CHAPTER XVII: BREAKING POINT

CHAPTER XVII – BREAKING POINT

Hades watched Persephone sleep while he tried to reconcile the contradiction of her words and actions. He reminded himself that she had been under the influence, not just of alcohol but of some sort of drug. He had tasted it upon her tongue—metallic, salty, wrong. She had not been herself, not in the limo or his office or his bedroom, which meant her words—the ones she’d written in her article—won his thoughts, and he turned them over and over again in his head until he seethed.

He sensed when she woke because her breathing changed. She bolted upright, holding his silk sheets to her chest, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. He would have liked to see her this way after a night of love making. Instead, he was watching her after a night of rejecting her drunken advances. He took a sip from his glass, holding her gaze, bright eyes trained on him, wary.

“Why am I naked?” she asked.

“Because you insisted on it,” he said, keeping his voice as devoid of emotion as possible. It took effort, because every other thought was a remembrance from last night—a memory of her desperation to hear him say he wanted her, the phantom press of her body against his, the heat of her lips urging his apart. “You were very determined to seduce me.”

Her already-flushed cheeks turned crimson. “Did we—”

His laugh sounded more like a bark. He wasn’t sure what he was reacting to, maybe it was the fact that she would assume he would take advantage of her in her inebriated state, or that he had spent the better part of her slumber agonizing over the words she’d used to describe him.

“No, Lady Persephone. Trust me, when we fuck, you’ll remember.”

Her features hardened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Your arrogance is alarming.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Just tell me what happened, Hades!” she snapped.

He met her ferocious stare with just as much venom before answering, “You were drugged at La Rose. You’re lucky you are immortal. Your body burned through the poison fast.”

She was quiet for a moment, processing the information he had shared. Her gaze left his, as if searching the middle distance for answers to her questions.

“Adonis,” she said suddenly, eyes narrowing in accusation. “What did you do to him?”

Hades ground his teeth and focused on the remaining liquor in his glass rather than her gaze. He downed the last bit before setting it aside. “He is alive, but that is only because he was in his goddess’s territory.”

“You knew!” She pushed off the bed, the sheets rustling around her. He wanted to take them from her, challenge her to stand bare and confident before him as she had last night. “Is that why you warned me to stay away from him?”

“I assure you, there are more reasons to stay away from that mortal than the favor Aphrodite has bestowed upon him.”

“Like what?” she asked, taking a step toward him. “You can’t expect me to understand if you don’t explain anything.”

What need have I to explain? He kissed you when you did not want him to, Hades wanted to say, but it was possible she did not remember.

“I expect that you will trust me.” He stood, swiping his glass off the table and refilling it at the bar. “And if not me, then my power.”

He was more than aware she knew of his ability to see what mortals tried to hide with charms and lies. It was a power she condemned in her article, claiming he used it to prey upon their darkest secrets.

“I thought you were jealous!”

The laugh that ruptured from the back of Hades’ throat sounded harsh, even to his ears. He was not sure why he mocked her either, but maybe it was because he just now realized his jealousy, now that he was beyond the anger and the challenge last night had posed to his sense of control.

“Don’t pretend you don’t get jealous, Hades. Adonis kissed me last night.”

Hades slammed his glass on the table, betraying himself, and twisted toward her. “Keep reminding me, goddess, and I’ll reduce him to ash.”

“So, you are jealous!” she cried.

“Jealous?” he hissed, stalking toward her. He watched as the excitement of her triumph melted from her face, replaced by an expression he could not discern. He only knew it was not fear. “That…leech touched you after you told him not to. I have sent souls to Tartarus for less.”

He paused a few inches from her, his anger acute, radiating off him like the heat from Helios’ sun.

Until she uttered an apology.

The words fell from her mouth, quiet and breathy. “I’m…sorry.”

He was not sure why she was apologizing, but those words seemed misplaced on the heels of his speech about Adonis.

His brows knitted together, and he cupped her face, stepping closer, sealing the space between them. “Don’t you dare apologize. Not for him. Never for him.”

She covered his hands with her own, and as he searched her eyes, full of kindness and compassion, he felt a little of that fury dissipate and couldn’t help asking, “Why are you so desperate to hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” she said quietly.

He could not sense the lie, but he could not reconcile why she would write that article about him, not when she did not hate him. He tore away from her.

