“Don’t shoot the messenger. But please… do go… because Dad had that look in his eyes, and I don’t want to be held accountable for you all refusing to obey the summons.” Cal held his hands up and tossed Ares a pleading look.
“Were his eyes blue at least?” Daimon eased into a more comfortable position where he leaned against the wide footrest beside Cassandra’s legs. “Would it kill us to get another couch?”
Esher muttered something about the aesthetic and having to replace all the couches so they matched.
“Shut up about the fucking furniture.” The leash on Ares’s temper snapped.
Maybe Megan wasn’t the only one panicking.
She rubbed his leg now, her touch doing nothing to calm his nerves.
“Why would Dad want to see us now?” Ares looked from Megan to Keras.
Keras pursed his lips. “I can guess why Father wishes to see me. I would imagine the reason he wants to see you is because summoning Megan without you would cause a ruckus… although he appears to have caused a ruckus by including you.”
His older brother waggled a finger towards Megan’s stomach.
“My best guess is Mother wants to see how she’s doing.”
Which made sense, and made Ares feel like an overreacting dick.
He sank into the couch beside her, all of the tension rushing from him, leaving him boneless.
He raised his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed it and tried to ease the headache he could feel building. This was all getting to be too much for him. When Megan had announced she was pregnant, he had been over the moon, more excited than she had been.
The closer they came to her due date, the more that excitement turned to chilling fear.
He couldn’t sleep for thinking about what might happen to her, and not only when the time came and she had to give birth. He worried about her constantly, was on his guard at all times waiting for an attack to hit them, dreading her being in the firing line, and convinced she was going to end up in the sights of their enemy.
He felt sure that he hadn’t slept since he had woken from his gate-closing-induced coma.
Every day that passed, the tension inside him cranked a little tighter, pushing him a little closer to the edge.
He wasn’t sure he could handle this anymore.
He was beginning to see why his father had become an overbearing, overprotective demon whenever his mother had been close to giving birth to one of his brothers.
The slightest thing had sent Hades off the deep end.
Like, really slight.
One time, Marek had belched after dinner and startled their mother.
He had been banished to the north wing for ten days, only released back into the family once Valen had come kicking and screaming into the world.
Keras stood and gave him a look that said they were doing this.
Ares blew out his breath and stood too, gently took hold of Megan’s hand and helped her onto her feet.
Panic lit her beautiful face. “I should change… put on something nicer. And do my hair. And maybe put on some make-up.”
He smiled softly and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “You look great as you are. But maybe we should lose this.”
She scowled when he picked a piece of potato chip off her mulberry flowing top. “It’s not my fault she likes junk food. I’m blaming you for those genes.”
He shrugged.
“Come on, beautiful.” He tugged her forwards, leading her around the couch, his heart drumming faster as he approached Cal and thought about taking Megan with him to the Underworld.
To his parents.
Gods, they had better be nice to her.
One word out of place and he was liable to erupt.
Keras came up beside her, a serious edge to his green eyes that told Ares he wasn’t alone in his need to protect Megan.
“All will be well,” Keras said and held his hand out to Megan.
She slipped her free one into it, took a deep breath and nodded.
A shimmering blue portal formed in front of them, Calistos’s favour mark at work.
“It’ll take you to the palace,” Cal said.
Ares stepped forwards, and stopped when Megan didn’t move. He glanced at her. She stared at the portal, fear building in her eyes, trickling into him through his hand. He squeezed hers lightly.
“Nothing bad will happen, sweetheart. Mum will be there,” he murmured softly, trying to soothe her, aware that it wasn’t the Underworld or his mother that she was afraid of.
It was his father.
“Just need a minute and then I’ll be peachy.” She glanced at him, her dark eyes filled with worry.
Ares feathered his fingers along her jaw and brushed her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear, clearing it from her face. “Take all the time you need.”
He lingered with his palm against her jaw, staring down into her eyes, putting every fleck of gold in them to memory as a need rose within him, the darker side of his blood coming to the fore to roar at him to protect her.
He intended to do just that.
She blew out her breath again and nodded, and this time when he and Keras moved forwards, she came with them. She tipped her chin up as they stepped into the portal, squeezed his hand so hard it actually hurt as light swirled around them, and didn’t loosen her hold as they emerged on the other side.
Rather than appearing outside the sprawling complex, the portal brought them to one of the elegant drawing rooms.
Hades turned away from the window that overlooked the garden, his blue gaze settling straight on Megan.
Ares breathed a sigh of relief.
At least his father had chosen a more calming location than his imposing throne room, and wasn’t wearing his armour. A black tunic hugged his torso, and matching trousers were like a second skin on his legs, tucked into knee-high riding boots with silver clasps.
Persephone immediately rose from her seat on one of the lavish gilt-framed crimson couches and crossed the room to Megan, sweeping her up into a tight embrace that had Ares growling.
“Gentle.”
His mother pulled back, issuing him a look that asked him whether he had really just dared to give her an order when it came to being careful.
Fine, so the phrase bull in a china shop had probably been invented for him, but this was Megan they were talking about. With her, he was a lamb, as gentle as a kitten.
Gods, she had him wrapped around her little finger.
And he loved it.
Just as much as he loved her.
“Satisfied?” he said, not keeping the bite from his voice as he looked at his father.
Hades arched an eyebrow at him.
One that screamed ‘temper’.
Ares imagined Keras was giving him the same look.
Persephone moved to him next, hugging Keras tightly, holding him for so long Ares began to wonder if she was ever going to let him go.
“Let me look at you.” She finally pushed Keras back and looked him over. “Oh, you do look better.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“My love.” Hades reached for her, a wounded look crossing his face, as if her pain was his to share.
Or maybe he just wanted to take it away for her.
Persephone didn’t go to him. She gave him an uncharacteristic hard look, a mulish twist to her lips, and Hades’s hand fell to his side.
Ares was familiar with the expression that settled on his father’s face, wore it quite often himself. Wrapped around her little finger.