A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(28)

He threw back his drink, and set it aside, approaching her. She craned her neck, holding his gaze, as he brushed her cheek with his fingers.

“Why didn’t you sleep?” she asked.

“I didn’t feel like sleeping,” he said.

She arched a brow. “I thought you would be exhausted.”

He chuckled and spoke gently. “I didn’t say I wasn’t tired.”

His thumb lingered on her mouth, and Persephone drew it between her lips, sucking hard. Hades’

inhaled, nostrils flaring, and his other hand tangled into her hair at the base of her neck.

It was a sign—a hint—that he had not fully released the darkness he tried to keep at bay last night, or perhaps he had refilled his well as she slept. Either way, she saw the same hint of violence, the same need for unabashed passion as last night.

His eyes were on her lips, and the tension between them dampened the space between her legs.

“Why are you holding back?” she whispered.

“Oh, darling, if you only knew.”

“I’d like to.” She let the sheet drop from around her breasts. There was a beat of silence, a moment where Hades was still as stone, but he did not bite—instead he swallowed hard and said, “I will keep that in mind. For now, I’d like you to get dressed. I have a surprise for you.”

“What could be more of a surprise than what’s going on in that head of yours?”

He offered a breathy laugh and kissed her nose. “Dress. I will wait for you.”

Persephone tracked him as he headed for the doors, calling out to him as he reached them.

“You don’t have to wait outside.”

“Yes, I do.”

She didn’t question him—just let him slip out as she left the bed and dressed for the day. On a typical July day, she’d wear a summer dress to work, something bright and patterned but her mother’s storm raging above called for warmer clothes. She picked a long sleeve black shirt, grey skirt, and tights. She paired it with heels and her warmest woolen jacket. When she stepped into the hallway, Hades was waiting, frowning.

“What?” she asked, looking down at her outfit.

“I’m trying to assess how long it will take me to undress you.”

“Isn’t that why you stepped out of the room?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m merely planning ahead.”

She warmed—was he making a promise to deliver on his earlier thoughts? He held out his hand for her to take and then pulled her flush against him before his magic surrounded them.

They manifested in what appeared to be a waiting room. There was an emerald couch over which two modern art prints hung and a gold and glass coffee table. The floor was white marble, and a wall of glass overlooked a familiar street—she recognized it was Konstantine Street—the same one she’d walked down with Lexa when she’d first visited Alexandra Tower.

A rush of emotion burned her eyes at the thought of her best friend. She cleared her throat and asked, “Why are we at Alexandria Tower?”

The tower was another building owned by Hades out of which The Cypress Foundation, Hades philanthropic business, operated. Persephone had learned from Lexa that Hades had multiple charities —ones that supported animals and women and those who had lost. She remembered feeling embarrassed that she had not known of his multiple endeavors, and when she’d confronted him, he’d explained that he had been so used to existing alone, he never thought to speak about how he was involved in the Upperworld.

Later, she would discover his world extended beyond the Underworld and his philanthropy, but also to the underbelly of New Greece. She was well-aware she did not even understand the gravity of what Hades controlled, and that thought made her shiver.

“I would like for you to office here,” Hades said.

Persephone turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Is this because of yesterday?”

“That is one reason,” Hades replied, and continued. “It will also be convenient. I’d like your input as we continue The Halcyon Project and I imagine your work with The Advocate will lead to other ideas.”

She lifted a brow. “Are you asking me to work with Katerina?”

Katerina was the director of The Cypress Foundation and worked on The Halcyon Project with Sybil, a state-of-the-art rehabilitation center that would offer free care to mortals. Not long ago, they’d announced a therapy garden that would be dedicated to Lexa, who had worked on the plan before her death.

“Yes,” he said. “You are to be queen of my realm and empire. It’s only fitting that this foundation begins to benefit your passions as well.”

Persephone said nothing and turned in a circle, assessing the space from a new perspective. There were four doors—two on either side of the waiting area. One, was a conference room, the other three were smaller offices. They were bare, except for simple desks, but as she observed, she started to imagine operating in this place.

“You are opposed?” he asked.

“No,” she said. Her thoughts were just spiraling.

She thought of something Hades had said: It is only a matter of time before someone with a vendetta against me tries to harm you. They were words Persephone had hardly believed at the time, mostly because she hadn’t wanted to—but since then, she’d seen the truth over and over again, from Kal to Pirithous, to the angry woman who had poured coffee on her.