Page 54 of Hades and Persephone: Threads of Fate

I hold up my hand. “I’m serious. I don’t want a relationship that means anything—with anybody.”

Chapter

Twenty-Five

Persephone

I hate being without Hades.It’s been a full week now, and honestly, I miss him with a kind of pain I can’t imagine living with for the rest of my life. At night when I sleep, I feel restless and cold. Chilled right to the very marrow of my bone. Even the sun that beats down on me every day at the dig site can’t penetrate the cold that has settled into my bones. I ache with it. With missing him.

And I hate myself for it.

The quiet of his home is too much for me now as night begins to crawl into the horizon. I watch it move, watch as it morphs the clear blue of a cloudlesssky into a collage of deep, bloodied orange ribboned with lilac. I can still feel the heat of the day radiate from the wall of glass I stand before, and yet I can’t shake the cold that has settled into the deep of me, its spurs needling teeth into the fleshy bits of my aching heart.

He's still not here. And the stream of texts on the phone in my pocket remain unread.

I want to scream.

I want to fall to my knees and weep.

I’m pathetic.

Turning away from the window, I don’t think as I stride for the elevator that will take me down the impossibly high tower into the club. It’s not open yet, but I figure I’ll see Herman sitting at the bar. He’s been stationed there every day since Hades disappeared.

It’s not the first time that I’ve wondered if he knows something. Knows where Hades is.

What if he’s in trouble?

What if he’s hurt?

The thoughts quicken my pace, and I hurry into the elevator, my finger stabbing the button for the main floor of the club with determination. It begins the descent, and for the first time, I feel like it crawls. I nibble my lip and tap my toe. I pace.

The doors roll open and I burst into the private section of the club. Hard breaths rush from my lungs to the tempo of my thundering heart as I spot Herman sitting at the bar. There’s a squat glass of somethingamber on the bar next to him—and on the other side, Leuce is leaning close.

Something buzzes in my ears, a ringing I can’t quiet as I march closer. I take the stool next to Herman and say rather loudly, “Hi.”

Herman’s gaze drifts sideways to me, a single brow cocked in amusement. “Hello, Persephone.”

I cut right to the chase. “Where’s Hades?”

I’m pretty sure it’s surprise that flashes in his eyes. “He’s busy.”

“I haven’t heard from him in a week.”

Herman’s eyes drift to Leuce, lingering on the arms she’s been covering, rather uncharacteristically, with solid black blouses. His eyes shift back to me and he says bizarrely, “It’s rather hot where Hades is right now. I don’t believe his phone has service?”

I can’t restrain my glare. Herman’s lips twitch, fueling the fire that burns inside me. It’s taken over the cold that iced the marrow in my bones. Now, I feel fevered in a way that makes me yearn for the cold I’d desperately wished away not long ago. “Everywhere has service.”

Leuce makes a noise. “You haven’t been to the jungle.”

I roll my eyes to her. “Hades is in the jungle?”

Herman is the one to answer. “Yes, he is. A jungle of a sort.”

I want to pull out my hair. There is an itch deep below the surface of my flesh that I can’tscratch. An itch my nails can’t reach, lest I shred the very flesh I wear. It’s a maddening kind of torture.

And if this is how I feel after a mere week without the man—what will happen to me when I return home come September?

No. Don’t think about September.

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