A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(82)

“I have missed you,” he said.

She smiled sheepishly and admitted, “I missed you, too.”

His lips caressed hers, but Persephone was eager. She pushed up onto her toes, and their lips collided. He liked her hunger and her boldness, her hands smoothing over his chest, down his stomach, seeking his cock, but before she could reach him, he stopped her, breaking the kiss.

“I am just as eager, my darling,” he said. “But if we do not leave now, I think we shall miss your party. Shall we?”

She actually hesitated, and he found himself smiling, but she took his outstretched hand. As she did, he dropped his glamour, revealing his Divine form. Unbound hair, black robes, and a crown of silver made of jagged edges that sat at the base of his horns. He could feel Persephone’s gaze upon him, sinful and sweet. It touched him everywhere and sparked his hunger.

“Careful, goddess,” he warned. “Or we won’t leave this room.”

He felt the truth of his words deep, even as he managed to lead her out of the suite into the hallway toward the ballroom. They paused behind a set of gilded doors, and Hades was glad because he wished to savor this moment—the first time he presented to his court with Persephone by his side.

Perhaps she did not even realize the significance, but from here on out, they would see her as his counterpart, as a figurehead, as a queen.

The doors opened, and silence descended. Hades’ hold on Persephone’s hand tightened, and he rubbed reassuring circles up and down her thumb, but the anxiety he had sensed within her seemed to lessen as soon as she saw the crowd and the smiles of those who knew her. When he glanced at her, he saw that she smiled back.

His people bowed, and he led her down the stairs, into the waiting crowd. They rose to their feet as they passed, and Persephone smiled, called each by name, showering them in compliments or asking after their day. It had never taken Hades so long to reach his throne, but watching her interact with the souls was humbling.

His eyes wandered to the faces of others in the crowd, and when he caught them staring, they looked away quickly. Part was embarrassment and part was fear, and that strange guilt returned in a fierce wave, clamping down on his heart. Then Persephone released his hand, and she broke through the crowd to embrace Hecate. Shortly after, she was surrounded by souls. Like moths drawn to flame, they descended once the darkness was gone.

He continued on, the crowd parting easily for him, and he couldn’t help noticing the distance his souls placed between them. It was a stark comparison to how eager they had been to touch and embrace Persephone. He frowned, and the guilt grew heavier as he stalked to his throne where Minthe hovered. She was dressed for the occasion, in a fitted burgundy dress. It made her hair look like a sunset and her skin bloodless. He knew by the expression on her face she had things to say, and Hades hoped she understood by his expression that he wanted to hear none of them.

He sank into his chair and watched the revelry, but his shoulders were bunched and his fingers curled into the arms of his chair. He felt on edge, waiting for Minthe to say something that would only deepen the darkness inside him.

“You have taken this entirely too far,” she finally spoke, her voice quivering, a hint at the storm of emotions that lay beneath her words. Hades did not look at her, but he could see her profile out of the corner of her eye and she wasn’t looking at him, either.

“You forget yourself, Minthe.”

“Me?” She whirled toward him, and Hades looked in her direction. “She was supposed to fall in love with you, not the other way around.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“She is a game, a pawn! Here you are flaunting her as if she were your queen.”

“She is my queen!” Hades barked, nearly coming out of his chair.

Minthe snapped her mouth closed, her eyes widening just slightly, as if she could not believe Hades had raised his voice at her. When she spoke again, it was in a tone as icy as the air around them.

“She will never be enough for you. She is spring. She will need light, and all you are is darkness.”

Minthe spun on her heels and left the ballroom, but her words remained, having hooked themselves in his skin. They brought his own thoughts to the surface, the ones he had buried deep, the doubt that Persephone, Goddess of Spring, could ever love him, the King of the Dead.

They could not be more different, and their entrance into this ballroom tonight had taught him that.

“Why are you sulking?” Hecate asked.

He had a feeling the goddess had been trying to sneak up on him, but as all her attempts, this one had failed too. Hades’ eyes slid to hers, and he glared.

She pursed her lips. “I know that look. What did Minthe do?”

“Spoke out of turn, what else?” he grated.

“Well.” Hecate’s voice changed pitch, and Hades knew she was about to say something that would only add to his frustration. “She must have spoken the truth, or you would not be so angry.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Hecate.”

He was staring at Persephone as she danced with the children of the Underworld. They held hands and pranced in a circle. Now and then they would break away from each other to twirl or Persephone would lift them into the air, laughing as the they shrieked with delight.

“She loves the children,” Hecate said.