Page 16 of Hades

The look in her eyes—the fear that clouded their emerald depths—told him that she was right here with him and he wasn’t the only one who was afraid.

He wasn’t the only one desperate to overcome this threat to their family and this realm.

They were both clinging to each other in the midst of a storm.

Knowing at any moment it could rip them apart.

Chapter 5

Hades felt brighter for eating with his family and sleeping with Persephone tucked in his arms. Morning had come far too soon, and he needed to get back to Tartarus, but he refused to go without seeing his love. He needed to find her. Not only because he was fired up for her and hadn’t liked waking without her by his side this morning.

He wanted to look into her eyes and lose himself in her, stealing another peaceful moment with her, one that would hopefully keep the darkness at bay during his visit to Tartarus.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he banked right down another corridor on the first floor of the palace. He knew where his wife would be—doting on the baby.

By the gods, he loved how Persephone had brightened and bloomed again since Adora had come into their lives, and since Calindria had returned. It was good to see her more like her old self—the female he had fallen in love with all those centuries ago.

He reached the child’s room and opened the door, and barely leashed the urge to sneer as the bright pink room assaulted his eyes. If he’d had his way, his second-oldest son, Ares, wouldn’t have made it past the palace perimeter with the cans of paint that now graced the walls of the large room in the east wing.

But… he sighed… Persephone had given himthatlook. The one that always stripped him of his power. And with a little pout, she had cast a longing look at the palace and then Megan, where she had stood beside Ares with Adora bundled in her arms.

And then she had turned that pout on him.

Ravaging his defences.

Before he had known what was happening, the room had been painted pink, stuffed animals had appeared, and Ares, Daimon and Marek had been hauling new furniture from the mortal world into it.

Then, the corruption had spread. More rooms in the east wing had been transformed, coloured brightly and packed with more furniture and belongings. He had even caught Persephone helping with the move from Ares’s own home into their one.

Although orchestrating might be the better word for it. Ares had learned that it was impossible to say no to his mother when she truly wanted something. Hades was sure she had moved half of his and Megan’s belongings while they had been sleeping, stealing them from their home so they would be forced to move into the palace.

Hades shut out the huge white rabbit that was slumped over the pink dresser like a drunk daemon and checked the room. When he realised Persephone wasn’t doting on Adora after all, he turned to leave, and paused when his gaze caught on the cot beneath the window.

Adora lay on her back in it, the pink covers pushed down to the foot of her bed as she wriggled and gurgled, making little happy noises.

Hades cast a glance over his shoulder, checking the corridor was empty, and then strode to the cot.

He intended only to check on her, but the moment she spotted him, she made what Megan called ‘grabby hands’ at him. Ares had done the same as a child, telling Hades in his own way that he wanted attention. He instinctively bent and gently picked her up, settling her against his chest. She didn’t seem to care that he wore his armour. In fact, she apparently found it fascinating.

He cradled her in one arm, letting her sit astride his forearm with her back to his biceps, and watched her as she tugged at the straps that held his black breastplate in place, an adorable look of half-concentration, half-frustration on her chubby face.

Hades reached out with his senses again, double checking they were alone, and then began walking the room with her. He bounced her on his arm and she gave up trying to open the strap and lifted her large brown eyes to his face. Flecks of fire coloured her irises, bright against their dark backdrop. Would she inherit her father’s power or her mother’s?

There was a small chance she would inherit both, and would be able to summon and manipulate fire, and also heal others.

He toured the room with her and when they neared the huge rabbit, she leaned towards it and almost tipped right out of his grip. Hades huffed and planted his gauntleted hand against her stomach.

“Careful, little one,” he murmured. “We would not want you to fall. Hold on now.”

Surprisingly, she did as instructed, taking hold of two of his fingers, her small hands wrapping around the metal talons. She gurgled and yanked them back and forth, attempting to break his fingers.

Hades twisted her to face him, cradling her so her side pressed against his chest and she was reclining. She gazed up at him, her face a picture of innocence, but he knew better.

“Your father was a troublemaker too, you know? A smiling assassin. He was always covering his mischief with a smile like that.” Hades gently tapped one claw against her rosy lips.

She giggled and wriggled, and made grabby hands at him.

Hades was no fool.

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