A Touch of Ruin (Hades x Persephone #2)(52)

She checked her phone, but there were no texts from Lexa’s mother or Jaison. She hoped that was a good sign. She hurried into the adjoining bathroom and scrubbed her face. The cold water felt good against her flushed skin.

“You really should eat something,” Hecate said. “It would please Hades.”

It might please Hades, but Persephone was sure she would be sick if she ate.

“Where is Hades?” she asked, exiting the bathroom. He’d been beside her through most of the night, waking up each time she rose from bed to blow her nose or wash her face.

The goddess shrugged. “I do not know. He summoned me early this morning. He did not wish to disturb you.”

She wasn’t sure why, but not knowing where Hades was at this moment made her uneasy. She couldn’t help where her mind wandered—was he sorting things out with Leuce? She had asked him to give her a place to live and her job back, but she had not seen the nymph. She supposed she could ask today as she was scheduled to meet Leuce later. It was part of the deal she’d made to mentor the nymph.

“I am sorry about Lexa, Persephone,” Hecate said at last.

The sentiment made Persephone shiver, and her eyes watered.

“It shouldn’t have been her.”

Hecate said nothing, and Persephone cleared her throat. After she was dressed, she grabbed her phone and her purse.

“I’ll take coffee if you have it,” she told Hecate as she prepared to head out.

“That is not sustenance.”

“Yes, it is—it’s caffeine.”

Hecate frowned, but obliged, summoning a steaming cup of coffee.

“Thank you, Hecate,” Persephone said. “When you see Hades, tell him I had breakfast.”

“That would be a lie,” she argued.

“No, it’s not. He knows what breakfast means for me.”

Hecate shook her head, grimacing, but didn’t argue.

Persephone left Nevernight on foot. It was already hot and it wasn’t even noon. The heat coiled around her skin as she walked, dampening her clothes and causing her hair to stick to her neck and face. She probably should have taken the bus, or asked Hecate to arrange for a ride, but she really wanted to be alone.

“Persephone!” she glanced up. Someone on the other side of the street had called her name. She didn’t recognize them, but they were now looking up and down the road in an attempt to cross. She quickened her pace.

“Persephone!”

She glanced behind her again. The person had made it across the street, and they were now running toward her.

“Persephone Rosi, wait!”

She cringed, hearing her name called so loud, drawing stares from curious onlookers.

“Persephone?” Another voice joined in. “Hey, it’s Persephone Rosi! Hades’ lover!”

A man stepped in front of her and asked, “Can I get a picture?”

He was already holding up his phone.

“Sorry, no. I’m in a hurry,” Persephone sidestepped the man, and continued down the sidewalk.

“What’s Hades like?” someone called.

“Was he angry about the article you wrote?”

“How did you meet?”

The words crowded her like the people outside the Acropolis. She kept her arms close to her body, and her head down so they couldn’t get pictures of her face. Did they think less space would force answers out of her? Maybe they thought fear would do the trick.

“Stop following me!” she finally yelled, feeling claustrophobic and a little terrified.

Persephone broke into a run, trying to escape the crowd that had formed around her. They yelled her name and questions and horrible things. She cut across the street and slipped down an alleyway. Just as she exited, she was caught by the shoulder and hauled around. She twisted and punched her assailant in the face.

Her knuckles met the hard-as-stone face of Hermes.

“Fuck!” She cursed. Shacking her fingers out. “Hermes!”

His brows rose to meet his hairline. “I have to say, women are more agreeably engaged with me when those two words come out of their mouth.”

“She went this way!” someone yelled.

Persephone met Hermes’ gaze and snapped, “Get me out of here!”

He grinned. “As you wish, Goddess of Profanity.”

Hermes teleported, and once they arrived safely on the rooftop garden of the hospital, she gave a frustrated cry.

“I can’t go anywhere! How are you a god, Hermes?”

The god shrugged, a smirk on his face. “It isn’t so bad. We are revered and worshipped.”

“And hated,” Persephone finished.

“Speak for yourself,” Hermes replied.

Persephone glared at him, and then sighed, running her fingers through her hair. She had to admit, she was a little shaken by what had happened on the street.

“Sephy, if you don’t mind me saying...at some point, you’re going to have to accept that your life has changed.”

She looked at the god, confused. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you probably can’t just walk down the street like you want. I’m saying you’re going to have to start acting like a goddess...or at least a god’s lover.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Hermes!” She didn’t mean to sound so frustrated, but this was not the time to have this discussion.