A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 3)
A Touch of Malice: Part 1 – Chapter 8

Persephone woke in a panic.

It wasn’t spurred by a dream, but by the feeling that she had overslept. She shot up from bed, her gaze falling to Hades who stood before the fireplace. After the intensity with which he’d made love to her last night, she had expected him to be asleep beside her. Finding him awake and fully dressed made her chest feel a little hallow.

Still, he was beautiful and there was something different in his expression, a vulnerability that came with the words he’d spoken last night.

He was afraid.

And he had every right to be because someone out there had incapacitated a god.

She knew that fear was not for himself, though—it was for her and all she could think was that perhaps if she were stronger—if she could call upon her power like Hades, he wouldn’t have to worry.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asked.

“No.”

She frowned. She had not heard him stir. Had he risen shortly after she had fallen asleep?

“Nightmare?” he asked.

“No. I…thought I overslept.”

“Hmm.”

He threw back his drink, and set it aside, approaching her. She craned her neck, holding his gaze, as he brushed her cheek with his fingers.

“Why didn’t you sleep?” she asked.

“I didn’t feel like sleeping,” he said.

She arched a brow. “I thought you would be exhausted.”

He chuckled and spoke gently. “I didn’t say I wasn’t tired.”

His thumb lingered on her mouth, and Persephone drew it between her lips, sucking hard. Hades’ inhaled, nostrils flaring, and his other hand tangled into her hair at the base of her neck.

It was a sign—a hint—that he had not fully released the darkness he tried to keep at bay last night, or perhaps he had refilled his well as she slept. Either way, she saw the same hint of violence, the same need for unabashed passion as last night.

His eyes were on her lips, and the tension between them dampened the space between her legs.

“Why are you holding back?” she whispered.

“Oh, darling, if you only knew.”

“I’d like to.” She let the sheet drop from around her breasts. There was a beat of silence, a moment where Hades was still as stone, but he did not bite—instead he swallowed hard and said, “I will keep that in mind. For now, I’d like you to get dressed. I have a surprise for you.”

“What could be more of a surprise than what’s going on in that head of yours?”

He offered a breathy laugh and kissed her nose. “Dress. I will wait for you.”

Persephone tracked him as he headed for the doors, calling out to him as he reached them.

“You don’t have to wait outside.”

“Yes, I do.”

She didn’t question him—just let him slip out as she left the bed and dressed for the day. On a typical July day, she’d wear a summer dress to work, something bright and patterned but her mother’s storm raging above called for warmer clothes. She picked a long sleeve black shirt, grey skirt, and tights. She paired it with heels and her warmest woolen jacket. When she stepped into the hallway, Hades was waiting, frowning.

“What?” she asked, looking down at her outfit.

“I’m trying to assess how long it will take me to undress you.”

“Isn’t that why you stepped out of the room?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m merely planning ahead.”

She warmed—was he making a promise to deliver on his earlier thoughts? He held out his hand for her to take and then pulled her flush against him before his magic surrounded them.

They manifested in what appeared to be a waiting room. There was an emerald couch over which two modern art prints hung and a gold and glass coffee table. The floor was white marble, and a wall of glass overlooked a familiar street—she recognized it was Konstantine Street—the same one she’d walked down with Lexa when she’d first visited Alexandra Tower.

A rush of emotion burned her eyes at the thought of her best friend. She cleared her throat and asked, “Why are we at Alexandria Tower?”

The tower was another building owned by Hades out of which The Cypress Foundation, Hades philanthropic business, operated. Persephone had learned from Lexa that Hades had multiple charities—ones that supported animals and women and those who had lost. She remembered feeling embarrassed that she had not known of his multiple endeavors, and when she’d confronted him, he’d explained that he had been so used to existing alone, he never thought to speak about how he was involved in the Upperworld.

Later, she would discover his world extended beyond the Underworld and his philanthropy, but also to the underbelly of New Greece. She was well-aware she did not even understand the gravity of what Hades controlled, and that thought made her shiver.

“I would like for you to office here,” Hades said.

Persephone turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Is this because of yesterday?”

“That is one reason,” Hades replied, and continued. “It will also be convenient. I’d like your input as we continue The Halcyon Project and I imagine your work with The Advocate will lead to other ideas.”

She lifted a brow. “Are you asking me to work with Katerina?”

Katerina was the director of The Cypress Foundation and worked on The Halcyon Project with Sybil, a state-of-the-art rehabilitation center that would offer free care to mortals. Not long ago, they’d announced a therapy garden that would be dedicated to Lexa, who had worked on the plan before her death.

“Yes,” he said. “You are to be queen of my realm and empire. It’s only fitting that this foundation begins to benefit your passions as well.”

