“What do you mean?”
“Apparently he can see vices or whatever. So he’ll ask the alcoholic to remain sober and the sex addict to be chaste. If they meet the terms, they get to live. If they fail, he gets their soul. It’s like he wants them to lose.”
Persephone felt a little sick. She hadn’t known the extent of Hades’ gambling. The most she’d heard is that he asked for the mortal’s soul, but this sounded much, much worse. It was...manipulation.
“Is anyone allowed up there?” Persephone asked. She was curious. How did Hades choose which bargains to accept? And how did Hades know these mortals’ weaknesses? Did he consult the Fates or possess this power himself?
“If you’re given the password,” he said.
“How do you get the password?” Lexa asked.
Adonis shrugged. “Hell if I know. I don’t come here to bargain with the God of the Dead.”
Though she had no desire to enter into a bargain with Hades, she did wonder how people came by the password. How did Hades accept a wager? Did mortals offer their case to the god who then deemed their case worthy?
“Persephone, bathroom,” Lexa said and stood, grabbing Persephone’s free hand.
She dragged her across the crowded floor to the restroom. While they waited at the end of a long line, Lexa turned to chat about Adonis.
“Have you seen a more attractive male?” She asked dreamily.
Persephone would have liked to inform her that while she was ogling Adonis, she’d missed the man who deserved the term. Instead, she said, “You’re smitten.”
“I’m in love,” she said.
Persephone rolled her eyes. “You can’t be in love, you just met him!”
“Okay, maybe not love,” she said. “But if he asked me to carry his babies, I’d agree.”
“You are ridiculous.”
“Just honest,” she said, grinning. Then she looked at Persephone seriously and said, “It’s okay to be vulnerable, you know?”
“What do you mean?” Persephone’s question was snappier than she intended.
Lexa shrugged and then said, “Never mind.”
Persephone wanted to ask Lexa to elaborate. What had she meant about being vulnerable? But before she could, a stall opened, and Lexa left. Persephone waited, sorting through her thoughts, trying to figure out what Lexa might have been talking about when another stall opened.
After Persephone used the restroom, she looked for Lexa, expecting her to be waiting, but couldn’t find her. She looked toward the balcony where Hades supposedly made his deals. Had her friend wandered up?
Then her gaze met a pair of sapphire eyes. A woman was leaning against the column at the end of the stairs. Persephone thought she looked familiar but couldn’t place her. Her hair was like gold silk and as radiant as Helios’ sun. She had skin the color of cream, and she wore a modern version of a peplos in the color sea green.
“Looking for someone?” she asked.
“My friend,” Persephone said. “She was wearing red.”
“She went up,” the woman said, and tilted her chin toward the steps.
Persephone followed the woman’s gaze and the lady asked, “Have you been up?”
“Oh, no, I haven’t,” Persephone said.
“I can give you the password.”
“How did you get the password?”
The woman shrugged. “Here and there,” she paused. “So?”
Persephone couldn’t deny she was curious. This was the thrill she’d been seeking—the adventure she craved.
“Tell me.”
The woman chuckled, her eyes glittering in a way that made Persephone wary.
“Pathos.”
Pathos meant tragedy. Persephone found it horribly ominous.
“Th-thanks,” she said to the woman and headed up the spiral steps to the second floor. As she topped the stairs, she found nothing but a set of dark doors embellished with gold and a gorgon standing guard.
The creature’s face was badly scarred—evident, even with the white blindfold covering her eyes. Like others of her kind, she once had snakes in place of hair. Now, a white hooded cloak covered her head and hid her body.
As Persephone approached, she noticed that the walls were reflective, and she caught herself in the surface, observing the blush of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Her glamour had weakened since she’d been here. She hoped if anyone noticed, she could blame it on the excitement and the alcohol.
The gorgon lifted her head, but did not speak. Persephone wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous. Maybe it was because she didn’t know what to expect beyond those doors. For a moment, there was silence, and then she heard the creature inhale and she froze.
“Divine,” the gorgon purred.
“Excuse me?” Persephone asked.
“Goddess,” the gorgon said.
“You are mistaken.”
The gorgon laughed. “I may have no eyes, but I know a god when I smell one. What hope have you of entering?”
“You are bold for a creature who knows they speak with a goddess,” Persephone said.
The gorgon smiled. “Only a goddess when it serves you?”
“Pathos!” Persephone snapped.
The gorgon’s smile remained, but she opened the door and asked no more questions.
“Enjoy, my lady.”
Persephone glared at the monster as she entered a smaller, smoky room. Unlike the main floor of the club, this space was intimate and quiet. Overhead, there was a single, large chandelier that provided enough light to ignite tables and faces, but not much else. There were several clusters of people gathered playing cards, and none of them seemed to notice her.
When the door clicked shut behind her, she started to explore, looking for Lexa, but found herself distracted by the people and the games. She watched as graceful hands dispensed cards and listened as players at the table bantered back and forth. Then she came to an oval table where the occupants were leaving. She wasn’t sure what drew her to it, but she decided to sit.
