A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(32)

“This woman is Hades’ betrothed, the future Queen of the Underworld. Kneel before her or face my wrath.”

The man’s eyes widened before he dropped to his knee, followed by his opponent and the deaf man, her new friend. When she looked at the God of the Sun, he was smiling.

“See what your title does to men, Persephone?”

She sighed. “I should have left this bargain when I had the chance.”

She pushed past Apollo and headed for the cover of the porch. She didn’t know where she was going, but it was cold, and she was angry.

“You don’t even know where you’re going Seph,” Apollo said, jogging to catch up.

“As far away from your dick measuring contest as possible,” she replied.

“You act like that was my fault,” he said. “You were the one who didn’t come when I asked.”

“You didn’t ask. You commanded. We talked about this.”

Apollo was silent as he walked beside her. After a moment, he started to make what sounded like hissing sounds. “I’m…s-s—”

Persephone slowed as Apollo struggled beside her. He tried again.

“I’m sor—”

His mouth quivered, as if the words made him want to vomit.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed, shuddering.

“Is your brain hemorrhaging?” Persephone asked.

“This might surprise you, but apologizing isn’t my thing,” Apollo said, glaring.

“I am astonished. I would have never guessed.”

“You know, you could acknowledge how difficult that was for me. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

“Oh, we’re friends now? Because it sure didn’t feel like we were friends earlier.”

Apollo frowned.

“I…didn’t mean to upset you,” Apollo said. “I was…frustrated.”

“I noticed. Why?”

“I got…distracted while brining you here,” he admitted. “I thought…I lost you.”

Persephone’s brows furrowed. “Why were you distracted?”

Apollo started to open his mouth and then closed it. “The snow started falling again.”

At the mention of snow, she turned in the direction he was gazing—the flurries swirled, thicker now, and her stomach knotted.

“Can we please agree that you will not teleport my entire being without permission?”

“Does Hades need permission?”

Again, she glared.

“How else am I supposed to summon you?”

“Like normal people do.”

“I am not people.”

“Apollo—”

They’d been together for seconds and she had already warned him twice.

“Fine,” he sighed, folding his arms over his chest, as he pursed his lips.

“Why did you bring me here?” Persephone asked.

“I wanted to introduce you to my hero,” he said, “But you already met him.”

“The big one?” she asked, thinking he meant the deaf man, and was surprised when Apollo’s features hardened. “No, that is my hero’s opponent, Ajax. My hero is Hector, He Who Holds Everything Together.”

She expected him to look a little prouder of that fact, but as he continued to speak, she understood his frustration.

“The one who insulted you.”

“Hmm, where did you find him?”

“Delos,” he said. “He is a decorated hero, but arrogant. It will be the death of him.”

“And yet you give him your favor?”

“Delos is where my mother took refuge to give birth to me and Artemis,” he said. “Those are my people and he protected them. I owe him favor.”

They cast their gazes toward the field where several men lingered, all naked. She noted Hector, whose eyes were narrowed, expression mocking. She followed his gaze and saw that he stared at Ajax, who was in the middle of removing his clothes. Persephone averted her eyes. She knew it was traditional for Greeks to participate in most sports naked—with the exception of chariot races—but did they really need to practice that way, too?

“Hades is not going to be happy when he finds out how I spent my day,” she mused.

She expected Apollo to make a sarcastic reply, but all he said was, “Hmm.”

When she looked at him, his gaze was fixed to Ajax, eyes burning. She knew that look, even in someone else’s eyes because it was the way Hades looked at her. She elbowed Apollo.

“I thought Hector was your hero,” Persephone said.

“He is.”

“Then why are you staring at Ajax?”

A muscle feathered in Apollo’s jaw.

“It would be foolish of me not watch my hero’s opponent.”

“When he’s undressing?” she asked, raising a brow.

Apollo sneered. “I don’t like you.”

She cackled, but her amusement was short-lived when she heard something that darkened her spirits.

“Look at him—dressed like a warrior and can’t hear a thing.” One of the men on the field said, he stood beside another, arms crossed, nodding toward Ajax. “What a joke.”

Persephone’s fists clenched, and she looked to Apollo, whose remained emotionless.