Serial killer.
“What?” Hades asked.
“You promised to behave,” she said.
“It is not in my nature to appease mortals,” Hades replied.
“But it is in your nature to appease me,” Persephone said.
“Alas,” he said, his voice low. “You are my greatest weakness.”
The entrance of Sybil’s apartment was a short hallway that led to a kitchen and a small living room. The space was mostly empty, save for a love seat and a television. While it was nowhere close to the extravagance she’d lived in with Apollo, it was quaint and cozy. It reminded Persephone of the apartment she’s shared with Lexa for three years.
“Wine?” Sybil asked, and Persephone was glad for the distraction.
“Please,” she said, tamping down the ache that had formed in her chest at the thought of her dead best friend.
“For you, Hades?”
“Whiskey…whatever you have is fine. Neat…please,” he added as if it were an afterthought. Persephone grimaced, but at least he’d asked nicely.
“Neat?” Ben asked. “Real whiskey drinkers at least add water.”
Persephone’s heart pounded as she watched Hades’s eyes connect with Ben’s. “I add the blood of mortals.”
“Of course, Hades,” Sybil said quickly, plucking a bottle from the collection on the counter and handing it to him. “You’ll probably need it.”
“Thank you, Sybil,” he said, quickly loosening the cap to drink.
She poured Persephone a glass of wine and slid it across the counter.
“So how did you meet Ben?” Persephone asked, picking up her wine.
Sybil started to respond when Ben jumped in.
“We met at Four Olives where I work,” he said. “It was love at first sight for me.”
Persephone choked on her drink, the wine burning the back of her throat as she spit it back into the glass. Her eyes connected with Sybil’s, who looked mortified, but before either of them could speak, a knock sounded at the door.
“Thank the gods,” Sybil said, practically racing to the entrance, leaving Persephone and Hades alone with the mortal.
“I know she isn’t convinced yet,” Ben said. “But it’s only a matter of time.”
“What makes you so sure?” Persephone countered.
His back straightened as he proclaimed, “I’m an oracle.”
“Oh fuck,” Hades grumbled.
Persephone elbowed him.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, leaving the kitchen with his bottle of whiskey.
Ben leaned across the bar. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Persephone asked, her nose still burning.
Ben shrugged a shoulder. “It’s…just a feeling.”
There was a long, awkward silence that passed between them, and just when Persephone started to excuse herself to go in search of Hades, the so-called oracle spoke.
“You’ve lost,” he said.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes unfocused and glazed. “You have lost, and you will lose again.”
Persephone’s jaw clenched.
“The loss of one friend will lead you to lose many—and you, you will cease to shine, an ember taken by the night.”
Her anger slowly dissipated, turning to disgust as she recognized his words.
“Why are you quoting Leonidas?”
The television show was popular and had been one of Lexa’s favorites about a Spartan king and his war with the Persians. It was a drama full of love and lust and blood.
Ben blinked, his eyes coming into focus.
“What did you just say?” he asked, and Persephone rolled her eyes. She hated false prophets. They were dangerous and made a joke of the real practice of prophecy. She started to speak but was interrupted by Hermes’s cry of excitement.
“Sephy!” The God of Mischief threw his arms around her neck, squeezing her. He inhaled deeply. “You smell like Hades…and sex.”
She shoved against the god. “Stop being creepy, Hermes!”
The god chuckled and released her, his sparkling gaze shifting to Ben.
“Oh, and who is this?” His interest was evident in the peak of his voice.
“This is Ben. Sybil’s…” She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, but she didn’t need to because no one was listening anyway. Ben was already grinning at the God of Mischief.
“Hermes, right?” he asked.
“So you’ve heard of me?”
Persephone rolled her eyes. He’d asked her the same thing when they’d first met. She had never asked why he said it, but she had a feeling it was to invite some kind of compliment considering everyone had heard of him.
She was not surprised when it backfired.
“Of course,” Ben replied. “Are you still the Messenger of the Gods or do they use email?”
Persephone’s brows rose and she pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.
Hermes narrowed his eyes.
“It’s Lord Hermes to you,” he said and twisted away, muttering to Sybil as he passed, “You can keep him.”
The God of Thieves was not upset for long when he noticed Hades standing in Sybil’s living room. “Well, well, well, look who decided to darken the corner—literally.”
Hades did look out of place in Sybil’s apartment, much like he had the night he had come to Persephone and Lexa’s to make cookies. At least he’d tried to fit in that night, wearing a black shirt and sweats. Tonight, he insisted on wearing a suit.
“What happened to those sweats you wore to my house?” Persephone had asked before they left.
“I…threw them out.”
Her eyes widened.
“Why?”
Hades shrugged. “I did not think there would be a time when I would need them again.”
She raised a brow. “Do you mean to say you never thought you would hang out with my friends again?”
“No.” He looked down at his suit. “Do I not meet your expectations?”
