Hades stared at the satyr for a moment, recognizing that he never summoned Hades unless absolutely necessary, which meant whatever had occurred was not good. He wondered if it had anything to do with Kal or Hera, and he stiffened at the thought.
“I will be along soon,” he said.
Ilias nodded. “I’ll be in security.”
That made Hades curious and slightly concerned, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he returned to the dining room before he could watch the satyr leave. Persephone had moved from her perch on the dining table and now stood, staring up at the ceiling. Hades wondered what she found so appealing, but he did not ask, remaining silent as she turned to face him.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, keeping her arms crossed tight over her breasts, as if she wished to put up some kind of wall between them. A wall he refused to allow.
He drew closer, and her hands went to his waist. “Yes,” he said. “And no.
Ilias has made me aware of a problem better dealt with sooner than later.”
“When will you be back?”
“An hour. Maybe two,” he guessed, depending on what Ilias wanted, but he did not wish to worry Persephone.
Disappointment darkened her eyes.
He placed a finger beneath her chin to hold her gaze. “Trust, my darling, that leaving you is the hardest decision I make each day.”
“Then don’t,” she said, and her arms wound around his waist, sealing their bodies together. “I’ll go with you.”
Her suggestion made him stiffen. Though he did not know what Ilias had to show him, he could not imagine anything good coming from Persephone’s presence in his work, at least aboveground.
“That is not wise.”
“Why not?”
“Persephone—”
“It’s a simple question.”
“It isn’t,” he snapped and regretted the loss of his temper as her eyes widened and her mouth hardened. He sighed. All he wanted to do was get this over with so he could return to her. Could she not see that?
“Fine,” she said and took a step away. Her distance felt like more than the loss of physical touch. “I’ll be here when you return.”
Was she only saying that to appease him?
“I will make it up to you,” he promised.
She arched a brow and, like a queen, commanded, “Swear it.”
He offered the slightest smile, his still-heavy cock spurring his mischief.
“Oh, darling. You don’t need to extract an oath. Nothing will keep me from
fucking you.”
Though it felt like sacrilege to leave her without having made her come.
Chapter III
Return of the Nymph
Hades met Ilias on the top floor of Nevernight, which was dedicated to security. It was a large room, but the walls and ceiling sloped inward to a shadowed point just like the exterior of the building. The room was awash in the pallid light of computer screens, illuminating the stern faces of Hades’s security team, though this was only a fraction. The others roamed the floors below and the dark alleys of the exterior, eyes peeled for anything untoward.
Ilias was positioned before a set of screens on the far wall, one for every holding room. Of the six, four were occupied. They were reserved for anyone who broke Nevernight rules, which occurred nightly and ranged from taking photos to card counting and, on rare occasions, spying.
It was the latter Hades expected to hear about from Ilias, considering his most recent visitors, but as he scanned the screens above the satyr’s head, he caught sight of a familiar face, one that shocked his system.
“Is that Leuce?”
Though he asked the question, he knew the answer. There was no denying the ocean nymph’s white hair and pale skin. It had been a long time since he had loved her, since she had betrayed him, since he had turned her into a poplar tree and forgotten her.
Yet here she was, returned from her prison.
How?
He certainly had not freed her.
“It is,” Ilias said. “She made a scene when she arrived.”
Hades wondered how many people glimpsed her outburst before it was contained. As if Ilias knew what he was thinking, he added, “We have begun damage control.”
“Has she been questioned at all?”
Ilias shook his head. “I figured you would want the opportunity.”
He would, though she had already had plenty of time to herself. Time to think up lies and believe them enough to avoid detection. It was a tactic she knew well and would not have forgotten, given she had spent her years as a tree unconscious. She would have woken up today believing he had only just confronted her about her infidelity—what a shock to learn that more than two millennia had passed. He wondered now if he had done her a cruelty or a kindness.
He watched her on the screen once more. She had pushed her chair against the wall, away from the table. Her knees were drawn to her chest and her thin arms were wrapped around them. She looked small, innocent, though that was not how Hades remembered her.
“What will you do with her?” Ilias asked. Hades knew the satyr wasn’t asking out of concern; he was asking because he wanted to know what he would be tasked with next, which was likely handling the nymph.
Hades looked at Ilias. He had not thought beyond this moment, save that he did not see any reason for Persephone to ever find out about Leuce. He could just imagine how she might react to not only discovering that his lover from the ancient world had returned but how he had handled her treachery—and it wasn’t good.
Leuce was a complication.
“I do not know,” Hades said. “Just…be on standby.”
Ilias nodded and Hades left.
He could teleport into the room, and he often did when he confronted those who had committed wrongs against him, but he wanted time to think, to prepare to face the lover he had forgotten, so he moved from floor to floor, invisible to the crowd, growing more and more frustrated.
Of course Leuce would return only a day after he had managed to reunite with Persephone, he thought bitterly and then halted. That thought gave him pause. Perhaps it wasn’t just a coincidence. Perhaps it had been more purposeful.
Perhaps it had been Demeter.
Suddenly, he was more than eager to confront her, and he did not hesitate.
A cloud of thick, heated air hit him as he opened the door. Leuce pinned him with a chill gaze, her blue eyes narrowed in contempt.
“You.”
It was all she said, but she spoke with venom in her voice and then launched herself at him.
She was lithe and willowy, and she moved as if she had wings, cresting the table between them like it wasn’t there at all. While her anger was justified, he was not interested in allowing her near, so he flung out his hand, and his magic became shadows that restrained her midair.
“You have every right to be angry,” he said. “But if you have come here to ask for my aid, as I suspect you have, then you will do well to keep your hands to yourself.”
She spit in his face, and he released her quickly. She collapsed to the ground, a pile of bony, white limbs. She glared up at him.
“Haven’t you hurt me enough?”
He hadn’t heard her voice in so long; he had forgotten the sound. Despite her anger, she spoke softly, yet each word was deliberate, another stone stacked, a greater guilt to bear. He wanted to flinch at her words but kept his cold composure. He did not want Leuce to think she was welcome to return to his side. In fact, he’d prefer she kept her distance.
Then he noticed the tears.
“What is this place?” she whispered, once again resuming the position she had taken in the chair and drawing her knees to her chest.
Hades was confused and taken aback, both by her tears and her question, but he recognized suddenly that he had given little consideration to how much of a shock this had all been. He had merely assumed ill intent, and he still did, but that did not take away the trauma of returning to a world that looked nothing like the one you remembered.
He crouched low before her.
“What do you wish to know?” he asked.
She froze a little, probably caught off guard by the change in his demeanor. After a moment, she spoke. “How long has it been?”
Dread crept up the back of his throat. He did not want to answer.
Somehow, he felt that if he said it aloud, it would make him crueler.