A Touch of Darkness (Hades x Persephone #1)(44)

She swallowed and then managed, “Why did you helped the mother tonight?”

“Because I wished to.”

“And Orpheus?”

Hades sighed, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “It isn’t so simple. Yes, I have the ability to resurrect the dead, but it does not work with everyone, especially where the Fates are involved,” Hades answered. “Eurydice’s life was cut short by the Fates for a reason. I cannot touch her.”

“But the girl?”

“She wasn’t dead, just in limbo. I can bargain with the Fates for lives in limbo.”

“What do you mean bargain with the Fates?”

“It is a fragile thing,” he said. “If I ask the Fates to spare one soul, I do not get a say in the life of another.”

“But...you are the God of the Underworld!”

“And the Fates are Divine,” he said. “I must respect their existence as they respect mine.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

Hades raised a brow. “Doesn’t it? Or is it that it doesn’t sound fair to mortals?”

It was exactly that. “So, mortals are to suffer for the sake of your game?”

Hades jaw tightened. “It is not a game, Persephone.” Hades voice was stern, and it gave her pause. “Least of all mine.”

She glared at him. “So, you have offered an explanation for part of your behavior, but what of the other bargains?”

Hades eyes darkened, and he took a step toward her in the already-restricted space. “Are you asking for yourself or the mortals you claim to defend?”

“Claim?” She would show him—her arguments against his tricks were not for show.

“You only became interested in my business ventures after you entered into a contract with me.”

“Business ventures? Is that what you call willfully misleading me?”

His brows rose. “So, this is about you.”

“What you have done is unjust—not just to me but to all the mortals—”

“I do not want to talk about mortals. I would like to talk about you.”

Hades moved toward her, and she took a step away, the bookcase pressed into her back.

“Why did you invite me to your table?”

Persephone glared and looked away. “You said you’d teach me.”

“Teach you what, Goddess?” he asked. He stared at her a moment, eyes seductive and dark. Then his head dropped into the crook of her neck, and his lips brushed lightly over her skin. “What did you truly desire to learn then?”

“Cards,” she whispered, but she could barely breathe, and she knew that she was lying. She’d wanted to learn him—the feel of him, the smell of him, the power of him.

He whispered words against her skin. “What else?”

She dared to turn her head then, and his lips brushed hers. Her breath caught hard in her throat. She couldn’t answer—wouldn’t. His mouth remained close to hers, but he did not kiss her, he waited.

“Tell me.”

His voice was hypnotic and his warmth had her under a wicked spell. He was the adventure she craved. He was temptation she wanted to indulge. He was a sin she wanted to commit.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted. She thought he might claim her then, but when he didn’t, she took a deep breath, her chest rising against his, and said, “Just cards.”

He drew back, and Persephone opened her eyes. She thought she caught his surprise, just before it melted into an unreadable mask.

“You must wish to return home,” he said, and started down the stacks. If she wasn’t talking to the God of the Dead, she would have thought he was embarrassed. “You may borrow those books, if you wish.”

She gathered them into her arms and quickly followed after him.

“How?” she asked. “You withdrew my favor.”

He turned to her, his eyes dark and emotionless. “Trust me, Lady Persephone. If I stripped you of my favor, you would know.”

“So, I’m Lady Persephone again?”

“You have always been Lady Persephone whether you choose to embrace your blood or not.”

“What is there to embrace?” she asked. “I’m an unknown god at best—and a minor one at that.”

She hated the look of disappointment that shadowed his face.

“If that is how you think of yourself then you will never know power.”

She was surprised by his comment, and met his gaze. Then she saw his hand move—he was about to send her away without warning again.

“Don’t,” she commanded, and Hades paused. “You asked that I not leave when I’m angry and I’m asking you not to send me away when you are angry.”

“I am not angry,” he said, dropping his hand.



“Then why did you drop me in the Underworld earlier?” she asked. “Why send me away at all?”

“I needed to speak with Hermes,” he said.

“And you couldn’t say that?”

He hesitated.

“Don’t request things of me you cannot deliver yourself, Hades.”

He stared at her. She wasn’t sure what she expected of him—that her demands would make him angry? That he would argue that this was different? That he was a powerful god and he could do what he willed? Instead, he nodded. “I will grant you that courtesy.”