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Hades took the glass, and before he thought too long on the subject, said,“I have a job for you.”
“Yes, my lord?”
Hades nodded to the woman who had triggered him with her golden hair and green eyes.
“That woman, I want to know if she leaves with anyone.”
Silence followed Hades’ order, and when the god looked at Ilias, he was staring back, brow raised.“Is she in danger, my lord?”
Yes, he thought, she was in danger of never leaving this place. Something inside him wanted to disregard every civility andpossessher. Something about her called to him—a thread that pulled at his heart.
He froze as those words surfaced in his mind, eyes narrowing, and thought,it cannot be.
Hades peeled back layer after layer of glamour that kept his vision shielded from the ethereal Threads of Fate. They were like shimmering spiderwebs connecting people and things—some were wisps, others were solid, their strength waxed and waned throughout life. The whole floor was like a net, but Hades was only focused on one, fragile cord that ran from his chest to the woman in shimmering pink.
Fucking Fates.
“My lord?” Ilias asked, sensing the sudden change in him.
This cannot be, he thought. The thread and its placement near his heart had significance in a way he was not quite able to wrap his mind around—the Fates had woven this woman into his life.
She was meant to be his lover.
“Lord Hades?”
“Yes,” the god finally answered, looking at Ilias as he turned from the floor.“Yes, she is in danger.”
He left in a daze, pausing in the shadow to collect his thoughts. His chest felt tight, the thread pulled taunt, and he had the thought that if he continued his retreat, it might snap.
This is some sort of game.
It would not be the first time the Fates had dangled a wish in front of him, only to take it away. That was probably their greatest skill—extracting his deepest desires, then weaving them into his life, only to unravel them when they wished.
It was torture.
When he was younger, it had been more fun for the Fates because his reactions were vicious, his retribution violent, but the angrier he became, the more the Fates took. It was like the sisters wanted to see him tear the world to shreds.
For a while, he had obsessed over it, attempting to bargain for love. When that did not work, he decided to defy the Fates. He would find love; he would force it. The results had been a one-night stand with Minthe and a tumultuous relationship with another nymph named Leuce, who had betrayed him.
His wrath had been swift, and his desire to fight Fate on the subject, quashed. He resigned himself to a lonely existence, building walls around his heart and soul. He existed without expectation of happiness or love, and focused instead on bargaining and balance.
Until now.
He would forever remember the vicious reaction his body had when he laid eyes on the woman in pink. His insides still shook. How could the Fates offer him a taste of what it might feel like to have a soulmate, only to take her away?
As easily as I can condemn a soul to Tartarus, he answered, gritting his teeth.
He was still frustrated as he made his way to the lounge. As he approached, Euryale, the gorgon who stood guard at the entrance, nodded at him despite his invisibility.
“My lord,” she said.
The god smirked, dropping his glamour.
The gorgon was blind. Centuries ago, her eyes had been gouged out of her face and the venomous snakes that had once graced her head had been chopped to pieces—a punishment for her beauty. Hades had found her in the forest. She lay where she had been attacked, curled into the fetal position, sobbing and shaking. He had gathered her up and brought her to the Underworld, allowing her to heal before employing her.
Despite the horror she had experienced, and her attackers’ attempts to take away her power, they had not succeeded, for beneath that blindfold, Euryale’s gaze was still potent. After she healed, Hades released her upon her attackers, and the gorgon had turned them all to stone.
“Your sense of smell amazes me, Euryale.”
