Chapter XVIII

Chapter XVIII

Fucking Cake

Hades led Persephone from Kal’s suite and into the private hallway where he’d watched them earlier. She noted the one-way mirror, pointing at it with her thumb.

“So you spy on all your staff?”

“Think of them as tenants,” Hades said. “And yes.”

He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her through a network of passages until they reached his private suite. This one overlooked the public floor of Iniquity. Persephone went to the row of windows, which flashed bright with red light and then darkness, looking below at the crowd.

“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.”

At his comment, she shut down. He could see it in her eyes and the press of her lips.

“Show me more,” she said, stepping to the side to escape him, or at least that was how he felt, as if she were running from him, putting more distance between them, but he said nothing, only leading her from the overlook and back into the dark passageways of Iniquity.

This time, he took her to the lower levels, and as they rode the elevator down, she stood opposite him, studying him, as if trying to figure out exactly who he was.

He didn’t like it.

“Where are we going?” she asked, as if she wanted to be prepared for whatever laid beyond this elevator.

Hades stared at her for a moment. “I’m not sure what you expect to find here, but it isn’t what you are thinking.”

“And what am I thinking?” she challenged.

“The worst,” he replied.

She did not deny it, but then she said, “Knowledge changes perception, Hades.”

When the doors opened, he offered his hand, and he felt a little more relief when she accepted. As they stepped into a darkened hallway, he spoke. “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.

He continued leading Persephone down a darkened hall and into his office. It was similar to the last in how it was structured, a wall of dark windows allowing him to peer down at the activities on the floor below. Unlike the public side, there was no dancing here, no loud music. This was not a place members came to let go of their inhibitions, though now and then, someone would get too drunk and spout off, and they were promptly escorted from the building.

This was a space to set aside differences. A place to establish connections.

It was the pulse, and Hades kept his finger on it at all times.

He watched Persephone as she peered down at the bar, and he hoped it was rather underwhelming.

No blood , he wanted to say. Or whatever she’d imagined after her encounter with Kal.

Her fingers traced a line down the window.

“Can they see us?”

“No,” Hades said.

In fact, from where they sat, this part of his office was mostly in shadow but would appear as a solid black wall. Despite this, none of his members were ignorant. They knew every movement they made, every word they spoke, was being recorded. It was the price they paid for their membership at Iniquity, but in exchange, they received his resources, which were invaluable and, as many were discovering, needed to survive in this part of New Greece where he too ruled.

“So you spy on them from up here?”

She looked back at him from over her shoulder, and he liked the way the light haloed her, even if her question was delivered with an element of coldness.

“You can call it spying if you like.”

She turned back to the window. After a moment, he heard her intake of breath as she began to recognize faces below.

“That’s Madelia Rella,” she said.

“She is in debt to me.”

“How?”

“I loaned her the money to start her first brothel.”

It had begun that way, at least. Now she owned the whole of the pleasure district, which meant she was, essentially, a landlord, and while she owned every building in the district, it came with a great deal of responsibility. Though Madelia was more than willing to take up the gauntlet. Prior to his deal with the madam, she was already a staunch supporter of women and sex workers’ rights. It was how Hades had become interested in her proposition—she wanted to own the pleasure district and reform it. Under her direction, she had promised to create safer spaces for the workers, something she had succeeded with when it came to her own brothel.

So he agreed.

“Why?”

“It was a business opportunity, and in exchange for the money, I have a stake in her company, and I can ensure the safety of her escorts.”

Though he did not have to worry as much, because Madelia was a force to be reckoned with. Those who disobeyed her rules, depending on the severity, found themselves fired or dead. It was as simple as that.

“ 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. ”

“Who else is down there?” Persephone asked.

Hades came to stand beside her and searched below, looking for people she might know, not because of their involvement in the criminal underworld but because of how they presented themselves to the public.

“That is Leonidas Nasso and Damianos Vitalis. They are billionaires and the bosses of rival crime families.”

“Nasso?” Persephone asked. “You mean…the owner of the Nasso Pizzeria chain?”

“The very one,” Hades confirmed. “The Vitalises are also restaurant owners, but they make their real living from fishing.”

Nasso and Vitalis both specialized in gambling and loan sharking, and only a single road separated their territories within New Athens. Under the rule of Iniquity, they could continue to expand their reach with the caveats that a percentage of their income had to be funneled into charities and they could not make or deal drugs.