Persephone said nothing and turned in a circle, assessing the space from a new perspective. There were four doors—two on either side of the waiting area. One, was a conference room, the other three were smaller offices. They were bare, except for simple desks, but as she observed, she started to imagine operating in this place.

“You are opposed?” he asked.

“No,” she said. Her thoughts were just spiraling.

She thought of something Hades had said: It is only a matter of time before someone with a vendetta against me tries to harm you. They were words Persephone had hardly believed at the time, mostly because she hadn’t wanted to—but since then, she’d seen the truth over and over again, from Kal to Pirithous, to the angry woman who had poured coffee on her.

Now there was another potential threat—Adonis and Harmonia’s unknown attackers.

She would be insane not to take Hades up on his offer.

“Thank you. I can’t wait to tell Helen and Leuce.”

The corner of Hades’ lip lifted, and he reached to brush her cheek.

“Selfishly, I will be glad to have you close.”

“You rarely work here,” Persephone pointed out.

“As of today, this is my favorite office.”

She tried not to smile, narrowing her eyes upon the god, her future husband. “Lord Hades, I must inform you that I am here to work.”

“Of course,” he said. “But you will need breaks and lunch, and I look forward to filling that time.”

“Isn’t the point of a break not to do anything?”

“I didn’t say I’d make you work.”

His hands tightened on her waist. It was a familiar pressure, one that was usually followed by a kiss, but as he started to pull her forward, someone cleared their throat, and Persephone turned to replace Katerina.

“My Lady Persephone!” she grinned, offering a cute curtsy. She was dressed in yellow silk and khaki slacks. Her tight curls created a halo around her head.

“Katerina,” Persephone smiled. “A pleasure.”

“I apologize for the intrusion,” she said. “As soon as I heard Hades had arrived, I knew I would have to catch him before he vanished.”

Persephone glanced up at Hades, who was now looking at Katerina. The expression on his face made her curious. He seemed calm enough on the surface, but there was a slight tightening of his lips that made her wonder just what Katerina had to share with The God of the Dead.

“I will be along shortly, Katerina.”

“Of course.” The mortal’s gaze slipped to Persephone. “We’re honored to have you here, my lady.”

She left after that, and Persephone peered up at Hades.

“What was that about?”

“I will tell you later,” he said.

She raised a challenging brow. “Just as you were going to tell me where you had been the other night?”

“I told you I was bargaining with monsters.”

“A non-answer if there ever was one,” she commented.

Hades frowned. “I do not wish to keep things from you. I just do not know what to burden you with in your grief.”

Persephone opened her mouth and then closed it. “I am not angry with you. I was joking, mostly.”

Hades offered a breathy laugh. “Mostly.”

He was stroking her cheek again, and his gaze was tender.

“We’ll talk tonight,” he promised.

She thought he would kiss her, but instead he withdrew his touch and left the floor. Persephone stood there for a second, lost in a haze of desire and suddenly all she wanted to do was follow him and challenge him to take her in his glass office before all of creation as he’d once promised. He wouldn’t hesitate—he was just as insatiable as she—and if she weren’t more careful with her thoughts and actions, there would be no talking tonight as he promised.

She sighed and withdrew her phone, sending a quick text to Leuce and Helen, letting them know to meet her at Alexandria Tower instead of their usual spot. Persephone had to admit, she was relieved that she would be able to work without the public watching her every move.

She roamed the room again, soaking in the reality that she had a new space for her business, mentally preparing for how she would arrange the space and her new office.

She ended up by the windows. Being on the third floor meant she had a stunning view of New Athens, shrouded in heavy clouds, mist, and snow. Plows and salt trucks were working to clear the roads, all the while, more snow and ice fell. Even the window was pebbled with ice. She thought of Hecate’s words. Your mother terrorizes the Upperworld with snow and ice. The sun is just what the mortal world needs.

She placed her hand upon the glass.

There was a part of her that knew she could combat her mother because she had before. She’d sent Demeter to her knees in Hades’ court and the Goddess of Harvest, ancient and powerful, had not risen against her power. Still, another part of her feared that had been a result of Demeter being less powerful in Hades’ realm.

You used Hades’ powers against him, she reminded herself, and it had been terrifying. Her insides shook in the aftermath and she had felt exhausted in the weeks following, sleeping when she wasn’t working. She knew it was a sign that she was not yet strong enough to wield that kind of power. She was going to have to build up endurance, and the only way to do that was to practice more.

She shifted her gaze as a droplet of water skidded down the windowpane. She moved her hand, and beneath it, the ice had begun to melt. She pressed her fingers together, trying to decide if it was her power or her touch that had heated the glass. Her skin was not any warmer than usual, but her magic was on guard and alert, she could feel it, like highly sensitive nerves reacting to her frustration.

