Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIII

A Game of Pride

“You are really going to hate this,” Ilias said and dropped a copy of the Delphi Divine in front of him as he sat at the Nevernight bar the next morning.

Before the words were out of his mouth, Hades already felt a heaviness in his throat and stomach. Somehow, he knew what was coming.

The headline read:

HADES STEPS OUT WITH MYSTERIOUS WOMAN

Below that was a picture, snapped at the precise moment Leuce had reached for his hand. It was as if someone had been waiting to take it, and in that frozen second, it appeared that he had been holding her hand, dragging her hurriedly down the shadowed street. There was a lot someone could infer from it, but all he cared about was that Persephone knew the truth.

As he stared at the photo, he studied Leuce’s face, who had schooled her features into a placid mask, the opposite of how she had looked when they had faced each other.

I’ll help you when you admit that Demeter gave you life.

Well, if this wasn’t fucking proof.

She had set him up.

A sharp, black spire shot from the tip of his finger, and he used it to shred Leuce’s face before rising to his feet.

“I’ll be back,” he told Ilias before vanishing.

He manifested on the sixtieth floor of the Acropolis, at the entrance of New Athens News . There was a young blond at the front desk who gasped and stood. As he walked past her, she started to speak. “Can I…?”

“No,” Hades growled, having already found the object of his visit—Persephone, who rose to standing, dressed in black. She was beautiful and striking, and her anger and pain hit him with a force that nearly stole his breath.

He swallowed down the dread crawling up his throat and continued toward her.

“You need to leave,” she whispered furiously, though it was so quiet on the floor that her words carried.

“We need to talk.”

She leaned forward just an inch, eyes alight, determined in her refusal to hear his explanation. Clearly, she’d already decided what to believe, and there was a sharp pain in his chest that made his heartbeat feel slow and sluggish.

“ No .” The word was harsh and definite.

His features hardened. “So you believe it then? The article?”

“I thought you had a meeting,” she threw back at him, and it was the first time he heard the hurt leak into her voice.

“I did.” It was frustrating that she didn’t believe anything he had said.

“And you conveniently left out the fact that it was with Leuce?”

“It wasn’t with Leuce, Persephone.”

She looked away, clenching her jaw. “I don’t want to hear this right now. You need to leave.”

She came around her desk and walked past him toward the elevator. He turned to follow.

“When are we going to talk about this?” he asked.

“What is there to talk about?” she asked, jamming the button for the elevator. “I have asked you to be honest with me about when you are with Leuce. You weren’t.”

“I came to you immediately after I saw Leuce home, but I didn’t feel good about waking you. When I saw you yesterday, you looked exhausted.”

She whirled to face him. “I am exhausted, Hades. I’m tired of you and sick of your excuses.”

That was a lie. Well, part of it was, anyway. She wasn’t tired of him.

“Leave!” She pointed to the open doors of the elevator, but if she thought he would go without discussing this, she was wrong.

He drew his arm around her waist and hauled her into the elevator with him, choosing a floor at random just so the doors would close. Once they were alone, he sealed the lift with magic. It wouldn’t move and it wouldn’t open for anyone.

Hades placed Persephone on her feet, his hands on her waist, and he leaned into her, bracing one hand on the wall.

“Let me go, Hades! You’re embarrassing me,” she said. Hades felt a twinge in his chest at the sound of her tired and defeated voice. Her hands were on his chest as if she wanted to push him away, but she didn’t. “Why did you have to do this now ?”

“Because I knew you’d jump to conclusions. I’m not fucking Leuce.”

She paled at his words and shoved against him. “There are other ways to cheat, Hades!”

“I’m not doing any of them!”

And a horrible sickness twisted through him, knowing that she thought he had. Though it seemed after hearing those words, she’d lost her energy to fight. She stood between him and the wall, her arms at her sides, staring at his chest.

“Persephone.” He closed his eyes against her name. “Persephone, please.”

“Let me go, Hades,” she said quietly.

He wanted to touch her, to lift her face so he could look into her eyes. So he could beg her not to think what she was thinking, but he realized she was not ready to hear anything right now, and while he hadn’t wanted to give her time to think, to agonize, to wonder what had really happened, this wasn’t how he’d wanted to have this conversation—not through force.

“If you won’t listen now, will you let me explain later?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Please, Persephone. Give me the chance to explain.”

“I’ll let you know,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

“Persephone.”

