A Touch of Darkness (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 1)

Persephone couldn’t sleep.

Unspent energy coursed through her veins, making her body feel flushed beneath the blankets. She pushed them off but found little relief. Her thin cotton nightgown was like a weight against her skin, and when she moved, the fabric brushed against her sensitive breasts. She curled her fingers into fists and clamped her thighs together to stop the pressure building in her core.

And she could think of no one else but Hades—the press of his body against hers, the heat of his kiss, the feel of his tongue tasting more than the skin of her collarbone.

She sighed, frustrated, and shifted in bed, but the pulsing didn’t stop.

“This is ridiculous,” she said aloud and got to her feet. She paced her room. She should be focusing on fulfilling the terms of the contract with Hades, not kissing the King of the Dead.

Stupid Favor, she thought.

Each time Hades kissed her, things went farther and farther. Now she’d been brought to the edge of something she didn’t understand—something she hadn’t explored and couldn’t shake.

She looked at her bed—the rumpled comforter made it appear like she’d shared it with someone. She clenched and unclenched her fists. She had to make this feeling go away or she wasn’t going to sleep, and she had too much to do. She and Lexa had to go shopping and get ready for the Olympian Gala.

She made a split-second decision and stepped out of her panties. The cool air eased the tension in her core—just barely. It also made her hyper-aware of the dampness between her thighs. Lying down again, she moved her legs apart and drew her fingers along her thigh until they trailed her sex. She was wet and hot, and her fingers sank into a part of her she had never touched. She gasped, arching her back as she pleasured herself. Her thumb found that sensitive place at the apex of her thighs—and she worked it the way Hades had taught her, until her body felt electric and waves of pleasure made her dizzy and unaware.

She rolled onto her knees, working herself hard, imagining it was Hades hand in place of hers, imagining that she could fill his hard length inside her. She knew that if Minthe hadn’t interrupted, she would have let Hades take her in the pool. That thought spurred her on. Her breath came harder and she moved faster.

“Tell me you’re thinking about me.” His voice came from the shadows—a chill breeze against a bright flame.

Persephone froze and rolled, finding Hades standing at the end of her bed. She couldn’t tell what he was wearing in the dark, but she could see his eyes, and they glittered like coals in the night.

When she said nothing, he prompted, “Well?”

Her thoughts scattered. A small shaft of light fell across a cheekbone and his full lips. She wanted those lips in all the places she felt fire. She rose onto her knees and kept his gaze as she removed her nightshirt completely. Hades growled low in his throat and braced himself against the footboard of the bed.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I was thinking about you.”

The tension in the air thickened. Hades spoke in a growl that made Persephone’s skin prick. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Persephone began where she left off. Hades inhaled between gritted teeth as he watched her pleasure herself. At first, she maintained eye contact, reveling in the feel of his eyes roving every inch of her skin, reveling in this sin. Soon the pleasure was too much, and her head rolled back, her hair spilled down her back, exposing her breasts for Hades’ viewing.

“Come for me,” he urged, and then commanded again. “Come, my darling.”

And she did with a strangled cry. Sweet release pulsed through her and she collapsed onto the bed. Her body shook, coming off the high. She breathed deep, inhaling the smell of pine and ash, and as she regained her scattered thoughts, the reality of her boldness descended like her mother’s wrath.

Hades.

Hades was in her bedroom.

She sat up with a start, scrambling for her nightshirt to cover her bare skin. It was a little ridiculous, given what had happened between them. She started to lecture Hades on his abuse of power and breach of privacy when she discovered she was alone.

She craned her neck around the room.

“Hades?” She whispered his name, feeling both ridiculous and nervous at the same time. She pulled on her nightshirt and slipped off the bed, checking every corner of her room, but he was nowhere to be found.

Had her desire been so strong she hallucinated?

Feeling uncertain, she climbed into bed, eyes heavy, and fell asleep to the rhythmic reminder that hallucinations don’t smell like pine and ash.

***

“You look like a goddess,” Lexa said.

Persephone studied her red silk gown in the mirror. It was simple, but fit her like a glove, accentuating the curve of her hips where the fabric gathered and then split mid-thigh to expose one creamy leg. A pretty black floral appliqué spilled from her right shoulder down the right side of the open back. Lexa had styled her hair for her, pulling it into a high, curled ponytail, and done her makeup, choosing a dark smoky eye. Persephone accessorized with simple gold earrings and the gold cuff she wore to cover Hades’ mark. Right now, she felt the burn of it on her skin.

