Page 38 of Hades and Persephone: Threads of Fate

“I—I don’t know.” I can’t help but wonder, with his obsession with the ancient Gods of myth, if he could be even more unstable than I am.

Thunder cracks in the sky. I flinch, my heart pounding an unstable rhythm in my chest. Noc scoots closer, his paws little more than an inch away from the ledge of the tub. I think he senses my fear, and he’s trying to show me in his doggy way that I am safe. If my hands weren’t wet, I’d pet him.

Hades draws my attention from Noc. “Would you not think, that if you were a direct descendent of Zeus, that you would be rather attracted to storms?”

“I suppose that would make sense.”

“And that right there is what’s interesting.”

I shift. “No one says I’m a descendent of Zeus.” I consider the ancient Gods of myth for a moment. “If I were a direct descendent of the Gods…”

Hades leans closer. “Go on. Who would you say sired you, if such a thing were possible?”

“I don’t know. I’m comforted by the sun. Energized by it. The feel of the light on my skin it—it makes me feel—” I shake my head. “Revived, I guess. But I am attracted, drawn by a force I can’t fight or deny, to the darkness.” I give him a coy look. “Perhaps I am a descendent of Hades.”

Hades’ lips twitch, his eyes dropping to my ownwith a hunger that sparks something forbidden deep within me. His voice is deep and low. Sensual with an edge of threat I just can’t seem to heed. “I very much doubt Hades sired you.”

I roll my eyes. “Then Hyperion. Or maybe even Helios. If you’re basing lineage on likes and dislikes, I’d say I was linked in some way to Hyperion, Helios, or Hades.”

“The light and the dark.”

I shrug coyly. “I am attracted to both.”

He rumbles something incoherent, then asks, “And your mother?”

“This is silly.” I release a tense breath.

I don’t know why I’m tense. Hades has a fascination with the old Gods that can explain his trying to connect himself to them in some capacity. But it’s fantasy, like any fantasy. They—the Gods—are fantasy. I don’t know why I’m making it out to feel like more.

Straightening my shoulders, I ask, “Who would you say fathered you?”

“Cronos,” he replies without hesitation, turning the conversation back to me. “Persephone, who would you say birthed you, if a Goddess were to have birthed your eternal soul?”

My mind flashes to my latest glimpse into insanity. The vision I’d had of myself walking through the tunnel of darkness into a bright, warm light. The lightthat washed away the paint of the Underworld, to adorn me in the golden glow of sun and wheat. I see the woman who stood in elegant garb of white, smelling of warm wheat. The woman I’d calledmother.

My heart knocks wildly in my chest, and the name falls from my lips on a breathless whisper. “Demeter.”

The next flash of lightning strikes almost simultaneously with an ominous crack of thunder. I jump, a small screech escaping. Hades chuckles, but there’s a darkness swirling in his eyes as he mutters darkly, “It’s just Zeus splitting souls again.”

I want to roll my eyes at Hades’ interpretation of the ancient myth, but can’t. Something about the words he speaks feels like truth.

Hades speaks again. “You don’t like storms, but you find comfort in the sun. We know you have an affinity for wheat fields and flowers, but what do you feel of the sea? The oceans?”

I shudder before I can stop myself. The vision of the man in the water assaults me. His skin the color of ebony, his white hair shimmering like a pearl under a crescent moon—and his eyes. His eyes the color of a deep-sea blue, bursting with bioluminescent light in the moment before I buried my face in Hades’ neck.

“The sea holds little comfort for me. It’s beautiful, and powerful, and life-giving even as it claims life. I feel,” I pause to consider. “I feel as though humanity is somehow unwelcome in the sea, unwelcome in theoceans. As though we were only ever intended to crest the surface, but never dive deep. I prefer the land to the waters of the seas, even though I can’t deny there is an allure to all that is the unknown of the oceans.”

Hades stands, moving purposefully closer to me. I am forced to tip my head back so that I might keep my eyes on his. His fingers twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t touch me.

His lips part and he speaks low, soft, even though there is a hint of that ever-present danger. The way he crooks his head to capture my eyes with his own—he steals my breath. “Why do I feel like you are keeping secrets from me, little goddess?”

My heart is a hammer in my chest. My voice sounds hoarse. I cock my head just so. “Fair play, is it not?”

He arcs a brow. “How so?”

“You keep things from me.”

“What do you want to know?”

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