She had giggled then. “No, by far, you exceed them.”
He’d grinned then, and she thought her heart might beat right out of her chest. There was nothing as beautiful as Hades when he smiled.
Another knock announced the arrival of more guests—this time, Helen. She wore a long, beige coat with a fur collar that she slipped off and folded over her arm. Beneath the jacket was a long-sleeved white shirt and a camel-colored skirt with leggings. Her long hair was curled and fell in honey-colored waves over her shoulders. She’d brought wine and handed it to Sybil with a kiss on the cheek.
The two had not known each other long, but like everyone in Persephone’s circle, they’d become fast friends.
“This weather,” Helen said. “It’s almost…unnatural.”
“Yes,” Persephone said, quiet, a wave of guilt slamming into her. “It’s awful.”
Another knock sent Sybil to the door, and she came back with Leuce and Zofie in tow. The two were now roommates, and Persephone had yet to decide if it was actually a good idea. Leuce had only recently returned to the mortal world after having been a tree for centuries, and Zofie had no real understanding of the humans, having been raised among female warriors. Still, the two were learning, from simple things like how to use the crosswalk and order food to more difficult aspects of mortal life like socializing and self-control.
Leuce was a naiad—a water nymph. She had white hair and lashes and pale skin that made her blue eyes look as bright as the sun. When Persephone had first met her, she was combative, and her pretty features were severe and angled. Over time, though, she had gotten to know the nymph, and her attitude toward her softened, despite the fact that she had been Hades’s lover. Unlike Minthe, however, P
ersephone was certain there was no affection left between the two—a fact that made taking her under her wing a far easier decision. Tonight, she wore a simple, light blue dress that made her look like an ice queen.
When Zofie entered the apartment, she was smiling, only to falter when she noticed Hades standing in Sybil’s living room.
“My lord!” she exclaimed and bowed quickly.
“You don’t have to do that here, Zofie,” Persephone said.
“But…he is the Lord of the Underworld.”
“We’re all aware,” Hermes said. “Look at him—he’s the only goth in the room.”
Hades glared.
“Since everyone’s here, let’s play a game!” Hermes said.
“What’s the game?” Helen asked. “Poker?”
“No!” everyone said in unison, eyes shifting to Hades, who glared as if he wished to incinerate them. Persephone could just imagine the amount of work she was going to have to put in later to make up for his suffering.
“Let’s play Never Have I Ever!” Hermes said. He reached over the breakfast bar to the kitchen counter, clasping several bottles of various liquors between his fingers. “With shots!”
“Okay, but I don’t have shot glasses,” Sybil said.
“Then you’re all going to have to pick something to gulp,” Hermes said.
“Oh gods,” Persephone mumbled.
“What’s Never Have I Ever?” Zofie asked.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Hermes said as he set the bottles on the coffee table. “You make a statement about something you’ve never done, and if anyone has done it, they have to take a shot.”
Everyone filed into the living room. Hermes sat on one side of the couch while Ben had taken up the other—until he noticed Sybil settling on the ground beside Persephone. Then he abandoned the spot to squeeze beside her. It was awkward to watch, and Persephone averted her eyes, finding Hades staring. He stood across from her, not quite part of the circle they had formed. She wondered if he would find a reason not to play this game—and she couldn’t deny that part of her wanted to see how he would respond to every single one of these statements.
She also dreaded it.
“Me first!” Hermes says. “Never have I ever…had sex with Hades.”
Persephone’s gaze was murderous—she knew because she could feel the frustration eating away the glamour she used to dim the color of her irises.
“Hermes,” she gritted his name from between her teeth.
“What?” he whined. “This game is difficult for someone my age. I’ve done everything.” Then Leuce cleared her throat, and his eyes widened as he realized what he had done. “Oh,” he said. “Oh.”
Persephone liked Leuce, but that did not mean she liked being reminded of her past with Hades. She made a point not to look at Leuce as she drank from a bottle of Fireball.
Ben went next. “Never have I ever stalked an ex-girlfriend.”
There was a collective awkwardness that followed the false prophet’s statement. Was he trying to prove he wasn’t a creep?
No one drank.
Sybil was next.
“Never have I ever…fallen in love at first sight.” It was a jab at Ben, who did not seem to notice—or perhaps he didn’t care, so confident in his abilities as an oracle, he took a shot.
Next was Helen. “Never have I ever…had a threesome.”
To no one’s surprise, Hermes took a shot, but so did Hades, and something about it made the color drain from Persephone’s face. Perhaps it was the way he did it—eyes lowered, lashes fanning his cheeks, as if he did not wish to know that she saw him. Still, she tried to rationalize that they had discussed this before. Hades would not apologize for living before her, and she understood that. She expected Hades, God of the Dead, to have had many, varied sexual experiences—and yet she still felt jealous.
Finally, Hades lifted his eyes to hers. They were dark, a hint of fire igniting the irises like a sliver of a moon. It was an expression she knew well, not a warning so much as a plea—I love you, I am with you now. Nothing else matters.