Persephone blushed. “Thank you.”

But Lexa wasn’t finished. She added, “Like…the Goddess of the Underworld.”

Persephone remembered Yuri’s words and the soul’s hope that Hades would soon have a queen. “There is no Goddess of the Underworld.”

“The spot’s just vacant,” Lexa said.

Persephone didn’t want to talk about Hades. She would see him soon enough, and she had never felt so confused about anything in her life. She knew her attraction to him would only get her in trouble; despite hating Minthe’s words, she believed them. Hades wasn’t the type of god who wanted a relationship, and she already knew he didn’t believe in love.

Persephone wanted love. Desperately. She’d been denied so much all her life. She wouldn’t be denied love, too.

Persephone shook her head, clearing those thoughts away. “How’s Jaison?”

Lexa had met Jaison at La Rose. They’d exchanged numbers and had been talking ever since. He was a year older than them and a computer engineer. When Lexa talked about him, it sounded like they were complete opposites, but somehow it was working.

Lexa blushed. “I really like him.”

Persephone grinned. “You deserve it, Lex.”

“Thank you.”

Lexa popped back into her room to finish getting ready and Persephone had just started to look for her clutch when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” she called to Lexa.

When she answered, she found no one there, but a package rested on their doorstep—a white box with a red ribbon tied in a bow. She picked it up and brought it inside, looking to see if it was addressed to anyone.

She found a tag that read Persephone.

Inside, resting on black velvet, was a note and a mask: Wear this with your crown.

Persephone sat it aside and pulled out a beautifully filigree gold mask—despite its detail, it was simple and didn’t cover much of her face.

“Is that from Hades?” Lexa asked, stepping into the kitchen. Persephone’s mouth fell open when she saw her best friend. Lexa had chosen a strapless royal blue taffeta gown for tonight’s affair; her white mask, embellished with silver, had a poof of feathers coming out of the top right side.

“Well?” she prompted when Persephone didn’t answer.

“Oh,” she looked down at the mask. “No, it’s not from Hades.”

Persephone took the box to her room. She felt a little silly putting the crown Ian had given her on her head, but once her mask was on, she understood Hecate’s instruction. The combination was striking, and she really did look like a queen.

Persephone and Lexa took a cab to the Museum of Ancient Arts. Their tickets indicated an arrival time of five thirty—an hour and a half earlier than the gods. No one wanted pictures of mortals unless they draped the arm of one of the Divine.

They waited in the back of the stuffy cab at the end of a long line of vehicles before they were finally let out at the edge of a grand set of steps covered in red carpet. Persephone was grateful for the fresh air—except that she was immediately accosted by the flash of camera lights. She felt crowded and claustrophobic, her chest tightened once again.

Attendances usher them up the steps into the ominous museum, the façade of which was modern—made of concrete pillars and glass. Once inside, they were led down a hall lined with glittering crystals that hung on strands like lights. It was beautiful and an element Persephone did not expect.

Anticipation rose as they neared the end of the hallway and passed through a curtain of the same crystals into a richly decorated room. There were several round tables covered in black cloth and crowded with fine china, organized around a ballroom’s edge—leaving space in the center for dancing. The real masterpieces decorated the center—marble statues that paid homage to the gods of Ancient Greece.

“Persephone, look.” Lexa elbowed her, and she tilted her head back to study the beautiful chandelier at the center of the room. Strands of shimmering crystals draped the ceiling and gleamed like the stars in the Underworld’s sky.

They found their table, snagged a glass of wine, and spent time mingling. Persephone admired Lexa’s ability to make friends with anyone; she started chatting with a couple at their table and their group grew to include several more by the time a chime sounded in the room. Everyone exchanged looks, and Lexa gasped.

“Persephone, the gods are coming! Come on!” Lexa took Persephone’s hand, dragging her across the floor and to a set of stairs that led to the second floor.

“Lexa, where are we going?” Persephone asked as they headed to the stairs.

“To watch the gods arrive!” she said, as if that were obvious.

“But…won’t we see them inside?”

“Not the point! I’ve watched this part on television for years. I want to see it in person tonight.”

There were several exhibits on the second floor, but Lexa made a beeline for a spot on the outdoor terrace, which overlooked the entrance to the museum. There were already several people crowded around the balcony’s edge to get a look at the Divine as they arrived, but Persephone and Lexa managed to squeeze into a small space. A mass of screaming fans and journalists crowded the sidewalks and the other side of the street, and camera lights flashed like lightning all around.

