A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(17)

“Is that why you did this?” she demanded, removing a hideous set of bracelets from her wrist and holding up her arm, where a band of black dots marked her skin.

He noted that she had avoided answering his question. No matter, he would come back to it. Instead, he focused on the mark on her skin, his mark, and smirked.

“No. That is the result of losing against me.”

“You were teaching me to play!”

“Semantics.” He shrugged. “The rules of Nevernight are very clear, goddess.”

“They are anything but clear.” She threw up her hands and the pointed at him. “And you are an asshole!”

He pushed away from his desk, stalking toward her. There was a part of him that wanted to demand respect, a part of him that wanted to remind her that he was King of the Underworld, God of the Dead, but as he approached her, he remembered who she was—Persephone, Goddess of Spring, his future queen. The thought calmed him, and yet, she must have seen something else flash in his eyes, because she took a step away.

“Don’t call me names, Persephone,” he said, grasping her wrist gently. He felt a strange energy between them as he reestablished their connection. He traced the shadow marring her skin, and she shivered beneath his hands.

“When you invited me to your table, you entered into an agreement. If you had won, you could have left Nevernight with no demands on your time. But you did not, and now we have a contract.”

I could give her freedom. The words entered his head, unbidden, born from his earlier thoughts, and he was suddenly overcome with guilt. It was true that there was no Divine Law, so he could let her go.

But as he watched her, he peered beneath her fair exterior and saw her soul for what it was—a powerful goddess, caged in doubt and fear. This was the reason she used her mother’s magic—because hers lay locked away, dormant.

The longer he looked, the deeper he fell. She was intoxicating, and her magic smelled like sweet roses, wisteria, and something completely sinful. His own magic rose within him, wishing to tangle with hers. He wanted to draw it out of her, coax her to release.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was not sure what she saw in his expression, but he noted the way her throat constricted when she swallowed, and he thought he’d like to kiss her there, feel her shudder beneath him.

She spoke, her words dripped with restrained anger. “What does that mean?”

“It means I must choose terms,” he said, certain.

Suddenly, this bargain had taken on a whole new meaning to him. He would pry the bars from around her body, free her from this self-constructed cage of hate, and in the end, if she did not love him, at least she would be free.

“I don’t want to be in a contract with you,” she said between her teeth, her beautiful eyes flashing bright. “Take it off!”

“I can’t.”

I won’t, he thought.

“You put it there, you can remove it.”

His lips twitched. He should not find humor in her plight. He knew this was distressing, knew she would not understand why this had to happen. Still, he smirked because she was defiant, because he liked her fire and frustration.

“You think this is funny?” she demanded.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea.”

“I am a goddess. We are equals.”

She said the words, but he knew she did not believe them.

“You think our blood changes the fact that you willingly entered into a contract with me? These things are law, Persephone.” She glared at him. “The mark will dissolve when the contract has been fulfilled.”

“And what are your terms?”

He considered what he had seen of her soul. She was a woman who equated Divinity with power. It was the core of her insecurity, and it was that he would challenge. At last, he spoke.

“Create life in the Underworld.”

Her eyes widened and she paled, the impossibility of the words he had spoken registering quickly. His fingers tightened around her wrist.

“What?”

“Create life in the Underworld,” he said again. “You have six months. If you fail or refuse, then you will become a permanent resident of my realm.”

“You want me to grow a garden in your realm?”

He grimaced. She had already decided there was only one way to fulfill the bargain, and that was via power she didn’t have…yet.

He shrugged. “I suppose that is one way to create life.”

It was a clue she did not catch. Instead, she glared at him.

“If you steal me away to the Underworld, you will face my mother’s wrath.”

“Oh, I am sure,” he mused, imagining it now, and yet it was the price Demeter would pay—first for bargaining with the Fates, and second for hiding Persephone from him. When would the Goddess of Harvest come for him, he wondered? “Much like you will feel her wrath when she discovers what you’ve so recklessly done.”

He hated that he spoke those words, and he considered reassuring her that he would protect her from her mother, but then Persephone straightened, met his gaze, and accepted his challenge.

“Fine. When do I start?”

He almost smiled. “Come tomorrow. I’ll show you the way to the Underworld.”

“It will have to be after class,” she said.

His brows drew together. “Class?”