“Of course. Forever.”
Hades grinned, and for a moment, he forgot to put the ring on her finger.
He fumbled as his large fingers clasped the small piece of metal. Once it was in place, he rose to his feet and took her into his arms, kissing her until she was breathless.
“You wouldn’t have happened to overhear Hermes demand a rock, would you?” she asked once they parted.
“He might have been talking loud enough for me to hear,” he said, amused. “But if you must know, I have had that ring for a while.”
“How long?”
“Embarrassingly long,” he admitted. “Since the night of the Olympian Gala.”
But he had known then that she was his forever. Fuck, he had known before that, from the moment he had laid eyes on her on the floor of Nevernight.
“I love you,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers.
“I love you too,” she said, and this time, her lips pressed to his.
He drew her close, wishing to become completely lost in this moment, to forget what lay on the horizon, but there was a sudden chill on the wind that made his blood run cold. When he pulled away, he saw snow.
Snow in the middle of summer.
There was only one god who might be responsible, one god who used weather to torture the world into submission—and that was Demeter.
“Hades,” Persephone whispered, drawing closer to him. “Why is it snowing?”
He did not look at her as he spoke, staring angrily at the flurries whirling over New Athens.
“It’s the start of a war,” he said.
And you—you’re at the center of it.
What in Hades’s name happens next?
A Game of Gods, the next installment in the breath-stopping Hades Saga.
Bonus Content
Read ahead for a sneak peek into A Touch of Chaos , coming from Bloom Books, September
2023.
The burn in his wrists woke him.
The headache splitting his skull made opening his eyes nearly impossible, but he tried, groaning, his thoughts scattering like glass. He had no ability to pick at the pieces, to recall how he had gotten here, so he focused instead on the pain in his body—the metal digging into the raw skin on his wrists, the way his nails pierced his palm, the way his fingers throbbed from being curled into themselves when they should be coiled around Persephone’s ring.
The ring. It was gone.
Hysteria built inside him, a fissure that had him straining against his manacles, and he finally tore open his eyes to find that he was restrained in a small, dark cell. As he dangled from the ceiling, body draped in the same heavy net that had sent him to the ground in the Minotaur’s prison, his gaze locked with familiar aqua eyes. He was not alone.
“Theseus,” Hades growled, though even to him, his voice sounded weak.
He was so tired and so full of pain, he could not vocalize the way he wished; otherwise, he would rage.
The demigod was not looking at him, but at a small object clutched between his thumb and forefinger. He looked so at ease—and why not? He had the advantage.
“This is a beautiful ring,” he said and paused, twisting it so that even beneath the dim light, the gems glittered. Hades watched it, his stomach knotting with each movement. “Who would have guessed it would be your downfall?”
“Persephone will come,” he said, certain.
Theseus laughed. “You think your bride can go up against me? When I have managed to ensnare you?”
Hades took a breath, as deep as he could manage, though the weight of the net pushed against his sternum—it pushed against his whole body, made him feel like he was crumbling. Then he spoke, a quiet promise that shook his bones.
“She will be your ruin.”
Author’s Note
If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know I began the Hades Saga because of my readers, though I always felt that Hades was up to something in the time he wasn’t with Persephone in the main series. I especially knew this to be true during the events of A Touch of Ruin, but I’m not sure even I expected what would unfold in Retribution.
This book was a bitch to say the least, and I fought hard against writing it.
I think there was an element of dread because I was returning to a book that dealt heavily with grief and I am only a year into my own journey with grief.
I dreaded facing the feelings, drudging them up. I dreaded the feedback, too. I was afraid people would compare Hades and Persephone and once again elevate his character above hers, and we all know how much I identify with my girl.
I have a soapbox I like to stand on when people compare the two—and I’m going to use it now because this is important to me, and because it’s important to me, I know it will be important to my readers—to you.