“Help me understand.” He cautiously takes my hand and tugs me toward the couch. As if he is going to comfort me. This man makes absolutely no sense. He’s the one in more trouble than he obviously understands. He’s the one Hades has just conned. I’m the one who should be comforting him.
But I didn’t beg for him to save me. He didn’t ask. He just took one look at us and assumed he knew a single damn thing about how our lives work. He’s a fool, and I don’t suffer fools, even when they’re pretty enough to make me temporarily lose myself.
“Oh, now you’re willing to slow down long enough to actually consider my opinion?” I jerk my hand out of his. “Does my damsel in distress roll allow for a speaking part?”
“I don’t get why you’re pissed. Shouldn’t you be happy? You wanted out from under Hades, and now you can be.”
I laugh. A broken, sad sound. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His confusion shifts to anger and his mouth goes tight. “How the hell would I know what I’m talking about when you didn’t talk to me? You say I didn’t consider what you wanted, but you did the exact same thing to me. If you’re telling the truth about not wanting to be saved, then stop for a second and think about how that night looked from my perspective. He said he made you fuck me, Meg. As in forced.”
I understand what he’s saying, but I’m reeling too hard to sympathize fully. “So you talk to me! We have a conversation. You don’t jump headfirst into a deal with Hades because you made assumptions and didn’t bother to fact-check them before acting.” I hold up my hand when he starts to speak. “I… I can’t do this right now. I have to go.” I turn and walk away. I have to. Hercules might have fucked me, but he doesn’t know me. He obviously doesn’t want to know me either. Not the real me. He’s looking for someone to save, and he assumed I fit the bill. It never occurred to him that he should ask first.
I close the door behind me and take a slow breath. Anger is so much easier than guilt. I knew Hades had something else going on when he sent me after Hercules, and I did it anyways. I hadn’t realized the misleading conclusions Hercules would draw from the whole situation, but I should have. I knew he wasn’t part of our world, and I was too lost in my own experience to make sure he understood. Part of this is on me.
But not all of it.
It takes fewer than five minutes to climb the stairs to the level above the club to Hades’s office. He keeps a room that’s vaguely office-like on the club floor itself, but it’s all for show—and play. As secure as the Underground is in general, it’s not secure enough to leave vital business information where someone could just walk in, locked doors or no. Our clientele specialize in being where they shouldn’t.
So Hades gives them a decoy office. No one has thought to question it yet. They see what they want to see, and they leave it at that. Hades is too powerful to fuck with.
For them.
I’m too angry to heed the warning. He and I are going to have words, and we’re going to have them right fucking now.
Chapter Seven
Hades
She comes through my office door like a gale-force wind. Even after all these years, my Meg steals my breath when she gets riled like this. She’s out for blood, and mine will do just as well as anyone’s. We both know it won’t happen, that I will never yield, but Meg never hesitates to charge onto the battleground when she’s decided it’s worth her while.
She’s decided it now.
For him.
I study her as I sip my scotch. She looks as divine as always in her carefully tailored suit and sky-high heels. Her hair is mussed, and I know she’s been to see Hercules. A tiny flame of jealousy flares, but I’m not interested in feeding it. Meg may be mine in every way that matters, but she’s not built for monogamy. Begrudging her that is like begrudging a falcon its need for the sky. After all, I brought Hercules here for her, at least in part.
Meg narrows her eyes. “You played him.” She breaks the silence first. Point to me.
“I played him.” Fuck if it doesn’t feel good to finally be putting this plan in motion. Decades’ worth of anger with no outlet, no recourse, and the method of my revenge walks right into my web like a lamb to the slaughter. Whether or not Hercules is guilty makes no difference to me. Neither does his knowledge—or lack thereof—when it comes to his father’s sins.
Thinking of Zeus has me tightening my grip on my glass. Some things don’t go away with time, and my rage at the man is a live thing in my chest, snapping and snarling and demanding payment in blood.
Meg clenches her fists. “What happens when he realizes I’m not leaving?” She froze, her blue eyes going wide. “Wait a damn minute. Are you kicking me out? Is that what this is about? You needed an upgrade?”
I straighten, and she instantly takes a wary step back. My Meg knows me well, but apparently not well enough. She’s the most priceless thing in my life, the one person I could never replace, not even if I searched the world over. I knew she was unhappy, but for her trust to have broken down this far stalls my breath in my chest. I will reclaim our relationship. Hercules will help me, whether he realizes it or not. He’s helping even now, lancing a wound that we’ve both spent years pretending didn’t exist.
I set my glass on the table and meet her gaze. “Strip.”
“Damn it, Hades.”
I love the way her mouth forms my name, even in anger. I raise a single brow. “Was my order unclear?”
She considers arguing. I can see the battle in her expression. It doesn’t matter. We will have this conversation one way or another. If I have to pin her down and rip each piece of clothing from her body first, then I will. Finally Meg reaches for the button of her jacket. “No, Sir. Your order wasn’t unclear.”
I can actually see her coming back to herself as she loses each piece of clothing. Meg may enjoy dominating, but with me, she’s the perfect submissive. Not in a well-behaved sort of way—the term doesn’t apply to her—but in the way she inspires me to step to the line every single time. I don’t have to hold back with this woman, because she can take everything I give her. More, she loves it.
Once she’s undressed, I snap my fingers, and she drops to her knees. An instinctive response, and one she no doubt resents. I allow myself a moment to appreciate the picture she creates on her knees, all sharp angles and bottled-up fury. Some days I think she hates me more than she loves me, but she is one of the few constants in my life. We were made for each other, two twisted trees that grew to lean on each other to the point where they won’t survive alone.
Meg has no plans to leave me. I would know it if she did. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s unhappy. She’s withering with every day that passes, and I want to see her bloom once more.
“That’s better. Shall we try this again?” I push slowly to my feet and move to her. I don’t touch, not yet, but I circle her, letting the anticipation build in both of us. Finally, when she’s practically quivering, I reach down and draw my fingers through her hair.
Meg leans into it, though her mouth tightens as if she didn’t mean to. “You used me as bait. You tricked him into coming here. You trapped him with a lie.”