A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(76)

Her gaze lingered longest on Aphrodite, recalling how she’d stood with Okeanos’ heart in her hand, unfazed by the savagery of her magic. Would she face consequences for killing one of Zeus’s sons? Persephone did not know the rules of the Olympians, but she thought the goddess must have justified herself to the God of Thunder because she sat here among the twelve as if nothing had occurred.

Persephone crept closer, until she touched the edge of one of the thrones—one she guessed belonged to Apollo, as golden rays shot out from the very top.

“From what I understand, Hades, the storm is your fault. Couldn’t keep your dick out of Demeter’s daughter.”

“Shut up, Ares,” Hermes said.

Persephone noted the darkness shadowing the god’s eyes and the set of his jaw which made his cheekbones look sharp.

“Why should he? He speaks the truth.” A voice said from the right—Persephone thought it sounded like Artemis.

“You could have fucked a million other women, but you chose to stay with one, and the daughter of a goddess who hates you more than she loves humanity,” Ares continued.

“That pussy must be gold,” Poseidon mused.

Persephone felt something sour in the back of her throat and then a dark sense of dread as Hades’

magic flared, strong and vibrant.

“I will personally cut the thread of any god who dares to speak another word about Persephone.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Persephone recognized Hera’s voice. “The consequences of killing a god outside of the Fates will are dire. You could lose your dear goddess.”

A tense silence followed as Persephone tried to imagine the look upon Hades’ face. It probably communicated something along the lines of— try me.

“The fact remains that the snowstorm is causing great harm.” Athena’s silky voice, calming and commanding, entered the fray.

“Then we must discuss solutions to ending her rage,” said Hades.

“Nothing will convince her to end her assault except the separation of you from her daughter,” said Hera.

While that was true, it also implied there were no other ways to end Demeter’s wrath.

“That is out of the question.”

“Does the girl even wish to be with you?” Hera challenged. “Is it not true you trapped her in a contract to force her to spend time with you?”

Persephone’s fingers rolled into fists.

“She is a woman,” Hermes said. “And she loves Hades. I have seen it.”

“So we should sacrifice the lives of thousands for the true love of two gods?” Artemis said.

“Ridiculous.”

“I did not come here so that Council could discuss my love life,” Hades said.

“No, but unfortunately for you,” said Zeus. “Your love life is wreaking havoc upon the world.”

“So is your dick,” Hades said. “And no one’s ever called Council about that.”

“Speaking of dicks and the problems they cause,” Hermes interjected. “Is no one going to speak about the trouble your offspring are causing? Tyche is dead. Someone is attacking us… succeeding in killing us…and you want to bicker about Hades’ love life?”

Persephone couldn’t help smiling at Hermes’ words, but it didn’t take long for the other gods to steal it away.

“We’ll have nothing to worry about if Demeter’s storm continues,” said Artemis. “Mortals will be frozen to the ground. It will be Pompeii all over again.”

“You think Demeter’s wrath is the worst that could happen?” Hades asked, his tone menacing. “You do not know mine.”

It was a threat; one Persephone knew would take the conversation nowhere. Hades had asked her not to reveal herself, but the fact was, these gods were having a conversation about her—her thoughts, her feelings, her choice—and they were making no progress toward what really mattered and that was whatever Demeter was planning with Triad. She left the spot beside Apollo’s throne and made her way around the arc. When she came to the edge—where Ares sat, she took off Hades’ helm and set it aside. Shaking off her glamour, she stepped into the center of the arc and was suddenly surrounded by eleven Olympians.

Her gaze connected with Hades’ and held. He sat rigidly; his hands curled around the edges of his throne. Beneath his gaze, she was able to straighten her shoulders and lift her chin. She had no idea how she looked to these ancient gods—probably young and inexperienced, but at least they would see her and know her and by the end of this, respect her.

“Hades,” she spoke his name and it seemed to calm him. She offered him a small smile before her attention was drawn to Zeus whose voice seemed to rumble deep beneath her feet.

“Well, well, well. Demeter’s daughter.”

“I am,” she said, disliking how the God of Thunder’s eyes gleamed when they were upon her.

She’d seen the king many times, an imposing and large figure, his body filled his throne. Despite being the younger of his two brothers, his hair had a silver tone to it that made him looked older. She did not know why—perhaps he felt it gave him more authority or he’d bargained away some of his youth in exchange for power. Beside him was Hera who looked upon her with judgement. Her face, beautiful and noble, was carved and cynical.