Page 44 of Hades and Persephone: Threads of Fate

His hand tightens around Adonis’ neck for a moment. A moment I think he might just succumb to that jealousy I know lingers deep within him. I want him to. At the cost of anything or any other, I want him to.

He pulls Adonis to his feet, and, taking my hand, Hades guides us all into the Underworld.

“Annie?” My eyes snap open to find Addison is there, his hand still on the bare skin of my thigh.

Crying out, I slap away his touch as I scramble to my feet. I’m shaken, emotionally and physically rattled. I feel sickness swell in the deep of my belly as Addison—God, he looks like Adonis—Jeez, I don’t even know what Adonis looked like.

I’m making up history as I go. I’m playing into the darkly hideous fantasy of ancient myth, twisting it into the reality of my life, and I hate it. These visions—memories—whatever—they are like thorns in my skin.

“I—I’m sorry,” I wheeze, swallowing hard. I want to cry. I might actually break down and do it.

I can’t stop shaking. Can’t forget the way it had felt—the way everything had felt in my—what? Is it a fantasy? A vision? What?

“Annie, you look sick.” He points at my face, climbing to his own feet. “You’re clammy and pale.” There is so much concern in his blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine.”I feel like I’m going to vomit.

Spinning away from Addison, my eyes lock on Hades. I freeze, my feet rooted to the earth as my heart skips nervously in my chest. The darkness that swirls around him is a tangible thing that is bursting with menace. I think I see the same flames that danced in his eyes in my vision, there now in those dark depths.

Fear twists the knots that formed in my belly, thevines around my heart. I want to flee, even as I walk closer to him. My knees, like jelly, wobble.

“You’re here,” I say when I come close. I think my voice rattles.

My hands are shaking.All of me is shaking.

“What was that?” He doesn’t even have to look at Addison for me to know what he is talking about.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, and repeat, “Nothing.”

Hades looks at me for a long moment. Studies me. Finally, slowly, he murmurs, “I am a jealous—” he pauses, considering his next words and ending with, “man, Persephone.”

I huff, muttering quietly, “Tell that to the alter-ego in my fantasies.”

“What?” Hades catches me with a hand around my arm as I attempt to walk past him. His dark eyes are sharp as a blade, attempting to cut the secrets from the deep of me even as they score into my very soul. I want to weep. I want to crumble.

I shake my head again. Words get caught in my throat, but I manage, “Nothing. Sorry. I—I’m not feeling very good.”

His eyes scan my face again, as though he’s trying to peer under the cover I hide beneath. “It’s a good thing the day is over.”

Chapter

Twenty

Persephone

Theo roarsfrom down the hall, threatening to end whoever dared to steal his deodorant. Again.

I roll my eyes as I pour coffee into my cup, adding too much creamer and not caring one bit that it’s likely to go to my hips. There’s another roar, then a very detailed picture is painted of how one could, in theory, end a thieving life. The image has me only mildly fearful for the deodorant thief.

I slip out the door to the terrace, mostly cutting off the mischief that continues inside. A small table and chairs set sits on uneven stone, staring out over rolling, dry grassy land. We don’t have a sea view fromhere, and granted, the beige hills aren’t exactly a view to write home about, but somehow, it’s beautiful to me. Magical. Everything about Greece, about these islands that make up this ancient country, is magical.

I warm my hands around the coffee cup, pulling a small sip of creamy, hot coffee into my mouth. I swallow happily, ending on a big sigh. Already prepared for the blazing day ahead, I’m in cute beige shorts and a plain white tank, warding off the early morning chill with an oversized cardigan I took with me from Hades’ home.

He’d been visibly frustrated when he’d been called away for work, explaining that he would be gone for the weekend. He’d wanted me to stay at his penthouse, claiming I would be safer there, but I’d brushed him and his silly worries away, packed my bag, and returned to the communal house. Willa had nearly fainted when I’d showed up last night. Then she ran to the kitchen for alcohol, set out for the hangover that had her moaning in bed where I left her not even an hour ago.

There’s a crash somewhere in the house before I hear the door creak, and feet shuffle. Looking over my shoulder, I see Minthe. She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt that isn’t so oversized I don’t catch a glimpse of her mint green panties as she lowers to a chair.

She asks, “How’s Willa?”

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