A small smile tugged at Hecate’s berry lips. “You get to meditate.”
“Meditate?”
The last thing Persephone wanted to do was be alone with her raging thoughts. Hecate patted the ground beside her, and Persephone sighed, taking a seat. Her body felt rigid, her hands warm and sweaty.
“Your first lesson, Goddess. Control your emotions.”
“How is that a lesson?” Persephone asked.
Hecate gave her a knowing look. “Do you want to talk about earlier? Those doors came down because of your magic. They weren’t opened by anyone on the inside.”
Persephone looked away.
“Don’t be embarrassed, my dear. It happens to the best of us.”
Persephone knew her emotions were tied to her powers. Flowers sprouted when she was angry, and vines curled around Hades in moments of passion without warning. Then there was Minthe, whose insulting words had resulted in her transformation into a mint plant and Adonis who she’d threatened in the Garden of the Gods by turning his limbs into vines. Not to mention the destruction of her mother’s greenhouse.
“Okay, so I have a problem,” Persephone admitted. “How do I control it?”
“With practice,” Hecate said. “And lots of meditation. The more often you do it, the more you—and your magic—will benefit.”
Persephone frowned. “I hate meditating.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“Yes, and it’s boring. All you do is...sit.”
The corner of Hecate’s mouth lifted.
“Your perspective is wrong. The point of meditation is to gain control—are you not hungry for control, Persephone?”
Hecate’s voice dipped low, tinged with seduction. Persephone couldn’t deny that she was eager for what the goddess was offering. She wanted control over everything—her magic, her life, her future.
“I’m listening,” Persephone said.
Hecate’s smile was impish, and she continued. “Meditation means focusing your attention moment by moment rather than getting caught up in the things that plague you—the things that drown you, the things that cause your magic to create a shield around you.”
Hecate led Persephone through several meditations, guiding her to focus on her breathing. She imagined this might be peaceful if she could keep her mind from wandering to Hades. She swore on two occasions he was behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck, the soft scrape of his beard against her cheek as he whispered words against her skin.
I have thought of you all day.
A thrill shivered through her and her core tightened.
The way you taste, the feel of my cock slipping inside you, the way you moan when I fuck you.
Persephone bit her lip, and heat gushed between her legs.
I want to fuck you so hard your screams reach the ears of the living.
Her breath escaped in a harsh gasp, and she opened her eyes. When she looked at Hecate, the goddess arched a knowing brow.
“On second thought, let’s blow some things up.”
***
“I’m going to be late!” Persephone threw off her covers and jumped from bed.
Hades groaned, stretching his arm across the sheets, reaching for her.
“Come back to bed,” he said, sleepily.
She ignored him, running around his bedroom in search of her things. She found her purse on a chair, her shoes under the bed, and her clothes were wrapped up in the bedsheets. She untangled them, and once they were free, Hades snatched them from her hands.
“Hades—” she growled, lunging for him.
His hands clamped down her on her waist, and he rolled, pinning her beneath him. She laughed, squirming.
“Hades, stop! I’m going to be late and it’s already your fault.”
He had made good on his promise, returning to the Underworld around three in the morning. When he slipped into bed behind her, he’d kissed her goodnight and hadn’t stopped. After, she’d fallen into a deep sleep, hitting the snooze button when her alarm went off to wake her.
“I’ll take you,” he said, bending to kiss her neck. “I can get you there in seconds.”
“Hmm,” she said, pressing her palms against his chest. “Thanks, but I prefer taking the long way.”
He arched a brow and gave her a menacing look before rolling off. She got to her feet again, holding up her wrinkled clothes and frowned.
“Allow me to help,” Hades said and snapped his fingers, manifesting a tailored black dress and heels. She looked down, smoothing her hands over the fabric which had a faint shimmer.
“Black isn’t my usual color choice,” she said.
Hades smirked. “Humor me,” he said.
Once she was ready, he insisted she accept a ride from his driver, which was how she ended up in the back of Hades’ black Lexus. Antoni, a cyclops and a servant to the God of the Dead, was in the driver’s seat whistling a song Persephone recognized from Apollo’s White Raven album. Despite not being a fan of the god’s music, she’d spent Friday night celebrating her best friend, Lexa Sideris’ birthday at the god’s club where his songs were on a constant rotation. She now felt she knew them all by heart, which only made her distaste for them stronger.
She did her best to ignore Apollo’s incessant falsetto and was soon distracted by a series of messages from Lexa. The first one read:
You’re officially famous.
A tidal wave of anxiety gripped her as her best friend sent several links to ‘breaking news’ from outlets all over New Greece, and they were all about her and Hades.
She clicked on the first link, then the next, and the next. Most of the articles rehashed details of her public reunion with Hades, including incriminating photos. She blushed seeing reminders of that day. She hadn’t expected the King of the Dead to appear in the Upperworld, and when she’d seen him, she thought her heart would explode. She ran to him, jumped into his arms and coiled around him like she belonged there. Hades’ hands pressed into her bottom and their lips locked in a kiss she could still feel.
