Chapter 30

Chapter

Thirty

H ades

My mood hasn't been this dark since Persephone's return in my life. I'm tense, disturbed. Hecate is right, even though I don't want her to be. The Underworld needs its Queen. I am going to have to find a way to bring Persephone home sooner than later. If I don't, the consequences very well may be catastrophic.

Hecate wasn't wrong when she said the Underworld was dying. It's been dying. Together with those closest to me, we've been holding the crumbling realm together, but what was so natural for Persephone to sustain is draining the eternal souls from our immortal bodies.

We can't hold on much longer, I know. And if the Underworld dies, not only do the souls waiting for their time to be reborn lose their chance, but they will be cast into an eternal nothingness. The same eternal nothingness that will claim the souls of all who pass until there are no more souls to pass. Humanity will investigate the sudden end to births, and blame it on the evil souls— demons , they'll cry—spilled from the bowels of Tartarus. They will weep their confessions and pleas to a God who cannot help them. Can't save them.

If the Underworld dies, Tartarus will crumble. It will leak not only the evil souls bound to an eternity of punishment for their unimaginable atrocities, but it will unchain the Titans from their prisons within the blood bound paint I've sealed over an enchanted canvas. It will unchain them because my eternal life is bound to the Underworld.

I am only as immortal as the realm which I rule.

The portal opens into the basement of the Tower by design. Unknown by the people of today, my club is built over one of the greatest temples dedicated to the God of Death, now lost to time. It once disturbed me deeply, the way humans forgot their Gods and cast us into the idyllic personification of myth. The way we allowed such disrespect, too consumed by self-centered desires and Godly games to care. Now, such ignorance allows me to move unseen between this realm and the realm I rule.

Leuce smirks down at her phone screen. I don't ask and don't care, until she throws silver-grey hair over her shoulder, pinning her eyes to mine. Leuce moves with complete confidence, always has. Her unique beauty has paved the path of her self-assurance for millennia. It won't ever change. I don't want it to. Not ever.

"What?" My voice sounds dry. My mood is dark. All I want is to return to the Tower penthouse and see her. It's late, but I hope she's waiting up for me. I've never needed the taste of a woman quite like I need her right now. There is hope in a kiss. More in a freely given heart. Even the most dire of circumstance can be brightened by love.

Leuce's smirk doesn't tremble as she flips the screen of her phone for me to see. The image instantly has the blood in my veins boiling hotter than the river Phlegethon. My back teeth grind and the hands I've slid into my suit pockets curl into tight fists.

Persephone is awake, all right. What she very clearly isn't doing, however, is waiting for me.

She's wearing the red dress I ordered for her. It hugs her body exactly as I imagined it would. Only, the hands on her hips aren't mine. The man who dips his lips to her neck isn't me.

What. The. Fuck?

"Who sent that? "

Leuce flips her phone back around as she drags sharp white teeth over her full bottom lip. "Minthe."

"Minthe is with her?" At the deep rage in my voice, Leuce looks up. I'm shaking.

"Don't shoot the messenger, Hades."

"Why is she allowing this?"

"Oh." Leuce shrugs. "We didn't think you'd care?"

A low growl rumbles from my chest. The God is hovering under the surface of my skin, and if Leuce isn't careful, she may just see the monster she hasn't been privy to in centuries.

She seems to sense this, because she dips her eyes. A rare submission for Leuce. She explains softly, submissively. "You've been taking your time with her, Hades. It's been weeks—weeks and nothing. You haven't told her. You haven't taken her to the Underworld."

"Why does no one understand that I am trying to give her time ?" I roar the last word, my rage simply too much to contain.

Leuce doesn't look up. She's too smart for that. Too smart to challenge the ancient beast crafted by something much more powerful than the humans we've been pretending to be.

Her voice trembles. As do her hands. "The Underworld is in danger."

"I am aware."

"We're all in danger."

"I. Am. Aware. "

Leuce slides her phone into the deep pocket of her silver slacks. She begins to lower, her bow slight but there. "We only wanted to push you. To make you jealous so that you might hurry with her."

"You wanted me to crack and steal her away to the Underworld," I say.

It's not a question, but she answers it anyway. "We hoped."

"If I kill that boy, his soul is on you." I shove from the elevator into the club, my gaze instantly finding Persephone. She's still dancing with the boy, and something akin to magma bubbles in my veins. Memory slashes through me, cutting like a blade. Her and him, another life. Another touch.

"Hades!" Leuce hisses, bravely grabbing my arm and hissing when she feels my heat.

I don't stop moving toward the boy who is touching my mate. His soul clearly remembers his dealings with Aphrodite, because like he was in ancient times, he is a master of trickery when it comes to the heart. I can see it in his sea-colored eyes. He is a seductress of women, both human and Goddess. It is the same today as it was then.