“Look! There’s Ares!” Lexa squealed, but Persephone’s stomach turned.

She did not like Ares. He was a god who thirsted for blood and violence. He was one of the loudest voices before The Great Descent, persuading Zeus to descend to the Earth and make war upon the mortals, and Zeus had listened—ignoring the advice and wisdom of Ares’ counterpart, Athena.

The God of War made his way up the steps in a gold chiton with a red cape covering one shoulder. Part of his chest was uncovered, revealing statuesque muscles and golden skin, and instead of a mask he bore a golden helm with a red plume of feathers falling down his back. His scimitar-horns were long, lithe, and lethal, bowing back with his feathers, completing a regal, beautiful, and frightening image.

After Ares came Poseidon. He was huge, his shoulders, chest, and arms bulging beneath the fabric of his aquamarine suit jacket. He had pretty blond hair that reminded Persephone of restless waves, and wore a minimal mask that shimmered like the inside of a shell. She had the thought that Poseidon wanted no mystery to his presence.

Following Poseidon was Hermes, handsome in a flashy gold suit. He had dropped the glamour from his wings, and the feathers created a cloak about his body. It was the first time Persephone had seen the God of Trickery without his glamour. Upon his head, he wore a crown of gold leaves. Persephone could tell he liked walking the red carpet; he rejoiced in the attention, smiling broadly and posing. She thought about calling to him, but she didn’t need to—he found her quickly, winking at her before disappearing from view.

Apollo arrived in a gold chariot pulled by white horses, recognizable at once with his dark curls and violet eyes. His skin was a burnished brown and made his white chiton glow like a flame. Instead of showing off his horns, he wore a gold crown that resembled the sun’s rays. And he was accompanied by a woman Persephone recognized.

“Sybil!” she and Lexa called happily, but the beautiful blonde couldn’t hear them over the cries of the crowd. Journalists screamed questions at Sybil, asking for her name, demanding to know who she was, where she was from, and how long she’d been with Apollo.

Persephone admired the way Sybil handled it all. She seemed to enjoy the attention, smiling and waving, and she actually answered the questions. Her beautiful red gown shimmered as she walked beside Apollo into the museum.

Persephone recognized Demeter’s vehicle—a long, white limo. Her mother went for a more modern look, choosing a lavender ball gown that dripped with pink petals. It literally looked like a garden was growing up her skirts. Tonight her hair was up, her antlers on display, and her expression grim.

Lexa leaned in and whispered to Persephone, “Something must be wrong. Demeter always works the red carpet.”

Lexa was right. Her mother usually put on a fashionable and flamboyant show, smiling and waving at the crowd. Tonight, she frowned, barely glancing at the journalists when they called to her. All Persephone could think was that, whatever her mother was going through, it was all her fault.

She shook her head.

Stop, she told herself. She wasn’t going to let Demeter ruin her fun. Not tonight.

The crowd grew louder as the next limo arrived, and Aphrodite stepped out wearing a surprisingly tasteful evening gown, the bodice decorated in white and pink flowers, the middle see-through with flowers trailing down into folds of tulle. She wore a headpiece of pink peonies and pearls, and her graceful gazelle horns sprouted from her head behind it. She was stunning, but the thing about Aphrodite—all the goddesses, really—was that they were warriors, too. And the Goddess of Love, for whatever reason, was particularly vicious.

She waited outside her limo, and both Persephone and Lexa groaned when they saw none other than Adonis clamber from the backseat. Lexa leaned in and whispered, “Rumor has it, Hephaestus didn’t want her.”

Persephone snorted. “You can’t believe everything you hear, Lexa.”

Hephaestus was not an Olympian, but he was the God of Fire. Persephone didn’t know much about him except that he was quiet and a brilliant inventor. She’d heard a lot of rumors about his marriage to Aphrodite, and none of them were good—something about how Hephaestus was forced to marry Aphrodite.

The last to arrive were Zeus and Hera.

Zeus, like his brothers, was huge, and wore a chiton that exposed part of his well-muscled chest. His brown hair fell in waves to his shoulders, threaded through with hints of silver-white, matching his full and well-manicured beard. He wore a golden crown that fit between a pair of ram horns that curled down around his face, fierce and terrifying.