She should have seen the media storm coming, but after Lexa’s birthday party, she’d spent the weekend in the Underworld, sequestered to Hades’ bedchamber, exploring, teasing, submitting. She hadn’t thought twice about the state of the Upperworld once she’d left. With images like these, it was hard to deny speculation about their relationship.
It was the last message she received that scared her the most:
EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT HADES’ LOVER.
It was her worst nightmare.
She scanned the article, relieved to discover there wasn’t any information that would reveal her as the daughter of Demeter or a goddess, but it was still creepy. It said that she was from Olympia, that she had started attending New Athens University four years ago, began with a major in botany and ended with a major in journalism. There were a few quotes from students who claimed to her ‘know her’—gems like, “You could tell she was really smart” and “She was always really quiet” and “She read a lot.”
The article also detailed a timeline of her life that included her internship at New Athens News, her articles about Hades, and their reconciliation outside The Coffee House.
“Onlookers say they weren’t sure of Hades’ motives when he materialized in the Upperworld, but it appeared he was there to make amends with the journalist, Persephone Rosi, which begs the question: when did their romance begin?”
Persephone recognized the irony of her situation—she was an investigative journalist. She loved research. She loved getting to the bottom of an issue, exposing facts, and saving mortals from the wrath of gods, demi-gods, and themselves.
But this was different.
This was her personal life.
She knew how the media worked—she was now a mystery to be solved, and those who investigated her background were a threat to everything she’d worked so hard for.
A threat to her freedom.
I know you’re freaking out
right now, Lexa texted. Don’t.
That’s easy for you to say. Your name isn’t plastered across headlines.
She responded with: Technically, it isn’t your name—it’s Hades’.
She rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to be someone’s possession. She wanted her own identity, to be credited for her hard work, but dating a god took that away.
Another thought occurred to her—what would her boss say?
Demetri Aetos was a great supervisor. He believed in the truth and reporting on it no matter the consequences. He’d fired Adonis for calling Persephone a bitch and stealing her work. He’d recognized the stress she was under when it came to writing about Hades, and he’d told her she didn’t have to keep writing about him if she didn’t want to...but that was before he knew she was dating the God of the Dead.
Would there be consequences?
Gods, she had to stop thinking about this.
She focused on her phone and texted Lexa back.
Stop trying to avoid the BEST news of the day. Congrats on your first day!
Lexa had been hired to plan events for The Cypress Foundation, Hades non-profit organization. She’d learned about it shortly after the announcement of the Halcyon Project.
Lexa had been offered the job on her birthday.
"She would have gotten the job anyway," Hades had said when Persephone asked if he'd made it happen. "She is a great fit."
Thanks, my love! I’m so excited! Lexa texted.
“We’re here, my lady.”
Antoni’s words drew her attention to the Acropolis.
Persephone’s eyes widened and her stomach knotted when she looked out the window.
A crowd had gathered outside of the one-hundred-and-one story building. Security had stepped in to control them, erecting barriers. Several confused employees made their way inside amidst a screaming crowd. Persephone knew they were there for her, and she was glad the windows of Hades’ car were virtually black, making it impossible for anyone to see inside. Still, she slid lower in her seat, groaning.
“Oh no.”
Antoni raised a brow at her in the rearview mirror.
“Is something wrong, my lady?”
She met his gaze, almost confused by the question.
Of course, something is wrong!
The media, that crowd, they were threatening everything she’d worked so hard for.
“Can you drop me off around the block?” Persephone asked.
Antoni frowned. “Lord Hades instructed you were to be dropped off at the Acropolis.”
“Lord Hades isn’t here and, as you can see, that is not ideal,” she said, grinding her teeth. Then she took a breath to calm herself. “Please?”
The cyclops relented and did as she instructed. In the time it took them to get there, Persephone glamoured-up a pair of sunglasses and pulled her hair into a bun. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it would get her farther than flashing her face to passerby’s.
Antoni glanced at her again and offered, “I can walk you to the door.”
“No, that’s okay, Antoni, thank you.”
The monster shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Hades won’t like this.”
She met Antoni’s gaze in the mirror. “You won’t tell him, will you?”
“It would be best, my lady. Lord Hades would provide you with a driver to take you to work and pick you up, and an Aegeus for protection.”
She didn’t need a driver and she didn’t need a guard.
“Please?” she begged Antoni. “Don’t tell Hades.”
She needed him to understand. She would only feel like a prisoner, something she’d been trying to escape for over eighteen years.
It took the cyclops some time to cave, but eventually, he nodded. “If you wish, my lady, but the first time something goes wrong, I’m calling the boss.”
Fine. She could work with that. She patted Antoni on the shoulder. “Thank you, Antoni.”
She left the safety of the car and kept her head down as she walked in the direction of the Acropolis. The roar of the crowd amplified as she neared, and she paused when she was within view—it had grown.
“Gods,” she moaned.
“You really got yourself into a pickle,” a voice said from over her shoulder. She spun and found a handsome, blue-eyed god standing behind her.
Hermes.
