A Touch of Ruin (Hades x Persephone #2)(28)

“Honest mistake.”

“You’ll forgive me if I believe there was nothing honest about it.”

She twisted toward Mekonnen. “Please show Leuce to Hades’ office. I’ll see that he’s along shortly.”

“Yes, my lady,” Mekonnen bowed, and added. “He’s in the lounge.”

“Thank you,” she replied warmly, though her whole body felt like ice.

Persephone made her way into Nevernight. She went right up the stairs to the lounge where Hades made wagers with mortals seeking more from life—love, money, health. It was these bargains that had both appalled and intrigued her. It led her to writing about the God of the Dead, and eventually landed her in a contract with him.

Euryale, a gorgon and gatekeeper to the lounge, waited outside. Persephone’s first interaction with the blind woman had been hostile, as the creature had correctly identified her as a goddess based on smell.

“Is Lord Hades in trouble?” Euryale asked. There was amusement in her voice, but also a hint of excitement as the goddess approached.

“More than you could ever know,” Persephone answered.

Euryale smiled, showing a set of blackened teeth. She opened the door without pause and bowed to Persephone as she passed.

“He is in the sapphire suite, my lady.”

Persephone stalked around the crowded card tables. The room was dark despite a large chandelier overhead and several intricate sconces lining the walls. Persephone’s first visit to the suite sealed her fate. She’d been enamored by the people and games, she’d reveled in watching the cards fly across the table, the ease with which men and women interacted and teased, and then she’d come to a poker table where she’d sat and met the King of the Underworld.

Even now, recalling how he’d looked up close for the first time made her stomach clench tight. He was a tangible shadow, built like a fortress, and he’d crashed into her life like a force of nature. She couldn’t shake him and, in truth, hadn’t wanted to. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he’d ignited something inside her. It felt like fire, but it was his darkness calling to hers.

She knew that now—felt it in her blood and bones—as she melded with the darkness in the room and found the passage that led to a series of suites where mortals waited to bargain with Hades. They were all named after precious stones—sapphire and emerald and diamond, each one decorated in the associated colors. They were beautiful rooms, offering a sense of grandeur, communicating to all who entered that if they played their cards right—literally—perhaps they, too, could obtain something just as extravagant.

Persephone found the sapphire lounge and when she entered, a man sat opposite Hades. The mortal looked to be in his early twenties. Persephone used to wonder how people so young could end up across from the God of the Dead, but disease of any kind did not discriminate. Whatever he was here for made him defensive, because he turned in his chair to see who had interrupted his game and said, “If it’s him you want, you’ll have to wait your turn. Took me three years to get this appointment.”

Hades gaze melded to her. Despite his elegant appearance, he was predatory. He sat with his back straight, fingers clasped around a glass of whiskey. To the untrained eye, he probably looked relaxed, but Persephone knew by his expression that he was on edge. Probably because of her. She didn’t have to say anything for him to understand she was angry. Her glamour was failing, she could feel it melting away, revealing holes in her mortal facade.

“Leave, mortal,” she said. The command must have shaken the man because he wasted no time raced out of the suite. Persephone slammed the door.

“I’ll have to erase his memory. Your eyes are glowing,” he smirked. “Who angered you?”

“Can you not guess?” She asked.

Hades raised a brow.

“I just had the pleasure of meeting your lover.”

Hades didn’t react, and that made her angrier. She felt more of her glamour slipping away. She imagined how ridiculous she looked—a goddess who stood before one so ancient, unable to hold onto her magic.

“I see.”

Persephone’s voice shook as she spoke. “You have seconds to explain before I turn her into a weed.”

She knew Hades would have laughed if he believed she were any less serious.

“Her name is Leuce,” he answered. “She was my lover a long time ago.”

She hated that she was relieved that he hadn’t named someone else.

“What is a long time?”

He stared at her for a moment, and there was something behind his eyes—a living thing full of rage and ruin and strife.

“Centuries, Persephone.”

“Then why did she introduce herself to me as your lover today?”

“Because to her, I was her lover up until Sunday.”

Persephone’s fists clenched, and suddenly, vines erupted from the floor and covered the walls. Hades didn’t even flinch.

“And why is that?”

“Because she’s been a poplar tree for over two thousand years.”

Persephone’s brows rose. She hadn’t expected that.

“Why was she a poplar tree?”

Hades’ hands rested on the tabletop, and they curled into fists as he answered, “She betrayed me.”