Hermes spent what felt like an entire hour brushing out his hair, then he tied half of it back, away from his face.
“Drop your glamour,” Hermes said.
Hades lifted a brow and met Hermes’s stare in the mirror. It wasn’t that he minded his true form. It was the order from Hermes that bothered him.
“It’s hotter,” Hermes added.
Hades rolled his eyes but let his magic fall away.
Mostly, he did not notice the difference in how it felt to carry around an illusion all day, but there were times when it felt particularly nice to shrug off the heaviness of his magic.
Tonight was one of those nights.
As he sat before the mirror in the bathroom in his natural form—tall horns spiraling from his head and eerie blue eyes flashing bright—he almost did not recognize himself. Or rather, he felt as though this form belonged to a god who no longer existed. It was the form he’d been given at birth, the one he’d used as he’d waged wars against the Titans, the one he’d used as he received thousands of colorless souls into the Underworld, the one he’d used when he and the other Olympians had come to earth during the Great War.
It was this visage that people had come to dread. He wondered if there were souls in Asphodel who would see him tonight and remember their fear.
He curled his hand into a fist on the counter.
“You need a crown,” Hermes said.
Hades focused on the god, who still loomed in the background, studying him like a painting in a museum. He didn’t argue and called on his magic. Shadows broke away from his body and slithered through the air, twining on his head to form a crown of iron spikes. Before it was finished forming, he rose to his feet and turned toward Hermes.
“Thank you,” Hades said and then looked the god up and down. “Have fun…doing whatever you’re doing.”
“It’s okay, Hades. You can say it. I look fine as fuck.”
The corners of his mouth lifted. “Sure, Hermes.”
With that, he teleported to Asphodel, arriving at the very edge of the village.
“Lord Hades!”
He grinned as several of the children broke into a run, colliding with his legs hard. He pretended to stumble, and they giggled at their strength.
“Play with us!” one said—his name was Dion. He pulled on Hades’s hand.
“Please, please, please,” a couple others chanted.
Hades chuckled and reached to pick up a smaller child who had pushed her way to the front of the crowd and buried her head against him. Her name was Lily.
“What shall we play?” he asked.
The children replied at the same time.
“Hide-and-seek!”
“Blindman’s bluff!”
“Ostrakinda!”
Their answers continued, some choosing games that had been played since the ancient times while others chose more modern versions. It reminded him just how long some of these souls had resided here and that, at some point, they would ascend to the Upperworld, to be born to new parents and birthed into new bodies, and they would forget everything they had learned here.
It was strange that the thought of life brought him more grief than death.
“Well,” he said. “I suppose it’s just a matter of which we shall play first.”
The children began to shout again, taking his comment to mean they should tell him which game they wished to begin with, but their voices only faded into the background when he looked up and met Persephone’s stunning gaze.
Her divine form inspired nothing but awe because she glowed. She was like a fucking star in the sky, burning away the darkness, setting fire to every horror he had ever known.
This, he thought, is her truest form. She was wild, free, and beautiful. Her hair was unbound, curls falling thick and heavy around her shoulders and down her back, crowned with white flora from which her horns seemed to rise. Her gown was pink and airy and gave the illusion that she was simply gliding over the earth.
He swallowed hard and gritted his teeth, hoping to oppress the heat stirring low in his belly. Some of the children seemed to notice Hades was distracted and turned, then bounded toward Persephone.
“Lady Persephone, please play!”
They collided with her and pulled at her hands, and a smile broke out across her face. Hades never really considered that beauty would be the weapon to stop his heart, but here he was, barely breathing. She made it so easy to forget every weight he carried—the ophiotaurus, the attacks on Adonis and Harmonia, the dangerous relics and weapons, the anxiety of Demeter’s storm.
“Of course,” she said, lifting her eyes to his again and then glancing over her shoulder. “Hecate? Yuri?”
“No,” Hecate declined quickly. “But I shall watch and drink wine from the sidelines.”
The children were already pulling them to the field, and as they did, Hades came to stand close to Persephone. She turned her head and met his gaze.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he replied, grinning.
He wanted to lean into her and kiss her but refrained, turning his attention instead to the crowd of children who had gathered.
“We have a lot of games to play,” Hades said. “Which shall we play first?”