“If they are rivals, why are they playing cards?”

“This is neutral territory. It is illegal to cause harm to another person on this property.”

Though Nasso and Vitalis had a truce since joining Iniquity, and so long as they continued to work together, they were on track to becoming the two most powerful mortal families in New Greece.

“I suppose you are the exception to that rule?”

“I am always the exception, Persephone.”

“These people…they are the elite of New Athens.”

She wasn’t wrong. Outside this den, they were known for their wealth, and while some might suspect their involvement in crime, there was little evidence to support such a claim.

“They are the rich and the powerful, but they are rich and powerful because of me.”

Each member was attached to a string, and so long as they obeyed the rules, they were given more and more slack. Fuck up and the string was cut.

Hades nodded to a few other colorful characters. “That is Alexis Nicolo,” he said, pointing to a man with a huge wave of hair. Each time he moved to sip his drink, it bounced. “He is a professional gambler.”

His services were often used by Nasso and Vitalis to catch cheaters in their underground casinos.

Then he pointed to a blond. “That is Helen Hallas. She is an art forger. I use her talents to trade relics for replicas.”

He saved Barak Petra for last. The balding man sat alone in the corner of the bar and looked very mundane, dressed in a blue suit.

“He doesn’t look like he belongs here,” Persephone commented.

“He doesn’t, but that makes him better at his job.”

“And what’s his job?”

“He is an assassin,” Hades said.

“Assassin? You mean he gets paid to kill people?”

He did not feel the need to answer that question, and Persephone made no attempt to make him.

“I don’t understand. How can you be concerned with saving souls from a terrible existence in the afterlife when you offer these…criminals a place to assemble?”

“They are not all criminals. I am not under some delusion, Persephone. I know I cannot save every soul, but at least Iniquity ensures that those who operate in the underbelly of society follow a code of conduct.”

If there was going to be chaos, he would see that it at least benefited society in some way, even if the path to getting there was somewhat murky.

“How is murder part of a code of conduct?”

“Murder isn’t part of the code of conduct unless the code is broken.”

Even then, everything depended on the severity of the rule that was broken.

Persephone met his gaze.

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

She did not respond, and he could tell she was still processing everything she had learned tonight.

“I don’t expect you to understand. There are many reasons for what I do. Iniquity is no different. I have a network of the most dangerous men and women attached to strings. I could take them all down with one pull. And they all know it, so they do what they can to please me.”

“You mean everyone but Kal Stavros?”

“I told you it was just a matter of time before someone tried to blackmail you.”

“You never said anything about blackmail. What does Kal have against you?”

“Nothing.” And that was the truth. “He merely wishes to have control over me, as all mortals wish.”

Wasn’t that what all mortals wished for? Why they all bargained? In hopes that they could defy death.

Hades studied her, and while he did not expect her to accept all this so easily, there was one thing he wished to know now.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Her eyes widened.

“No,” she said instantly. “But it is a lot to take in.”

There was a note in her voice that worried him, though he was beginning to understand why she seemed to think she did not know him at all. He swallowed, looking down at his feet before he met her gaze once more, swearing, “I will tell you everything.”

She raised a brow, as if to say I will make sure of it .

“I think I’ve heard enough tonight. I’d rather go home.”

“Would you like Antoni to take you?”

He did not think she would like to return to the Underworld with him, not after everything she had learned, but she smiled and said, “You might as well take me. We are going to the same place, after all.”

He drew her close, and with her body pressed against his, a wave of relief shuddered through him, and he took her home.

When they appeared, she drew away from him and disappeared into the bathroom to shower. He did not follow, choosing instead to have a drink before shedding his clothes and lying down to rest.

When Persephone returned to the room, she was dressed in a long shirt that hit midthigh. His eyes traveled up her body until he met her gaze. She had halted upon leaving the bathroom and stared at him from across the room.

“Are you well?” he asked.

She nodded slowly, and his question seemed to thaw her frozen body. She rounded the bed and climbed in on her side. They faced each other in silence, and after a moment, Hades touched her face, a light brush across her flushed cheek. She surprised him by turning her head into his palm and pressing her lips to his skin. As she did, he leaned in to kiss her, slow and soft and sweet.

When he pulled away, they shared breath as he spoke.

