Hades won’t change whatever his plan is for Hercules. I know him well enough to know that. No matter how much he cares about me, no matter how much he claims to want to fix things, he’s been harboring the need for revenge for thirty years. Justice for his wife and child. I stop. How goddamn selfish do I have to be that that is the thing that trips me up? Not his vengeful, potentially murderous, intentions. No. It’s the kid who makes my chest hurt and my eyes burn.
I don’t want kids. I never have. It was something I thought Hades and I had in common, a total and complete lack of desire to procreate. But I know what I heard in his voice when he mentioned his son.
Longing.
I am selfish beyond measure to be hurt by that longing, so incredibly selfish to hate that he’s lied to me. Ten years we’ve been together, and he’s wanted children this whole time? I hate the guilt that eats away at me. I haven’t done anything wrong. If he’d communicated with me—and the very idea is laughable now—then we wouldn’t be together. Some things a person cannot compromise on, and having children numbers among them.
How dare he hide this from me?
I shove through my door and drop the blanket to the floor. I can’t do this. I thought I had a clear understanding of my life and relationship. Nothing is perfect, but at least I know the boundaries I’m willing to compromise on. I thought I knew him. It hurts beyond measure to realize I didn’t know anything at all.
A quick shower does nothing to clear my spiraling thoughts. I wrap myself in my robe and stare down at my bed. The thought of sleeping alone is unbearable, which might make me laugh if I had anything resembling a sense of humor left after tonight. The temptation rises to call Jasmine and make the drive over to Jafar’s penthouse, but we don’t have that kind of relationship. Fucking and friendship, yes, but not the depth that allows me to crawl into bed with them and take comfort from their presence.
I’m being a coward.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I walk out my door and pad down the hallway to Hercules’s suite. I lift my hand to knock and it’s only then that I pause to consider that he might not have come back to his room. Even now, he might be settling into Hades’s giant bed. I lower my hand. This self-pitying spiral is exhausting. I’m not fit company for anyone right now, and looking for a shoulder to lean on is just as selfish as everything else I’ve done today. This week, this year, this decade.
The door opens before I can turn and walk away. Hercules leans against the doorjamb, his hair wet from a recent shower and a towel wrapped low around his hips. He studies me for a long moment before he pushes off the frame and steps back. “Come in.”
“Actually, I—”
“Meg.” He gives me a soft smile. “Come in.”
It’s what I want. Why am I so conflicted about taking it? I finally nod and follow him into his room. He doesn’t speak again, and I have too much to say to get anything out. Hercules disappears into the bathroom for a moment and comes back naked. He eases off my robe and takes my hand, tugging me to his bed and tucking us both in with an efficiency that’s truly impressive. I rest my head against his chest and listen to his strong heart beating.
The comfort he offers comes without strings, without manipulations. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to speak my pain into the dark room. “Tonight hurt.”
“I know.” He smooths a hand over my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“I love him.” I don’t even know why I’m saying this, why I’m treating this man as my own personal confessional, but I can’t seem to stop. “I don’t know if it’s enough. I don’t know if it ever was.”
Hercules cuddles me closer, his strong arms acting as a barrier between me and the rest of the world. “He’d walk through fire for you.”
Maybe once. I don’t know if it’s true any longer. “When we first fell for each other, yes. But the years have a way of taking their toll. We’ve grown apart. The stupid thing is that I don’t even know when it started. It’s something I should know, right? But it feels like I just woke up one day and realized that he’s almost more a stranger now than he was when I first made my deal.”
“It happens like that sometimes.” His lips brush my forehead. “I think he’s trying, though. In his own way.”
I’m not so sure. What kind of man throws another man at a problem instead of wading in to fix it himself? Hades, that’s who. I manage to keep that doubt inside, though. Hercules has enough to worry about without adding my wavering emotional health to the mix. I hold him as tightly as I can. “If you were smart, you’d run. I can get you out if that’s what you decide.”
Hercules presses a kiss to my temple. “I’m not going anywhere, Meg.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hades
I let myself into Hercules’s room well before dawn. The faint light of the full moon shines through his windows, illuminating the scene on the bed. I knew Meg would need comfort tonight, but I also knew she wouldn’t accept it from me. Not this time.
Is that what she wants? To walk in the sun with a man like the one holding her so close while she sleeps? The thought carves out my stomach and leaves me curiously empty. If I was a better man, I’d let them both go, let them attempt to find whatever happiness there is in the world with each other. If any two are able to do it, it’s Meg and Hercules. For all her scars, she’s still one of the good ones. He brings that side out of her. I’d have to be particularly dense not to recognize that.
I’m not a better man. I’m not even a good one. This woman and this man belong to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure they stay.
I give a soundless sigh, and Hercules opens his eyes. We stare at each other for a long moment. I expect recrimination. Judgment. Anger. Any number of things. He simply smiles. “I figured you’d make your way here eventually.”
“Am I becoming predictable?” We both speak low to avoid waking Meg, though I could have told him it’s unnecessary. Once she falls asleep, she’s dead to the world. A tornado could burst through the building and she’d likely sleep through it.
“You care.”
Two words to encompass so many conflicting emotions. I nod at the woman sleeping in his arms. “Thank you. She wouldn’t accept this from me, but she needs it.”
Hercules shakes his head slowly. “You really are a good Dom, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I should leave it at that, but apparently the honesty earlier tonight begets further honesty. “But not a good person.”
“No, not a good person.” He lifts a hand and motions me forward. “What are you waiting for?”
Will that man ever cease to surprise me? I slip my hands into my pockets and take a step back. “I’m respecting her wishes.”
“You’re being a fucking idiot.”
I blink. “You’re a mouthy little sub, aren’t you?” There’s a specialness to Hercules that I can’t let myself enjoy. He’s not for keeping, and forgetting that is unacceptable. Leaving right now is the only option. Yet my feet don’t quite get the instruction.