He called out the name of each game and let the children decide. They began with hide-and-seek, which excited him at first. Perhaps he could manage to get Persephone alone, but that turned out to be impossible, as each time he went in search of her, she had a child in tow, clinging to her skirts or cradled in her arms.
He was again hopeful when they moved on to blindman’s bluff. He would gladly grope at her blindly, but before they even began, she dashed his dream.
“Lord Hades is not allowed to be it,” she said.
He tilted his head. “And why is that, Lady Persephone?”
She cocked a brow. “Because you cheat.”
“What a wild accusation,” he replied, affronted.
“Do you deny it, Lord Hades? That you cheated during hide-and-seek, vanishing from sight just when you were about to be found?”
“It’s called using your resources,” he replied.
She was not amused.
The last game was ostrakinda, which was played in Ancient Greece; it was basically the most chaotic game of tag to ever exist, but Hades was looking forward to it. They formed two teams, the night led by him and the day led by Persephone, each represented by a shell, which was painted white on one side and black on the other.
Their teams stood opposite one another, and Hades never took his eyes off Persephone, even as one of the children tossed the shell between them.
It landed white side up, meaning night would chase day.
Screaming ensued as the children immediately scattered, but Persephone had yet to move, her eyes riveted to Hades. He wondered what she was thinking because he was wrestling with what he would do when he caught her. He would like to tackle her and teleport them to bed before she even hit the ground, but he had a feeling Hecate would arrive and drag them back to Asphodel.
He’d have to be content with a kiss, even if it just made the evening far more tedious.
He smiled, and something within his gaze must have told Persephone to run because she spun on her heels. He reached for her, barely catching her arm as she whirled out of his grasp and bolted across the field. He wasn’t wrong when he’d observed how she seemed to glide over the ground because she did so now, bounding ahead of him like some graceful gazelle, leaving flowers in her wake with every press of her foot to the ground.
He wasn’t even sure she realized it, because she never once looked back at him, but he didn’t take his eyes off her, which was how he witnessed the sudden change in her. The flowers that had bloomed in her wake vanished as her steps faltered, and she came to a sudden, shocking halt.
Hades slowed to a walk and came up beside her, his hand brushing hers at her side. She didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed somewhere on the horizon.
“Are you well?”
She took a shuddering breath.
“I just remembered that Lexa was not here,” she said, and when she looked at him, tears welled in her eyes. It hurt his chest to see her like this, so…broken, and in the aftermath of a moment of complete bliss. “How could I have forgotten?”
“Oh, darling,” he said and pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He held her close for a moment, uncertain of what to say because he knew there were no words that would bring comfort. This was her grief and her guilt, and the only thing either could do was wait until the feelings ebbed.
He only let her go when she seemed ready to move, and then he took her hand and led her to the picnic area where the souls were gathering to feast. Yuri led them to their blanket at the very front of the field, beneath the eaves of Persephone’s grove. He helped her sit, and he fed her and filled her cup with wine, unable or unwilling to take his eyes off her as he watched joy creep back into her expression, and it all seemed to come from watching the souls—his people.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, curious.
She was sitting with her legs crossed and picking apart a roll in her lap. At his question, she seemed to realize what she was doing and set it aside, brushing the crumbs into the grass.
“I was just thinking about becoming queen.”
“And are you happy?”
She seemed to be, but he remembered a time when she would have resisted that title.
“Yes, of course,” she said and paused. “I was just thinking of how it will be. What we will do together. If, that is, Zeus approves.”
Hades stiffened at her final comment, frustrated that she was even thinking about Zeus at all. He supposed it was more that she obviously doubted his promise, that they would marry even if his brother did not approve.
“Just keep planning, darling.”
A small smile ghosted across her lips, and she looked away, her gaze trailing over the vast field, to Asphodel and to the castle that loomed in the distance like a dreadful shadow.
“I would like to speak about earlier,” he said. “Before we were interrupted, you asked if I trusted you.”
She stiffened at his comment, and he noted how she hesitated before she spoke.
“You did not think I’d come to you when Hermes summoned me to Lemnos,” she said. “Tell me, truthfully.”
He swallowed something thick in his throat, and a feeling of shame washed over him. He let his eyes fall to his hands.
