A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(68)

She started to feel warm all over and cleared her throat, a deep ache settling in. She’d given Hades what she’d considered her best work earlier in the day. Their encounter had been hot and heavy, and her need was desperate. She curled her fingers around the balcony’s ledge.

“So, what do you think?” Hermes asked sidling up alongside her.

“It’s…different,” she said, searching for the right words.

“Not as seedy as you thought?” He asked, quirking a brow.

“No,” she said. “It’s…actually kind of…tamed.”

Even with a community vibrator.

“See anything you’d like to try?”

Persephone stared.

“I mean with Hades,” he added.

She rolled her eyes and changed the subject.

“Where do you think this meeting is taking place?” Persephone asked.

“I suppose it depends on the kind of meeting she’s having,” Hermes said.

Sybil, Leuce, and Zofie joined them at the balcony.

Leuce offered a small laugh. “I guess some things never change.”

Persephone assumed the nymph was referring to the fact that ancient Greek society was hyper-sexualized, and in truth, their views of sex hadn’t changed all that much. Even in their modern society, prostitution was legal.

“Quick, cover your eyes, Zofie,” Leuce joked.

“Why?” the Amazon asked. “I am familiar with sex.”

Everyone stared, surprised.

“What?” she asked, sounding exasperated. “I may not know modern society, but sex is not modern.”

Hermes chuckled and Sybil smirked.

“You’ve had sex?” Leuce asked.

Zofie rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“But…we played Never Have I Ever,” Leuce said. “And you didn’t drink! Not once!”

Zofie was quiet for a long moment and then said, “I think I misunderstood the game.”

They laughed and watched for a while, commenting on various acts and positions. Couples mingled, trading and engaging in different types of sex, but overtime, Persephone noticed a few leaving the floor—one-by-one, moving into the darkness.

She stiffened.

“Where do you think they’re going?” Sybil asked.

“I don’t know,” Persephone answered.

“Shall we investigate?” Hermes asked.

“Someone needs to stay and watch for Helen,” Persephone said. “Sybil, Leuce—will you watch for her and text when she arrives?”

“Of course,” Sybil said.

“Zofie, I need you to stay here with them.”

“My orders are to protect you, my lady.”

“Actually, I swore an oath to protect her tonight,” said Hermes. “You will forgive me for not trusting anyone else to do so.”

The Amazon glared at Hermes and started to protest when Persephone interrupted.

“Zofie, this is important. I am ordering you to protect my friends. If Helen is here with Triad and she recognizes any of us, we’re in trouble.”

“Very well, my lady,” she said, still glaring at Hermes.

Persephone shed her jacket and the two left the suite, placing cloth masks over their faces before heading to the floor of the club. Hermes paused in the darkness of the stairwell.

“Do as I do,” he said, and drew her arm through his as they wandered onto the floor. They took their time, strolling around beds of tangled limbs and couches with men and women lost in the throes of passion. What struck her was how quiet it was here—even with music and moaning.

One couple smiled at them—the man was poised between his partner’s legs.

“Would you like to join?” he asked.

“We’re more than happy to watch,” said Hermes.

They didn’t seem upset as the man went down on the woman. Persephone averted her eyes, feeling strange standing in the center of this room, watching people freely engage in sex so openly. She was not sure she could do this; was not sure she would feel comfortable with people watching her or Hades. She was possessive—he was possessive. It would not end well.

Soon, they moved into the darkness, navigating down a hallway where a man stood.

“My Lady,” he said.

She stiffened at the title, but realized as Hermes released her arm, he was there to help her down the steps. She accepted his hand and walked ahead of Hermes into a circular, crowded room, lined all around with columns and recessed archways. It was a theater but built more like an amphitheater. The stage sat at the lowest point of the room and at its center was a goddess.

She was being restrained, her arms and legs pulled tight across a black bench. She was not conscious and there was blood dripping from a wound at her head.

Persephone froze for a moment, a cold trickle of fear shivered down her spine. She did not recognize the goddess, but she sensed that she was still alive. Bystanders booed her and threw things at her, others chanted cut her horns over and over.

“That is Tyche,” Hermes said.

Persephone jumped. She hadn’t felt the god approach, but now that he was near, her anxiety lessened a bit.

“Tyche,” Persephone whispered back. “The Goddess of Fortune and Prosperity?”

“The only one,” he replied, his voice grim. She looked at him, noting the tightening of his jaw and the hardening of his eyes.