A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga #2)(116)

The satyr nodded, and as he departed, Hades slipped his hand into his pocket, clutching Persephone’s ring as he searched for her on the floor, noting that she was gone, and he went in search of her. In the face of Ilias’s news, she was even more important. He had not fought so hard to have her, to love her, only to have her taken away.

He found her on the balcony overlooking New Athens.

“There you are,” he said and drew his arms around her, sealing her back to his chest. Her warmth was a comfort to his chaotic mind, and he took a deep breath, inhaling her scent once more. “What are you doing out here?”

“Breathing,” she said with a laugh, though he could feel how hot her skin was and knew she needed a break from the crowd.

He chuckled and they fell silent, content for the moment to stand in each other’s energy.

“I have something for you,” he said, kissing her hair.

Persephone turned in his arms, her hands pressing firmly to his chest.

“What is it?”

He studied her for a moment, like he did when he wanted to memorize her face. This time, he wanted to memorize this moment before everything changed. Then he shifted, reaching into his pocket for the box.

He knelt before her.

“Hades—”

“Just…let me do this. Please.”

She closed her mouth and smiled. Then he opened the box, revealing the ring he had Hephaestus forge so long ago. She brought her hands up to cover her mouth as her breath caught in her throat.

“Persephone,” he said. “I would have chosen you a thousand times over, the Fates be damned. Please…become my wife, rule beside me, let me love you forever.”

Her eyes glistened and she swallowed as she whispered her answer.

“Of course. Forever.”

Hades grinned, and for a moment, he forgot to put the ring on her finger.

He fumbled as his large fingers clasped the small piece of metal. Once it was in place, he rose to his feet and took her into his arms, kissing her until she was breathless.

“You wouldn’t have happened to overhear Hermes demand a rock, would you?” she asked once they parted.

“He might have been talking loud enough for me to hear,” he said, amused. “But if you must know, I have had that ring for a while.”

“How long?”

“Embarrassingly long,” he admitted. “Since the night of the Olympian Gala.”

But he had known then that she was his forever. Fuck, he had known before that, from the moment he had laid eyes on her on the floor of Nevernight.

“I love you,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I love you too,” she said, and this time, her lips pressed to his.

He drew her close, wishing to become completely lost in this moment, to forget what lay on the horizon, but there was a sudden chill on the wind that made his blood run cold. When he pulled away, he saw snow.

Snow in the middle of summer.

There was only one god who might be responsible, one god who used weather to torture the world into submission—and that was Demeter.

“Hades,” Persephone whispered, drawing closer to him. “Why is it snowing?”

He did not look at her as he spoke, staring angrily at the flurries whirling over New Athens.

“It’s the start of a war,” he said.

And you—you’re at the center of it.

What in Hades’s name happens next?

A Game of Gods, the next installment in the breath-stopping Hades Saga.





Bonus Content

Read ahead for a sneak peek into A Touch of Chaos , coming from Bloom Books, September

2023.

The burn in his wrists woke him.

The headache splitting his skull made opening his eyes nearly impossible, but he tried, groaning, his thoughts scattering like glass. He had no ability to pick at the pieces, to recall how he had gotten here, so he focused instead on the pain in his body—the metal digging into the raw skin on his wrists, the way his nails pierced his palm, the way his fingers throbbed from being curled into themselves when they should be coiled around Persephone’s ring.

The ring. It was gone.

Hysteria built inside him, a fissure that had him straining against his manacles, and he finally tore open his eyes to find that he was restrained in a small, dark cell. As he dangled from the ceiling, body draped in the same heavy net that had sent him to the ground in the Minotaur’s prison, his gaze locked with familiar aqua eyes. He was not alone.

“Theseus,” Hades growled, though even to him, his voice sounded weak.

He was so tired and so full of pain, he could not vocalize the way he wished; otherwise, he would rage.

The demigod was not looking at him, but at a small object clutched between his thumb and forefinger. He looked so at ease—and why not? He had the advantage.

“This is a beautiful ring,” he said and paused, twisting it so that even beneath the dim light, the gems glittered. Hades watched it, his stomach knotting with each movement. “Who would have guessed it would be your downfall?”

“Persephone will come,” he said, certain.

Theseus laughed. “You think your bride can go up against me? When I have managed to ensnare you?”

Hades took a breath, as deep as he could manage, though the weight of the net pushed against his sternum—it pushed against his whole body, made him feel like he was crumbling. Then he spoke, a quiet promise that shook his bones.