The girl’s settled down to finish their movie, ate pizza, and kept their distance from topics that involved Apollo, though that didn’t keep Persephone from trying to figure out how to help Sybil.
Apollo’s actions were unacceptable, and didn’t she have an obligation to her readers to expose injustice? Especially when it came to the gods? And maybe, if the story was good enough, she wouldn’t need to write that exclusive.
Hours later, Persephone was still awake and unable to move. Sybil’s head rested in her lap, and Lexa snored, fast asleep on the couch opposite them.
After a moment, Sybil shifted and spoke in a sleepy whisper.
“Persephone, I want you to promise me you won’t write about Apollo.”
Persephone froze for a moment, holding her breath. “Why not?”
“Because Apollo isn’t Hades,” she answered. “He didn’t care what people thought and was willing to listen to you. That’s not Apollo. Apollo covets his reputation. It’s as important to him as music.”
“Then he shouldn’t have punished you,” Persephone answered.
She felt Sybil’s hands curl into the blanket around them. “I’m asking you to not fight in my name. Promise.”
Persephone didn’t respond. The problem was, she was asking for a promise, and when a god promised, it was binding, unbreakable.
It didn’t matter that Sybil didn’t know of Persephone’s Divinity.
She couldn’t do it.
After a moment, Sybil looked up, meeting her gaze. “Persephone?”
“I don’t make promises, Sybil.”
The oracle frowned. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
CHAPTER IV - A TOUCH OF WARNING
Persephone lay awake, listening to Lexa’s shallow snoring and Sybil’s wheezing breath. It was three in the morning, and she had to be up in four hours, but she couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened today. She considered the pros and cons of writing the exclusive Demetri and Kal wanted. She supposed it was one way to control the information she released, except that she was being forced to offer up details of her personal life. Worse, they’d taken the choice away from her, and she hated that.
But could she give up her dream job? She’d come to New Athens with dreams of freedom, success, and adventure. She’d had a taste of each, and just when she’d shook the chains of her mother’s custody, she found herself shackled with another restraint.
Would the cycle never end?
Then there was Sybil.
Persephone couldn’t let Apollo get away with his treatment of the oracle. She couldn’t understand why Sybil didn’t want her to write about the God of Music. He needed to answer for his behavior. There was also a part of her that hoped an article about Apollo meant Demetri and Kal would be less interested in the story of her relationship with Hades.
Persephone sighed. Her head was so full of thoughts—words piled up so high, it felt like they were pushing against her skull. She stood quietly and teleported to the Underworld, slipping into Hades bedchamber. If anyone was going to ease the tension in her head, it was the God of the Dead.
She hadn’t expected to find him asleep. She’d begun to suspect he rarely did, except when she was around. He lay partially covered by silk sheets; his muscled chest contoured from the firelight of the hearth. His arms were over his head, as if he’d fallen asleep stretching. She reached to touch his face and was surprised when his hand bit down on her wrist.
She yelped, more from fear than pain. Hades opened his eyes.
“Fuck,” he cursed, sitting up lightning-fast, he lessened his hold on her wrist, and drew her to him. “Did I hurt you?”
She would have answered, but he was pressing kisses to her skin, and each one sent a shock through her body.
“Persephone?” he stared up at her, a myriad of emotions clouding his eyes. It was almost like he was despondent; his breath shallow and his brows drawn together.
She smiled, brushing a piece of hair from his face. “I’m fine, Hades. You only scared me.”
He kissed her palm and held her tight against him as he laid down.
“I did not think you would come to me tonight.”
She rested her head on his chest. He was warm and solid and right.
“I can’t sleep without you,” she admitted, feeling completely ridiculous, but it was true.
Hades palms soothed, running up and down her back. Now and then he paused, to squeeze her bottom. She wiggled against him, his erection growing harder between them.
“That is because I keep you up so late.”
She sat up, straddling him, and laced her fingers through his.
“Not everything is about sex, Hades.”
“No one said anything about sex, Persephone,” he pointed out.
She raised a brow and rolled her hips. “I don’t need words to know you’re thinking about sex.”
He chuckled, and his hands moved to her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat, and her fingers curled around his wrists like shackles.
“I want to talk, Hades.”
He arched a perfect brow. “Talk,” he said. “I can multitask...or have you forgotten?”
He rose into a sitting position and captured a nipple between his teeth, teasing her through her shirt. She wanted to give in and let him explore. Her hands—traitorous hands—slide around his neck and tangled into his hair. He smelled like warm spice and she could practically taste his tongue, flavored with whiskey.
“I don’t think you can multitask this time,” she said. “I know that look.”
Hades pulled away long enough to ask, “What look?”
She took his head between her hands. She thought to keep him from distracting her with his mouth, but his hands were moving under her shirt, over her skin, making her shiver.
“That look,” she said, as if it explained everything. “The one you have now. Your eyes are dark but there’s something...alive behind them. Sometimes I think it’s passion, sometimes I think it’s violence. Sometimes I think it’s all of your lifetimes.”
His eyes glittered and his hands fell to her thighs.
“Hades,” she hissed his name, and he covered her mouth with his, shifting so that she was beneath him. His tongue slipped into her mouth. She’d been right about how he would taste, smokey and sweet. She wanted more and twined her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. His lips left hers to explore the contours of her neck and breasts.
Persephone tightened her hold around his waist to keep him from shifting lower.
“Hades,” she breathed. “I said I wanted to talk.”
“Talk,” he said again.
“About Apollo,” she breathed.
Hades froze and he growled—it was an unnatural sound, and it sent a shiver down her spine. He pulled away completely, no longer touching her.
“Tell me why the name of my nephew is upon your lips?”
“He’s my next project.”
Hades blinked and she was certain she saw violence in his eyes.
She hurried to continue. “He fired Sybil, Hades. For refusing to be his lover.”
He stared, and his silence was angry. His lips were set tight and a vein pulsed in his forehead. He left the bed completely naked. For a moment, she watched him walk away—well-muscled ass and all.