looked at Hades and shut it. He had a feeling he knew what Hermes was about to say, that he had marked Persephone in another way via a bargain.
“What’s the matter, brother? Afraid her eye will wander?”
Hades felt the darkness rise in him. He would show Poseidon what it was to have wandering eyes when his were removed from his skull and tossed across this room.
But Poseidon was saved by Minthe, who appeared behind him. She slid her arm through his and offered a charming smile.
“Poseidon,” she said in a sultry voice. “It’s been a while.”
The God of the Sea gazed down at her, offering a wide, predatory smile.
“Minthe. You look ravishing.”
She pulled on Poseidon’s arm. “Have you found your table?” she was asking. “I would be more than happy to help.”
As she turned, she glared at Hades as if you say don’t start a scene.
When they were gone, Hermes spoke.
“If you don’t want Poseidon to be an asshat, you shouldn’t provoke him.”
Hades looked at the God of Mischief. “What did Persephone say to you?”
Hermes raised a brow. “Lover’s quarrel?”
He glared.
“I called her out for eye fucking you and she tried to deny it, but we all saw it—from both of you, I might add—and we all felt uncomfortable. Did you know she thinks you don’t believe in love?”
“What?”
“She seems rather bitter about it, too,” Hermes added, eyes wandering around the room. “Oh! Cherries!”
He started to take off but paused and looked at Hades.
“If you want my advice…”
Hades didn’t, but he also didn’t feel like talking.
“Tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
“That you love her, you idiot.” Hermes rolled his eyes. “All these years lived, and you are not the least bit self-aware.”
Hermes left then, and when Hades started to find Persephone again, she was no longer there. He gave a frustrated sigh, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides. There were so many words whirling in his head—words from Hecate and Minthe and Poseidon and Hermes. Strangely, it was something Hecate had said long ago that echoed in his mind now.
Persephone has hope for love, and instead of confirming that, you mocked her. Passion does not require love? What were you thinking?
He hadn’t been, that had been the problem.
Why did I let her think something so false? he thought, and then answered himself. Because I feared exposing the truth of my heart—that I have always desired to love and be loved.
He’d been hoping to guard his heart, build a cage around it so thick that nothing—not even Persephone and her compassion—would find its way through. Except now, she was the only person he wanted close to his heart. It was her compassion he sought. It was her love he wanted.
Because it was her he loved.
Those words impaled his chest and twisted there like a blade. He felt the ache all over his body, in the bottom of his feet and the ends of his fingers. He was left feeling shaky, raw, and exposed. He looked out over the crowd at the mortals and immortals gathered, who were oblivious to the fact that he had been utterly changed in this very moment, in the most bizarre place.
Why could he not have had this realization elsewhere? In the Underworld, perhaps? Poised over Persephone with his cock teasing her entrance?
“Fucking Fates,” he muttered.
“What was that?” Minthe asked, appearing at his side.
Hades glanced at her. “I trust Poseidon found your assistance pleasurable.”
“Jealous, Hades?”
“Hardly,” he replied.
“Don’t insult me,” Minthe snapped. “I did that for you. Everything I do is for you.”
They stared at one another. Hades was not sure what he should say. He was not ignorant to Minthe’s feelings for him, and he had to admit that he had never handled them well.
“Minthe—”
“I came to tell you it’s time for your announcement,” she said, interrupting him. “You should take your place.”
She gathered her dress in her hands and turned, strolling toward the stage. Hades followed behind, keeping to the shadows, his presence ignored as Minthe was introduced and took the spotlight. She looked almost gleeful as she spoke, no hint of her earlier frustration present, but she could not hide her heartbreak from him. He could see it in subtle ways—eyes that were not bright enough, a smile that was not wide enough, shoulders that were not tall enough.
“Welcome,” she said. “Lord Hades is honored to reveal this year’s charity, The Halcyon Project.”
The lights dimmed, and a screen lowered, playing a short video about the project. Hades was not sentimental, but this was a