneath you. It was Leuce.” He frowned and brushed his fingers along her jaw. “It wasn’t real. You know that?” “It felt real in the moment,” she said. “Was it magic?” Hades glanced over her shoulder, and Persephone followed his gaze. “It’s more of a drug,” he said. It was one of Hecate’s creations, and the side effects were different for everyone. “Are you saying you drug everyone who enters this club?” “It is part of why people come to Iniquity. Whoever gave you the password should have warned you.”

“This part of the club is reserved for guests who possess a token for entry,” he explained. “An obol.” “I see you have repurposed the idea of paying to enter the Underworld.” He chuckled, though coming into possession of an obol was not as easy as it was in ancient times. The ones Hades issued were gold, not silver, and they were tied to the soul, which meant as soon as the possessor died, the obol disappeared. It also made forgery impossible, as each of them was unique to the grantee. He did not give them out lightly, and because he was the only one who could grant them, he could ensure those who were given a token were honest—at least, in the ways that counted.

“Send me to Tartarus,” she had told him once. “I will gladly face eternal punishment for the lives I take. It likely means I have saved ten more.” Hades had smiled at that. “If I sent you to Tartarus, Madelia, you’d likely decide that my choice of punishments was not good enough.”

“We cannot all be good, but if we must be bad, it should serve a purpose.”

“There are few truths in this world,” he said, “but the one you must always remember is that I love you.” “I love you too,” she whispered and brought his mouth to hers.

It wasn’t long before she was asleep, and he drew her into his arms and carried her back to bed before returning to the kitchen just in time to have an alarm go off. The sound startled him, and he turned swiftly toward a small white timer Persephone had left on top of the oven. It was still ringing when he picked it up and tried to silence it, except that the knob came off in his hand. “What the fuck?” he said and set it back down, covering it with a bowl to try to muffle the sound, but as soon as he did, everything went quiet. “Fucking Fates,” he muttered, turning his attention to the cake and then shifting his gaze around the kitchen, realizing he had no idea where anything was stored. If I were oven mitts, where would I be? he thought, opening cabinet doors and drawers until he found a pair…except that they did not fit his hands. “Gods-dammit,” he cursed. Why was this so fucking difficult? He searched the drawer for another option but did not find one. He supposed he would have to make do with what he had. He opened the oven, and a wave of heat accosted his face, causing his eyes to sting. He reached inside in an attempt to pull the cake forward on the rack, but his knuckles hit the top, instantly burning them. “Ouch!” He pulled back and growled. This time, he tried shoving his hand inside the mitt, but only his thumb and forefinger fit. Still, it was better than nothing. As he reached in once more, he pinched the edge of the pan, dragging it off the rack, when it slipp...

“You expect me to believe you sent Persephone to a Magi because you wanted to help?” “What are you suggesting?” “That you sent her into a trap!” “Because I could never do something nice for someone, is that it?” “How many times do I have to say, sending Persephone to a Magi was dangerous. Not to mention you knew I would find out. Were you hoping to create a divide between us?” She had already tried once when she had introduced herself as his lover. Hades had suspected then that her intention was to cause trouble. Why should he believe any differently now? “This is why our relationship never worked! You never trusted me.” “Obviously, I had good reason.” Leuce turned and reached for the nearest object—a winged statue—which she flung at Hades, who dodged it. “Get out!” she yelled as it crashed into the wall behind him. Hades straightened slowly, glaring at Leuce. “Fine, but mark my words, Leuce. I will find out who you are working for. In the meantime, stay away from Persephone.”

“She’s ready, Hades,” Thanatos added softly, and the note in his voice was exhausted. Hades could just imagine that was how Lexa felt. She was tired. He could do nothing but nod.

Perhaps she needed to hear the consequences from the King of the Underworld, not her lover. He sat on his throne, hands curled around the arms, closed his eyes, and searched for the familiar pull between them, the strange link he shared with no one else. He always knew when he found her because he felt instantly at peace, as if he were somehow more complete. This time, as he latched on to her magic, he pulled her to him, teleporting her to his realm.