“I did not,” he admitted and then quickly met her hurt gaze. “But I was more concerned about Aphrodite. I know what she wants from you. I worry you will try to investigate and identify Adonis and Harmonia’s attackers on your own. It isn’t because I don’t trust you but because I know you. You want to make the world safe again, fix what is broken.”
“I told you I wouldn’t do anything without your knowledge, and I meant it.”
Her eyes and tone were fierce. He had often sworn oaths to her, and this felt like one now.
He believed her.
“I am sorry,” he said. He felt so wrong for doubting her, worse for letting her think he did not trust her.
She did not say it was okay or even that she accepted his apology. Instead, she used his words against him.
“You once said words had no meaning. Let our actions speak next time.”
He nodded once.
For a moment, a strange tension lingered between them. Hades almost felt as though he needed to say something else, to apologize again, but he also knew those words wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t long before they fell into an easier silence, and Hades shifted onto his back, resting his head in Persephone’s lap.
She laughed as he did it but seemed content to thread her fingers through his hair. He liked the feel of it, and it lulled him into a sense of calm.
“Hades.” She said his name in a hushed tone, as if she feared he might be sleeping.
“Hmm?” He opened his eyes and met her gaze, not quite prepared for what she said next.
“What did you trade for your ability to have children?”
He wondered what had brought on her curiosity. Had it been their time with the children in Asphodel? The question gave way to more. Was she having second thoughts about their marriage? Had she decided she truly wished to become a mother?
“I gave a mortal woman divinity,” he said.
At the time, it had felt powerful, but it was also why Dionysus owed him a favor and had little choice but to bend to his will. The God of Wine had come to him after his mother, Semele, was killed by Zeus, her death ultimately the result of Hera’s jealousy. He begged Hades to set her free. Hades wished he could say he had been motivated to go to the Fates purely out of sympathy for the god, but he was more interested in binding Dionysus to do his bidding.
The Fates agreed to grant Semele divinity, but in exchange, Hades had to give up his ability to have children.
He hadn’t even had to think about the trade then. It was the easiest decision he had ever made. He had no great love, only lovers. This, he thought, was a true blessing.
But the Fates had known better.
He should have known better.
Now his head rested in the lap of his truest love, and he couldn’t make her a mother.
“Did you love her?” Persephone asked, misunderstanding his reasons completely.
“No. I wish I could claim it was out of love or even compassion, but…I wanted to claim a favor from a god, so I bargained with the Fates.”
“And they asked for your…our…children?”
There was something about the word our that hurt in ways he could not even express. What future had he sacrificed for them in exchange for the favor of a god who hated him?
He sat up and faced her. “What are you thinking?”
He needed to know if that was something she wanted, because if it was, he would find a way.
“Nothing,” she said. “I just…am trying to understand Fate.”
“Fate does not make sense. That is why it is so easy to blame.”
She held his gaze a moment and then looked away, and he could not help feeling like she was actually trying to decide if she could really do this.
He reached for her, letting his fingers linger on her skin as he spoke.
“If I had known—if I’d been given any inkling—I would have never—”
“It’s all right, Hades,” she said. “I did not ask to cause you grief.”
“You did not cause me grief,” he said. “I think back on that moment often, reflecting on the ease with which I gave up something I would come to wish for, but that is the consequence of bargaining with the Fates. Inevitably, you will always desire what they take. One day, I think, you will come to resent me for my actions.”
“I do not, and I will not,” she said, as if she were insulted he suggested it. “Can you not forgive yourself as easily as you have forgiven me? We have all made mistakes, Hades.”
He searched her gaze, uncertain of what he was looking for, but only felt her love and kindness peering back. Despite how hard it had been to handle her trusting view of the world, it was also something he admired about her. She reminded him of the good that existed, no matter how little.
He brought his mouth to hers and guided her to the soft ground. She felt so good beneath him, and his body filled with a delicious heat as her eager hands sought an opening in his robes. He drew in a ragged breath when she found his length, already throbbing with need, and jerked him up and down. Each time her palm smoothed over the head of his cock, he felt light-headed, but he kissed her harder and moved his hips, thrusting into her grasp until she released him and gathered the ridiculous cloud of tulle around her waist and guided him to her heat. Once he was inside, he lowered himself onto his elbows, his face only inches from hers, and began to move.
