Chapter 16
Ophelia
The dress feels like wearing liquid shadows.
I turn in front of the floor-length mirror in my room and watch the fabric move across my body.
Black silk that clings to every curve before falling in graceful folds to my ankles.
A plunging neckline that shows just enough to be sexy without showing cleavage.
Delicate beaded straps accentuate the paleness of my skin.
It's the most expensive thing I've ever worn, and it's so gorgeous that I want to be buried in it.
And I hate that I love it so much because it's another physical manifestation of Hades providing for me.
"You're overthinking."
I jump, spinning around to find Hades in the doorway. He's in a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuates the broadness of his shoulders and the power of his thighs. His dark hair is swept back, making those sharp cheekbones of his even more prominent.
The gold flecks in his eyes move as he looks me up and down, and I try not to squirm under his gaze.
He looks like every dangerous fantasy I've ever had and several I didn't know I wanted.
"I didn't hear you come in." My voice comes out breathier than I'd like.
He moves into the room with that predatory grace, holding something small and glittering. "You were too busy glaring at yourself."
"I wasn't glaring—" I reach up to touch a stray curl. I'd done my hair in a low bun, the only hairstyle I can master, and there are a few pieces that have refused to cooperate. "I was testing if I could fight in this dress."
He stops behind me, and I can see both our reflections in the mirror.
Him towering over me, dark and devastating.
Me looking small and uncertain despite the gorgeous dress.
I'm hardly a wilting flower, but Hades makes me want to fall into his arms. "You do this thing when you're uncomfortable.
Your mouth gets tight. Right here." His finger traces the corner of my lips, and electricity shoots through me, right to my core.
I force myself to breathe normally. "Maybe I'm just not used to dressing up to be bait."
"You're not bait." His voice goes hard, dangerous. "The second things get hot—"
"I know." I roll my eyes slightly. "We've been over this a million times. The second we spot the cult, Thanatos takes me away."
Something flickers across his face, approval or concern, before his expression smooths. "Turn around."
I do, and he opens his hand to reveal a necklace. A thick chain of white gold or platinum, delicate metalwork, with a pendant that makes my breath stop.
A pomegranate.
Carved from what looks like black opal, it catches the light and seems to glow from within, deep reds and purples swirling in its depths like contained fire. Six seeds are visible, each one a tiny ruby that glitters like blood.
"Hades—" I start, but he's already moving behind me, lifting the necklace so that he can place it against my skin.
"Don't argue," he tells me. The chain is surprisingly warm, and I watch in the mirror as he arranges the pendant so it rests in the hollow of my throat. His fingers linger there, and I know he feels my pulse thrumming against his fingertips.
I touch it with careful fingers. "Why a pomegranate? Hecate told me the myth was mostly just that."
His hands settle on my shoulders, and I close my eyes for a moment, appreciating the feeling of his hands on my skin.
"It is, mostly," he says quietly, "but Persephone did eat six pomegranate seeds in the Underworld.
It bound her to me. Six months of every year, she returned to my realm.
" His thumb strokes the curve of my neck, and I shiver.
"This is my promise. Whatever happens tonight, you'll return to me. All of you."
The intensity in his voice makes my chest tight. "Hades—" I want to give him the necklace back, remind him that this is too much, but he stops me. His hand caresses the column of my throat, absentmindedly, like he can't stop himself.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and they're blazing with something that makes my breath catch.
"You're right. This is dangerous. Reckless.
Everything I shouldn't allow." His jaw clenches.
"But I learned centuries ago that you can't be caged.
Even when I tried to keep you safe, you found ways to slip through my fingers. "
"I'm not her," I whisper, trying to remind him of that.
"I know, Ophelia," he says. "The message still stands."
Heat pools low in my belly as our eyes lock in the mirror. The air between us goes thick, electric. I can feel his breath on my neck, can see the tension in his shoulders, the muscle jumping in his jaw.
Kiss me, I think. Please. Just—
He steps back.
The loss of his warmth feels like a physical blow.
"The car is waiting," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "Are you ready?"
No. I'm not ready. I'm not ready for any of this, the party, the danger, the way he makes me feel like I'm coming apart and being remade in the same breath.
But I nod anyway.
Because whatever else is true, I meant what I said to him. I'm done waiting around. Done being protected. Done being a piece on a board I can't even see.
