A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga #2)(20)

“Fuck!” He jackknifed into a sitting position and drew her to him, pressing kisses to the wrist he had snatched. “Did I hurt you?”

When she did not answer, he met her gaze and found she was staring at him, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. She looked flushed and sleepy, her wild curls falling haphazardly around her face.

“Persephone?” he said again, hoping to catch her attention.

She seemed to come to then, and she smiled, brushing a piece of hair from his face. “I’m fine, Hades. You only scared me.”

He felt a wave of relief at her words and kissed her palm, only to draw her against him and lie down. Her weight was a calming presence, and he reveled in the feel of her draped atop him.

“I did not think you would come to me tonight.”

“I can’t sleep without you.” She whispered the words against his skin, and his chest tightened at her admission.

He should say the same, but instead, he ran his hands down her back to her ass, grinding her middle into his growing erection and responded, “That is because I keep you up so late.”

Persephone lifted her head and rolled her eyes, sliding into a seated position, her thighs hugging his waist, her fingers threaded through his.

“Not everything is about sex, Hades.”

“No one said anything about sex, Persephone.”

She planted her hands against his chest and moved against his cock, and he could feel the heat of her through the thin sheet that separated them.

“I don’t need words to know you’re thinking about sex.”

Well, that was true, and since it was no secret, he let his hands trail up her sides and to her breasts. He loved them—their fullness, their weight, the color of her hardened nipples. He wanted them in his mouth, and though Persephone inhaled against his touch, her hands stilled his.

“I want to talk, Hades.”

“Talk,” he said. “I can multitask…or have you forgotten?”

He sat up, and Persephone’s arms wrapped around his neck while he lowered his head to tease her nipple through the fabric of her nightshirt.

Meanwhile, his hands moved up her naked thighs.

“I don’t think you can multitask this time,” she breathed, her fingers twisting into his hair. “I know that look.”

“What look?” he asked, pulling away with the intention of lavishing her other breast with just as much attention, but Persephone clasped his head between her hands.

She might be able to stop his mouth, but his hands continued his exploration, moving beneath the hem of her dress, skimming up her sides.

“You get this look. The one you have now. Your eyes are dark, but there’s something…alive behind them. Sometimes I think it’s passion. Sometimes I think it’s violence. Sometimes I think it’s all your lifetimes.”

He said nothing, but he felt every word she spoke and knew they were all true. His hands tightened around her waist, and as he moved to kiss her, she spoke his name, but whatever she intended to say was lost as his mouth closed over hers. He rolled so that she was beneath him, parting her lips with his tongue, kissing her deeply before shifting, trailing kisses down her neck and over her breasts, but he was halted by Persephone, whose thighs clamped down on his waist.

“Hades. I said I wanted to talk.”

“Talk.” It wasn’t as if they hadn’t managed a full conversation during sex.

Then she spoke, and what she said drained the heat from his body. “About Apollo.”

Fuck Apollo, he thought as he sat back on his heels. Why was he suddenly haunting his days? First Leuce and now Persephone?

“Tell me why the name of my nephew is on your lips.”

“He’s my next project,” she said, as if that explained everything, but Hades felt agitated to the point that his jaw hurt from clenching his teeth.

Apollo was not the kind of god one turned into a project, and if project meant what he suspected—that Persephone hoped to write one of her articles about the God of Music—the answer was no.

She seemed to see his frustration and continued in an attempt to convince him. “He fired Sybil, Hades. For refusing to be his lover.”

He was not surprised. Apollo’s response to rejection was revenge.

Spurn Apollo once, and never again.

Which was why Persephone could not write about him, but even as he looked at her, he knew this was going to be an argument. He could see the flash of determination in her eyes. She wanted to change Apollo, but Apollo was power, and power did not necessitate change.

Hades left the bed. Once again, he needed a drink.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I can’t stay in our bed while you talk about Apollo.”

He was honestly surprised by how triggering it had been to hear her speak his name, but perhaps it had something to do with Leuce’s return. She was a reminder of Apollo’s fury, and Hades could only think that if given the chance, Apollo might continue to execute his revenge.

Persephone pushed off the bed and approached as he poured himself a drink.

“I’m only talking about him because I want to help Sybil! What he’s doing is wrong, Hades. Apollo can’t punish Sybil because she rejected him.”

“Apparently he can,” Hades said, glancing at her as he took a slow sip from his glass.