A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(51)

“It’s a mess. A complete contradiction to his pristine appearance.”

Hecate’s smile widened, and Hades glared at the two.

“Eleftherose ton,” he said, and as the Thanatos was released from the chains, he collapsed to his knees. Hecate helped him to his feet.

“I’m…so sorry, my lord.”

Hades said nothing, his hand clenched around the box, edges digging into his palm. He looked at Hecate.

“What was the creature that came in place of Sisyphus?” he asked.

“It was a golem,” Hecate said.

A golem was a creation made of clay and animated with magic. It could take on any form, so long as the potion included a piece of the person it was to imitate.

“Sisyphus had help creating that creature,” Hades said. “Can you trace the magic?”

“Of course I can trace the magic,” Hecate said. She seemed offended he would even ask. “Can you ask nicely?”

At that moment, his phone rang. Before Persephone, he had hardly used it, but it was that thought that had him drawing it out of his pocket to answer before he responded to Hecate.

“Yes?” he hissed as he answered his phone.

“Hades?” Aphrodite purred his name.

Hades sighed, frustrated. “What do you want, Aphrodite?”

If she was calling to goad him, he would torture Basil tonight. He swore it.

“I just thought you might like to know your goddess has come to my club for a visit.”

Something possessive reared its head at the mention of his goddess. It was a dark feeling, and it came out of his chest, a monster ready to fight, to protect, to claim.

“A visit?”

“Yes.” Aphrodite’s voice was breathy. “She arrived with Adonis.”

Forget fighting and protecting and claiming. That monster in his chest wanted blood.

“I hope you hurry,” she said. “He seems smitten.”





CHAPTER XVI – A BATTLE FOR CONTROL




Hades appeared outside La Rose. Like all clubs owned by gods, Aphrodite’s was a popular hangout in New Athens. While many mortals came to him looking for love, just as many flocked here, believing that a sip of her drinks or a spray from her infamous pink mist would mean an end to their search for a soulmate.

There was no such thing, of course. No drink or mist that could lead another to their soulmate. That was up to the Fates.

Aphrodite was waiting for him. She wore a silky, light pink dress with a cowl neckline. She looked pale in the light outside her club, her cheeks and lips flushed.

“Do not cause a scene, Hades,” Aphrodite said.

“Says the goddess who started a war over an apple,” Hades snapped. “Where is she?”

The Goddess of Love glared, her frustration with Hades palpable.

“Persephone, Aphrodite.”

“She is dancing.”

Dancing, he thought. With Adonis?

His jaw tightened, and he bared his teeth as he stepped past the goddess, summoning two ogres, Adrian and Ezio, to flank him.

“Hades!” Aphrodite’s voice was sharp, the tone of a woman who had fought and killed on the battlefield.

Hades paused, but did not turn to look at the goddess.

“You will not hurt him.” Her voice shook as she spoke.

He said nothing and stepped into the darkness of the club, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair.

I’m an idiot, he scolded himself. He called up his glamour so that he would be invisible as he came to the edge the dance floor, where people moved in a hypnotic tangled of limbs. Overhead, lights flashed, and pink mist hung heavy in the air. The smell of roses and sweat clung to his skin, and somewhere in this chaos, was Persephone.

With Adonis.

He gritted his teeth.

Had he not warned her to stay away from the mortal?

Hades glanced at Adrian and Ezio, and the ogres branched off to the left and right while he took the middle. Mortals made space for him, unaware he walked among them. He scanned faces, searching for Persephone’s familiar features. His chest felt tight and his breaths grew shallow as he looked for her, thinking of all the sin he had seen upon Adonis’s soul. He was a predator and a liar.

Were they somewhere in the shadows together? Was he touching her the way Hades longed to touch her? The thought made him feel violent.

And then he found her in Adonis’s arms, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. He realized he had never really known rage. This was primal. It jolted his whole body and made him quiver. He wanted to roar, to strike fear in each and every person in this room, just so they would cease their unabashed revelry.

Adonis’ hand cupped her head, fingers twining in her glossy hair, and his lips were pressed against hers so hard, his nose was bent. But it was Persephone’s body language he watched—the way she pushed against the mortal’s chest the closer he tried to bring her, the way she clamped her lips together, refusing to partake of his, the tear that slipped down her cheek the longer he held her there.

This is torture, Hades thought.

All of a sudden, everything resumed its usual speed. Adrian and Ezio appeared, each fixing a hand on Adonis’ shoulder, and yanked him away from Persephone. Hades moved toward her, unsure of what he intended to do, but wanting to be near her, to comfort her.