Hades sighed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he dreaded the coming conversation.
“Lexa’s in limbo.”
“Then you can bring her back.”
Persephone had heard of limbo before. Hades had brought a soul back from there for a grieving mother. Hope blossomed in her chest, and it was like Hades could sense it because he dashed it quickly.
“I can’t.”
“You did it before. You said when a soul is in limbo, you can bargain with the Fates to bring them back.”
“In exchange for the life of another,” Hades reminded. “A soul for a soul, Persephone.”
“You can’t say you won’t save her, Hades.”
“I’m not saying I don’t want to, Persephone. It is best that I do not interfere with this. Trust me. If you care for Lexa at all—if you care for me at all—you will drop this.”
“I’m doing this because I care!” she argued.
Hades scoffed. “That’s what all mortals think—but who are you really trying to save? Lexa or yourself?”
“I don’t need a philosophy lesson, Hades,” she gritted out.
“No, but apparently you need a reality check.”
He stood, shoving off his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt.
Persephone scowled.
“I’m not having sex with you right now.”
Hades glared at her but continued to unbutton his shirt. Then she saw black markings surfacing on his skin—they were all fine lines, tattoos that wrapped around his body like a delicate thread.
“What are they?” She started to reach out, but Hades’ stopped her with a firm hand clamped around her wrist. She met his gaze.
“It’s the price I pay for every life I’ve taken by bargaining with the Fates,” he said. “I carry them with me. These are their life-threads, burned into my skin. Is this what you want on your conscious, Persephone?”
Slowly, she pried her hand from his and brought it back to her chest, eyes following the lines on his golden skin. She remembered wondering how many bargains he’d made when they’d entered their own. She had no idea they were written into his skin. Still, she found this frustrating. Hades had spoken of balance before, but this had him chained. He was one of the most powerful Olympian Gods, and yet his power was limited.
“What good is being the God of the Dead if you can’t do anything?” The words spilled out of her mouth before she could catch them. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
Hades offered a gruff laugh. “You meant it,” he said, and placed his hand on the side of her face, forcing her gaze back to his. When she looked into his eyes, her heart felt like it was going to break into pieces. How was it this immortal god seemed to understand her sorrow? “I know you don’t want to understand why I can’t help, and that’s okay.”
“I just...don’t know what to do,” she said, and her shoulder sagged. She felt defeated.
“Lexa isn’t gone yet,” Hades said. “And yet you mourn her. She may recover.”
“Do you know that for certain? That she will recover?”
“No.”
His eyes were searching, and she wondered what he was looking for. Persephone had come here for hope, for comfort in the knowledge that Lexa would be okay no matter what, and yet Hades wasn’t giving it. She let her head fall against this chest. She was so tired.
After a moment, Hades scooped her up into his arms and teleported to the Underworld.
“Do not fill your thoughts with the possibilities of tomorrow,” he said as he placed her in bed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and everything went dark.
CHAPTER XIII - A TOUCH OF PANIC