Blood of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #1)

by Jasmine Mas

“Are you venomous?” The fangs flashed as the snake’s head nodded. “Extremely so. Just a graze from one of my fangs would kill you in seconds.” “Wicked,” I said with awe. “Want to be friends?” I’d never had one.

Warmth unfurled in my chest, and I grinned back. I’d started the day with zero friends. Now I had two. Things were looking up.

“Didn’t he push you first?” I asked. “Yeah,” Charlie signed slowly. “Then it’s his fault,” I signed. “You’re allowed to defend yourself. It’s not okay for anyone to touch you without your permission—ever. Don’t forget that.”

“I don’t know what’s going to kill me first, the hunger or the boredom.”

“Also, what nannies get to kill people?” I asked in confusion. “The good ones,” Nyx said. “Who actually protect the children—obviously.”

“Shooting people is not problem-solving,” I hissed back. “That sounds like something someone would say—” Nyx paused dramatically “—who’d never actually solved a problem.”

“Memento homo quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris!” Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

In the pouring rain, a lithe, pale figure with long, inky hair sauntered slowly down the podium toward Zeus. He wore a ruby crown with tall, jagged silver spires, which was the famed symbol of the Chthonic House leaders. He was an entire head taller than Zeus. The man’s countenance was abrasive. Menacing. If he was a musical melody, he’d be the Locrian mode—the darkest musical scale played on a piano.

Dark fog swirled around the man’s feet, and his eyes were an insidious shade of black. A monstrous three-headed dog added to his daunting visage. The terrifying animal followed him with matching black eyes. The man and his beast were notorious for running the underworld, a maximum-security prison that only housed immortal inmates in the North Sea. The place where Titans and incarcerated Spartans were tortured. It was where Medusa was infamously imprisoned. Beside him walked a short woman with dark skin in a pink dress. She was his foil: pretty and delicate.

Beside him walked a short woman with dark skin in a pink dress. She was his foil: pretty and delicate. A small laurel crown sat atop her curly blond hair—signaling she was an Olympian heiress—and a dog-sized dragon was perched on her golden-tan shoulder with its tail wrapped around her neck. Heiresses were super rare and highly sought-after because of all the Spartan fertility issues. As the woman stood on her tiptoes, whispering, his ex...

A small laurel crown sat atop her curly blond hair—signaling she was an Olympian heiress—and a dog-sized dragon was perched on her golden-tan shoulder with its tail wrapped around her neck. Heiresses were super rare and highly sought-after because of all the Spartan fertility issues. As the woman stood on her tiptoes, whispering, his expression softened, a...

Because of her heritage, Persephone was uniquely powerful and beautiful. That was partly why Hades and Persephone were so infamous. It was also because everyone knew Hades would do anything for Persephone. Humans had been killed and Spartans had been imprisoned for merely looking at her wrong.

Plus, Spartans were known for their promiscuity (they had both male and female lovers in the multiples). As a result, few Spartans took marriage oaths, and even fewer took an oath with a single person. Hades and Persephone were one such singular rarity.

Through the rain, Hades stood calmly on the edge of the podium with his heinous black fog swirling around his ankles. His power had felt like insanity. Father John was wrong; the devil was real, but there was no god to stop him.

Achilles stared at me from the end of the bed. Since he couldn’t speak with the muzzle, it was unclear what he was thinking. I was jealous. If I had a muzzle, then people wouldn’t expect me to talk to them.

“A half-human female Chthonic is literally impossible—our power would rip you to shreds from the inside out. It would tear you into pathetic pieces and boil your womb. You can’t even fathom what we feel.” Riveting. Sounds like an average menstrual cycle.

He moved on to the next door. “This is the bathroom—a privilege you don’t deserve. Back in my day, we shit in a hole.” He puffed up his chest like he was proud of that statement. Were people okay?

Titus said something else, but I stopped listening, because I had free will.

God had his favorites—I was not one of them.

I didn’t even have enough energy to die, if it came down to it (hopefully it would).

“Home is not a place,” Nyx said softly. “It’s a person.”

I closed my eyes and immediately fell into a peaceful, trancelike state. Just kidding—I fell asleep sitting up.

I deeply regretted being alive (more so than usual).

Our future hinges on you getting the fuck up.” A man was speaking, so I stopped listening.

“Next time,” Patro said slowly, “don’t share.” “Next time,” I whispered, “don’t ask.”

How the world worshipped the cruel man in front of me was beyond my comprehension. Sure, he was interesting to look at, but so was magma before it burned you alive.

“You’re the next one to die, bitch.” Hopefully

“I’m so proud right now...this is the best day of my life. I knew you had it in you, bestie. Pussy power, crush the patriarchy! Don’t stop now—murder them all. KILL EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM!”

Someone punched her in the face. Red filled my vision. Pure unadulterated rage burned me apart at the seams, and I rubbed at my chest as I breathed deeply.

I didn’t fucking care if Aphrodite and Artemis said I wasn’t progressive. It wasn’t about women being as tough as men; it was about the fact that they shouldn’t have to be. Spartan women were rare and needed to be protected at all costs. The future of our society depended on keeping them safe.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “Alexis Hert matters more than you could ever imagine—and she’s mine to protect. Do you know what that means? You violated one of my own.”

“I’ll give you one more chance to answer.” Augustus’s knee wedged between my legs and forced them apart as his heavy weight leaned into me and pinned me harder against the rocky wall. “Who the fuck is Charlie?” I couldn’t tell where he began and I ended. A lot is happening right now. The killer butterflies multiplied inside my stomach, and my knees trembled. Clearing my dry throat, I struggled to speak. “Why d-do you care?” I whispered into the dark. A sinful, humorless laugh echoed, and his chest vibrated against mine. Sharp sensations traveled from my chest to my core. Everything was on fire. His lips lingered dangerously close to my ear. “Because—no other man is allowed to have you,” he said silkily.

They can always cut you into tiny pieces or starve you into a coma. The thought calmed me.

“Who. The. Fuck. Did. THIS. TO. YOU?” Kharon’s raspy voice increased in decibels until he was shouting at me at the top of his lungs. “GIVE ME THEIR NAME.”

If one more man spoke for me, I was going to lose it.

I was what they’d made me into. And they hated it.

War paint completed the pretty (morose) picture: blush colored a corpse’s cheeks, mascara brightened dead eyes, and lipstick kept the screams inside.

Forcing my lips up, I gave them a reassuring smile. Internally, I was raging. Screaming.