The silence on the other side of the screen was broken by a low moan that sounded a bit pained.

  I slowly turned to stare at it. Water splashed lightly. Was he using the scrub brush to hurt himself?

  Biting my lip, I debated what to do. I knew next to nothing about gods and how they behaved. However, what I had read had hinted at their need for adulation, not masochism.

  My gut told me that Hades didn’t hurt himself because he liked it. He did it because he was suffering. And that was something I understood very well.

  I took a step toward the screen as the rhythmic splashing continued.

  Focused on trying to find the words to help him, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw when I stepped around the screen. Head back and throat working, Hades remained oblivious to my attention as he thrust into his fisted hand.

  Not self-harm. Definitely not self-harm.

  He snarled another groan and started to lift his head.

  I turned, and I ran for the door.

  The latch stuck on my first attempt but released on the second. I flew into the hall, unprepared for the pile of furs just outside.

  My foot caught and I fell like a cut tree.

  Thankfully, I got my hands out in time. They took the brunt of the impact, and I only scraped my face a little.

  Groaning, I rolled onto my back and looked at what had tripped me. Zotera, her eyes wide as she partially sat up, stared back at me.

  “Father!” Her shrill cry echoed in the halls and shaved more years off my life.

  A shadow filled the doorway, and I lifted my gaze from her to a very naked and very angry Hades.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Water ran down Hades’ skin. Naturally, I followed the path until I reached his hips and the dangerously engorged length that remained there. Zotera’s yell had obviously interrupted him.

  While I blinked at the view, he reached down and picked up Zotera by the throat.

  “What did you do?” he demanded, giving her a shake.

  Zotera’s mouth opened and closed, her face turning red. Shocked, I didn’t think; I scrambled to my feet and closed my hands over his wrists. My attempts to free her went unnoticed.

  “Stop. What are you doing?” I tugged harder, but his grip was iron. “You’re hurting her.”

  Hades started to change. His cheekbones became more angular, and his eyes transformed into black sockets devoid of anything but that glowing red light.

  He tore his gaze from Zotera, focusing that unholy glow on me, as his feet became hooves and wings sprouted from his back. I released him, and I stumbled away.

  “You bleed, Goddess, and all those who harm you must pay the price. Even those I favor.”

  His red gaze shifted to Zotera, and he extended his other clawed hand to her face.

  “Payment is due, daughter.”

  Torment laced the statement, and bile rose to my throat as I understood his intent. My tongue tangled over the words that desperately spilled from my lips.

  “It was an accident. I tripped. She didn’t cause this. My own carelessness did. Please! Punish me.”

  Hades’ claws paused an inch from Zotera’s almost purple face.

  “Punish you?”

  Fear curled in my stomach even as I nodded. He released her, and she dropped to the ground, an unmoving limp bundle of furs.

  “Zotera?” I fell to my knees and pushed her over to check her pulse. Her tear-filled gaze locked with mine.

  “I am unworthy of your favor, Mother,” she said softly. “I deserve my punishment for making you bleed.”

  “No.”

  I stood and faced Hades. He was no longer the monster but once again a naked man. Expression resolute, he closed his fingers over my wrist and pulled me inside the room. The rasp of the lock sliding into place sounded overly loud as did his harsh breathing. Neither promised anything pleasant.

  “Is this your game?” he demanded, facing me. “After you remind me of your gentle touch, you will give me endless pain?”

  “What?”

  He gently wiped a thumb under my nose and showed me the blood there.

  “Blood is blood. Any who hurt you must suffer ten times the pain.”

  A knife materialized in my hand. Before I could drop it, Hades’ hand closed over my fingers, and still holding my wrist, he jerked it toward his middle. I made a panicked sound and tried to pull back.

  Was this my punishment? Hurting him?

  I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  Like before, though, my resistance didn’t matter. He continued drawing my hand and the knife toward his stomach.

  My eyes watered when I realized what he meant to make me do, and I broke my cardinal rule.

  I begged.

  “Don’t make me do this. Please!”

  The knife immediately disappeared. He snarled and leaned in close, taking up my space and my air with his menacing presence. Dark eyes flickered red with his anger.

  “Your place is not to suffer. That is mine. Any punishment you incur will be my punishment. You are not to bleed!” He bellowed that last bit with so much rage that the stone under my feet trembled again.

  While my insides quivered with fear I was doing my best not to feel or show, he took a calming breath and the ground settled.

  “If not the knife, then tell me how you wish me to suffer.”

  “I don’t wish you to suffer at all,” I said, my desperation leaking through.

  “The punishment must be just for the crime.”

  “There was no crime. I fell.”

  His jaw worked for a moment, and I could tell he was barely controlling his anger.

  “Yes. You did. Over Zotera.”

  He released me and turned toward the door.

  Knowing he meant to continue punishing her, I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding tight. What was wrong with me? Why was I so willing to risk myself for her? I barely knew her. Yet, every instinct demanded that I keep her safe. Maybe it was because I knew no one else ever would.

  Hades twitched underneath me as I pressed my face to his chest.