I don't know this jealousy I bear now, the inability to reason through it. It was not this way in ancient times, when she stood as my mate and Queen. I had understood then, the need I awoke within her. I had encouraged her to share her body, and she had deeply enjoyed watching me share mine. Now, I could kill the boy with the ancient soul for daring to touch what is mine .

Only mine.

Something hot like acid rises in my throat as I grow near, watching the way her hips sway in his hands. I inhale sharply, trying to clear the acid—a mistake that nearly has me roaring deadly flame. With my inhale, I've scented her. She is aroused. With his hands on her, she is aroused.

I will kill him.

My hand shoots out to grab the boy by his shirt, fisting the material at his chest. Cameras on phones flash as the crowd gets loud, then quiet. I say one word, but I know he understands when he bobs his head eagerly. "Mine."

"Hades!" Persephone screams. Her hands come to my arm and she tugs at me to release my grip on Addison. The boy's chest smokes, and he plucks desperately at the shirt that covers his chest.

"You lit me on fire!" the reborn Adonis accuses, but Persephone doesn't hear him. She also doesn't seem affected by the heat that burned both Leuce and Addison as she takes my hand and pulls me to the edge of the dance floor.

Away from her friends and stumbling on her heels, she spins to me. "What the hell was that, Hades?"

I sniff the air again, shocked. "Are you drunk?"

She's always so careful not to drink to intoxication.

"Oh, no." She folds her arms over her chest, only making her cleavage more obvious. She shakes her head and sways on her heels. "We're not talking about me." I want to hide her from the sight of everyone. I don't understand this jealousy that is taking over me. It's new, my inability to reason with it. I don't like it. "Are you listening to me?"

"Are you drunk?" I repeat my question.

"Jesus, Hades." She rolls her eyes. "Maybe a little. I was having fun with friends since you weren't home. It's not a crime."

I lean into her, so close I can scent her cooling arousal. My anger rises along with a surge of hot jealousy. "You orgasmed in my hand last night, Persephone." Her face flares a hot shade of red. "I sucked the blood of your innocence from my fingers and tonight, I find you nearly fucking a kid on the dance floor of my club."

Her mouth drops. "I wasn't nearly fucking him. And he's not a kid."

I don't think she knows just how on edge I am.

"You were aroused," I accuse.

Her already dropped jaw drops again. "Screw you, Hades. I'm done. I quit. This isn't—this isn't worth?—"

It takes me less than five seconds to throw her little body over my shoulder and step into the elevator. She thinks she's quitting. She's not leaving me, even if it means I have to steal her to the Underworld and keep her a prisoner for the rest of her eternal life.

Fucking woman.

It looks like the scheming women in my life might get what they want after all. They've woken the ancient and barbaric side of me, and now I'm not sure I can rein him in.

Fucking women.

"Put me down you—" I don't wait for whatever names she thinks to call me. I just land a quick palm to her ass, the crack of it like lightning in the small space.

Persephone screams. Rage and something else flood her little body, but she's no match for me. Not now. Not yet, before she realizes the power she's capable of.

"You don't have the right to touch me like that."

"I have every right," I growl as the doors roll open to the Tower penthouse. Three sets of stone-cold eyes glare at me, but none of the dogs move to intervene.

Before I set Persephone, kicking and screaming on her own two feet, I disable the elevator. She'll need a code to escape, and unlucky for her, she doesn't have it.

With the elevator now inactive, I set her on her on the heels that make her legs look quite literally delectable, and stalk away from her.

The sound of her finger slamming into the button has a deadly smirk tugging at my lips. It widens into a smile when she lets out a loud shriek of frustration.

"What the hell is going on, Hades?" she demands. The slap of her heels sound over the tile as she follows me into the kitchen. "You can't just keep me where I don't want to be."

She's full of shit.

I'm beyond pissed and I need air. Like I knew she would, she follows me up the stairs to the rooftop patio. Noc, Jas, and Prim follow her.

The sky is a canvas of stars in ebony. Usually, one so close to the sky where Zeus and many of the other Gods and Goddesses have made their kingdom—the kingdom in which I am banned—would invite unsolicited visits of such Gods. Not me. I've been careful to ensure that such things would not occur, even going so far as to mock Zeus his inability to interrupt me here, so close to his own realm.

The flames that burst from the top of the tower, a shower of gold ribboned with blood red, were pulled straight from the deepest bowels of Tartarus. Not even the Gods are able to touch this flame unscathed. It is a power that is mine alone, this ability to walk in the fires unscorched. Mine and hers.

As Cerberus is of me, a companion I crafted in the beginning of my banishment to the realm of Death, when I'd been lonely and angry and filled with resentment, my dogs, as well, are immune.

I stroll to the bar, pouring wine into a glass. I can still smell her cooled arousal, the remnants of it clinging like dew to her skin.

"I'm talking to you, Hades, look at me."

If I look at her, I'm liable to whisk her away forever. I have a feeling she won't forgive me quite the same way that she did in ancient times. Something is different now. I sensed it from the very beginning.