Over the last few months, he had become one of her favorite gods. He was handsome, funny, and encouraging. Today, he was dressed like a mortal. Well, for the most part. He still looked unnaturally beautiful with his golden curls and glowing, bronzed skin. His outfit of choice was a pink polo and dark jeans.
“A...pickle?” she asked, confused.
“It’s an expression the mortals use when they find themselves in trouble. You haven’t heard of it?”
“No,” she answered, but that wasn’t surprising. She’s spent eighteen years in a glass prison. She hadn’t learned a lot of things. “What are you doing here?”
“Saw the news,” he said, grinning. “You and your boy-toy are official.”
Persephone glared.
“Man-toy?” he offered.
She still glared.
“Okay, fine. God-toy, then.”
She gave up and sighed, burying her face in her hands. “I’ll never be able to go anywhere again.”
“That’s not true,” Hermes said. “You just won’t be able to go anywhere without being mobbed.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re not helpful?”
“No, not really. I mean, I am the Messenger of the Gods and all.”
“Weren’t you replaced by email?”
Hermes pouted. “Now who’s not being helpful?”
Persephone peered around the corner of the building again. She felt Hermes chin rest atop her head as he followed her gaze.
“Why don’t you just teleport inside?” he asked.
“I’m trying to maintain my mortal façade, which means no magic on Earth.”
She didn’t really feel like explaining that she was training to control her magic.
“That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t you want to walk down that enticing runway?”
“What about normal, mortal life don’t you understand?”
“All of it?”
Of course, he didn’t. Unlike her, Hermes had always existed as an Olympian. In fact, he’d begun his life the same way he lived it now—mischievously.
“Look, if you aren’t going to help—”
“Help? Are you asking?”
“Not if it means I owe you a favor,” Persephone said quickly.
Gods had everything: wealth, power, immortality—their currency was the currency favors, which were, essentially, a contract, the details to be decided at a future time, and unavoidable.
She’d rather die.
“Not a favor then,” he said. “A date.”
She offered the god an annoyed look. “Do you want Hades to gut you?”
“I want to party with my friend,” Hermes countered, folding his arms over his chest. “So gut me.”
She stared at him, feigning suspicion, before smiling, “Deal.”
The god gave a dazzling smile. “How’s Friday?”
“Get me into that building and I’ll check my schedule.”
He grinned. “On it, Sephy.”
Hermes teleported into the middle of the crowd and people screamed like they were dying. Hermes ate it up, signing autographs and posing for pictures, all the while, Persephone crept along the walkway and entered the Acropolis unseen. She bolted for the elevators, keeping her head down as she waited with a group of people. She knew they were staring, but it didn’t matter. She was inside, she had avoided the crowd, and now she could get to work.
When she arrived on her floor, the new receptionist, Helen, greeted her. She had replaced Valerie, who had moved up a few floors to work for Oak and Eagle Creative, Zeus’s marketing company. Helen was younger than Valerie and still in school, which mean
t she was eager to please and cheery. She was also very beautiful with eyes as blue as sapphires, cascading blond hair, and perfect pink lips. Mostly, though, she was just really nice. Persephone liked her.
“Good morning, Persephone!” she said in a sing-song voice. “I hope getting here wasn’t too difficult for you.”
“No, not difficult at all,” she managed to keep her voice even. That was probably the second worst lie she had ever told, next to the one where she promised her mother she’d stay away from Hades. “Thank you, Helen.”
“You have already received several calls this morning. If they were about a story I thought you’d be interested in, I transferred them to voicemail, but if they called to interview you, I took a message. She held up a ridiculous stack of colorful sticky notes. “Do you want any of these?”
Persephone stared at the stack of notes. “No, thank you, Helen. You really are the best.”
She grinned.
Just as Persephone started toward her desk, Helen called to her, “Oh, and before you go, Demetri has asked to see you.”
Dread grew heavy and hard in her stomach, as if someone had dropped a stone straight down her throat. She swallowed, managing to smile at the girl.
“Thank you, Helen.”
Persephone crossed the workroom floor, flanked by perfectly lined desks, stowed her things and grabbed a cup of coffee before approaching Demetri’s office. She stood in the doorway, not ready to call attention to herself. Her boss sat behind his desk looking at his tablet. Demetri was a handsome, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetual five o’clock shadow. He liked colorful clothing and patterned neckties. Today, he wore a bright red shirt and a blue bowtie with white polka dots.
A stack of newspapers lay on the desk in front of him bearing headlines like:
IS LORD HADES IN RELATIONSHIP WITH A MORTAL?
JOURNALIST CAUGHT KISSING GOD OF THE DEAD.
MORTAL WHO SLANDERED KING OF THE UNDERWORLD IN LOVE?
Demetri must have felt her staring because he finally looked up from his tablet, the article he was reading reflected off his black-framed glasses. She noted the title. It was another piece about her.
“Persephone. Please, come in. Close the door.”
That stone in her stomach was suddenly heavier. Shutting herself in Demetri’s office was like walking right back into her mother’s greenhouse—anxiety built, and she felt fear at the thought of being punished. Her skin grew hot and uncomfortable, her throat constricted, her tongue thickened...she was going to suffocate.
A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone Book 2) Page 3