Neon Gods (Dark Olympus #1)(21)
“Carnal activities.” I don’t think he’s taken a breath in the last sixty seconds. “Are you a virgin, Persephone?”
I scrunch up my nose. “That’s not really your business. Why do you ask?”
“Because only a virgin would call sex ‘carnal activities.’”
Ah, that’s what’s holding him up. I shouldn’t enjoy poking this man so much, but despite what I told him earlier, I honestly don’t think he’ll hurt me. My skin doesn’t try to crawl off my body every time I’m in a room with him, which is a marked improvement from Zeus and some of the other people who frequent that social circle. More, Hades might growl and snap and attempt to slap me down verbally, but he keeps sneaking glances at my feet as if it physically pains him that I’m standing on them. He’s irritating, but he’s not going to hurt me if he’s that concerned with my current level of comfort.
I give him a faintly pitying look. “Hades, regardless of the ridiculous importance the upper city puts on virginity, there are plenty of activities that can be termed ‘carnal’ that don’t involve penis-in-vagina sex. Really, I would think you’d know that already.”
His lips twitch, but he manages to get control of himself before actually smiling. Then he’s back to glowering at me. “You’re so eager to sell your virginity for your safety.”
I roll my eyes. “Please. Whatever fiction my mother sold to Zeus, I’m not a virgin, so if that’s what’s having your head in danger of exploding, you can let it go. It’s fine.”
If anything, he glares harder. “That doesn’t make your offered bargain more attractive.”
Oh, this is just ridiculous. I sigh, letting my exasperation through. “Silly me for thinking that you’re among the percentage of the human population that doesn’t worship at the altar of the hymen.”
He curses, looking like he wants to drag his hands over his face. “That is not what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“Am I?” I’m already well past my frustration limit with this conversation. I’m usually better at selling people on my ideas than this. “What is the problem, Hades? We have similar interests at this point. You want to punish Zeus for the harm he’s caused you. I want to ensure his plans to marry me die a quick and efficient death. Ensuring that he believes we’re fucking on every available surface until you’re imprinted on my skin accomplishes both of these goals. He won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole, and he’ll never be able to get over the fact that it was you who ‘ruined’ me.”
Still he doesn’t say anything. I sigh again. “Is it because you think you’d be coercing me? You’re not. If I didn’t want to have sex with you, I wouldn’t offer.”
His shock is so delicious, I can almost taste it. Like the rest of Olympus, this man has seen the various media coverage of me and my family and made assumptions. I can’t say all of them are wrong, but I get a special delight in this interaction. I know the role my mother crafted for me among my four sisters—the sweet, sunny Persephone who always smiles as she does what she’s told.
Little do they know.
I’m not exactly lying. Yes, I don’t have much in the way of options right now, but the idea of sleeping with Hades to ruin any chances of Zeus’s ring on my finger… It appeals to a very dark, very secret part of me. I want to twist the knife, to punish Zeus for acting like I’m a piece of art up for auction instead of a person with thoughts and feelings and plans. I want him to writhe in pain around a blade of my crafting, to undermine his authority by slipping through his fingers to take up with his enemy. A small thing, perhaps, but nothing is truly small when it comes to reputation. My mother has taught me that lesson well.
Power is as much about perception as it is about the resources one has at their disposal.
“I don’t know how you pick sexual partners, but I don’t usually bargain for the privilege.” His hand twitches at his side. “Sit your ass down before you bleed all over my carpet.”
“First hardwood floors, now carpet. Hades, you are positively rabid for your floors.” After a quick internal debate, I perch on the edge of the mattress. He won’t be able to focus on a single thing I’m saying if I remain standing. I fold my hands primly on my lap. “Better?”
Hades has the same look on his face that my mother gets before she starts threatening to throw people out windows. I don’t think she’s ever actually thrown anything in a fit of anger, but the threat was good when we were children. He shakes his head slowly. “Hardly. You’re still here.”
“Ouch.” I hold his gaze. “I still don’t understand the problem. Last night you were all throat-grabbing and snarling Mine, and today you’re acting like you can’t wait to kick me to the curb. Am I just not your type?” It’s possible, though it seems a strange thing to trip him up if he really wants vengeance. I have access to a mirror. I know what I look like. Traditional beauty and all that, and that was before my mother insisted we sink a truly absurd amount of money into hair and skin care and wardrobe, though I drew the line at a nose job.
“Unless you’re more into the helpless damsel in distress? I suppose I could play the role for you if that’ll get the job done.” I look up at Hades, and I don’t bother to paint my expression with any artifice or seduction. It won’t work on him, I’m sure of it. Instead I give him a mocking smile, the tiniest bit of edge to my normally sunny self. “Do you want me, Hades? Even a little bit?”