“No? Shall I remind you? Hades, Lord of the Underworld, rich one, and arguably the most hated god among mortals, exhibits a clear disregard for mortal life.”

As he spoke, she seemed to cower, shoulders rising, growing smaller and smaller beneath her own viscous words.

“This is what you think of me?” he challenged.

“I was angry—”

“Oh, that is more than obvious,” he barked.

“I didn’t know they would publish it!”

“A scathing letter illustrating all of my faults?” He paused to laugh bitterly. “You didn’t think the media would publish it?”

She had used the article as a threat, knowing Hades valued his privacy. She was well-aware that it would be a coveted piece to the media, and yet, there was something troubling about her defense, and that was that he sensed no lie. Still, if she truly meant for it not to go live, why did she write it? And how had it gotten published?

His sarcasm did not win him any compassion from the goddess. Her eyes flashed, and her words slipped from between barred teeth.

“I warned you.”

“You warned me?” Hades raised his brows and offered a breathy laugh. “You warned me about what, goddess?”

“I warned you that you would regret our contract.”

They were words he remembered, spoken as she had straightened the lapels of his jacket and killed the flower in his breast pocket. He had no doubt then, and he had no doubt now.

“And I warned you not to write about me.” He dared to close the distance between them again, knowing it was the wrong thing to do, knowing that their anger only had one outlet.

“Perhaps in my next article, I’ll write about how bossy you are,” she threatened.

“Next article?”

“You didn’t know?” she asked smugly. “I’ve been asked to write a series on you.”

“No.”

“You can’t say no. You’re not in control here.”

He would show her control, he thought, bending into her body, feeling the way she arched with him. She was a viper, responding to his call, and when she struck, it would be venomous.

“And you think you are?”

“I’ll write the articles, Hades, and the only way I’ll stop is if you let me out of this godsdamned contract!”

So that was her game?

“You think to bargain with me, goddess?” he asked. “You’ve forgotten one important thing, Lady Persephone. To bargain, you need to have something I want.”

Her eyes sparked, and her cheeks turned rosy again.

“You asked me if I believed what I wrote!” she argued. “You care!”

“It’s called a bluff, darling.”

“Bastard,” she hissed.

It was the word that broke his restraint. He dragged her against him, burying his hand in her hair, and his lips closed over hers. She was soft and sweet, and she smelled like him. He wanted all of her, and yet, he pulled away, separating by mere inches.

“Let me be clear,” he said fiercely. “You bargained, and you lost. There is no way out of our contract unless you fulfill its terms. Otherwise, you remain here. With me.”

She stared up at him, eyes raging, lips raw. “If you make me your prisoner, I will spend the rest of my life hating you.”

“You already do.”

He noted how she seemed to recoil at his words, staring up at him as if his comment hurt. “Do you really believe that?”

He did not answer, just offered a mocking laugh, and then pressed a hot kiss to her mouth before tearing away viciously. “I will erase the memory of him from your skin.”

He yanked the sheet from her hands, and she was naked before him as she was last night, her eyes full of desire, and all he could think was that he fucking wanted this—her passion and her body and her soul.

He grasped her bottom, lifting her from the ground, and her body molded to his without his guidance. It was silent surrender, a sign that she wanted this just as much as he did. His lips crushed hers, and heat blossomed low in his belly, filling his groin until he was hard and desperate to be inside her. He felt frantic, and his body vibrated with need, urged by Persephone’s viscous hands, scraping his scalp, yanking on his hair. He growled low in his throat, pressing her into the bedpost, grinding his lengthen into her softness. He reveled in the way her mouth broke from his so that she could gasp for breath as he moved against her, pressing kisses down her neck and shoulder, tongue tasting. He was senseless, and she was a spell, a contract he would fulfill endlessly if it meant having her like this every day for the rest of his life.

My lover, he thought. My wife, my queen.

He froze, almost saying those words aloud, and then shifted, dropping her on the bed. He stood over her, breathing hard, and she looked up at him, surprised but as beautiful and as sensual as ever, legs parted, breasts firm and full. He had two choices before him, he could take her or leave her, and on the heels of her article, he felt it was best to leave because the only thing that would wait for them on the other side of this was sorrow.

After a moment, he managed a savage smile. “Well, you would probably enjoy fucking me, but you definitely don’t like me.”

He barely registered the horror on her face before he vanished.

She was right—he was a bastard.