He moved to brush her cheek, but she turned away. There was a strangeness to this pain between them, and it went deeper than Leuce. His heart felt very broken, a shattered thing that moved about in his chest, puncturing whatever it came into contact with. After a moment, he stepped back, giving her space. She wouldn’t look at him, keeping her burning, glistening gaze on the elevator wall. Still, he studied her profile—the turn of her nose and the pout of her mouth and the way her hair curled around her ears and neck, like tendrils of his shadowy magic cupping her face.

He memorized her as if this were the last time he’d see her, and without another word, he left.

* * *

Hades found himself on the island of Lemnos, knocking on Aphrodite’s front door.

He hated what he was about to do, but Hecate had asked him over and over what he was going to do, and while Aphrodite never seemed to be able to handle her relationship with Hephaestus, she was still the Goddess of Love, and it was likely she could offer some insight.

Or at least tell him what to avoid.

He peered through the glass door of her home, looking for any sign of Aphrodite or Lucy, the animatronic maid Hephaestus had made who was far more lifelike than necessary in his opinion, but the hallway was empty.

He knocked again and sighed.

“I know you’re here,” he growled.

A loud yawn broke from behind him, and he turned to find Aphrodite stretching. She was dressed in peach, and her golden hair fell in waves down her back.

“What is it, Hades?” she asked. “I am tired.”

Now that he faced her, he suddenly felt very stupid and wanted to leave.

“This was a mistake,” he said. “I… Sorry.”

He started to leave when Aphrodite’s presence flashed as she teleported closer to prevent him from going.

“Did you just apologize, Hades?” she asked. He did not speak, and a smile curved her lips. “Something must be wrong,” she said. “Come.”

She led him down a walkway that ran parallel to her home and opened to a patio that overlooked the ocean. He had seen the water in all forms throughout his visits to this island—deep blue and green, golden and orange—but today it churned beneath the bright sun, making it gleam like millions of diamonds. It almost hurt to look at it.

Aphrodite made her way to a lounge where it was clear she had been resting before Hades interrupted her. A book lay facedown on a table beside a large hat and some kind of pink drink.

“I would tell you to sit,” she said, “but I doubt you would be comfortable enough.”

She was right. Instead, he remained on his feet, hands in his pockets, standing on the line where the shadow met the light, and stared off at the horizon, squinting against the bright day.

“I know you have not come all the way to Lemnos for the view,” Aphrodite said. “Tell me why you are here so that we might both get back to our day.”

While her words were dismissive, Hades knew she was far too intrigued by his visit to be too impatient.

“As if your schedule was packed,” Hades countered.

“If you are going to beg for my help, you could at least respect my time.”

“I have not come to beg.”

“Perhaps not,” she said. “But if you keep delaying, you will be on your knees before you leave my sight.”

Hades ground his teeth and finally relented. “I fucked up,” he said, and he held his breath as he added, “I need advice.”

Aphrodite’s eyes gleamed, amused, but as he began to tell her what had transpired between him and Persephone—the goddess’s desperate wish to save her best friend, the bargain with Apollo, the aftermath of their anger and pain—that warm glow in her eyes dimmed.

Aphrodite knew the pain of loss, and she understood it from the perspective of love—all love, not just romantic—because love did not end when life did. It carried on in the absence of it.

“I cannot even begin to decide how to make amends. She was right. I could have supported her more, prepared her for Lexa’s decision and Thanatos’s eventual reaping, but I didn’t. I treated her situation like every other mortal, thinking it was no different, but it was different because it was Persephone.”

He dragged his fingers through his hair, frustrated, and it fell from its tie around his face.

“Have you told her that you are sorry?”

He met her gaze. “I tried . She didn’t want to hear from me.” He paused. “I want to do something.”

“Sometimes grand gestures are not as important as words, Hades,” Aphrodite replied.

Hades frowned. He couldn’t deny that he was disappointed in her response. “Odd that you would give such advice when you cannot even bring yourself to talk to Hephaestus.”

Aphrodite’s mouth hardened, then her eyes flashed. It was the only warning he had before a hard hit sent him to his knees. He looked up to find that the Goddess of Love stood inches from him holding a gold rod that was taller than she was. It was the weapon she’d used to knock him off his feet, and now she pointed the sharpened end at his face.

“You don’t have to like what I say,” Aphrodite said, “but you must respect me.”

Hades nodded once. “Fair. I’m sorry.”

It was the second time he had apologized to her today—he was definitely not in his right mind.

She stared at him, as if assessing whether he meant what he said, and after a moment, she nodded, righting her spear.

Slowly, Hades got to his feet. After a moment, he spoke, still uncertain that words were enough to convince Persephone that he was sorry.

“I just…cannot imagine that she wants to hear from me.”

