More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
My peril is imminent and I’m horny.
Kharon tried to shove him away and the two of them grappled across me. I smacked my hands at them (yay, we’re fighting).
Nyx was right. Men should be seen, not heard. I enjoyed his silence.
Remember, daughter, no one fears the sane. Two could play at psychological warfare. I winked.
Apparently grown men and teenage girls had one thing in common: they took seating arrangements very seriously.
Poco chittered, the covers moving as little paws climbed over the three of us. He paused to sniff Augustus’s face and mine, then he wiggled his butt and settled into the space between our hearts. Immediately, he purred.
My heart skipped a beat. I’m in grave danger. Sleepy Kharon was adorable in the morning, which was a devastating realization.
Sometimes, I didn’t know if the three of us were fighting—or flirting. I wasn’t ready to find out.
I sighed; men could never understand what it was like to have a venomous snake bestie. They just didn’t get the lifestyle.
Being afraid wasn’t a good enough reason not to fight.
“You can’t just leave me?” “Uh—yes, I can,” Nyx called back. “Bye, bitch.”
Feel the fear, and act despite it.
Poco stood on his shoulder, fluffy gray belly protruding, his teeth bared, wearing a silver chest plate and matching Spartan helmet—he was in full battle regalia.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
they screeched in my face—I screamed back. Our pitch was flat. Mozart would not have loved this.
I would perish loved by many, and my death would start an apocalyptic war—both thoughts were comforting.
Better to die fighting monsters, than to live cowering at their feet.
Everyone knew the story behind the famous Spartan healing symbol. The wings represented creatures, the snake Chthonics, and the glowing rod Olympians. Hades was Chthonic. Persephone was the daughter of a dark creature and Demeter. My heritage was all three.
The ancient symbol of healing—of life and death—was mine to wield.
With my powers, I was a murderous healer—the duality of a woman.
Zeus would learn. I was the heiress to the House of Hades—and hellhounds, not lions, were the top of the food chain.
“What’s the plan?” Nyx hissed. “Vengeance.” “I knew I raised you right.”
“I need to find four or five good men like them—only a harem could handle all this woman . . . if you know what I mean.”
I did it. I’d calculated the odds correctly—math had yet to fail me.
“The House of Hades is known as the House of Death because when we feel passionately about something . . . we wage war. Always.”
“Welcome to the family, daughter.” Hades’s voice brimmed with pride.
“She’s so much shorter and her eyes are a different color. The men will notice that—” “Men never notice.” Helen smiled sadly. “Trust me.”
“Calm down, Karen.” He stilled—I arched my eyebrow at him—his posture relaxed, and he sighed like he was resigned to my audacity.
Both Nyx and Fluffy Jr. were still sleeping, and I’d discovered over the last weeks that when our lives were not actively threatened, they were extremely lazy (relatable).
