Page 42 of A Game of Fate


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“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hermes might be the messenger of the gods, but he was also trickery and mischief. He liked fuckery, and he had been responsible for many battles between gods.

“Only that I will enjoy watching your balls get bluer by the hour.”

Hades offered a small smile, and after a beat, he looked at Hermes.

“Thank you, Hermes, for saving Persephone.”

He vanished before the god could grin.

CHAPTER X – MIND GAMES

Hades sat in a chair before his fireplace, drinking and watching Persephone sleep. The slow rise and fall of her body as she breathed soothed his nerves. His head swarmed with the events of the last few days—discovering his connection with the beautiful goddess, their subsequent bargain, her anger toward him for merely being the God of the Dead.

She might hate him, but she had let him get close to her today, and he was not sure he would ever be the same. He had hoped to maintain a modicum of control over this situation the Fates had woven for him, but he felt like he was losing that battle each time he looked at the woman in his bed.

He had lost his composure twice in the span of an hour—first with Hermes, and then with the dead in the river—because this goddess was curious, because seeing her bleed had ignited rage in him so hot, he’d had no other place to expel it except at those who had injured her.

Perhaps you should meditate, he heard Hecate’s voice echoing in his head.

“Fuck meditation,” he said aloud.

Then Persephone stirred, and he stilled. She sat up quickly and then paused to close her eyes.

Dizzy, he thought, frowning.

When she opened her eyes again, they were bottle-green and seemed to glow like pale light streaming through a muted window. She stared at him with those eyes for what seemed like an eternity. His body tensed beneath her gaze, his grip tightened around his glass, and the fingers of his other hand pressed into the supple leather of his chair. His cock grew hard, pinned against his leg and trousers.

“How long have I been here?” she asked. Her voice was husky, and he wanted to groan. Instead, he managed a one-word reply.

“Hours.”

Her eyes grew wide.“What time is it?”

He shrugged because he did not know.“Late.”

“I have to go.”

Hades expected her to be angry or react with a sense of hysteria, but she didn’t. She just sat there in a pool of black silk looking beautiful and rosy and warm.

“You have come all this way. Allow me to offer you a tour of my world.”

He stood and downed the last of his whiskey. Her eyes did not waiver from his as he approached and drew the covers from her, revealing a sliver of skin between her breasts where her robe had parted in her sleep. It took everything in his power to avert his eyes as she clasped the robe closed. After a moment, he extended his hand. Her fingers slipped into his, and he found himself wondering when he would stop being surprised by her willingness to touch him. He guided her to her feet and waited for her to look up at him before asking,“Are you well?”

“Better,” she answered quietly.

He traced the curve of her cheek.“Trust that I am devastated that you were hurt in my realm.”

Her gaze told him she was surprised by his words, or perhaps their sincerity.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, but okay was not good enough.

“It will never happen again. Come.”

He guided her to the balcony outside his room, where the Forest of Ash stretched for miles, meeting a wall of obsidian mountains. She wandered ahead of him, her fingers twined with his as she peered over the balcony.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

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