  “Why does there need to be any punishment?” I pleaded against his skin.

  “I gave you my word. It is written. I will not break our contract.”

  Fucking deals.

  My mind raced for a solution. How did a person make the king of Hell suffer? A person didn’t. But Persephone sure had a knack for it. Even after her death, he was in a constant state of suffering because of her. Because he still wanted her.

  I jerked my head back and looked up at him, thinking how tormented he was just with his desperation for her.

  Unsure of myself, I released him.

  “What if the punishment doesn’t result in blood but there is still suffering?”

  “The suffering would need to be great.”

  “I think it might be.”

  “Tell me your preferred punishment.”

  It sure as hell wasn’t my preferred punishment, but my idea was better than gutting a god or letting Hades claw Zotera’s face.

  “You have to watch me shower,” I said, my voice wavering. “And it won’t end with what you want. You can’t touch me or yourself or look away. And you have to wear pants.”

  He closed his eyes. “The knife would be kinder.” He exhaled heavily. “So be it.”

  So be it. The words echoed around in my head like I’d just been sentenced for a crime I didn’t commit. Was I nervous about getting naked in front of Hades? Absolutely. It didn’t matter how many times he’d already seen me. This time, it was intentional.

  I was purposely torturing a person who’d already been tortured to the point of mental instability as proven by what had almost happened in the hallway just now.

  My hands shook as the screen between the tub and the lounge disappeared.

  Doing my best to stay focused on the positive thought that I could finally wash, I grabbed the soap bowl on the way to the shower area. As soon as I approached, the hot water started falling, and steam rose in the air.

  I almost set the soap on the floor then realized I’d have to bend over to retrieve it.

  “Could you make a shelf about right here?” I asked, pointing to an area of the wall about shoulder height and just to the left of the shower.

  The shelf appeared, and I set the bowl and my key on it.

  Hands shaking, I kept my back to him and tugged my gown off over my head. It was still clean, dry, and in my possession, which made me hesitate to drop it on the floor.

  “Part of the punishment needs to be clothing me again once I’m finished. Okay?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at him when he didn’t answer and wished I hadn’t. My insides quaked with the intensity of his gaze as it slowly swept along my exposed back from heels to face.

  “Once my payment is complete,” he said, his hands fisted on his covered thighs. “Do not prolong this.”

  Right. Get on with his suffering, my embarrassment, and possibly sending him over the edge.

  After attempting a calming breath, I tossed the gown aside and stepped under the water. My legs shook, and I closed my eyes, willing myself to forget he was watching. I pictured myself at home, enduring another boring Saturday until I had to go to the Roost. There would be all manner of creatures there trying to gain my attention and steal my will, but at least, I wouldn’t be trapped in my house alone.

  I wet my hair on autopilot. Hades didn’t make a sound as I washed myself from head to toe. When I needed to rinse, I turned around, well aware of the view I gave. The itch to look, to make sure he was still sitting on the lounge, crawled under my skin as I rinsed away the soap. My hair squeaked by the time I finished, and I wished I had some conditioner.

  With a sigh, I stepped out from under the water and looked down at the floor.

  “Could I have a—”

  A stack of towels appeared beside me. I retrieved one and kept my eyes averted as I dried. His continued silence made it easy to pretend he wasn’t there until I picked up my gown and slipped it on over my head again.

  Dressed, I finally looked up at Hades. The sight that greeted me was far from pleasant.

  Hades sank the knife he gripped into the meat of his thigh, pulled it out, and slowly stuck it in again.

  “No! Why? I showered.” My voice shook. “You weren’t supposed to bleed.”

  “You bled. So must I.”

  He withdrew the bloody knife and let it drop to the floor. When he stood, he swayed on his feet.

  “The punishment was just.”

  “This isn’t just. My pain lasted for a second, maybe two, before you healed me,” I said, letting too much emotion slip. “Heal yourself. Now.”

  His dry chuckle lacked any humor. “Why? Was once not enough? Do you wish to bathe for me again?”

  “No,” I said, giving in to my frustration. “I wish to eat and can’t do that with you dripping blood all over. It’s turning my stomach. What is wrong with this place?”

  His glistening and torn pant leg immediately reverted to dry, unmarred material.

  “My apologies, Goddess,” he said bitterly. “My intention is never to ruin your appetite.”

  I ran a hand over my face and tried to pull myself together. When it came to dealing with Hades, I was so damn lost all the time.

  “Would you care to dine in here or in the Throne Room with Zotera?”

  “What’s your preference?” I asked, hoping to appease him.

  His eyes narrowed slightly, and he closed the distance between us.

  “My preference?”

  I nodded hesitantly, unsure of the reason behind the growing outrage in his expression.

  “I would prefer never to bleed for your pleasure again. I would prefer that you dine on me in that bed and give me the pleasure I am due!”

  The ground trembled at our feet, an indication of his anger.

  “So the throne room then?” I said, faking an indifference I didn’t feel.

  He growled at me, looking two seconds from closing his hands around my throat. Like the insane person I was, I turned my back on him and walked to the door, glancing back at the last second.

