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“Hades.” She breathed his name, and the sound made him shiver. He was further surprised when she threw her arms around her waist and buried her head in his chest. For a moment, he was frozen. Had he not just wished to offer her comfort? Why was he suddenly unable to move? Slowly, he pressed a hand to her back, the other twining with her hair, hating that Adonis’s fingers had experienced the feel of her.
He held her for a moment and wanted to hold her longer, but they needed to leave this place, so he drew his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head until her eyes met his.
“Are you well?”
She shook her head.
Hades gritted his teeth, quashing the urge to find Adonis and grind him into ash.
“Let’s go.”
He drew her against him and guided her toward the exit. Like before, the crowd parted, but this time, it was because they could see him. He had dropped his invisibility when he approached Persephone and had not bothered to glamour up again. They stilled and stared while the music blared.
“Hades—”
“They will not remember this,” Hades assured, knowing her anxiety would rise at the thought of being seen together like this in public. The media would descend, the headlines would speculate. She would become the story, not the storyteller.
As much as she did not want that to happen, Hades did not either, and as they came to the edge of the crowd, his magic rippled out, stealing memories and returning the floor to its blissful chaos.
Then Persephone tried to bolt.
“Lexa!”
She moved too fast and swayed. Hades wasn’t certain if she tripped or if she had too much to drink. Either way, he bent to gather her into his arms, unwilling to risk having to chase after her.
“I will ensure she gets home safe,” he promised.
He watched her face, seeing her close her eyes tight and frowned.
“Persephone?”
“Hmm?” Her voice vibrated, her breath teased his lips, carrying the scent of wine and something metallic he could not quite place.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dizzy,” she whispered.
He didn’t speak but left the building. If he stayed any longer, he would burn it to the ground and incur the wrath of Aphrodite, something he might welcome to free himself of this rage. Outside, the air was cool, and Persephone started to shiver, burrowing closer to his chest. She took a deep breath.
“You smell good.”
Her small hands curled into his jacket, and he chuckled at her lack of inhibition, holding her tighter as he ducked into the back of his limo. He considered keeping her cradled against him until they arrived at Nevernight, but decided against it. She had been accosted on the floor of La Rose, and probably wanted distance. Plus, she was cold. He helped her into the seat beside him and adjusted the controls so the heat would warm her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice quiet, and Hades looked at her as he sat back in his seat.
“You don’t listen to orders.”
She offered a breathy laugh.“I don’t take orders from you, Hades.”
They sat close, shoulders and arms and legs touching, heads inclined, sharing breath and heat and space, and he knew he was in trouble because his whole body had gone rigid, including his cock.
“Trust me, darling. I’m aware.”
“I’m not yours, and I’m not your darling.”
Hades watched her, searching her meadow-green eyes, glassy from alcohol and simmering with oppressed passion. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, heavy with arousal.
“We’ve been through this, haven’t we? You are mine. I think you know that just as well as I do.”