Beside him, Hera walked with an air of grace and nobility, her long brown hair pulled over her shoulder. Her dress was beautiful but simple—black, the bodice embroidered with colorful peacock feathers. A gold circlet rested on her head, fitting perfectly around a pair of stag horns.

Though Demetri had told her Hades never arrived alongside the other gods, Persephone thought he might make an exception this time, with the evening being themed after his realm; but when the crowds began to disperse at Zeus and Hera’s arrival, she realized he wasn’t coming—at least not via this entrance.

“Weren’t they all magnificent?” Lexa asked as she and Persephone headed inside.

They were—each and every one of them. And yet, for all their style and glamour, Persephone still yearned to see one face among the crowd.

She started down the stairs and halted abruptly.

He’s here. The feeling tore through her, straightening her spine. She could feel him, taste his magic. Then her eyes found what they sought, and the room was suddenly too hot.

“Persephone?” Lexa asked when she didn’t move. Then she followed Persephone’s stare, and it wasn’t long before the whole room grew quiet.

Hades stood at the entrance, the crystal backdrop creating a beautiful and sharp contrast to his tailored black suit. The jacket was velvet with a simple red flower in the breast pocket. His hair was slick and tied in a bun at the back of his head, his beard trimmed close and sharp, and he wore a plain black mask that only covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose.

Her eyes trailed from his shiny black shoes up his tall, powerful frame and over his broad shoulders to his glittering coal eyes. He had found her, too. The heat of his gaze tracked her, roving every inch of her body, and she felt like a flame exposed to a chill wind.

She might have spent all night staring at him if it wasn’t for the red-haired nymph who appeared beside him. Minthe was gorgeous, dressed in an emerald gown with a sweetheart neckline. It hugged her hips and flared out, leaving a train of fabric behind her. Her neck and ears were laden with fine jewels that gleamed as the light hit them. Persephone wondered if Hades’ had supplied them as Minthe looped her arm through his.

Her anger burned hot, and she knew her glamour was melting. Her gaze shifted to Hades, and she glared at him. If he thought he could have her and Minthe, too, he was wrong.

She downed the remainder of her wine and then looked at Lexa. “Let’s find another drink.”

Persephone and Lexa cut through the crowd, flagging down a server to exchange their empty glasses for full ones.

“Can you hold this?” Lexa asked. “I need the restroom.”

Persephone took Lexa’s glass and started to drink from her own when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” She turned to find Hermes approaching through the crowd. “A Goddess of Tartarus.”

Persephone raised a brow in question.

“Get it? Torture?”

She gave him a blank stare and he frowned. “Because you’re torturing Hades?”

It was Persephone’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Oh, come on! Why else would you wear that dress?”

“For myself,” she answered a little defensively. She hadn’t chosen her dress with Hades in mind; she had wanted to look beautiful and sexy and feel powerful.

This dress did all those things.

The God of Trickery lifted a brow, smirked, and conceded, “Fair. Still, the whole room noticed you were eye-fucking Hades.”

“I was not—” she clamped her mouth shut, her cheeks reddening..

“Don’t worry—everyone noticed him eye-fucking you, too.”

Persephone rolled her eyes. “Did they also notice Minthe on his arm?”

Hermes’ smile became wicked. “Someone’s jealous.”

She started to deny it, but decided it was silly to even try. She was jealous, so she admitted, “I am.”

“Hades isn’t interested in Minthe.”

“It sure doesn’t look that way,” she muttered.

“Trust me. Hades cares for her, but if he was interested, he would have made her his queen a long time ago.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hermes shrugged. “That if he loved her, he would have married her.”

Persephone scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like Hades. He doesn’t believe in love.”

“Well, who am I to say? I have only known Hades for centuries, and you—a few months.”

Persephone frowned.

It had been hard for her to see Hades in any other light than the one her mother cast upon him—and it was ugly and unflattering. She had to admit, the more time she spent in the Underworld and with him, the more she was starting to question just how much truth there was to what her mother had said, and the rumors spread by mortals.

Hermes nudged her with his shoulder. “Don’t worry, love. When you’re jealous, just make a point to remind Hades of what he’s missing.”

She looked at him and he kissed her cheek. The move surprised her, and Hermes laughed, calling back as he flounced away, his white wings dragging the ground like a regal cape, “Save a dance for me!”

Lexa returned just then, she looked bewildered. “Um, did Hermes just kiss you on the cheek?”

Persephone cleared her throat. “Yeah.”

“Do you know him?”

“I met him at Nevernight.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Persephone frowned. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think about it.”