Tonight, I take my power back.
Or I burn trying.
The Erebus Royale is Vegas on steroids.
We enter through a private entrance that bypasses the main casino floor, but even from here I can hear the chaos, slot machines singing, dice rattling, the roar of winners and the groans of losers. Money changing hands in a symphony of greed and desperation.
"How many casinos do you own?" I ask as Hades guides me through a hallway that's all black marble and gold accents.
"In Vegas? Seven." His hand rests on the small of my back, warm through the thin silk. "Globally? I stopped counting after fifty."
I roll my eyes.
As the elevator doors close, I catch sight of our reflection again. We look like we belong together, dark king and his queen.
The thought makes my stomach flutter.
"When we arrive," Hades says, his tone shifting to something more businesslike, "Poseidon and Ares will likely approach you. Possibly Aphrodite, if she's feeling territorial." He rolls his eyes.
"Territorial about what?"
His smile is sharp. "Your beauty. She doesn't like anyone taking attention from her." He adjusts his cufflinks, a gesture I'm learning means he's thinking.
"Should I be worried?" I've been brushing up on my knowledge of the ancient gods, and Aphrodite was known for her viciousness.
Hades snorts. "She's mostly bark and no bite these days."
I nod, still nervous.
"But the real issue is the cult, right?"
He stares forward. "Keep your wits about you," he advises. "They are all after you."
That does not put me at ease.
The elevator chimes. We've arrived, and my time for questions is up.
"Remember," Hades says as the doors begin to open, "stay where I can see you. Don't drink anything you haven't watched being poured. Don't go anywhere alone. And if anyone, anyone, makes you uncomfortable—"
"I'll turn them into a topiary?" I suggest, only half-joking.
His lips twitch as he fights back a laugh. "Precisely."
The doors open onto a rooftop terrace that makes my breath catch.
It's stunning. String lights crisscross overhead like stars, casting everything in warm gold.
A massive infinity pool glows turquoise at the far end, the lights of the Strip spreading out below like a carpet of jewels.
The space is packed with beautiful people in expensive clothes, all drinking champagne and laughing like they don't have a care in the world.
And maybe they don't. Maybe when you're immortal and powerful and rich beyond measure, everything becomes a game.
"Mr. Erebus." A server appears with a tray of champagne flutes. "Welcome."
Hades takes two glasses, handing me one. His fingers brush mine, deliberate. "Stay close," he murmurs.
Then he leads me into the crowd, and I feel like a lamb to the slaughter.
For the first twenty minutes, Hades doesn't leave my side.
He introduces me as "Ophelia, a friend," which makes several people's eyebrows rise. Apparently, the God of the Underworld doesn't have "friends."
I smile and nod and try not to feel like everyone can see right through me, which they probably can. As hard as I try, I know I'm not giving off an "I belong here" vibe. I'm too nervous. Too on edge, both from Hades's presence and from knowing the cult could be anywhere.
Hades notices, and he places a firm hand on my back, anchoring me to him.
"Breathe," he commands.
I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath, so I do just that and take a deep inhale of perfume-scented air.
A woman approaches, tall, impossibly beautiful, with honey-colored hair and eyes like sea glass. She's wearing a dress that's barely there, all strategically placed crystals and dangerous curves.
"Hades, darling." Her voice is honey and smoke. "You've been hiding from me."
"Aphrodite." Hades's tone is polite but cool. "You look well."
"I look perfect, as always." She turns those devastating eyes on me, and I feel evaluated and dismissed in the same breath. "And who is this little flower?"
Every instinct in me bristles at the diminutive. Little flower. Like I'm decorative. Harmless.
"Ophelia," I say before Hades can answer. "And you are?"
Her smile sharpens. "Ophelia. How quaint."
Hades's hand tightens on my back, a warning. But I'm done swallowing insults.
"Thank you," I say sweetly. "I think it's a lovely name."
Aphrodite's eyes flash. For a moment, I think I've made a terrible mistake.
Then she laughs, genuine and surprised. "Oh, I like her." She looks at Hades with new interest. "Where did you find this one?"
"Mind your manners, Aphrodite," Hades snarls, before placing a hand on my back and leading me away.
I can feel the goddess's eyes on my back.
"That was dangerous," he murmurs.
"She started it."
"She's the goddess of love and beauty. She is used to starting things."