I almost laugh. If only he knew what I was really telling myself just then. Thank the gods he doesn’t.
“It’s who I’ve been made to be.” I look away again, running a hand through my hair. “So…what next?”
“First, you are to make yourself at home here.”
I can’t help myself. Cocking a hip, I say, “I guess I’d better kick you out, then. I hate having visitors.”
Not even a snicker. “Are you done?”
I tilt my head. “You said I could be myself.”
Ignoring that, he beckons me to follow, and I do.
We pass through the door into the rest of his Olympus home, which is all blacks and reds with embellishments of gold popping here and there. No photos here, either, I notice, just like his penthouse. Then again, I don’t have any. Pledges aren’t allowed to have pictures or videos of ourselves. No proof that we exist, should we get caught.
He takes me outside into a courtyard at the center of his home, one filled with flowering potted plants, fountains, and the hazy pink light of evening. He doesn’t stop, walking through a gate that leads to a cobbled street overlooking the glory that is the home of the gods.
It’s just as stunning a second time around. Maybe more so, because the skies are turning dark lavender that blends into brilliant orange where the sun is starting to dip, and the colors reflect off the whites of the buildings, which are lighting up from the insides.
I frown. “It was just morning.”
Poseidon’s contest started first thing.
“We’re a long way from there, my star.”
Right. It’s a big world, and sometimes I need to be reminded of that fact.
“I have to go.” Hades points at the gate to the street. “You don’t pass this when I’m not here. Understand?”
“Um…” I do a double take. “What? Where are you going?”
He watches me from under his lashes. “I mean it, Lyra. The next Labor is tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? The fuck it is. And he thinks he’s just going to abandon me here tonight? “If it’s tomorrow, sitting on my ass in your house is not what I need to be doing. I need allies—”
“You’re not going to find any.”
The words hit me right in the sternum.
And even though I try to hide my reaction, he sees anyway, his jaw going tight. But he doesn’t take it back, either. “It’s not safe here on your own.”
Does he think I’m contemplating a leisurely stroll? “The gods can’t touch me.”
He takes a menacing step closer. “You think they won’t push the boundaries of that rule? And what about the champions? They have no such limitations.”
Which is why he should be doing this with me, damn it. “I have to.”
“No.”
I’m seriously considering hurling my axe at his face. “I can’t just cower in here and hope I make it through the next Labor without being eaten alive.”
He slashes a hand through the air. “Don’t be stubborn about this, Lyra.”
Stubborn? That’s what he thinks this is?
Being dumped with the Order so young and carrying the curse I do, I had to grow up in a godsdamned hurry. I take care of myself, and always have, because no one else was going to. Even trying to throw a rock at Zeus’ temple had purpose.
I cross my arms, glaring daggers at him. Instead of my axe, I hurl words. “Now that I’ve been through today, I know for a fact I won’t survive all these Labors without at least one ally. I don’t have time to sit around and wait on you to get back from… Where are you going? You didn’t answer that yet.”
The muscle in his jaw is clenching and unclenching now. “I have an Underworld to run.”
“Delegate,” I snap. “This is important.”
“And souls like Isabel’s aren’t?”
I take a step back, hurt tumbling into my anger in a toxic mashup. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Blowing out a sharp breath, he spikes a hand through his hair, rumpling it in the sexiest way, and I resent the fuck out of the fact that I notice at all. “Can you put it off?” I ask.
“Not this.”
So much for being eternity to this god. I’m just another butterfly. Can’t he see that going through another Labor alone is a one-way ticket to the Underworld? Or is he such a loner that it’s not glaringly obvious to him? “I can’t, either.”
He eyes me sharply. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Would you?”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fine.” Then he gets right in my face, his eyes glinting like sharpened knives. “You have that damned axe and one pearl in your hands at all times. I’ll try to be fast.”
