It was like he starved for her.
But that couldn’t be true—because he was a god and he had lived for centuries which meant centuries of experience and she was only obsessing over this because she had none.
She hung her head in her hands, frustrated with herself. She needed to reignite the anger she felt when Hades had so arrogantly admitted to abusing his power under the pretense that he was helping mortals. Her eyes fell to the notes she’d taken after interviewing Hades. She’d written so fast, the words were hardly legible, but after a few carful readings, she was able to piece it together.
If it is help Hades truly wants to offer, he should challenge the addict to rehab. Why not go a step further and pay for it?
She sat up a little straighter and typed that out, feeling the anger spark in her bloodstream again. It was like flame to an accelerant, and soon her fingers flew across the keys, adding word after angry word.
I see the soul. What burdens it, what corrupts it, what destroys it—and challenge it.
Those words pierced all the wrong parts of her. What was it like to be the God of the Underworld? To only see the struggle, the pain, and the vices of others?
It sounded miserable.
He must be miserable, she decided. Tired of being the God of the Dead, he inserted himself in the fate of mortal lives for entertainment. What did he have to lose?
Nothing.
She stopped typing, and sat back, taking a deep breath.
She had never felt so many emotions about a single person before. She was angry with him, and curious, caught between surprise and disgust at the things he had created and the things he said. At war with both of those was the extreme attraction she felt when she was with him. How could she want him? He represented the opposite of everything she’d dreamed of in her whole life. He was her jailer when all she’d wanted was freedom.
Except that he had freed something inside her.
Something long-repressed and never explored.
Passion and lust and desire—probably all the things Hades looked for in a burdened soul.
She flexed her fingers over the keyboard. She started to imagine what it would be like to kiss him with all this anger in her veins.
Stop! She commanded herself, biting down hard on her lip. This is ridiculous.
Hades is the enemy.
He is your enemy.
He only kissed her to bestow favor so she wouldn’t cause any chaos for him. More than likely, her near-death experience in the Underworld had taken him away from important things.
Like Minthe.
She rolled her eyes and focused on her screen again, reading the last line she’d typed.
If this is the god we are presented with in our life, what god will we meet upon our death? What hopes can we have of a happy afterlife?
Those words stung, and she knew she was probably being a little unfair. After touring part of the Underworld, it was clear Hades cared about his realm and those who occupied it. Why else would he go through the trouble of maintaining such a grand illusion?
Because it likely benefits him, she reminded herself. It’s obvious he likes pretty things, Persephone. Why wouldn’t he cultivate a pretty realm?
She was interrupted from her work when her desk phone rang. The sound scared her, and she jumped, quickly picking up the receiver to silence the sound.
“Persephone speaking,” she said. Her heart was still racing, and she took a deep breath to calm herself.
“Persephone, it’s Valerie. I think your mother is here?”
Her mother? Her racing heart fell into her stomach. What was Demeter doing here? She worried her lip for a moment—had Demeter found out about her visit to the Underworld over the weekend? She recalled her words in the Garden of the Gods—Need I remind you a condition of your time here was that you stay away from the gods. Especially Hades. She still hadn’t figured out how her mother knew she was at Nevernight, but she assumed the Goddess of Harvest probably had a spy among those at Hades’ club.
“I’ll be right up.” Persephone managed to keep her voice even.
It was easy to spot Demeter. She looked as close to her Divine form as possible, maintaining her sun-kissed glow and bright eyes. Today she wore a light pink sundress and white heels.
“My flower!” Demeter approached her with open arms, pulling Persephone into a hug.
“Mother,” Persephone pushed away. “What are you doing here?”
Demeter looked surprised. “It’s Monday.”
It took a moment for Persephone to realize that was Demeter’s answer, and then another moment to remember what Monday meant.
Oh no.
The color drained from Persephone’s face.