Page 122 of He Who Ignites The Flame
“Apologies, my dearest,” Hades said, and I realized it was the goddess Persephone.
“Atlas. Staying out of trouble, I hope,” she said, giving him a knowing smile.
Atlas bowed before her and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Never.”
“I apologize if my mate kept you waiting long,” she said, looping her arm through his. “We’ve been attending to some delicate matters in the south. I hope he has been a better host. The fact an object of such power was stolen under his watch has him very stressed.”
I glanced around the room, paranoia leaving me restless, wondering when another hallucination might surface. Was I still feeling the lingering effects of whatever I’d done the night before? The hallucinations didn’t return, and air filled my lungs as I tried to regain my composure and focus on the conversation.
“The Twelve remain unaware of its theft, and I would like it to remain that way. My brother is paranoid enough. I don’t need him poking his nose in my domain,” Hades warned. “The retrieval of this object is of the utmost importance. In the wrong hands, not only could The Siphon steal the soul of a god, but it could also allow the wielder to manipulate the soul, possibly even bend it to their will if the soul was weak enough.”
What use could someone have for an object of that power in the Mortalrealm?
Hades’ eyes shifted to Atlas. “I implore you to do everything in your power to find me that Siphon.”
50
BARRETT
Imay have use of your services in the future.
Hades’ words lingered in the back of my mind as I sat at Semele’s bar. Hades had insisted we stay a few more days to indulge in the hospitalities of his palace and city after our meeting. I barely remembered half the festivities for how messed up I’d been. We’d partied endlessly, lost ourselves in the revelry until we’d passed out.
At some point, it had become difficult to even look at a female, let alone touch them, no matter how beautiful and tempting. All I could see was her the moment our clothes came off—the look of hurt on her face, or the look of cold resentment she’d given me when I’d last seen her... So, I drank until I couldn’t see straight, smoked until I couldn’t feel every inch of my body—of the agonizing desire for something I couldn’t have welling in my chest. Perhaps a part of me wanted to stay, wanted to return to it, the endless numbness where I couldn’t think of Thalia or Micah.
I wasn’t sure how the fuck we were going to find this stolen object, but I couldn’t find the energy to focus on it. I’d only been in the Mortalrealmfor a few hours and had so far avoided seeing Damien, eager to drown out the thoughts that intensified the moment I’d stepped across the veil. The mating bond had grown demanding for Thalia’s presence, for her attention...for her forgiveness.
It took everything in me not to throw myself at her feet.
Something tugged deep in my chest as I glanced over my shoulder at the mass of bodies moving in time to the pumping music, the beat pounding its way into my system. The bodies blurred together as they swayed and ground against one another.
My chest ached, the longing for Thalia near unbearable from the days I’d been away to the point where it was driving me insane. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on the conversations Vincent tried to hold. He’d been trying to cut me off for the last hour, going on about how much of a mess I looked.
I couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop myself from knocking back another glass.
“Sorry?” I muttered, glancing at him when he waved his hand in front of my face.
He let out a sigh. “You’ve gotta get a hold of yourself, get this self-loathing and punishment under control. How bad are you gonna get before you start taking better care of yourself?”
I dragged a heavy hit from my rolled Brierleaf, the high already swimming through my system like a siren’s song, lulling me into a haze I never wanted to be free of. I never wanted to rise above the surface and...feel.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Micah and Thalia where they danced amidst the crowd. Her head was tilted back against Micah’s shoulder as she ground her ass against him, her hips swaying to the beat of the music as his fingers dug into them.
She looked equally as drunk as I felt, her cheeks flushed. Micah brushed his lips to her neck as they moved together, and Gods, I couldn’t take my eyes off them. His eyes lifted to mine, and for a moment, I wondered if I was hallucinating when he nodded to me to come.
I hesitated, Vincent’s voice melting into the sea of noises around me.
“Barrett?”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, setting the glass on the edge of the bar top and tamping out the embers on my roll. He lurched forward to catch it before it tipped over.
Each step felt too fast and yet too slow, my body not moving fast enough to bring me closer to her, and yet at the same time, I wasn’t ready to face her, wasn’t ready to face the possibility of rejection if she decided to cast me to the side. I deserved as much.
My surroundings blurred into nothing as I drew closer to them, everything else around us falling away until we were all that remained, all that mattered. Thalia’s eyes found me, and the stormy gray dulled with asort of sadness that demanded every fiber of my being do anything and everything to right the wrong.
I stood there frozen, and the words spilled from my lips. “I’m so sorry...”
She blinked as if her mind couldn’t wholly latch onto the words I said.
