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“Why must I want something?” she asked.“Perhaps I am just bored and in need of entertainment.”
“There is nothing more dangerous than a bored Aphrodite,” Hades mused.
She pouted.“Please, Hades?”
He met her gaze and sipped from his glass before answering.
“No, Aphrodite.”
She was after more than entertainment. He could see it in the way she carried herself, rigid and tense. Something had brought her here, and if he had to guess, it had to do with her husband.
“Fine.” She lifted her chin in defiance.“You forced my hand.”
He glared at her, knowing what she was going to say next.
“I have an unclaimed favor from you, Hades. I wish to use it.”
A favor owed between gods was like a blood pact. Once invoked, it could not be taken back.
“You would waste a favor on a game of cards?” he asked. He knew the answer—whatever had brought Aphrodite here, it was worth spending.
Her eyes flashed.“It is not a waste.”
He took a drink of his whiskey. It kept him from saying anything he might regret before he gritted out,“One game, Aphrodite, no more.”
She brightened like he had given her the stars in the sky.“Thank you, Hades.”
Hades snapped his fingers, and the two teleported to the Ruby Suite upstairs. It was one of several rooms Hades used when bargaining with mortals. They were all named after precious stones. He chose this one intentionally, as a bit of a jab at Aphrodite. Ruby was passion—something she lacked these days. The walls were red, and black fabric was draped from floor to ceiling, framing sensual monochrome photos. A pack of unopened cards sat at the center of a table, which was positioned under a pool of muted light.
As Hades took his seat, he offered them to Aphrodite.“Would you like to deal?”
“No.” A smile curled her lips.“I’ll let you retain some power, Aidoneus.”
He glared at her. He did not like that nickname. Mortals used it out of fear. She used it now to taunt him.
“Blackjack, then.”
“Five hands,” Aphrodite said.“Whoever wins the most, sets stakes.”
Hades agreed, dealt the first hand, and lost. His fingers curled into a fist on his thigh.
“What do you see when you look at my soul, Hades?” Aphrodite asked offhand, pursing her lips as he dispensed the cards again.
The question was not all that surprising. It was one he received often, but never from Aphrodite.
“Why do you ask?”
When she met his gaze, he saw she was serious and that she also feared the truth. It was present in her eyes, a shadow that flickered across her expression. She did not look at him long before focusing on her cards.
“Hit me,” she said, and Hades gave her another card before revealing their hands—Hades had two aces and a twelve of diamonds, Aphrodite, a bust. She frowned at her loss but continued to speak as Hades dealt a third hand.
“I just wonder if I’m as horrible as Hephaestus seems to think.”
Aphrodite was not horrible, but her union with Hephaestus had hardened her heart and broken her spirit. What was left was a spiteful and cynical shell.
Hades had been bitter once, too, but unlike Aphrodite, who dealt with her anger and loneliness by entertaining herself with mortals and gods, he had isolated himself further and further, until the only thing people could do was make up stories and tales about the elusive God of the Underworld.
“Hephaestus does not think you are horrible, Aphrodite. He’s just afraid to love you.” She offered a mocking laugh, so Hades challenged,“Have you ever told him you love him?”