The dealer nodded. “Madam,” he said.
“Do you play?” A voice asked from behind her. It was a deep rumble she felt in her chest.
She turned and found the man from the balcony. Her blood heated to an impossible level, making her hot all over. She squeezed her crossed legs together and clenched her hands into fists to keep from fidgeting under his gaze.
Up close she was able to fill in a few gaps in her earlier assessment of his appearance. He was beautiful in a dark way—in a way that promised heartbreak. His eyes were the color of obsidian and framed by thick lashes. His hair was pulled into a bun at the back of his head. She had been right that he was tall. She had to tip her head back just to meet his gaze.
When Persephone’s chest started to ache, she realized she had been holding her breath since the man approached. Slowly, she drew in air and with it, the smell of him—smoke and spice and winter air. It filled every empty place inside her.
As she stared, he took a sip from his glass, licking his lips clean. He was sin incarnate. She could feel it in the way her body responded to his—and she didn’t want him to know. So, she smiled and said, “If you are willing to teach.”
His lips quirked, and he raised a dark brow. He took another drink, and then approached the table, taking a seat beside her.
“It’s brave to sit down at a table without knowing the game.”
She met the man’s gaze. “How else would I learn?”
“Hmm.”
He considered, and Persephone decided that she loved his voice.
“Clever.”
The man stared like he was trying to place her, and she shivered.
“I have never seen you before.”
“Well, I have never been here before,” she said and paused. “You must come here often.”
His lips quirked. “I do.”
“Why?” she asked. The question surprised him and her. she hadn’t actually meant to say that out
loud. “I mean—you don’t have to answer that.”
“I will answer it,” he said. “If you will answer a question for me.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then nodded.
“Fine.”
“I come because it is...fun,” he said, but it didn’t sound like he knew what that was. “Now you—why are you here tonight?”
“My friend Lexa was on the list,” she said.
“No,” he said. “That is the answer to a different question. Why are you here tonight?”
She considered his question, and then said. “It seemed rebellious at the time.”
“And now you aren’t so sure?”
“Oh, I am sure it is rebellious,” Persephone said, dragging her finger along the surface of the table. “I’m just not sure how I’ll feel about it tomorrow.”
“Who are you rebelling against?”
She looked at him and smiled. “You said one question.”
His smile matched hers and it made her heart beat harder in her chest. “So, I did.”
Staring back at those endless eyes, she felt he could see her—not the glamour or even her skin and bones, but the core of her, and it made her shiver.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“What?”
“You’ve been shivering a lot since you sat down,” he observed.
She felt her face redden and she suddenly blurted, “Who was that woman with you earlier?”
He looked confused for a moment and then said, “Oh, Minthe. She’s always putting her hands where they don’t belong.”
Persephone paled. “I…think I should go.”
He stopped her with a hand on hers. His touch was electric, and she gasped at the contact, pulling away quickly.
“No,” he said, almost commanding and Persephone glared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“What I mean to say is, I haven’t taught you how to play yet.” His voice lowered and it was mesmerizing. “Allow me.”
It was a mistake to hold his gaze because it was impossible to say no. She swallowed and managed to relax. “Then teach me.”
His eyes burned into her before falling to the cards. He shuffled them, explaining, “This is poker.”
She noted that he had graceful hands and long fingers. Did he play piano?
“We will play five-card draw and we’ll start with a bet.”
Persephone looked down at herself—she hadn’t brought her clutch, but the man was quick to say,
“A question answered, then. If I win, you will answer any question I pose, and if you win, I will answer yours.”
Persephone grimaced. She knew what he was going to ask, but answering questions was far better than losing all her money and her soul, so she said, “Deal.”
Those sensual lips curled into a smile, which deepened lines on his face that only made him look more attractive. Who was this man? She guessed she could ask his name, but she wasn’t interested in making friends at Nevernight.
The man explained that, in poker, there were ten different rankings, the lowest being the high card and the highest being the royal flush. The goal was to draw a higher rank than the other player. He explained other things, like checking, folding, and bluffing.
“Bluffing?”
“Sometimes, poker is just a game of deception...especially when you’re losing.”
He dealt each of them five cards. Persephone looked at her hand and tried to remember what Hades had said about the different ranks. She laid her cards down, face up and the man did the same.
“You have a pair of queens,” he said. “And I have a full house.”
“So...you win,” she said.
“Yes,” he replied, and then claimed his prize immediately. “Who are you rebelling against?”
She smiled wryly. “My mother.”
He raised a brow. “Why?”
“You’ll have to win another hand if I’m going to answer.”
So, he dealt another and won again. This time, he didn’t ask the question, just looked at her expectantly.
She sighed. “Because...she made me mad.”
He stared at her, waiting, and she smiled. “You never said the answer had to be detailed.”
His grin matched hers. “Noted for the future, I assure you.”
“The future?”