She shuddered on his first thrust and then moaned on the second. By the third, her head was pressed into the ground, and his mouth was on her neck, scouring her skin.
Fuck, she felt so good, and it took everything in him to set a steady pace, to not drive into her as he had last night.
He had been a different person then, someone far more primal and possessive, but this…this felt like a claim of its own, a promise of something far greater than what had already been taken away.
“I will give you the world,” he whispered, his mouth hovering over hers.
“I don’t need the world,” she said. “I just need you.”
He kissed her, made love to her, and brought her to release under his sky.
CHAPTER XVIII
DIONYSUS
Dionysus was surprised to find Ariadne awake and sitting in his living room. He expected her to avoid him, though perhaps things had only changed between them from his perspective.
He could not look at her the same way anymore. Before, she had only mildly annoyed him, and while that was, in part, due to his attraction to her, nothing compared to how he felt now. She was fire beneath his skin, and all he thought about was how he felt when she kissed him.
It did not help that she looked so at ease in his home, like she belonged right there, at the center of his life. She sat on the couch with a book in her lap wearing his shirt, her long, bare legs crossed in front of her.
She had even made coffee.
She looked up as he came into the room.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said. “You?”
“Fine.”
He wasn’t sure why he sounded so passive-aggressive. Maybe it was because he was lying. Silence followed his reply, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
Dionysus hesitated. He had not expected her to ask.
“I have a meeting,” he said. “You can stay here if you prefer, or I can take you back to Bakkheia.”
He should not give her the choice to stay, but selfishly, he liked the idea of coming home to her. It was ridiculous, given he rarely stayed here, but it wasn’t as if he’d had a reason to be here before.
Ariadne seemed just as surprised by his offer. “I…I think I’d like to stay here.”
Dionysus swallowed, frustrated by the relief he felt at her choice.
“The maenads will guard the house,” he said.
Ariadne’s eyes hardened. “Is that a warning?”
“It’s only a warning if you are planning your escape.”
Her mouth tightened. “Have you thought any more about your plan to rescue Medusa from Poseidon?”
The reality was that he had thought about it, and his meeting was actually with the god himself, but he did not want to tell Ariadne that because he did not wish for her to accompany him. The fewer women he could put in Poseidon’s path, the better.
“I’m working on it,” he said with far more frustration than he intended.
“You’re moving too slow,” she said.
“Can you just trust me once?” Dionysus snapped. He should have stopped talking then, but he couldn’t help himself. He continued. “You’re used to shoving your way into situations that don’t concern you because you think you have authority, but you have none here. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
She slammed her book closed. “You wonder why I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t wonder,” he said. “I know.”
She shook her head. “You don’t respect me. You don’t value anything I have to offer.”
That was not true, but he dared not say that aloud.
“I could say the same about you,” Dionysus said.
She set the book aside and stood. The hem of her shirt barely grazed the tops of her thighs. Whatever anger he felt for her, it also spurred his desire. He clenched his fists.
“Take me to Bakkheia then,” she said.
“What difference does it make where you stay?” Dionysus said. “It is not as if you will escape me.”
“You’re the one who offered the option,” she said. “So let me choose.”
“You already have,” he said, though he was distracted, noticing how the soft material of her shirt clung to her breasts, molding around her hard nipples. When Ariadne noticed, she crossed her arms over her chest.
Dionysus looked away, clearing his throat. He needed to go.
“I’ll have the maenads bring you some clothes,” he said, vanishing before making an even greater fool of himself.
Dionysus stood beside Silenus at the edge of a pier that extended far into the waters of the Gulf of Poseidon. Behind them, New Greece was shrouded in mist and heavy clouds, but the snowstorm did not seem to have touched this part of Poseidon’s realm.
They had been waiting for an hour with no sign of the God of the Sea. Given their history, Dionysus would not be surprised if he did not show at all.
“It is not as if anyone remembers that war,” said Silenus.
“I remember,” said Dionysus.
