Page 42 of Hades and Persephone: Keeper of Sins

I feel my jaw unhinge. “You still believe in the old Gods?”

“Of course.”

“No one believes in them. Hades—” I can’t help the little shiver that pulses through my body. I follow up the discomfort with a little laugh, if only to ease the spill of ice I feel overtaking my veins. “The ancient Gods are myth.”

His lips thin. His voice is impossibly quiet and impossibly dark. “If you say so, Persephone.”

I find it hard to believe that such an intelligent man can believe that the Gods of old are real. That the excuses the people made to explain the ways of life and the world to themselves, that ancient fabrications of a creative mind, is real.

For a moment, we simply stare at each other. My mind is stacking reasons to tell him why the Gods aren’t real. Toprovethat they aren’t real.

I’ve wanted my whole life for the ancient Gods of myth to be real. I’ve dreamed of them as though they were real. I’ve fantasized about them and felt the spark of fear inside my chest at the idea that they could possibly be real. And yet faced with another who believes in them wholly, I can do nothing but deny the existence of beings I’ve always hopedcouldbe true.

Instead of voicing all the reasons the man before me is even crazier than I am, I say softly, “I’m going to shower.”

Hades simply gives me another chin lift, but hedoesn’t move from the wall as I pass him with his three dogs in tow.

I feel less of a mess,and definitely less sticky when I meet Hades in the kitchen again. He is sitting at the end of the long kitchen table with a sleek black laptop and a glass of deep red wine. He finishes whatever it is he’s typing when he sees me, closing the laptop.

I expect him to rise from his chair to join me, but he doesn’t. He sits back, lifts his wine from the table, and pins his dark gaze to me.

I stand my ground, refusing to fidget under his inspection even though I want to. As his eyes roam over my body, drinking in every inch of me, I feel far less dressed than I am. In workout shorts and an oversized, loose white t-shirt, I’m not inappropriately dressed. But the way he looks at me makes me feel like I am.

“Feel better?” he finally asks. His voice is rough, like he’s been drinking whiskey instead of wine.

I nod, but have to swallow to clear the lump in my throat before I’m able to stammer, “Um, yeah.”

“Good.” He rises from the table and moves into the kitchen where he pulls two plates from the oven, sliding them over the counter. He winks. “Dinner is served.”

My heartflips. I slide onto a stool. “Thanks.”

Hades pours me a glass of the wine he’s drinking, then he rounds the island to sit adjacent to me. Woodsmoke and man surround me, infused with enough danger to make my head woozy. I lift my wine, foolishly attempting to clear the dizzying effect of the man with alcohol.

“What made today so hard?” Hades asks after a few bites.

I frown. “How do you know today was hard?”

His lips twitch. God, but the man is so freaking handsome. It’s not fair how handsome he is. It’s not fair how he is aware of how handsomeIthink he is. I’m too young to have a man like him. To want a man like him. Obviously, my body hasn’t figured that out because it’snoton the same page as my brain.

“You were sprawled on my entryway floor moments from sobbing your woes to my dogs. I’d say your day was rough.”

Fire flares in my cheeks, reflecting in the deep of his eyes. I drop my own to my plate. “It was hot today.”

“That can’t be the reason.”

“Why not? Lots of people struggle in the heat.”

“Not you.” His eyes drift hungrily over me. “You’re built for heat, aren’t you?”

Oh wow.I swallow. Hard.

I change the subject. “I spokewith my mom today.”

He’s quiet for a beat. All the teasing washes from his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

I pull in breath that rattles inside the cage of my chest. “She can be difficult. Today was one of the times where she was.”

“How so?”

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