“Well, I hope this isn’t the last time we’ll play poker.”
Butterflies erupted in her stomach. She should tell him this was the first and final time she would come to Nevernight.
He dealt again and won. Persephone was getting tired of losing and answering this man’s questions. Why was he so interested in her anyway? Where was that woman he’d been with earlier?
“Why are you angry with your mother?”
She considered this question for a moment, and then said, “Because...she wants me to be something I cannot.” Persephone dropped her gaze to the cards. “I don’t understand why people do this.”
He tilted his head, as if questioning. “You are not enjoying our game?”
“I am,” she said. “But...I don’t understand why people play Hades. Why do they want to sell their soul to him?”
“They don’t agree to a game because they want to sell their soul,” he said. “They do it because they think they can win.”
“Do they? Win?”
“Sometimes.”
“Does that anger him, you think?” The question was meant to remain a thought in her head, and yet the words slipped out between her lips.
He smirked, and she could feel it deep in her gut.
“Darling, I win either way.”
Her eyes went wide, and her heart stuttered. She stood quickly and his name slipped out of her mouth like a curse.
“Hades.”
His name on her lips seemed to have an effect on him, but she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad—his eyes darkened, and his smile lines melted into a hard, unreadable mask.
“I have to go.”
She spun and left the small room. This time, she didn’t let him stop her. She hurried down the winding steps and plunged into the mass of bodies on the main floor. All the while, she was highly aware of the spot on her wrist where Hades fingers had touched her skin. Was it an exaggeration to say it burned?
It took her a while to find the exit, and when she did, she pushed through the doors. Outside, she took a few deep breaths and then let the force of what she’d done hit her.
She’d allowed Hades, the God of the Underworld, to instruct her, to touch her, to play her, and question her.
And he had won.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
No, the worst part is that there was a side of her—a side she’d never known existed until tonight—that wanted to run back inside, find him, and demand a lesson in the anatomy of his body.
CHAPTER III – NEW ATHENS NEWS
Persephone checked the mirror to ensure her glamour was in place. It was weak magic because it was borrowed magic, but it was enough to hide her horns and turn her bottle-green eyes mossy.
She reached up to apply a touch more glamour to her eyes. They were the hardest to get right, and it took the most magic to dull their bright, abnormal light. As she lifted her hand, she halted, noticing something on her wrist.
Something dark.
She took a closer look. A series of black dots marked her skin, some smaller, others larger. It looked like a simple, elegant tattoo had been inked on her arm.
And it was wrong.
Persephone turned the faucet on and scrubbed her skin until it was red and raw, but the ink didn’t move or smear. In fact, it seemed to darken.
Then she remembered yesterday at Nevernight when Hades hand had covered hers to keep her from leaving. The warmth of his skin transferred to hers, but when she fled the club later, that warmth turned to a burn, which only intensified when she went to bed last night.
She’d turned on the light several times to inspect her wrist but found nothing.
Persephone lifted her gaze to the mirror and her glamour rippled from her anger. Why had she obeyed his request to stay? Why had she been blind to the fact that she had invited the God of the Dead to teach her cards?
She knew why. She’d been distracted by his beauty. Why hadn’t anyone warned her that Hades was a charming bastard? That his smile stole breath and his gaze stopped hearts?
What was this thing on her wrist and what did it mean?
She knew one thing for certain: Hades was going to tell her.
Today.
Before she could return to the obsidian tower, however, she had to go to her internship. Her eyes fell to a pretty embellished box her mother had given her. It held jewelry now, but at twelve, it had held five gold seeds. Demeter had crafted them from her magic and had said they would bloom into roses the color of liquid gold for her, the Goddess of Spring.
Persephone planted them and did her best to nurture the flowers, but instead of growing into the blossoms she expected, they grew withered and black.
She would never forget the look on her mother’s face when she found her staring at the wilted roses—shocked, disappointed, and in disbelief that her daughter’s flowers grew from the ground like something straight out of the Underworld.
Demeter had reached forward, touched the flowers, and they flared with life.
Persephone never went near them again and avoided that part of the greenhouse.
Looking at the box, the mark on her skin burned hotter, a reminder of another failed attempt to please her mother. She searched through the box until she found a bracelet wide enough to cover the mark. It would have to do until Hades removed it.
As Persephone moved back into her room, her mother appeared in front of her. Persephone jumped, and her heart felt like it wanted to jump out of her chest.
“By the gods, mother! Can you at least use the door like a normal parent? And knock?”
On a normal day, she wouldn’t have snapped at her mother, but she was feeling on edge. Demeter couldn’t find out about Nevernight.
The Goddess of Harvest was beautiful and didn’t bother to glamour up to hide her elegant, seven-point antlers. Her hair was blond like Persephone’s, but straight and long. She had creamy skin and her high cheekbones were naturally rosy like her lips. Demeter lifted her pointed chin, assessing Persephone with critical eyes—eyes that changed from brown to green to gold.
A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone #1) Page 3