A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga #2)(95)

“Yes, I am angry,” she said. “You should have been there.”

“The dead celebrate everything, Persephone. I won’t miss the next one.”

“If that is your view, I’d rather you not come at all,” she snapped.

His brows lowered. Obviously, she was searching for an answer he could not give. “Then what do you want from me?”

“I don’t fucking care how much they celebrate. What’s important to them should be important to you. What’s important to me should be important to you.”

“Persephone…”

“Don’t,” she snapped, and he pressed his lips together, repressing the surge of frustration that erupted at her command. “I understand you don’t know what I don’t tell you, but I expect you to be aware of what I am planning and show interest—not only for me but for your people. You never once asked about the solstice celebration, not even after I asked you for permission to host it in the courtyard.”

He stared at her in silence for a long moment. It was true he hadn’t taken it seriously. Even after Hecate’s reminder, he had dismissed the importance of attending, and for that, he felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“You aren’t. You are only saying that to appease me, and I hate it. Is this why you want a queen? So you don’t have to attend these events?”

“No, I wanted you, and because of that, I wished to make you my queen.

There are no ulterior motives.”

Did he respect her more because she loved his realm and his people? Yes, but those characteristics came from her compassion and her kindness, and that was why he loved her.

After a moment, she took a breath and closed her eyes. “Look, Hades. If you don’t…want this anymore, I need to know.”

He stared at her, confused, and waited for her to look at him again.

“What?”

“If you don’t want me, if you don’t think you can forgive me, I don’t think we should be in a relationship, the Fates be damned.”

The words were out, and they lingered in the air between them. Hades spent a few moments processing them before making his way toward her.

“I never said I didn’t want you,” he said. “I thought I made that clear yesterday.”

“So you want to fuck me? That doesn’t mean you want an actual relationship. It doesn’t mean you will trust me again.”

He paused before her, towering over her small frame, and despite the difference in their statures, she held her own, glaring furiously back at him.

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he said, leaning close as he spoke. “I do want to fuck you. More importantly, I love you—deeply, endlessly. If you walked away from me today, I would love you still. I will love you forever. That’s what Fate is, Persephone. Fuck threads and colors…and fuck your uncertainty.”

“I’m not uncertain,” she said between her teeth, her eyes searching his.

“I’m afraid, you idiot!”

“Of what?” he demanded. “What have I done?”

“This isn’t about you! Gods, Hades.” She turned her head. “I’d think you of all people would understand.”

He studied her profile for a moment—her angry, glistening eyes and the hard set of her mouth.

“Tell me,” he begged.

It took her a few tries, a few deep swallows before she managed, “I’ve longed for love all my life. Longed for acceptance because my mother dangled it in front of me like something I had to earn. If I adhered to her expectations, she would grant it; if I didn’t, she’d take it away. You want a queen, a goddess, a lover. I can’t be what you want. I can’t… adhere to these…expectations you have of me!”

He had to admit that he was stunned. He had never imagined that calling her his queen would come with so much weight.

He turned her head toward his, and she met his gaze, eyes red and watery.

“Persephone, what do you think of when you think of a queen?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I know what I would like to see in a queen.”

“Then what would you like to see in a queen?”

“Someone who is kind…compassionate… present.”

The last word was meant for him.

“And you do not think you are all those things?” he asked. He let his thumb brush over her lips. He wanted to kiss her because he hadn’t in a very long time. He wanted to bring her comfort and to assure her that there was no title she needed to live up to because she was already enough. “I’m not asking you to be a queen. I’m asking you to be yourself. I’m asking you to marry me. The title comes with our marriage. It changes nothing.”

“Are you asking me to marry you again?” she asked, her words quiet and slow.

“Will you?”

She stared, and he already knew the answer, even as the tears slid down her face, and he had never felt so conflicted—so desperate to hear her say yes but so content with her no. She’d shown him tonight how willing she was to defend his people, how she had adopted them as her people, and he knew that meant she loved him.

“My darling,” he whispered. “You do not have to answer now. We have time—an eternity.”