Page 66 of Hades

“Why did you ask me to come here?”

“I told you. I want you to meet my brothers.”

“Why don’t we start with the woman hanging all over you?” I said, folding my arms across my chest. My body vibrated with anger. With betrayal. With the sick realization that I’d been played. Used. Discarded before I’d even been fully claimed. My foot tapped against the floor on its own. A nervous tic I couldn’t control.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zeus studying me, waiting to see how his vice president handled this situation. I couldn’t be sure, but it felt like the music had dropped, and I could feel eyes on my back. Watching. Judging. Waiting to see if I’d make a scene or swallow my pride and accept this bullshit.

“Who, Echo?” he asked, glancing at the woman. She smiled back at him with dark brown eyes the color of shit and bottled red hair at least three weeks past her touch-up. Brassy. Cheap. She snuggled against his arm and, without thinking, I reached up and wrapped my fingers around my necklace.

The vial was warm. Ready. Waiting.

I clocked her size and began working through my plants. Calculating dosages in my head. Jimsonweed would make her hallucinate. See things that weren’t there. Scream and thrash and lose her goddamn mind. Aconite would make her heart race before it stopped. Hemlock would paralyze her slowly, let her feel every moment of her body shutting down.

I wouldn’t kill her. Not yet. But I could make her too sick to fuck anyone. Could make her wish she was dead. Could make her understand what it meant to touch what was mine.

Except he wasn’t mine, was he? He’d made that clear the moment he let her drape herself over him like a cheap coat.

The woman between Zeus’ legs spun around and looked at me. She was beautiful with dark hair falling past her shoulders and full red painted lips. But she wasn’t as pretty as Reggie. I looked her up and down and sneered. Another whore playing dress-up. Another woman who thought spreading her legs gave her power.

“Lettie.” I turned back to the man I was here to see. He stood from his stool and stepped closer. His eyes were dark. Intense. Like he could see right through me. Like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I smiled back at him, and his shoulders relaxed. Stupid bastard thought he’d won. Thought I’d roll over and accept this. “Have fun tonight,” I said, spinning on my heel and walking back toward the front door with my head held high. Spine straight. Hands steady even though everything inside me was screaming.

I knew coming here was a mistake. His kisses had turned me into mush, and the way he commanded my body without taking more had muddled my brain. Scrambled my thoughts. Made me believe in fairy tales and happy endings and men who kept their promises.

I wasn’t a virgin, but I hadn’t been with many men. Even fewer since moving to Athens. But there was something different about Hades. Whatever scent he emitted had scrambled my brain into believing in love at first sight. I blamed it on hormones... or rather, his pheromones. I was smarter than that. At least, I’d always thought I was.

I blamed Cash and Kytten. Three days of watching them dote on each other. The way he cared for her as though she were the most precious thing in his life. His acceptance of what she and her MC did had me believing Brock would accept what I did.

Sure, they weren’t exactly the same thing, but we both helped women and children escape abusive situations. Only, my way meant those women and children wouldn’t have to spend their lives constantly looking over their shoulders. Wouldn’t have to run. Wouldn’t have to hide. Wouldn’t have to be afraid.

Because the monsters were dead.

He called my name as I descended the stairs, and my feet sped up. My hand closed over the handle of my truck as I pulled it open, only to have it slammed shut and my body twirled around. Brock stepped in close. My back pressed against the truck, and I glared up at him.

Neither of us said a word. We stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. He thought his hard gaze would intimidate me. Thought I’d crumble under the weight of his attention. He didn’t know I’d faced down monsters and won every fucking time.

“You’re pissed.” He broke first, and I rolled my eyes. I turned my head away from him, but he caught my chin between his thumb and finger, dragging my gaze back to his. “Are you jealous?” he asked, his arrogance only fueling my anger.

Jealous. Like I was some insecure little girl throwing a tantrum because another woman touched her toy.

He leaned in to kiss me, and I pressed my hand against his chest, pushing him back. Hard. The leather of his cut was rough under my palm. Solid. Real. A reminder that this man was dangerous in ways I was only beginning to understand.

I took a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge his question or his statement. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt me. That he’d made me feel small and stupid and used.

“Lettie.” His voice broke on my name, anguished and low. Like he actually gave a shit. Like he hadn’t just let another woman put her hands all over him while I watched.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“I told you⁠—”

“Bullshit,” I snapped. The word came out sharp. Vicious. “Is it because I let you put your hands on me? Inside me? Is that why you don’t respect me?” I shook my head. I was so fucking stupid. So goddamn naïve. Believing his pretty words and his promises and the way he called me his queen like it actually meant something.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I respect you.”

“You don’t invite a woman you respect to a party and let her find you with another woman hanging all over you.” My voice was rising now. Getting louder. I didn’t care who heard. Didn’t care who was watching. “You don’t let some club whore put her hands on you and whisper in your ear and act like she owns you when you’ve already claimed someone else.”

“Lettie, that’s just how they are. It means nothing. The girls constantly do that shit. We don’t encourage it.”