Lexa’s eyes softened. “It’s okay. I know things have been insane recently.”

There was a reason Lexa was her best friend, and it was moments like this when Persephone felt the most thankful for her.

They cut through the crowd and returned to their table for dinner. They were served a combination of ancient and modern foods—an appetizer of olives, grapes, figs, wheat bread, and cheese, an entrée of fish, vegetables, and rice, and rich chocolate cake for dessert.

Despite the beautiful spread, Persephone found she wasn’t all that hungry.

Conversation around the table wasn’t lacking. The group talked about various topics including the Pentathlon and Titans After Dark, their conversation interrupted only when clapping began and Minthe strolled across stage to take the podium.

“Lord Hades is honored to reveal this year’s charity—The Halcyon Project,” she announced.

The lights in the room dimmed, and a screen lowered to play a short video about Halcyon, a new rehabilitation center specializing in free care for mortals. The video detailed statistics about the large number of accidental deaths due to overdoses, suicide rates, and other challenges mortals faced post-Great War era and how the Olympians had a duty to help.

They were words Persephone had spoken, repackaged for his audience.

What is this? Persephone wondered. Was this Hades’ way of making fun of her? Her hands curled into fists in her lap.

Then the video ended, and the lights came up. Persephone was surprised to see Hades standing on the stage—his presence elicited cheers from the audience.

“Days ago, an article was published in New Athens News. It was a scathing critique of my performance as a god, but among those angry words were suggestions on how I could be better. I don’t imagine the woman who wrote it expected me to take those ideas to heart, but in spending time with her, I started to see things her way.” He paused to chuckle under his breath, as if recalling something they’d shared, and Persephone shivered. “I’ve never met anyone who was so passionate about how I was wrong, so I took her advice and initiated The Halcyon Project. As you move though the exhibit, it is my hope that Halcyon will serve as a flame in the dark for the lost.”

The crowd erupted in applause, standing to honor the god. Even a few of the Divine followed, including Hermes.

It took Persephone a moment to rise to her feet. She was shocked by Hades’ charity, but also wary. Was he only doing this to reverse the damage she’d done to his reputation? Was he trying to prove her wrong?

Lexa shot Persephone a quizzical look.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Persephone said.

She arched a brow. “And what am I thinking?”

“He didn’t do this for me. He did this for his reputation.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Lexa grinned. “I think he’s besotted.”

“Besotted? You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”

Lexa walked toward the exhibit with the others at their table, but Persephone hung back, afraid to see more of the creation inspired by her. She couldn’t explain her hesitation. Maybe it was because she knew she was in danger of falling for this god who her mother hated and who’d lured her into a contract she couldn’t win. Maybe it was because he listened to her. Maybe it was because she had never felt more attracted to another person in her short, sheltered life.

She wandered into the exhibit slowly. The space was dimmed so the spotlight showed on the exhibits, which illustrated the plans and mission for The Halcyon Project. Persephone took her time and stopped at the center of the room to observe a small, white model of the building. The card beside it stated it was Hades’ design. It was not a modern building like she had expected; it looked like a country mansion, nestled on ten acres of lush land.

She spent a long time roaming through the exhibit, reading every presentation, learning about the technology that would be incorporated into the facility. It was truly state-of-the-art.

By the time she left, people had already begun dancing. She caught sight of Lexa with Hermes and Aphrodite with Adonis. She was glad her co-worker hadn’t tried talking to her and had been keeping his distance from her at work.

It took her a moment, but she realized she was searching for Hades. He was not among the dancers or those in attendance at the tables. She frowned and turned to find Sybil approaching.

“Persephone,” she smiled, and they hugged. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you.”

“What do you think of the exhibit? Marvelous, isn’t it?”

“It is.” She couldn’t deny, it was everything she’d imagined and more.

“I knew great things would come of your union,” she said.

“Our…union?” Persephone echoed slowly.

“You and Hades.”

“Oh, we’re not together—”

“Perhaps not yet. But your colors, they’re all tangled up. They have been since the night I met you.”

“Colors?”

“Your paths,” Sybil said. “You and Hades—it was destiny, woven by the Fates.”

Persephone wasn’t sure what to say. Sybil was an oracle, so the words that came from her mouth were truth, but could it really be that she was fated to wed the God of the Dead? The man her mother hated?

Sybil frowned. “Are you okay?”

Persephone wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m sorry. I…should not have told you. I thought you would be happy.”