But that was the problem.

She had to start using power intentionally.

Placing her hand upon the window once more, she focused on the energy in her palm, warm and electric. Soon, the ice began to melt again. She watched beads of water trail down the glass and all she could think was that this was a parlor trick. It was nothing compared to the magic she would need to bring down Demeter’s eternal winter.

She let her hand fall and as she did, the beads of water froze in place.

“Persephone?”

She turned to replace Sybil standing in the door of the office.

“Sybil,” she said, smiling. They hugged.

“Is it true? You will be working here?” Sybil asked.

“Hades has asked that I use this space as my office and I have to admit, I’m more than happy to accept.”

She would be safe here, but more importantly, Leuce and Helen would be safe.

“How are you?” Persephone asked. “Has Ben bothered you?”

Sybil gave her a dark look and huffed. “I am so sorry about him, Persephone. I didn’t know he was so…”

“Weird?”

“I think I’m going to have to change my number.”

“I would offer to threaten him—or have Hades do it—but he did not seem to fear the gods.”

“I think he is too self-centered to fear the gods,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Sybil.”

She shrugged. “That’s what I get for trying to rebound,” she joked. Still, Persephone frowned. She was referring to her short-lived relationship with Aro. The mortal had been a long-time friend of Sybil’s and it had seemed like a good match, but for whatever reason, Aro had just wanted to remain friends.

“I think I’m more upset that I will never be able to go into Four Olives again. That was one of my favorite lunch spots.”

“Guess there’s always delivery,” Persephone said.

“Yes, but he’s likely to show up with my order and I really do not want him to know where I work.”

“Based on his creep factor, I’d say he already knows where you work.”

Sybil offered Persephone a dull look. “Thanks, friend.”

She grinned. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he could get passed Ivy.”

Ivy was the receptionist for Alexandria Tower. She was a dryad—a woodland nymph. She was organized and regimented. No one went beyond her desk who was not invited.

“Let’s have lunch soon,” Sybil said, offering another hug before returning to work. Persephone wasn’t left alone long before Leuce and Helen arrived. Helen squealed at the news of their new office space, and the two ran around the floor in a flurry, checking out the offices, arguing over which desk they would take, and discussing decor. Persephone wandered into the first office on the left, shed her jacket, and pulled out her laptop.

As she sat, there was a knock at door. Looking up, she found Helen waiting in the doorway.

“Hey, did you have a chance to read my article?”

“Yes. Have a seat,” Persephone said.

“You didn’t like it,” Helen said immediately, stepping further into the office.

“It isn’t that, Helen. You have some valid points, but…this is a dangerous article.”

Helen’s brows knitted together. “How is it dangerous?”

“You comment on the gods,” Persephone said, and quoted, “In a world where mortals out number gods, should we be asking what the divine should do?”

“I am not asking for anything less than you did when you wrote about Hades,” Helen argued.

“Helen—”

“Fine. I’ll take the sentence out,” Helen said, her tone was clipped, her frustration obvious. It gave Persephone pause—she’d never witnessed this behavior from her before. In all the times she had worked with her at New Athens News and since launching The Advocate, she’d been cheerful and enthusiastic. Then again, Persephone had never critiqued her work before.

Despite her reaction, Persephone felt relieved that she’d agreed to delete her commentary on the gods.

“I also want you to replace someone in Triad’s leadership to interview.”

Helen’s lips flattened. “You don’t think I tried? No one returned my emails. These people don’t want to be known.”

“Email isn’t the only way to track down a source, Helen. If you want it bad enough, you’ll do the footwork.”

Helen’s blue eyes sparked. “And how do you suggest tracking down the secret leadership of a terrorist organization?”

Persephone shrugged a shoulder. “I’d pretend I was one of them.”

“You want me to pretend I’m a member of Triad?”

“You want to break a story? You want to be the first to reveal the higher ranks of New Greece’s most dangerous terrorist organization? This is what it will take. In the end, it’s entirely up to you—what do you want?”

Helen was silent, staring at Persephone. After a long moment, she asked, “And what if they replace out what I’m doing?”

Persephone stiffened, but answered. “I can protect you.”

“You mean Hades can.”

“No,” she said. “I mean that I will protect you.”

Helen left and Persephone’s shoulders sagged. Why had her conversation with Helen feel like a standoff? She definitely expected Helen to be a little more receptive to her feedback and the fact that she hadn’t was surprising. It felt contrary to the person she thought Helen was—but perhaps she didn’t know the girl at all.

All of a sudden, magic curled around her, straightening her spine, and the familiar scent of laurel permeated the air.

“Fuck,” Persephone said right before she vanished from sight.