He had no reason to believe otherwise, given their earlier encounter and how it had backfired.

“Perhaps she just needs time,” Aphrodite said. “I will not pretend to know her mind or answer for her. Plan something grand and beautiful, but remember that the only way forward is to ask her what she wants.”

Hades nodded, and after a moment, he met her gaze. “Any chance I can convince you to never bring this up again?”

“Never,” she replied with a wicked smile.

* * *

Throughout the day, Hades returned to his conversation with Persephone and Aphrodite’s words. The two were in such conflict, he did not know what to do, but he hoped that at some point, Persephone would let him explain what had happened with Leuce.

Hades was still deciding what to do about the troublesome nymph. He couldn’t exactly get rid of her. He knew, despite Persephone’s hurt over the article in the Delphi Divine , that she would not approve of him sending Leuce away, and as much as he believed she was working with Demeter, it likely meant that she felt she had no choice in the matter, even with Hades’s offer of protection.

Essentially, Leuce was caught between two gods who could do very brutal things if she disobeyed, and while he considered confronting Demeter about the situation, he knew he’d only make things worse. Not to mention he had other, more pressing matters to attend to, among them ensuring that their plans did not actually succeed in tearing him and Persephone apart.

He’d begun to map out an idea for how he might proceed when Hermes appeared in his office dressed in all white. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and he looked very flushed.

Hades raised a brow at the god and was about to comment on his attire when he spoke instead.

“We need you,” he said.

Hades’s brows slammed down over his eyes, and Hermes’s next two words had him out of his seat.

“It’s Persephone.”

He did not need to say anything more, and they were teleporting, appearing before a curtained lounge with white couches. The air was thick with a suffocating white smoke that flashed bright with colors as music roared around them. Hades knew this club. It was the Seven Muses, and it was owned by Apollo, who sat on one of the couches, looking bored while Persephone lay on the one opposite at an odd angle, as if she’d collapsed there. Her eyes were closed and she wore nothing but mesh and gold leaves. While he liked the dress, he would have preferred being the sole person to have seen her in it. She needed a gods-damned blanket, but the best he could do now was call up his glamour to conceal the booth.

Hades ground his teeth. This had to be part of her fucking bargain with Apollo.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“What does it look like?” Apollo asked. “She drank too much.”

Hades glared at the god, who was perfectly sober. Persephone had not had years to build up a tolerance to alcohol like the rest of them. She could still get drunk, though unlike mortals, her body could recover far faster.

“I tried to get her to leave after she threw up the first time,” said Zofie. “But she refused.”

As he stared down at Persephone, she opened her eyes. She did not seem to realize where she was and her brows furrowed.

“There you are, Sephy,” Hermes said, sitting near her head. “You had us worried.”

She kept staring at him, and Hades wasn’t sure she heard the god at all. Finally, she glanced up at him and asked, “Why did you call him? He hates me.”

Hates me? Hades’s whole body recoiled at those words. When had he given the impression that he hated her? He’d gone to her work hours ago to beg her to hear him out about the Leuce situation. He took a breath, reminding himself that she was, in fact, incapacitated at the moment. Though the words still ate at him.

Instead of denying her statement, Hermes said, “Blame Zofie.”

Hades gazed at the god questioningly, but if he had to guess, since Zofie was the aegis, she’d insisted that Hermes get help. He felt a bit of relief that the Amazon had accompanied them. Likely Persephone would have continued to lie here under the scrutiny of the club otherwise.

He lowered to his knee beside her. “Can you stand? I’d rather not carry you out of this place.”

Once more, she frowned. A touch of hurt bled into her eyes before anger pushed her into a seated position. He tried to hand her a glass of water Zofie had pushed into his hands, but she refused it, mouth tight.

“If you don’t want to be seen with me, why don’t you teleport?”

Obviously, she had forgotten how jarring teleportation could be. “If I teleport, you might throw up. I’ve been told you’ve already done that once tonight.”

Hades got to his feet as she rose and swayed. He caught her around the waist. For a moment, she sunk into him, and he welcomed the way she let her head rest on his chest, but when his arm tightened around her, she pushed against him.

A wave of frustration made Hades feel heated. He wasn’t doing a very good job of schooling his features either. He felt the coldness of his gaze in his core.

“Let’s go,” she said and turned from him, holding her head high as she made a path out of the club.

Hades cast a spiteful glance at Apollo, Hermes, and Zofie before following her.

Antoni waited, opening the door as soon as he saw them emerge from the club, and despite their obvious dark moods, he smiled.

“My lady.”

