A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(65)

The nymph lifted her chin, eyes glistening with anger, but she remained silent, more than likely embarrassed and angry that she had been called out for her malicious behavior. Hades left the hall and entered the ballroom. He was greeted immediately by the sight of Persephone descending the stairs crowned with gold and dressed in fire.

He stared openly and hungrily. Her gown hugged her body, reminding him that he had seen her naked, touched her in the most intimate way, heard her breathe his name. He knew she thought similarly as her bottle-green eyes trailed his body, igniting him from the inside out, and then his thoughts became chaos and he wondered if she wore anything beneath that dress.

But as she stared, her eyes darkened. Hades stiffened as Minthe walked up beside him, and the rustle of her dress grated against his ears like a steel blade being sharpened.

He did not acknowledge the nymph, but it did not matter. He understood the expression on Persephone’s face. She had assumed what Hecate had predicted, that they had come together. Hades could hear Hecate’s smug voice.

I told you so.

Persephone downed her wine and then disappeared into the crowd, Lexa following close behind.

“I think you were just snubbed,” Minthe commented.

Hades’ mood darkened, and he skirted the crowd in an attempt to keep Persephone within sight. He wanted to explain before it was too late, but he found his way blocked by Poseidon. The god wore a flashy suit, and his hair appeared to have been gelled into something that resembled an ocean wave. Hades thought he looked ridiculous and wondered what Thanatos would think of his hair.

“Brother,” Poseidon said, and glanced over his shoulder to where Persephone stood with Hermes. “Am I keeping you from someone?”

Hades did not respond.

“She is beautiful,” he said. “I can tell even with the mask. Perhaps you’ll share when you tire of her.”

Hades narrowed his gaze, tilting his head as he took a step closer to his brother. They were equal in height, but not in size. Poseidon was bulkier, but Hades was stronger. If Poseidon needed a reminder, Hades was happy to oblige.

“If you so much as glance in her direction again, I will tear you limb from limb and feed your carcass to the Titans,” Hades said. “Do you doubt me?”

Poseidon had the gall to look amused, his aqua eyes sparkling, and he raised a blond brow. “Territorial much, brother?”

“That’s nothing. You should have seen what he did when I rescued her from drowning,” Hermes said, sauntering around them, wings dragging the ground. Hades took a step back.

“Did he piss in a circle around her?” Poseidon asked.

Hades’ jaw grew taut, and he turned his dark gaze upon Hermes, who had just started to open his mouth, when he looked at Hades and shut it. He had a feeling he knew what Hermes was about to say, that he had marked Persephone in another way via a bargain.

“What’s the matter, brother? Afraid her eye will wander?”

Hades felt the darkness rise in him. He would show Poseidon what it was to have wandering eyes when his were removed from his skull and tossed across this room.

But Poseidon was saved by Minthe, who appeared behind him. She slid her arm through his and offered a charming smile.

“Poseidon,” she said in a sultry voice. “It’s been a while.”

The God of the Sea gazed down at her, offering a wide, predatory smile.

“Minthe. You look ravishing.”

She pulled on Poseidon’s arm. “Have you found your table?” she was asking. “I would be more than happy to help.”

As she turned, she glared at Hades as if you say don’t start a scene.

When they were gone, Hermes spoke.

“If you don’t want Poseidon to be an asshat, you shouldn’t provoke him.”

Hades looked at the God of Mischief. “What did Persephone say to you?”

Hermes raised a brow. “Lover’s quarrel?”

He glared.

“I called her out for eye fucking you and she tried to deny it, but we all saw it—from both of you, I might add—and we all felt uncomfortable. Did you know she thinks you don’t believe in love?”

“What?”

“She seems rather bitter about it, too,” Hermes added, eyes wandering around the room. “Oh! Cherries!”

He started to take off but paused and looked at Hades.

“If you want my advice…”

Hades didn’t, but he also didn’t feel like talking.

“Tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you love her, you idiot.” Hermes rolled his eyes. “All these years lived, and you are not the least bit self-aware.”

Hermes left then, and when Hades started to find Persephone again, she was no longer there. He gave a frustrated sigh, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides. There were so many words whirling in his head—words from Hecate and Minthe and Poseidon and Hermes. Strangely, it was something Hecate had said long ago that echoed in his mind now.

Persephone has hope for love, and instead of confirming that, you mocked her. Passion does not require love? What were you thinking?

He hadn’t been, that had been the problem.

Why did I let her think something so false? he thought, and then answered himself. Because I feared exposing the truth of my heart—that I have always desired to love and be loved.