It was just as much a cycle of life and death—a give and take—one he would never bargain away.
The knocking sounded again.
“Lord Hades?”
“Go. Away.”
Another word from the other side of the door, and he would send whoever it was to Tartarus.
“It’s important, Hades.”
Fuck. He recognized the voice now—Ilias.
He straightened completely, and Persephone followed.
“A moment, my darling.”
He tried to keep his frustration at bay, but it was difficult given the nature of this interruption, made worse by Persephone’s roving eyes, which lifted from his hard cock to meet his gaze.
“You won’t hurt him, will you?” Her voice was low and silky, urging him to return.
“Not too terribly,” he said, though he was already weighing options.
He stepped away, gaze lingering on her flushed skin, the evidence of how hard he’d chased her orgasm, and slipped outside to find Ilias waiting.
“This better be important,” Hades hissed, “or I will send you to Tartarus—a year for every word you speak. Choose carefully.”
Ilias did not seem fazed by Hades’s threat as he replied, “It’s urgent.”
Hades stared at the satyr for a moment, recognizing that he never summoned Hades unless absolutely necessary, which meant whatever had occurred was not good. He wondered if it had anything to do with Kal or Hera, and he stiffened at the thought.
“I will be along soon,” he said.
Ilias nodded. “I’ll be in security.”
That made Hades curious and slightly concerned, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he returned to the dining room before he could watch the satyr leave. Persephone had moved from her perch on the dining table and now stood, staring up at the ceiling. Hades wondered what she found so appealing, but he did not ask, remaining silent as she turned to face him.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, keeping her arms crossed tight over her breasts, as if she wished to put up some kind of wall between them. A wall he refused to allow.
He drew closer, and her hands went to his waist. “Yes,” he said. “And no. Ilias has made me aware of a problem better dealt with sooner than later.”
“When will you be back?”
“An hour. Maybe two,” he guessed, depending on what Ilias wanted, but he did not wish to worry Persephone.
Disappointment darkened her eyes.
He placed a finger beneath her chin to hold her gaze. “Trust, my darling, that leaving you is the hardest decision I make each day.”
“Then don’t,” she said, and her arms wound around his waist, sealing their bodies together. “I’ll go with you.”
Her suggestion made him stiffen. Though he did not know what Ilias had to show him, he could not imagine anything good coming from Persephone’s presence in his work, at least aboveground.
“That is not wise.”
“Why not?”
“Persephone—”
“It’s a simple question.”
“It isn’t,” he snapped and regretted the loss of his temper as her eyes widened and her mouth hardened. He sighed. All he wanted to do was get this over with so he could return to her. Could she not see that?
“Fine,” she said and took a step away. Her distance felt like more than the loss of physical touch. “I’ll be here when you return.”
Was she only saying that to appease him?
“I will make it up to you,” he promised.
She arched a brow and, like a queen, commanded, “Swear it.”
He offered the slightest smile, his still-heavy cock spurring his mischief. “Oh, darling. You don’t need to extract an oath. Nothing will keep me from fucking you.”
Though it felt like sacrilege to leave her without having made her come.
Chapter III
Return of the Nymph
Hades met Ilias on the top floor of Nevernight, which was dedicated to security. It was a large room, but the walls and ceiling sloped inward to a shadowed point just like the exterior of the building. The room was awash in the pallid light of computer screens, illuminating the stern faces of Hades’s security team, though this was only a fraction. The others roamed the floors below and the dark alleys of the exterior, eyes peeled for anything untoward.
Ilias was positioned before a set of screens on the far wall, one for every holding room. Of the six, four were occupied. They were reserved for anyone who broke Nevernight rules, which occurred nightly and ranged from taking photos to card counting and, on rare occasions, spying.
It was the latter Hades expected to hear about from Ilias, considering his most recent visitors, but as he scanned the screens above the satyr’s head, he caught sight of a familiar face, one that shocked his system.
“Is that Leuce?”
Though he asked the question, he knew the answer. There was no denying the ocean nymph’s white hair and pale skin. It had been a long time since he had loved her, since she had betrayed him, since he had turned her into a poplar tree and forgotten her.
Yet here she was, returned from her prison.
How?
He certainly had not freed her.
“It is,” Ilias said. “She made a scene when she arrived.”
Hades wondered how many people glimpsed her outburst before it was contained. As if Ilias knew what he was thinking, he added, “We have begun damage control.”
“Has she been questioned at all?”
Ilias shook his head. “I figured you would want the opportunity.”
He would, though she had already had plenty of time to herself. Time to think up lies and believe them enough to avoid detection. It was a tactic she knew well and would not have forgotten, given she had spent her years as a tree unconscious. She would have woken up today believing he had only just confronted her about her infidelity—what a shock to learn that more than two millennia had passed. He wondered now if he had done her a cruelty or a kindness.
He watched her on the screen once more. She had pushed her chair against the wall, away from the table. Her knees were drawn to her chest and her thin arms were wrapped around them. She looked small, innocent, though that was not how Hades remembered her.
“What will you do with her?” Ilias asked. Hades knew the satyr wasn’t asking out of concern; he was asking because he wanted to know what he would be tasked with next, which was likely handling the nymph.