“Antoni,” she said with a crisp nod, which was far from her usually warm reception of anyone who wasn’t Hades at this point. He watched as she bent and crawled into the back of the Lexus on her hands and knees. Thank fuck he had continued to cloak them in glamour so that the world hadn’t seen her ass.

Once the door was closed, they were locked inside with their anger, a tension that built and made him feel electric. Usually, he’d work through this physically, but there was a long list of reasons he couldn’t do that this time, among them that Persephone was not sober. It didn’t stop him from fantasizing, though, which was both satisfying and torturous.

He considered what he would do first, which likely would be pressing his mouth to hers and drawing her thighs apart. He would slide his fingers along her core, then sink into her silken heat. They would both moan because of how long it had been since they had become lost in each other. And after she was spent by his hand, he would draw her into his lap, take out his cock, and help her ride him until he came inside her so hard, she could taste it in the back of her throat, and even in that aftermath, he would lay her down and put his mouth on her clit and revel in how she tasted like him.

He shifted in his seat, his cock hard with these thoughts. There was a certain relief that came when they arrived at Nevernight, knowing he would soon be out of this suffocating cabin where their emotions were too high and too heavy. Persephone must have thought the same thing, because she was out the door before Antoni could open it. Hades followed as quickly as he could, but not before she fell on the hard cement sidewalk.

“My lady!”

“I’m fine,” she said as the cyclops offered a hand to help her to her feet, though as she shifted to sit, they both saw what a mess her knee was. It was more than a scratch; the skin was broken and blood welled in large bubbles, sliding down her leg.

She stared at it and frowned, then looked up at them. “It’s okay. I don’t even feel it.”

She tried to stand twice, during which Antoni moved behind her just in case she started to fall. When it was clear she wasn’t going to get up on her own, she took a breath.

“You know, I think I’ll just sit here for a little while.”

This was getting ridiculous. Hades realized she didn’t really want his touch, but he wasn’t going to wait outside while she sobered up, especially while she was bleeding, so he gathered her into his arms and carried her into Nevernight, nodding to Mekonnen, who had come outside to hold the door open for them.

He took her downstairs into the empty club, having closed nearly three hours ago. Persephone had definitely been out later than usual. He headed behind the bar and sat her down before lifting her onto the counter. Then he reached for a glass and filled it with water.

“What are you doing?”

He pushed the glass into her hands. “Drink.”

To his relief, she obeyed, which left him to focus on cleaning her knee. He felt far less frantic about this wound—it was nothing like witnessing her body perforated by thorns. Still, that thought did not help him here, because it reminded him of how much danger she was in even from herself.

He removed his jacket and filled another glass with water to use on her injury. He would have used his magic to heal her, but it had to be clean first, so he set to work, folding a cloth to go under her leg before cleaning away the grime. Once he was finished and the area was dry, he healed it. There was a strange relief that came with seeing her whole.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He had not heard those words in a long time. He took a step back until he could lean against the opposite counter, drawing his arms over his chest. He stared at her in her leaves and her lace. She was beyond stunning, and as much as he liked the outfit, there was a part of him that wanted to rage that so many had witnessed her in it before him.

“Are you punishing me?”

She frowned. “What?”

“This,” he said. “The clothes, Apollo, the drinking?”

She looked down at the dress and back up at him. “You don’t like my clothes?”

That is not what I said , he thought as he stared at her. Then he noted the defiant set to her mouth as she pushed off the counter and reached for the hem of her dress.

Hades stiffened…everywhere. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off the dress,” she said.

“I can see that,” he said, eyes narrowing, though he tried not to smile. “Why?”

“Because you don’t like it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” His voice lowered.

But he wasn’t going to stop her, and once she stood naked in front of him, his eyes made the climb from the apex of her thighs where curls darkened her center, up her stomach to her breasts, which hung heavy and round. His mouth watered and he swallowed hard.

“Why weren’t you wearing anything under that dress?” he asked, because as fucking hot as he found it, he couldn’t help remembering where she’d been before she was here.

“I couldn’t… Didn’t you see it?”

Oh, he’d seen it.

“I’m going to murder Apollo,” he muttered.

She looked confused. “Why?”

“For fun .”

She laughed, her eyes glittering. “You’re jealous.”

“ Don’t push me, Persephone.”

He really would murder Apollo, and he hadn’t wanted to because his existence was far more cruel than a life in the Underworld. He turned and plucked a bottle of whiskey from the bar, pulled off the cap, and took a long drink.

“It wasn’t like Apollo knew,” she said. “Hermes was the one who suggested it.”

Hades’s fingers curled around the bottle so tight, it shattered and suddenly the floor was covered in glass and whiskey.

