A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(11)

“Yes, my lady?”

“Put the sword away,” Persephone ordered.

“But—” She began to protest.

“Now.”

The command slipped between clenched teeth. That was all Persephone needed, Zofie spilling blood on her behalf. This would already make headlines—people were shamelessly filming and taking pictures. She made a note to inform Ilias of this incident, perhaps he could get ahead of the media.

The Amazon grumbled, but obeyed, and her sword vanished from sight. Without the threat of bodily harm, the woman regained her composure and turned to Persephone again.

“Lemming,” she hissed with more hatred in her eyes than Minthe or her mother had ever possessed, and stormed out of The Coffee House, signaling the pleasant chime of the bell on the door.

As soon as she was gone, Zofie spoke.

“One word, my lady. I’ll slay her in the alley.”

“No, Zofie. That’s all we need, a murder on our hands.”

“It’s not murder,” she argued. “It’s retribution.”

“I’m fine, Zofie.”

She turned to gather her things, conscious that people were still watching. She wished she had control over lightning like Zeus because she would electrocute every device in this place just to teach them to mind their own business.

“But...she wounded you!” Zofie argued. “Lord Hades will not be pleased with me.”

“You did your job, Zofie.”

“If I had done my job, you would not be injured.”

“You came as soon as you could,” Persephone said. “And I am not injured. I’m fine.”

She was lying, of course, mostly to protect Zofie. The Amazon was liable to attempt to resign again if she knew how much pain Persephone was in.

Who would have ever thought to use coffee as a weapon? Persephone thought. What a betrayal.

“Why did she attack you?”

Persephone frowned. She didn’t know.

Lemming, the woman had called her—another word for blind follower. Persephone knew the word, but she’d never been called one before.

“I don’t know,” she said, and sighed. She met Zofie’s gaze. “Call Ilias, advise him of what happened. Perhaps he can get ahead of the media.”

“Of course, my lady. Where are you going?”

“To find Hades,” she said, and assess the damage to her legs. Her skin stung beneath her clothes.

“The last time someone tried to hurt me, he tortured them.”

She shrugged on her coat and sent Leuce and Helen a quick text, letting them know their morning meeting was cancelled and she’d see them later tonight.

“I will see you at Sybil’s?” she asked the Amazon.

“Yes, for the housewarming,” she said, and her brows pinched together. “Shall I bring wood?”

Persephone laughed. “No, Zofie. Bring...wine or food.”

Persephone didn’t know much about Zofie’s upbringing, but it was evident that the island from which she originated did not evolve with modern society. When she’d asked Hecate about it, she’d said, “That’s how Ares prefers it.”

“Prefers…what?”

“The Amazons are his children, bred for war not the world. He keeps them sequestered on the island of Terme so that they will never know anything but battle.”

After learning this, Persephone wondered how Zofie had come to know Hades and became her Aegis.

She focused on the Amazon again. “If you need ideas, just text Sybil and ask her what to bring.

She’ll help.”

Persephone sent a quick text to Leuce and Helen, letting them know she’d had to leave The Coffee House early and stepped outside. The cold sliced into her, and it was worse where her clothing was wet, freezing her skin beneath. She made her way down the sidewalk, slick with water and gathering snow, rounding the corner of the building until she was out of sight of passersby’s before teleporting to the Underworld.

She appeared in her bedchamber, half expecting Hades to be there, waiting, frustrated, ready to inspect her for injury, but he had not arrived yet. She sat her purse aside and shrugged out of her jacket, peeling off her faux leather leggings. She could still feel the residual sting where the hot coffee had sat against her skin. Luckily, the damage was minimal—her thighs were red and a little swollen, a hint of bubbled skin speckled across her legs. Maybe running cold water over it would help, she thought.

As she turned to enter the bathroom, she found her way blocked by Hades.

Persephone startled, her hands pressing to her heart, over her naked breast. The god stood with glittering eyes, smartly dressed in his tailored black suit. His hair was slick and tied into a perfect bun at the back of his head, not a wisp out of place. His chiseled jaw close-shaven and well-manicured. He was immaculate and sexual, a presence that stole her breathe and made her ache.

“Hades! You scared me.”

His gaze dropped to her chest and he grinned, reaching for her hand.

“You should have known I would find you once you took your clothes off. It is a sixth sense.”

As he bent to brush his lips along her knuckles, his eyes dipped lower, and a frown touched his mouth. He released her hand only to press his palm against her thigh. She shivered; his touch cool against the heat of the blisters.