The war Silenus was referring to was a battle Dionysus had waged against Poseidon long ago over a nymph named Beroe, who they had both fallen in love with. Each had appealed to Aphrodite for her love, but the goddess was not swayed by their gifts and instead ordered them to fight, so they did. Dionysus lost quickly. It was one of the most embarrassing and shameful moments of his life and another reason he did not want Ariadne involved where the God of the Sea was concerned.
He did not trust Poseidon and believed that if he laid eyes on her, he would pursue her. Dionysus feared what he might do if that happened. It did not matter that he did not love her. She meant something, even if he could not figure out exactly what.
“So how’s the girl?” Silenus asked.
Dionysus ground his teeth. “She’s a woman, Silenus. And she’s fine.”
He could feel his foster father’s gaze.
“So you haven’t fucked her yet?”
“For fuck’s sake, Dad,” Dionysus said. “Shut up.”
“Can’t a father be concerned for his son’s well-being?”
“No,” Dionysus snapped. It was not even that he had been celibate, but since he’d met Ariadne, his desire for other women had ceased.
“Fine,” Silenus said. “Fine. I just think it would improve your mood.”
Dionysus’s stomach twisted. Hadn’t he told Ariadne something similar in the pleasure district? Gods, he hated that he sounded like his foster father.
“One more word,” Dionysus warned, “and I will push you into the ocean.”
Thankfully, the satyr listened, and the sound of the sea filled the silence between them, though Dionysus was not certain he liked it any better because it left him with his thoughts, which only centered around Ariadne.
He was fucking hopeless.
“Looks like Poseidon decided to come after all,” said Silenus.
Dionysus looked up to see a white yacht sailing toward them, and his heart raced. It was packed with people, and they were mostly nude, though some wore swimsuits. Music blared as they danced on every available surface. At one time, it was an environment Dionysus would have thrived within—created, even—but that was long ago, and now it only filled him with a sense of dread. It was easy to recall how the madness had felt in these moments, when the liquor was strong and the music pulsing.
It took him a few moments to shake the feeling, but by the time the yacht came to port, he had managed to gain control.
Poseidon’s staff extended a ramp from the ship to the pier, and Silenus was all too eager to board.
Dionysus placed a hand on his foster father’s shoulder. “No drinking,” he warned. “We are not here for your pleasure.”
“I know, I know,” the satyr said, shaking him off and ascending the plank.
They boarded, and it was like stepping into a massive orgy. Some passengers danced, but most were engaging in varied sexual acts.
“This way,” said one of the attendants who had lowered the ramp. He turned and cut through the crowd.
Dionysus followed and dragged his foster father along, not releasing him until they entered the interior part of the yacht. It was just as crowded, but at least his fuckery would be contained.
Inside, the music was muted, the environment far more calm. People lounged about in various positions across the floor and furniture, save for a large circular couch, which was where Poseidon waited. He sat with his arms stretched out across the back.
Unlike other gods who often concealed their true forms, Poseidon rarely wore glamour. Because of this, he seemed to glow, his aura gilded and brilliant. He wore gold cuffs and a gold crown that sat at the base of his striking spiral horns. If Dionysus didn’t know better, he would assume Poseidon was just more comfortable in his god form, but the reality was that it made him feel bigger and far more powerful than everyone else in the room.
“Dionysus,” Poseidon said, eyes glittering, as if he were already amused by his presence. “Come, sit. Have a nap.”
Dionysus ignored him and jumped straight to business. “I’ve been informed that you may know the whereabouts of a woman I’m searching for,” he said.
Poseidon tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly. “You used to be so fun. What happened?”
“You know what happened,” Dionysus said.
Poseidon studied him for a moment and then took a breath. “You know what makes men weak, Dionysus?”
Dionysus waited for the god to continue, though he knew he would not like his words.
“Women,” Poseidon said, holding up a hand before Dionysus could speak. “Hear me out. Hera has stolen your peace, changed you into this…sullen man. She has made you weak.”
Dionysus’s fingers curled into fists, his anger roaring to life.
“I’m not interested in your opinions, Poseidon. I’ve only come to ask if you know a woman by the name of Medusa. She was apparently last seen on your shores, and now she is missing.”
“How should I know? So many women come and go,” Poseidon said airily.
“A woman is missing. She might be in trouble or worse, and that is all you have to say?” Though he was not surprised, Dionysus was still disgusted.