“Let me make love to you,” he said, his voice low and warm, imbued with the gentleness he intended to show her. She nodded, and he kissed her once more. When he shifted to straddle her, he kept his weight on his hands and did not crush her, brushing his lips along her jaw, neck, and collarbone. As he explored, her breaths grew shorter and uneven, and her hands played across his skin, fingers gliding through his hair. He dipped to kiss between her breasts, plying each peaked nipple with his tongue through the fabric of her shirt.

When he came to her stomach, he sat back on his heels to lift her shirt, but Persephone took over, remaining on her back as she wiggled the fabric up and over her head. When she was still once more, he pressed his lips to her stomach, moving down her body in a slow, predatory climb.

He could smell her arousal. The air around her center was almost damp with it, and he was eager to touch his tongue to her clit, to circle her flesh until she came against his mouth. He was also eager to praise and to worship, so he sat back once more and kissed from the inside of her knee to the apex of her thigh, repeating the process down her other leg before pressing a kiss to her center. Persephone’s hands clamped down on his head, and as she held him there, he offered a soft laugh, looking up at her from where he hovered.

“Do you want something, my darling?” he asked.

She stared down at him, eyes gleaming. “You said you would make love to me,” she answered.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Then do it,” she said. “Now.”

A smile curled his lips as she spread her flesh, and he let his tongue slide along her silken skin and circle her clit. Above him, Persephone sighed, and her fingers tightened in his hair to the point that his scalp stung, but he didn’t care because she had begun to press harder against his mouth, seeking depth that he could only offer with his fingers, so he curled those inside her too and moved in rhythm, her cries growing in intensity.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”

Her hands slipped from his hair and her body tensed.

“Do you want to come?” he asked.

She gave a guttural cry, and her answer was her release, a gush of warmth and wet that coated his fingers, and as he let them slide from inside her, he took them into his mouth to taste her.

Beneath him, she was limp, but he climbed up her body and placed his weight against hers while he kissed her, his cock cradled between her thighs. Her hand drifted down his body, and she reached between them, closing her hand around him as she jerked him up and down. He groaned into her mouth.

“Fuck. Fuck .”

He would have let her continue if he had not intended for this to only be about her, so he took her hand and pinned it by her head, rising to spread her legs apart with his knees. With his cock poised at her center, he slipped inside. Once more, he settled close, holding his weight on his forearms, and kissed her deeply, and while his lips were locked with hers, he began to move.

Persephone lifted her legs, wrapping them firmly around him, her heels pressing into his ass. With each thrust, they dug in harder, as if she wanted to absorb him.

He moved his arm beneath her head and looked into her eyes.

“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.

His words came with a shift in the way they moved, and suddenly there was an urgency to their pace that had their bed rocking and their bodies dripping with slick sweat. Their breaths grew ragged and rough, and they prayed to each other to let the other come. When they finally did, it shattered through their bodies, rocking them deep to their cores until they were both boneless.

After, Hades rose with her and bathed before returning to bed, where he curled himself around her and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Later, he awoke suddenly to find he was alone. He sat up and looked around the room, but Persephone was gone. For a brief moment, he thought she had left the Underworld entirely, but he could feel her here, so he rose and went in search of her. As he stepped into the dim halls of his palace, he smelled warm cocoa and knew he would find her in the kitchen. She had a habit of baking when she was stressed, and it was only now that he realized she had not done so since she’d taught him how to make sugar cookies at her apartment.

He moved through the dining room, where he found Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus resting near the door to the kitchen. They looked up as he passed, and he entered, finding Persephone on the floor of the kitchen, sitting with her knees pressed to her chest, staring into the oven, its yellow light illuminating her somber face.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, and she turned toward him looking very much exhausted and sad. He knew she was thinking of Lexa.

“No,” she said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“ You didn’t wake me. Your absence did,” he answered truthfully.

“I’m sorry,” she said, frowning.

“Don’t be—especially if it means you are baking.”

He sat beside her on the floor and stared into the oven window for a few seconds before looking down at her and finding her watching him.

“You know I can help you sleep,” he said, voice low.

“The cake isn’t finished,” she whispered in reply.

He could tell she was exhausted, that she wanted to sleep.

“I would never let it burn,” he promised and placed his arm around her shoulder as her head rested against his chest. 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 slipped. Without a second thought, he reached to catch it between his bare hands.

“Motherfucker!” he yelled, managing to toss the cake onto the oven.

He stood there for a moment while the pain throbbed in his hands before sending a shock of magic to heal his blisters.

“Fucking cake,” he said, glaring at it. “You better be delicious.”