She knew that—believed it with all her heart—but as the game continued, the instances where she was able to take a shot were few and far between—and nothing compared to Hades.
“Never have I ever…eaten food off someone’s naked body,” Ben said but added with a direct look at Sybil, “but I’d like to.”
Hades drank and Persephone wanted to vomit.
“Never have I ever…had sex in the kitchen,” Helen said.
Hades drank.
“Never have I ever had sex in public,” Sybil said.
Hades drank.
“Never have I ever faked an orgasm,” said Helen.
Persephone wasn’t sure what came over her, but at that statement, she tipped her drink back and swallowed a gulp of wine. As she set the glass down, Hades raised a brow and his eyes darkened. She could feel his energy against her own, demanding. He was eager to have her speak—to taste her skin and confirm she had lied.
She didn’t expect Hades to challenge her in front of everyone.
“If that is true, I will happily rectify the situation.”
“Oh,” Hermes teased. “Someone’s getting fucked tonight.”
“Shut up, Hermes.”
“What? You’re just lucky he didn’t carry you away to the Underworld the moment you lifted that glass.”
It still wasn’t out of the realm of possibility with the way Hades was looking at her. He had questions and he wanted answers.
“Let’s play another game,” Persephone suggested.
“But I like this one,” Hermes whined. “It was just getting good.”
She gave him a scathing look.
“Besides, you know Hades is just making a list of all the ways he wants to f—”
“Enough, Hermes!” Persephone got to her feet and made her way down the hallway to the bathroom. She closed the door and sank against it. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she exhaled—it was a failed attempt to release the strange feeling that had been building inside her. She couldn’t describe it, but it felt thick and heavy.
Then the air stirred, and she tensed, feeling Hades’s body cage her own. His cheek touched hers, and his breath tickled her ear as he spoke.
“You had to know your actions would ignite me.” His voice was raw and rough, and it made the bottom of her stomach tighten. His body was rigid, a force barely contained. “When have I left you wanting?”
She swallowed hard and knew he wanted the truth.
“Will you not answer?”
He lifted his hand to her throat—not squeezing but forcing her gaze to his.
“I’d really have rather not found out about your sexual exploits via a game in front of my friends,” she said.
“So you thought it better to reveal that I had not satisfied you in the same manner?”
Persephone looked away. Hades’s hand was still at her throat, and then he leaned forward, his tongue pressed lightly against her ear.
“Shall I leave no doubt in their minds that I can make you come?”
He lifted her skirt and tore at her lace underwear.
“Hades! We are guests here!”
“Your point?” he asked as he lifted her off the floor, leveraging her weight against the door. His movements were controlled but rough—a peek at the violence awake beneath his skin.
“It’s rude to have sex in someone’s bathroom.”
Hades licked across her mouth before his tongue parted her lips and her protests were drowned as he kissed her hard—to the point where she couldn’t breathe.
Why did I provoke him? Because I wanted this, she thought. I needed this.
She’d wanted to anger him, to feel him rage against her skin until she no longer remembered a past where she did
not exist with him.
Her sex clenched as she felt the head of Hades’s cock graze her opening, and in the next second, he was fully sheathed. Persephone’s head rolled, and a sound escaped her lips, raw and unabashed, as a wave of pleasure welled inside her.
Then there was a knock on the door.
“I hate to interrupt whatever’s going on in there,” Hermes said. “But I think you two will want to see this.”
“Not now,” Hades growled, his head resting in the crook of Persephone’s neck. His body was hard and rigid. She recognized it for what it was—an attempt at self-control.
It was a trait she wished he’d abandon.
She turned her head toward his, tongue grazing his ear, then her teeth. Hades inhaled; his hands squeezed her ass.
“Okay, first, it’s rude to have sex in other people’s bathrooms,” Hermes said. “Second, it’s about the weather.”
Hades groaned and then growled. “A moment, Hermes.”
“How long is a moment?” he asked.
“Hermes,” Hades warned.
“Okay, okay.”
Once they were alone, Hades left her. She felt his absence immediately—an ache that grew.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he restored his appearance.
“I’m sorry,” Persephone said.
Hades’s brows furrowed. “Why are you apologizing?”
She opened her mouth to explain—maybe for her jealousy or because they’d had to stop, or because of the storm—she really didn’t know. She closed her mouth, and Hades leaned toward her.
“I am not upset with you,” he said and kissed her. “But your mother will regret the interruption.”
Persephone wondered what he meant, but she didn’t question him as they left the bathroom. From the hallway, she could hear the television blaring.
“A severe ice storm warning has been issued for the whole of New Greece.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s started to sleet,” Helen said. She was at the window, the curtains parted.
Persephone approached. She could hear the faint tap of ice as it hit the window. She grimaced. She’d known the weather would get worse, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
A Touch of Malice Page 5