  “Coming?”

  “Unlikely,” he said even as he followed me.

  It took another moment for his meaning to click, and my face heated. Zotera’s presence in the hall distracted from it, though.

  “Mother?” she said, her gaze flicking from me to Hades. “Are you well?”

  “I’m fine. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Surprise lit her face. “Yes.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go to the throne room.”

  I motioned for her to lead the way, still a little unsure of the direction but mostly because I didn’t want to turn the corner first and run into anyone unexpected. The hallway was quiet, though. When we reached our destination, the table from the day before waited in front of the thrones.

  “Can you make the table a bit bigger so Zotera can join me?” I asked, glancing at Hades.

  Jaw twitching, he didn’t look at me. Ahead, the table changed, growing longer and wider. A bowl appeared in front of my stool, but nothing in front of the stool that materialized for Zotera.

  “Thank you, Mother,” Zotera said, her nervous gaze shifting from Hades to me. “I know you enjoy my hunger pains.”

  My mouth dropped open for a second.

  “Actually, I don’t. You can have some of my food.”

  “No,” Hades said, his tone hard. “You will eat what I provide you. Zotera will eat what she’s given.”

  “Okay,” I said quickly.

  Hades stopped abruptly before we reached the table.

  “I will return after I speak with Creon.” He turned on his heel and left us standing there.

  “I’m sorry I misunderstood, Mother. I should have realized sooner you wanted me to eat your portion so you wouldn’t have to. Hopefully, it’s not the stew again.”

  We went to the table, and I saw it was stew. I didn’t mind eating it again, but I felt bad that Hades only magicked bread for Zotera.

  “So what would happen if I gave you some of this?” I asked after a few bites.

  “Father would punish me for stealing the food meant to nourish you.”

  “Yeah. Thought so,” I said, looking down at my bowl and hating this messed up world.

  “Would you like me to eat your stew, Mother? Or change it into something you won’t enjoy? After escaping Father’s punishment this morning, I’m sure he’ll punish me very severely, just as you like.”

  “Zotera, I don’t want him to punish you. I just want you to—wait, did you say you can change my food?”

  “Yes. Father hates when you ask me to ruin your food. It’s one of your favorite ways to make him miserable.”

  “Could you change your food into the same kind of stew I have?”

  “Yes.” She touched the bread, and it changed to stew before my eyes. She sniffed it and shook her head. “It smells delicious, Mother. Are you sure you want me to have this?”

  “Yep, I’m sure. Eat up.”

  “Will you cut me open and watch it leak from my gut when I’m finished?”

  I paused with the trident partway to my mouth and fought not to visualize the gruesome picture she’d painted.

  “No. I think I’ll let you digest it all while we talk about something less grisly.”

  She nodded and dug into her stew. I was a little less enthusiastic taking my next bite and looked around the room. My gaze landed on the thrones in front of us. Particularly, the thorn throne that Zotera had said she’d made with her bare hands.

  “Does your magic only work on food?” I asked.

  “No,” she said sadly. “I can only change things that are not living. I’m sorry Father removed that gift.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by that and decided not to ask why he’d removed a power. The answer would probably have something to do with Persephone mistreating Zotera in some way.

  “If you have the ability to change things, why did you lose your fingernails making that throne?” I asked instead.

  Zotera paused eating and tilted her head while watching me like she didn’t understand the question.

  “You said my magic makes me too soft, and I should never use it without permission. Before you left, you told me to make a throne that embodies how you feel about your place here; and if I loved you, I would use nothing but my hands to create it. So, that’s what I did. It’s made from ebony. I didn’t use my teeth, only my fingers. Do you like it?”

  Did I like what Zotera had spent ages creating out of devotion to her mother? No. I hated everything about it from the way it looked to how it came to be. But I couldn’t say any of that to the poor creature beside me.

  “You’ve given so much to a woman who isn’t deserving of your love and devotion.”

  “You are deserving, Mother.”

  I wondered what Zotera would do when she found out Persephone had died. While Zotera didn’t come across as unstable as Hades, her complete adoration of the person who created her might make her just as dangerous to me.

  “You look unhappy, Mother. Would you like me to change the throne? Start fresh?”

  Realizing I was still frowning at the chair, I focused on our table. While Persephone’s seat beside Hades’ throne represented all that was horrible about Hell, it meant something to Zotera; and I refused to take that away from her. But I also needed her to see that suffering for someone who demanded it wasn’t a form of love. It was depraved. How could I show her what kind of relationship she should have had with her mother when I couldn’t even remember my own?

  Considering her mother was dead and I had no desire to fill her shoes, no matter how much I looked like her, I settled on trying to show Zotera what it meant to be a friend. Talking and being nice to her was a good start, but I needed something more interactive and positive than that.

  I thought back to the time I’d baked brownies—the chocolate kind, not the kind that flew—with Megan and Eliana. We’d had fun working together.

  Realizing that Zotera was watching me with a worried frown, I looked up from the table and gave her a small smile.

 

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