Page 54 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

Her cheeks flare a lovely shade of red. She huffs, unimpressed. “Even Gods become idiots when it comes to the size of their dicks. Who knew?”

Poseidon replicates my helpless shrug, but it’s him who mutters, “Where do you think human men got it from?”

She rolls her eyes, turning on me. “I’m not discussing other men’s—” Her face couldn’t be more red. It is in effort that I hold my unexpected laugh inside. “Argh. Poseidon, why would you think I possess any of Chaos’ power?”

“Quite frankly, Atlantis told me.”

Silence is a hole in my mind for far too long. I cannot think beyond his statement, but somehow, I manage a tense, “Explain.”

“That is all she said. She has been silent for centuries until,” he steals a breath. “Until recently.”

“And what happened recently?”

“She began to glow again. Nearly twenty years ago, her silent heart lit with light and the sleeping city came alive with power.A new artery formed. A fault line, of sorts, from Atlantis to the coast of Canada, before it withered—unable to reach its desired target.”

“I’m from Canada,” Persephone wheezes breathlessly.

Poseidon slides his eyes to hers. His reply is sober. “Not the coast.”

Shock hitches her breath. “No.”

“And all the times you did touch the water, you were never there long. Atlantis would sense you, first in Mexico.” He shakes his head on a disbelieving chuckle. “The Pacific side, because of course you wouldn’t travel to the Atlantic side. No, that would be too easy. Next, you were in Costa Rica, again the Pacific side.” His eyes narrow on her. “You travelled twice more to Mexico. Both times, you were on the Pacific side, and never for long.”

Persephone gulps. “Dad said the Pacific side is cheaper because the beaches are rougher.”

Poseidon grits his teeth. “Of course, it always comes down to money for mortals.”

This has the little goddesses’ hackles rising. And I watch as she endearingly gives the Sea God a verbal lashing. “That’s what happens when people struggle to get by, and the powerful make money into the ticket for happiness, health, and pretty much everything else that feeds the soul of a human.”

Poseidon ignores her rant. “Every time Atlantis sensed you, I travelled in the hope that I would find you,” Poseidon says softly. His eyes flick to mine. “I was always too late.”

Persephone demands, “What would you have done if you’d found me?”

Poseidon does not blink or hesitate. “I would have taken you.”

Her eyes bug. “You would have taken me?”

“We have waited for your rebirth for centuries. The Glowing City is hungry for sustenance. Sustenance only the power you carry—the power of Chaos—can provide.”

Persephone looks like she’s about to lose her mind, the information overload too much for the fragile confines of her human brain. I take a step closer, bumping her body with my own as I close my arms around her waist.

She sinks into me, giving Poseidon a small, sad shake of her head. “I can’t give her that power. If I had it—if I could—I would.”

“You do.”

She shakes her head. There is desperation in the depths of her voice—a plea of a sort—when she proposes, “You said her power dimmed when Uranus was castrated. Perhaps he truly is her sire, and he could—I don’t know—” Persephone spins in my arms, tipping wide green eyes desperate for a solution, up at me. “He’s in Tartarus. Couldn’t you—couldn’t you talk to him?”

I can feel the weight of Poseidon’s eyes on me as I peer down into the hopeful gaze of my beautiful mate. Not my soul mate, but my mate manipulated by the Fates.

I can’t deny the swell of sadness that rises inside me. A wave to crash down and smother some of the bliss I’ve found in her return to me.

I don’t look away from her eyes as I debate the merits of trusting my brother with all that I know. It seems he’s extended the first branch here, for I know very well he was aware that I’d been listening to the tales he told her even before I made my presence known.

In the end, with Demeter aligning herself with Zeus in the ultimate bid for my demise, it would be good to have a certain ally in him.

Before I can change my mind, I tell her, “Uranus is not in Tartarus.”

A wave surges from the sea, like it’s gasped its very own inhale, before it crashes to the shore in a spray of salty mist that goes entirely ignored in the wake of my confession.

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