Chapter 16 #2
"She needs to learn better manners," I say, pretending to feel much more confident than I do. "I'd hate to harm that pretty face of hers."
I feel his silent laugh more than hear it. "Incorrigible."
We're approaching the bar when Thanatos appears out of nowhere. He's in a black suit that makes him look like a particularly well-dressed specter.
"We have a problem," he says quietly. "Southeast corner. Two humans who don't belong. Security is confused about who invited them."
Hades's entire demeanor shifts. Suddenly he's not the charming host but the apex predator. "Demeter's people?"
"Unclear. But they're asking about the guest list. Specifically, if anyone matching Ophelia's description is here."
My heart pounds. It's working. The bait is taken.
Hades's hand moves to my waist, possessive. "Where?"
"Talking to Ares, currently. He's entertained."
Hades looks at me, and I can see the war in his eyes. The part that wants to shield me versus the part that knows I was right. We need to do this.
"Go," I say. "We need info, and we are in a room full of people." I glance over at Aphrodite. "A bunch of which are gods. I'll be fine. They'd be stupid to attack."
He hesitates.
I touch the pomegranate at my throat. "You promised I'd come back to you. So go. Handle your security issue." I lift my chin. "I'll handle myself."
For a moment, he just looks at me. Then he leans in, his lips barely brushing my ear. "Don't make me burn down my own casino because someone touched what's mine."
I shiver, but before I can process, he's gone, disappearing into the crowd with Thanatos.
I take a breath, scanning the party for threats.
I head toward the bar, my heels clicking on the marble tile, trying to saunter nonchalantly.
"Well, well. What do we have here?"
I turn to find a man leaning against a pillar, drink in hand, studying me with open curiosity.
He's beautiful in that careless way some men are, sun-bronzed skin, dark hair that looks artfully messy, eyes the color of the Caribbean.
His suit is expensive but worn like he doesn't care, his tie loose around his neck.
"You must be Poseidon."
His grin is megawatt. "Guilty. And you're the mysterious Ophelia who's got Hades walking around like he swallowed lightning." He pushes off the pillar, moving with a languid grace. "I had to see for myself."
"See what?"
"What could possibly make the King of the Underworld bring a date to a business function." He circles me slowly, and I resist the urge to turn with him. To track him like prey. "He doesn't do that. Ever. In fact, I don't think I've seen him with anyone since—"
He stops. He looks at me, really looks, and lets out a bark of a laugh.
"That explains a lot."
"Excuse me?"
Poseidon's expression shifts to something more guarded.
My hand goes to the pomegranate instinctively. It's like my lifeline to Hades.
"Relax." Poseidon's grin returns. "I'm not going to tell.
" He moves closer, and I catch the scent of ocean salt and expensive whiskey.
"Though I can't guarantee that no one else will figure it out.
Three seconds with you, and I knew." His eyes roam over me, and I try not to shiver at the predatory nature of it.
"Don't worry, sweet little Ophelia. I am much more civilized than I once was. "
I don't tell him that I have zero memory of the past. Instead, I play along.
"Civilized how?"
"Well, for starters—" He plucks a champagne flute from a passing tray and offers it to me. "I'd make sure you had a drink. Then I'd ask you to dance. Then I'd very charmingly try to figure out how the hell you returned, and why Hades is hiding you away when he should be showing you off."
I don't take the champagne, remembering Hades's words about drinks. "Maybe you should ask him."
"He would just tell me to fuck off." Poseidon shrugs. "So I'm asking you instead."
"And if I tell you to fuck off?"
His laugh is genuine. "You are feistier than you once were." He sets the champagne on a nearby table, not commenting on how I didn't take a drink. "Come on. Dance with me. Give the rumor mill something to work with."
"I don't think—"
"One dance, Ophelia." His eyes are surprisingly kind. "I promise to behave. Scout's honor."
"Were you ever a scout?"
"God, no. But I'm very good at lying."
Despite everything, the danger, the tension, the fact that Hades might actually burn the place down, I laugh.
Poseidon is charming.
"Fine," I relent. "One dance."
Poseidon's grin could light up the entire Strip. "Excellent. Don't worry." He offers his hand. "I'll have you back before your dark lord murders me."
His hand is warm when I take it. Human-warm. But there's something underneath, a sense of vast depth, like touching the surface of the ocean and knowing miles of darkness wait below. Hades's touch is like a live wire. Pure power flowing through me, cooling and heating my blood at the same time.
Poseidon's touch is different. I can feel the power in him, the life, but it's softer, quieter. I suspect that is by design.
He leads me to the dance floor just as the music shifts to something slower. His hand settles on my waist, respectful but firm. We begin to move.
"So," he says conversationally, "you've been reborn."
"Apparently."
He moves me across the floor. "Explains why Hades is on edge. It's been a long time since he's cared about more than just collecting debts and souls."
"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think."
"Maybe." He dips me smoothly, and I'm suddenly looking up at his face upside down. "Or perhaps my brother is trying to keep you to himself for a reason."
"And what reason would that be?"
Poseidon looks at me as though I am being willfully obtuse.
"Power, of course. We all covet that, even more than before, especially because it is so limited.
" He pulls me back up, and his expression is serious now.
"I think you're dangerous, and Hades knows it, and he's keeping you close because he can't decide if he wants to protect you or control you. "
I nearly laugh at the audacity. Poseidon has absolutely no idea what he is talking about.
"The question is," Poseidon continues, his voice dropping lower, "what do you want?"
Before I can answer, the world explodes.
The blast comes from the south side of the terrace, a massive fireball that shoots upward into the night sky, all orange and red and screaming heat. The shockwave hits a second later, sending champagne flutes shattering, tables toppling, people screaming.
Poseidon yanks me against his chest as debris rains down around us.
"Stay down," he orders, and suddenly he sounds every inch the ancient god of the sea. Powerful. Commanding. Dangerous.
But I'm not looking at him.
I'm looking at the flames spreading across the terrace like a living thing.
Looking at the people running, panicking, trapped between fire and the edge of a sixty-story drop.
Looking at the section of railing that just gave way, sending someone plummeting toward the street below.
And somewhere in the chaos, I hear Hades's voice, raw with fury and fear:
"Ophelia!"
The pomegranate at my throat burns hot against my skin.
And deep inside me, something ancient stirs and wakes and demands.
The party just became a battlefield.
And I'm standing at the center of it all.