A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(32)

He knew he had said something wrong when the color drained from her face and she attempted to shoved him away, demanding, “Can’t you offer favor another way?”

“You didn’t seem to mind,” he pointed out, liking the flush that touched her cheeks and elegant neck. He wanted to tell her she should not be embarrassed, but when she touched her lips with shaking fingers, he lost his train of thought.

“I should go,” she said.

Hades nodded in agreement. If she did not leave now, he would rescind his earlier statement.

Fuck waiting to love her elsewhere, the garden is perfect.

“What are you doing?” she demanded as his arm tightened around her waist.

He was silent, snapping his fingers and teleporting. When they appeared in Persephone’s room, she was gripping his arms like a cat who had been frightened. He waited for her to adjust, her head turning slowly, and as she recognized her surroundings, she pried her fingers from his skin one by one.

“Persephone.” There was one more thing she needed to know before he left her for the night. “Never bring a mortal to my realm again, especially Adonis. Stay away from him.”

Her eyes narrowed, glinting with defiance. “How do you know him?”

“That is not relevant.”

He felt her attempt to pull away, but he held her in place. This was important. He had not saved her from Underworld monsters just to have her hurt by mortal ones.

“I work with him, Hades.”

He ignored the pleasure he got from the sound of his name on her lips.

“Besides, you can’t give me orders.”

“I’m not giving you orders. I am asking.”

“Asking implies there’s a choice.”

His grip increased, and he leaned over her, nearly bending her backward so their faces were inches apart. Again, Hades thought of her lips, her taste, her touch, and he knew she was having similar thoughts because she closed her eyes and swallowed.

He spoke in the silence between them.

“You have a choice, but if you choose him, I will fetch you and I might not let you leave the Underworld.”

Her eyes flew open. “You wouldn’t,” she hissed.

Hades chuckled, his breath caressing her lips as he spoke. “Oh, darling. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Then he vanished like smoke fading into the sky.





CHAPTER XI – A GAME FOR A GOD




“I asked for a weapon, Hephaestus.”

Hades stared at the small, octagon-shaped box the God of Fire held out to him. It was beautiful—obsidian and inlaid with jade and gold—but it did not look like something that could restrain a god.

When Hades met Hephaestus’ grey eyes, he knew he had missed something. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he dropped the box at Hades’ feet. In the next second, heavy manacles clamped down upon his wrists, their weight keeping his arms fastened at his sides, and when he tried to lift them, he found it was impossible.

“And so I have granted you chains,” the god replied.

Hades tried to lift his arms again, and his muscles tightened, veins rising to the surface of his skin, but it seemed like the more force he exerted, the more the chains oppressed.

“Tell me what you think of them,” Hephaestus said.

“Brilliant,” Hades answered, the word falling out his mouth before he even had a chance to think—and he remembered what he’d requested of the God of Fire—a weapon that could subdue violence and encourage truth. Hades smiled despite feeling like a lab rat. Hephaestus’ ability to create and innovate never ceased to impress.

“This is a dangerous weapon,” Hades said, but when he looked at Hephaestus, he knew something else was on the god’s mind. His eyes were steely and menacing. Hades stiffened; he knew this look, he had seen it in the eyes of every mortal and immortal who had wished death upon him.

“Have you fucked my wife?” The question did not match Hephaestus’ cool composure or dispassionate tone, but Hades recognized himself in the God of Fire and knew that beneath his calm exterior, he was raging inside.

“No.”

“Eleftherose ton,” Hephaestus said, turning his scarred back to Hades as he was released from the restraints, the chains returning to the black box. Hades rubbed his wrists as the full weight of Hephaestus’ question settled upon him. He had thought Hades was sleeping with Aphrodite, and he had believed it so thoroughly, he felt he needed magic to get the truth.

Hades scooped up the box and straightened, staring at Hephaestus’ back.

“Why ask me about Aphrodite?” He could not help the frustration in his voice. He knew why Hephaestus had asked—because, despite his feigned indifference, he cared about his wife and who she chose to sleep with. He loved her, and yet he chose to be miserable, chose to be passive.

“Have I not revealed enough of my shame?” Hephaestus asked.

“It is not shameful to love your wife.”

Hephaestus said nothing.

“If you feared her infidelity, why did you release her from the bonds of marriage to begin with?”

The god tensed. Clearly, he did not know what Aphrodite had shared with him. That on the eve of his marriage to the Goddess of Love, Hephaestus had released her from all obligations of that marriage.