“I’m not…unhappy,” Persephone assured her. “I just…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Tonight and the last few days were weighing on her, the emotions varying and intense. If she were destined to be with Hades, it explained her insatiable attraction to the god—and yet it complicated so many other things in her life.

“Will you excuse me?” She headed for the bathroom.

Once inside, safely alone, she took a few deep breaths, braced her hands on either side of the sink, and looked at herself in the mirror. She turned on the faucet, running cold water over her hands, and splashed her heated cheeks lightly, trying not to disturb her makeup. She patted her face dry and prepared to return to the floor when she heard an unfamiliar voice.

“So, you are Hades’ little muse?” The tone was rich, seductive—a voice that lured men and bewitched mortals. Aphrodite came into view behind her, and Persephone wasn’t sure where the goddess had come from—but once she met her gaze, she found it hard to move.

Aphrodite was beautiful, and Persephone got the feeling she had met this goddess before, though she knew that was impossible. Her eyes were the color of sea foam and framed by thick lashes, her skin like cream and her cheeks lightly flushed. Her lips were of a perfect fullness and pout. Yet despite her beauty, there was something behind her expression—something that made Persephone think she was lonely and sad.

Maybe what Lexa said was true, and Hephaestus didn’t want her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Persephone said.

“Oh, don’t play coy. I saw the way you looked at him. He has always been handsome. I used to tell him all he would have to do is show his face and his realm would fill with the willing and faithful.”

That made Persephone feel a little sick. She didn’t wish to discuss this with anyone, much less Aphrodite. “Excuse me.” She tried to step around Aphrodite, but the goddess stopped her.

“But I am not finished speaking.”

“You misunderstand. I don’t want to speak to you.”

The Goddess of Spring pushed past Aphrodite and left the bathroom, snatching a glass of champagne from a server and finding a spot to watch the dancers. She considered leaving; Jaison had already agreed to pick Lexa up, as she was planning to spend the night at his house.

Just when she had decided to call the cab, she felt Hades’ approach. She straightened, preparing for his closeness, but did not turn to face him.

“Anything to critique, Lady Persephone?” His voice rumbled low in his throat like a heady spell.

“No,” she whispered, and looked to her right. She still couldn’t see him, even in her peripheral. “How long have you been planning The Halcyon Project?”

“Not long.”

“It will be beautiful.”

She felt him lean closer. She was surprised when his fingers brushed along her shoulder, tracing the edge of the black appliqué. Now and then, he touched skin-to-skin, and she shivered.

“A touch of darkness,” His fingers tracked down her arm and threaded through hers. “Dance with me.”

She didn’t pull away and instead turned to face him. He never failed to take her breath away, but there was a gentleness to his face that made her heart hammer in her chest. “All right.”

Eyes tracked them, curious and surprised, as Hades led her onto the floor. Persephone did her best to ignore the stares and instead focused on the god beside her. He was so much taller, so much bigger, and when he turned to face her, she was reminded of how he’d touched her in his pool.

His fingers remained twined with hers as the other hand landed on her hip. She didn’t take her eyes from his as he drew her close, growling low under his breath as they moved together. He guided her, and each brush of their bodies inflamed her. For a while, neither of them spoke, and Persephone wondered if Hades found it hard to speak for the same reasons she did.

That was probably why she chose to fill the silence with her next comment. “You should be dancing with Minthe.”

Hades’ lips thinned. “Would you prefer that I dance with her?”

“She’s your date.”

“She is not my date. She is my assistant, as I have told you.”

“Your assistant doesn’t arrive on your arm to a gala.”

His hold on her tightened, and she wondered if he was frustrated. “You are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” she said—and she wasn’t anymore. She was angry. He smirked at her denial, and she wanted to hit him. “I will not be used, Hades.”

That wiped the smirk off his face. “When have I used you?”

She didn’t respond.

“Answer, Goddess.”

“Have you slept with her?”

It was the only question that mattered.

He stopped dancing, and those who shared the floor with them did, too, watching with obvious interest. “It sounds like you are requesting a game, Goddess.”

“You want to play a game?” she scoffed, stepping away from him. “Now?”

He did not answer, and simply held out his hand for her to take. A few weeks ago, she would have hesitated, but tonight she’d had a few glasses of wine, her skin was hot, and this dress was uncomfortable.

Besides, she wanted answers to her questions.

She clasped his hand, and as his fingers closed over hers, he smiled wickedly before teleporting to the Underworld.