“ Motherfucker .”

Hades was well aware of Hermes’s sexual preferences, which while not limited, likely did not include Persephone. Still, he did not like the liberties the god took.

Best friend, my ass.

“Are you okay?” Persephone asked.

His gaze shifted to hers as he answered. “Forgive me if I am a little on edge. I have been forced into celibacy.”

She rolled her eyes, and he ground his teeth. “No one ever said you couldn’t fuck me.”

“Careful, goddess. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I think I know what I’m asking for, Hades. It’s not like we’ve never had sex.”

He could fuck her. He would too. Hard. Fast. Unapologetic. He’d turn her to face the counter and enter her from behind so he could control her. He’d shove his fingers into her hair and use it to move her body. He’d bend her to his will until he came.

It would not be about her. It would be about him and his aggression, and that was not what he wanted, as much as he did want her.

“Are you wet for me?” he asked. His voice was low, and despite the shiver that visibly shook her body, she tilted her head in challenge.

“Why don’t you come find out?”

He took deep breaths until even those were only filled with the scent of her magic and arousal. He moved to holding his breath and clutching the counter behind him. This night was a fucking challenge. Why did she have to be aroused now? Why didn’t she reject him now?

“Why didn’t you let Apollo see Hyacinth after his death?”

Fucking Fates .

“You really know how to kill a boner, darling, I’ll give you that.”

He chose a second bottle from the display behind him, and by the time he turned around, she had put on his jacket. As much as he liked seeing her completely naked—and in heels—there was something about also seeing her draped in his clothing, too big for her small frame. It almost possessed her, much like he wished to do now.

“He said he blamed you for his death.”

Even gods misplaced their anger over deaths. He couldn’t count the number of times one of the Olympians had blamed him for the death of a hero, a lover, an enemy they had not finished torturing.

“He did. Much like you blamed me for Lexa’s accident.”

Saying that probably made him an asshole, but it was the truth, and she knew it, despite what she said next.

“I never said I blamed you.”

“You blamed me because I couldn’t help. Apollo did the same.”

He expected her to argue, but instead, she took a breath. “I’m not…trying to fight with you. I just want to know your side.”

He took a drink from the bottle before explaining the truth behind his feud with Apollo. It went far beyond Leuce, who, in the end, was really just a victim. She’d been caught in the middle of a Divine feud, much as she was now. Hades grimaced at how life never really changed.

“Apollo didn’t ask to see his lover,” he said, realizing in this moment how hard it was to actually speak these words, to dig them up from a past that had been buried so deep, one that he’d wanted to forget but had been forced to face. “He asked to die.”

Hades remembered the day well. Apollo had stood at the Lerna Lake entrance to the Underworld screaming his name, and when Hades obliged to meet him, he’d demanded that Hades take his life.

“Of course it was a request I could not— would not —grant.”

At the time, Hades had believed that Apollo wasn’t fit to make any decisions, that he would regret the sacrifice he’d made to die, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t understand. Apollo knows he cannot die. He is immortal. Even if you were to wound him…”

“He wished to be thrown into Tartarus. To be torn to pieces by the Titans. It is the only way to kill a god.” Or, at least, it should be, his thoughts turning to the Graeae. Someone had managed to kill them without the might of gods. A strange feeling twisted in his gut, and he pushed that aside, focusing on Persephone. “He was outraged, of course, and took his revenge in the only way he knows how—he slept with Leuce.”

Persephone’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tend to want to forget that part of my life, Persephone.”

Though it seemed to not want to forget him.

“But I—I wouldn’t have—”

“You already broke a promise you made. I doubt my story of betrayal would have prevented you from seeking Apollo’s help.”

His words hurt her. He could tell by how she seemed to fold in on herself, and a surge of guilt made his entire body feel weak. Perhaps his honesty would have influenced her behavior differently, but he had not even given her the chance.

He set the bottle aside and pushed away from the bar.

“You are probably tired. I can take you to the Underworld, or Antoni will see you home.”

He gave her two options, not knowing where she’d like to go, but instead, she asked him, “What do you want?”

You, of course , he thought, yet found himself putting the choice to her. “It is not my decision to make.”

When she averted her eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“But since you asked,” he added, and she looked at him. “I always want you with me. Even when I’m angry.”

There was a little less sadness to her expression.

“Then I’ll come with you.”

He approached, crunching the broken glass beneath his feet as he drew her body against his. Despite their proximity, there was still so much distance between them. He would take this for now, though, her closeness and her presence in his bed.

At least for this night, she would be home.