“Apollo’s already got his eye on her,” said Xeres.
Sybil rolled her eyes. “It’s not as wonderful as it sounds. My family was not happy.”
Sybil didn’t need to say it for Persephone to understand. Her parents were what the Faithful and the god-fearing called Impious.
The Impious were a group of mortals who rejected the gods when they came to Earth. Having already felt abandoned by them, they were not eager to obey. There was a revolt and two sides were born. Even the gods who supported the Impious used mortals like puppets, dragging them across battlefields. There was destruction, and chaos reigned. After a year of fighting, the battle was over.
The gods had promised a new life, something better than Elysium (apparently, Hades didn’t like that too well), but the gods delivered—they threaded together continents and dubbed the new landmass New Greece, splicing it into territories with great, gleaming cities.
“My parents would have been ecstatic,” Lexa said.
Persephone met Sybil’s gaze. “I’m sorry they weren’t excited for you.”
She shrugged. “It’s better now that I’m here.”
The goddess got the feeling that she and Sybil had a lot in common when it came to their parents.
Several shots later, the conversation lapsed into hilarious stories of the trio’s friendship and Persephone became distracted by her surroundings. She noticed small details like strands of tiny lights overhead that looked like stars in the dark above, single-stemmed narcissus on the tables at each booth, and the wrought-iron rails of the second story balcony where a lone figure loomed.
That’s where her gaze stayed, meeting a pair of shadowy eyes. Had she thought earlier that Adonis was the most handsome man she’d ever seen?
She’d been wrong.
That man was now staring at her.
She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but they ignited a fire under her skin, and it was like he knew because his full lips curved into a harsh smile, drawing attention to his strong jaw, covered in dark stubble. He was big, well over six and a half feet tall and dressed in darkness from his inky hair to his black suit.
Her throat went dry and she was suddenly uncomfortable. She fidgeted and crossed her legs, instantly regretted the move, because the man’s gaze fell there and held for a moment before sliding back up her frame, snagging on her curves. The fire he’d ignited under her skin pooled low in her stomach, reminding her of how empty she felt, how desperately she needed to be filled up.
Who was this man, and how could she possibly feel this way about a stranger? She needed to break this connection that had created this tangible, suffocating energy between them.
All it took was seeing a pair of delicate hands slip around the man’s waist. She didn’t wait to see the woman’s face. She turned toward Lexa and cleared her throat.
The group had moved on to talking about the Pentathlon—an annual athleticism competition with five different sporting events, including a long jump, javelin throw, discus throw, a wrestling match, and a series of short races. It was hugely popular, and the cities of New Greece were very competitive.
Persephone wasn’t really a sports fan, but she did love the spirit of the Pentathlon, and enjoyed cheering for New Athens in the tournament. She tried to follow the conversation, but her body was charged and her mind was on other things—like how it would feel to be taken by the man on the balcony. He could fill this emptiness, stroke this fire, end her suffering.
Except that he was obviously taken—and if not taken, otherwise engaged with another woman.
She wanted to look over her shoulder and see if he still stood on the balcony. She resisted for a while until her curiosity won out. She hated how disappointed she felt when she discovered the balcony was empty. She craned her neck, searching the crowd.
“Looking for Hades?” Adonis joked, and Persephone’s gaze snapped to his.
“Oh, no—”
“I heard he was here tonight,” Lexa interrupted.
Adonis laughed. “Yeah, he’s usually upstairs.”
“What’s upstairs?” Persephone asked.
“A lounge. It’s quieter. More intimate. I guess he prefers the peace when he’s negotiating his terms.”
“Terms?” Persephone asked.
“Yeah, you know, for his contracts. Mortals come here to play him for things—money or love or whatever. The fucked up part is, if the mortal loses, he gets to pick the stakes and he’ll usually ask them to do something impossible.”
“What do you mean?”
“Apparently he can see vices or whatever. So he’ll ask the addict to remain sober and the sex addict to be chaste. If they’re meet the terms, they get to live. If they fail, he gets their soul. It’s like he wants them to lose.”
Persephone felt a little sick. She hadn’t known the extend of Hades’ gambling. The most she’d heard is that he asked for the mortal’s soul, but this sounded much, much worse. It was...manipulation.
“Is...anyone allowed up there?” Persephone asked. She was curious—how did Hades choose which bargains to accept? And how did Hades know these mortals weaknesses? Did he consult the Fates or possess this power himself?
“If you’re given the password,” he said.
“How do you get the password?” Lexa asked.
Adonis shrugged. “Hell if I know. I don’t come here to bargain with the God of the Dead.”
Though she had no desire to enter into a bargain with Hades, she did wonder how people came by the password. How did Hades accept a wager? Did mortals offer their case to the god who then deemed their case worthy?
“Persephone, bathroom,” Lexa said and stood, grabbing Persephone’s free hand.
She dragged her across the crowded floor to the restroom. While they waited at the end of a long line, Lexa turned to chat about Adonis.
“Have you seen a more attractive male?” She asked dreamily.
Persephone would have liked to inform her that while she was ogling Adonis, she’d missed the man who deserved the term. Instead, she said, “You’re smitten.”
“I’m in love,” she said.
Persephone rolled her eyes. “You can’t be in love, you just met him!”
“Okay, maybe not love,” she said. “But if he asked me to carry his babies, I’d agree.”
“You are ridiculous.”
“Just honest,” she said, grinning. Then she looked at Persephone seriously and said, “It’s okay to be vulnerable, you know?”
“What do you mean?” Persephone’s question was snappier than she intended.
Lexa shrugged and then said. “Never mind.”
Persephone wanted to ask Lexa to elaborate. What had she meant about being vulnerable? But before she could, a stall opened up and Lexa left. Persephone waited, sorting through her thoughts, trying to figure out what Lexa might have been talking about when another stall opened up.
After Persephone used the restroom, she looked for Lexa, expecting her to be waiting, but couldn’t find her. She looked toward the balcony where Hades supposedly made his deals. Had her friend wandered up?
Then her gaze met a pair of sapphire eyes. A woman was leaning against the column at the end of the stairs. Persephone thought she looked familiar, but couldn’t place her. Her hair was like gold silk and as radiant as Helios’ sun. She had skin the color of cream, and she wore a modern version of a peplos in the color sea green.