If I take her, force her, I might succeed in capturing her body, but I will lose the ability to ever possess her heart. And her soul? It would be lost to me. There, but eternally out of reach.

I can imagine no greater torment. To be so close to the one thing that I require to survive, and live with the knowledge that she could be stolen from me at any moment.

It would drive me to madness. I know, I'm nearly there already and it's only been weeks. I can only imagine the effect that years of this would have on me. On her. The love I desperately want from her would sour with loathing, darken with hate.

The very thought has my teeth grinding, hands shaking.

"I am a jealous man, Persephone," I hear myself admit.

She stops moving closer, and I turn to look at her. She sways on her heels, the drink she consumed obviously having gone to her head. Her voice softens. "I was only dancing with him."

I roll my lips. Then I'm closing the distance between us, towering over her. Her breaths increase, goosebumps pricking her flesh. Tension leeches from my words as I growl, "You were aroused. I could smell it on you." Her lovely green eyes widen. "I can still smell it on you." My lip curls as I inhale again, as though to prove my point. "And I can smell him on you, too."

As I make to turn away, the fire under my flesh flaring again, Persephone catches me. "Don't—don't walk away from me."

Does she truly not know how close to snapping I am?

How dangerous this moment is for her? For me? Our future? I could ruin it all this very moment.

I shutter my eyes, not allowing myself to breathe, lest I scent him on her.

"Persephone," I warn. "I am trying to keep from doing something I will regret."

"I don't understand."

She truly sounds confused. How can that be?

She gasps when I open my eyes. I know she can see the flames there in the depths of the black. It's the first time I do nothing to hide it. I want her to see a glimpse of the beast I harbour deep within the human flesh I wear. I want her to know there is more to me—to us—than she currently thinks.

I watch as it happens, the human fragility of her mind fracturing. She shakes her head, pushing away the very possible possibility of what she deems impossible. She blinks fast, her lips parting, eyes casting downward as she stumbles back a step.

I shove the flames down, waiting. When she looks back up at me, raw confusion twists her expression. She's excusing away what she knows she saw, her human mind incapable of accepting the fact of sight when her mind is incapable of giving explanation for what she sees.

"I don't know what is happening." Her voice is small. I suddenly feel desperate to reassure her, but I am at war with myself.

And his scent still clings to her.

I put space between us. It's necessary, even as it pains me.

"I am not a man who shares, Persephone." At least, I'm no longer a man who shares. "When I touched you last night, I thought I made it clear that you were mine."

"That's not—I mean—I'm leaving in a few months."

I almost laugh. She won't be leaving.

I pin her with my black gaze, daring her to challenge me now. "While you are here, you are mine."

I think she might argue, but she surprises me when she agrees, "Okay."

"You will not allow another man to touch you. Not at all."

"Okay."

I steal a breath—finally—and taste him on the air. I growl and her eyes widen. She wets her lips nervously, her voice painfully small as she asks, "You can really smell him on me, can't you?"

"Yes."

"How is that possible?"

When I don't reply for long moments, simply holding my breath to hold the reins of my slipping sanity, Persephone gives me a small nod. She turns away from me, looking indecisive as she stands between the door to escape and me.

She steals another glance at me, and something steels in her soft eyes. Determination, I think curiously.

And then she moves. She bends to untie the straps of her shoes first, before she reaches behind her for the zipper of her dress. She shrugs from the clingy material, letting it fall to the patio around her feet before she steps from the puddle of brilliant red in nothing but her black panties.

Blood rushes to my groin in one quick swoop, leaving my head momentarily empty of everything but her.

She's exquisite. Her pale skin, perfectly unblemished, and white-blonde hair reflects in the high silver moonlight, casting her in an ethereal glow. I watch as she sucks air into her chest, her breasts with the pebbled pink nipples expanding. I ache to taste her. To suck her breasts into my mouth, to nibble and lick and draw moans and cries from the depths of her. I long to erase his touch with mine. To banish his scent with my own.

I am a jealous God.

I watch, unable to take my eyes off her as she dips dainty fingers into the black band of her panties. Slowly, she pushes them down her legs until they are a puddle on the floor with her dress.

She is completely naked. Every inch of her delectable skin is on display for me.

She can't possibly know how dangerous this is. How very tempted I am to take this woman who is my mate, and claim all of her for my own.

I don't move, waiting, watching, for whatever she does next.

She surprises me as she moves to the edge of the pool, and dives gracefully into the blue water. I move to the edge, standing fully clothed above her as she breaks the water to look up at me.

My voice sounds rough even to me. "What are you doing?"

Her eyes drag the length of me, landing on my erection and bouncing quickly back to mine. Her voice is breathy as she swims to the edge, pulling herself up to stand before me, dripping wet and lovely.

I should shutter my eyes. She is the personification of temptation and this is a test.

I can't look away from her though.

"You said you could smell another man on me," she says simply. "So, I washed him off."